#i wanted to watch it for a long time but held back because of the problematic author

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Purpose | Yandere Saja Boys x Reader

“You want me to do what?!”

The call from your awkward and friendly acquaintance in the idol-managing business leaves you in an unreadable ball of confusion. Typically when Bobby did call you it was to brag about his girls or about the latest resort he was gifted by the girls. But this time he needed your help and you weren’t sure if you were going to give it. 

“Please please (Y/n)! You taught me everything I know; if there’s anyone who can handle them it’s you.”

Bobby pleading on his knees doesn’t change your reluctance but the pleading gazes of the boy-band in question made you slow to voice it. It also was harder to refuse when you could see the shining blue shackles on each of their wrists. A marked hand slides onto your shoulder with a stealth you haven’t felt in a long time and instinctively you reach for the holster under your coat, locking eyes with the one you once deemed to be an enemy.

“It can only be you. Mx. (L/n).”

It’s the purple-haired idol who not only was rumored to have once endangered the Honmoon but mended it with strength that surpassed her ancestors. Here she was glowing with her shining demon marks in broad daylight. A part of you still found it wrong.

She took your blatant staring in stride; sending Bobby out of the room,”Mind giving us some space? I think it might land better y’know? Idol to idol?”

“Oh, sure thing Rumi! In fact, I’ll go get the celebratory ramyeun now!”

He dashed as if his life depended on it, leaving you and Rumi with the shackled demon idols. Looking warily at the hunter you slowly pulled your hand away from your holster. The fakely wide smile on her fades into something more concerning. Pressing her purple-painted lips together, it’s time to address the real elephant in the room. 

“Why are they still here?! I thought you killed them all when you made the Honmoon golden.”

She nervously smiles, “I–thought I did too. But it seems that they were sealed in the upper world instead. The only one who….didn’t make it was thanks to Gwi-Ma.” She steps away from you, putting her hand out as if to pet the “baby Saja boy.” Previously he looked as though he was dead; standing with a face that epitomized boredom. That all changed when Rumi came close. His eyes glowed that sinister yellow and his fangs were bared as he chomped at the air her hand used to be. The blue chains clink with golden chains that shine in a ripple like the Honmoon itself. 

“You must mean the leader. Jin.”

You were playing with fire. For all the shipping edits that the idol leaders were put through, anyone could’ve guessed that they were close. While you don’t have eyes and ears close to her domain, it still got back to you just how close she’d gotten with him. During Huntrix's report of the event, Jin’s returned soul was what gave the trio the power to completely exorcise Gwi-Ma. A feat that was impossible even for the first hunters to exist.

“Yes…Jin,” she spoke his name with a heavy resonance. A respect that hadn’t dulled at all because it still felt raw.

”He saved me by showing me how to accept this part of myself rather than hide.”

She held her hands in front of her playing with the light against her marks, “Still he’s showing me there’s more to this side of myself I never really understood before.”

You watched her close her hands into fists and turn to you with a fierceness in those brown eyes you’ve never seen in person,” Which is why I think we should try helping them before we kill them.”

Stopping your laughter you finally spoke, “We?”

“We. Huntrix can’t do this on our own. You’ve been handling the otherside of the hemisphere well and now that both sides are sealed all that’s left is to care for the demons that slipped through.”

“Then why not just kill them?” The one with abs tries to jab at her which she skillfully dodges,” They clearly aren’t fond of you.”

Pausing she looks at them and then at you. 

“I have to try…if Jin saw something worth using maybe…maybe there's more to them that I haven’t seen yet. That no one’s seen. I’m hoping you can do that.”

“I’m retired. I don’t think I can do much of anything now.”

Rumi gives you a look. That glare of determination that makes you feel exposed.

“I’ve heard you before. You can do this.”

You turn, prepared to refuse but she grabs your hands.

“Please (Y/n).To protect our reign of peace….please.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, Saja boys. Listen up you live and breathe to be the idol group I demand you be, you hear me?!” 

The collective groans of the demon boy band, the sound makes you smirk. In an instant, you begin to hum an old song you used to sing unsheathing your whip from its holster. Romance is the one who perks up, the only one who seems to catch on that you are about to obliterate them.

“AcK!”

“OW that burns!”

“Please don’t!”

“Okay okay, we’re all listening p-please contine.”

It’s over in seconds. Everything but their faces is covered in disgusting blue welts. 

“As I was saying. I expect my perfect idol boy band to be smiley, friendly, and to say 'yes (Y/n)' whenever I ask you questions. Is that clear?”

“Yes (Y/n)!”

“That’s good now have a good show just like we practiced!”

It’s been interesting taking on the Saja boys. Their image that had Jin be their cool and calm collected leader was very much the truth. Without you breathing down their necks you found they were quite awful to all around them.

“Abby did you or did you not hit that PA with a button of yours, on purpose?”

“I mean they were looking too hard anyway it’s not my fault.”

“It is your fault that they went to the hospital thanks to your stupid little stunt.”

“It’s whatever they got a souvenir they’ll never forget!”

CRACK!

“Not the whip please, I’ll make a public apology! Sorry!”

You’ve dealt with idols that had a kamidere complex or outright narcissism but you haven’t dealt with literal demons who barely grasped that humanity was anything more than a population of overgrown bugs. 

“Alright, Bae Bee what’s going to be the right response if someone asks how you feel about the subject of turtles?”

“Goo Goo Gaga?”

“No. Try using real words please.”

“It’s…whatever?”

“I did that whole slide show and you didn’t gather anything from that?!”

“....”

FWHIP!

“Their…mid?!”

CRACK!

“Wahhh!”

But you wouldn’t continue with this farce if you didn’t realize there was a learning curve to be had. The first time it dawned on you was when Romance came to you in the dead of night, clutching the book you’d gifted them your second day: How to be a Human for Dummies. You were lounging on the large couch watching your shows when he walked in. He stood awkwardly by the door like a child who’d come to woefully inform his parents he’d wet the bed. You pretended not to know he was there; gauging if he’d actually ask for help like you offered.

“Why should we try?”

You muted the TV. Giving the pink-haired demon your full attention, you turned as he stood at the opposite end of the couch.

“Because you’ll die if you don’t.”

His nails dug into the paper cover,” no I mean why do we have to…I’ve already tried doing that before. I don’t want to go through that again.”

His marks flashed and you couldn’t see his face clearly; his hair making a curtain you so desperately wanted to peek past. 

Sighing you stood, “Follow me.”

Doing as he was told he followed you over rooftops, skillfully swinging through the concrete jungle to end it bumping into your back. He opened his mouth to insult you, to whine about how you couldn’t just answer the question to following your gaze. Down below in a window that flashed with all matter of colors, was a girl surrounded by friends singing terribly into the microphone as they cheered her on.

“You see her” The girl with the red bow in her hair?”

“...yeah.”

“She used to wonder that too. She used to walk home every day from school to her room. Locking herself away because she once listened to the same voices you do. Frankly, if she had continued listening she would have ended up just like you.”

“Then why isn’t she…like me that is?”

“Because she kept trying. Worked hard to find those she could care about; though it was hard she found them. Only because she tried.”

“So what?! I try and everything will be fixed?”

“I didn’t say that but no matter what you’ve done. Trying to make amends. Trying to be better is what makes it, you, worth it in the end.”

“Even if it took 300 years?”

“Even if it took 300 years.”

They certainly had their moments and that was enough to not exorcise them when their third month existing in the idol world rolled around. Much to your displeasure, you had no choice but to inform Rumi you’d continue to manage the Saja boys. If only to help them reconcile with themselves. To instead use their talent and influence to strengthen the Honmoon and continue to keep the positive energy that the fans permeated alive and well. 

If you worked hard, you could save the remaining Saja boys.

____________________________________________________________

“I hate this.”

Mystery was the first to voice this opinion. Finally left alone and unsupervised the Saja Boys were able to speak without the threat of being whipped, stabbed, or otherwise ground into a pulp on the shining golden Honmoon. Backstage just before another performance.

“Yeah, this just such a bummer. It was more fun when we worked for Gwi Ma!” Abs spoke leaning against the walls of the hidden stage. 

“Was it actually fun or were we just happy not to be reminded of who we are?” 

Romance turned still maintaining the front position of the band just as they’d been instructed, looking into the golden eyes of his fellow demons. Looking for the same confusion he’d been saddled with since they started this.

“I don’t really care, I just don’t like feeling…like this.” 

“Like what, Myst?! What exactly do you feel?” 

Abandoning his position, he closed in. Holding the quiet demon by the neck and slamming him into the wall. The infrastructure of the stage shook and dented but Romance was careful. He wasn’t certain why he cared so much to know his answer. He’d been asking the same thing of himself for all this time.

Mystery pursed his quivering lips. Romance growled and threw the demon to the ground, rolling into Abs’ feet. The muscular demon deflated when Romance turned to him expecting an answer, his eyes darting around as if the moving walls would have it scrawled somewhere. 

The lack of response only made the pink-haired demon angrier. Fangs beared and marks on full display he charged narrowly scratching at Abs’ face. Mystery got up to intervene, fully prepared to bite the neck of the completely wild Romance. Until his voice broke the silence.

“Purposeless. That is what we are feeling.”

His real voice was much deeper than his human one which is why when the late Jin led the group he was specially instructed to keep it hidden. But they had no leader. They have no Gwi-Ma. All they have in this hidden stage is each other. 

Romance retracts his claws, the marks still glowing bright, and he pulls at his locks.

“He’s right. W-we have nothing anymore! All we have is ourselves and that’s worse than nothing. W-w-we can’t even go back!”

His shaky declaration makes everyone unsettled. Placing a name to their fear—to their reality made it far too true. Their marks all begin to glow with an anxious throbbing. Mystery retreats into himself huddling into the corner. Abs freezes, willing his body to move and failing miserably. Even Baby lets the cap he’s wearing cover his face as he slowly slides to the floor.

“What’s the use of trying to change if I don’t even know why I’m here?! You’ve seen these humans!? They don’t know so what am I supposed to do?!”

The Honmoon throbs at his cry. 

“How can I try when I don’t want to face who I am?!”

Demon marks flaring in tandem with the flickering gold.

“What good can come from someone as far gone as I?!”

The Honmoon dangerously touches the color pink. 

“What am I supposed to do with myself!? Without any voice what am I supposed to do!?”

Multiple tears of the barrier are forming and joining at the seams around each of the separate Saja boys. Each one is influenced by their pain and about to damage the sanctity of the Honmoon.

~kzzt~

Like a heaven-sent. The comms in their ears buzzed to life.

~kzz~He~kzztz~

The pink fades and the healing blue returns to the barrier.

~kz~Hey can you guys hear me in this thing? It’s me (Y/n).kzztz~

It’s your voice. Their guardian. Their manager.

“As expected these walkies are crap. Anyway, I expect you boys to give me your best because I know you can do it. Can you do that for me Saja?”

The voice in their ears answered the only remaining questions.

“Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).” “Yes, (Y/n).”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now wow that crowd and no soul stealing.”

The silence of the stage was lighter. More defined. The long turned-off comms burned into their ears. All of them replaying the echo of their manager’s voice—soothing, uplifting, commanding.

“It is them. That will be our purpose.”

Baby’s voice spoken with clarity confirmed what they all decided. As the stage begins to rise and the cheers of their fans increase even more. The Saja Boys are in position, prepared to perform just as their manager demands it. 

______________________________________________________________

“So how’s it gone, managing them?”

All of Huntrix was over for the day, enjoying some bubble tea as they looked at the golden-covered city. The barrier glowed strong with a healthy pulse fully powered by their fans.

You were glad that you’d convinced the boys to attend their shoot solo. Otherwise, you would’ve risked having this conversation with them around. Which wouldn’t have been a good idea considering how close they’ve gotten.

“It’s going great. They haven’t had another incident since I last called.”

The girls shared a look. 

Mira sneered at the promotional material for the group scattered on the table, picking it up like it was dirty laundry. 

“By great do you mean, like the Honmoons not broken great or that there's an uptick in murders in the last month—all where you guys were going on tour–great?”

Zoey chuckled anxiously, “We don’t want to accuse but the numbers don’t look great.”

Shooting a look at Rumi, you settled in your chair. Looking out at the city below carefully putting pressure on the plastic cup in your hands.

“Look I wish I could definitively say it’s just a coincidence but I looked into those cases myself and most of them seem airtight. But I’m not entirely sure there wasn’t some demonic influence.” Zoey and Mira shared a look before turning back to you with a grimace.

“I’m saying there’s just no way to tell for sure if it was them and without evidence I can't exactly ‘convict’ anyone.”

“So you're saying there’s no way not one of those boys slipped through your grasp?”

“Yeah (Y/n)...we know you’re technically retired and there’s five demons and one of you…it can’t be easy.”

Rumi finally looked ready to speak and you had a feeling you weren’t going to like it. 

“We were thinking maybe you should take a break!” She didn’t look entirely convinced, looking between Mira and Zoey. “We’re going on a break for a little while so maybe we can look after them for you.”

“I’d love that,” you studied their faces for some kind of joke,” but I don’t know if you can handle the boys any more than I could.”

The girls confidently laughed.

“Are you kidding?”

“We nearly killed them the last time we met!”

“Yes, Huntrix has got this in the bag!”

The girls cheered with pride as they whooped and hollered at one another. You admired their spunk, something you felt came far too less now that you’ve outgrown the group you used to hunt with. 

“Alright then girls, I’ll take you up on your offer–”

“Yes!” “The-Best-B-ab-y Sitters in the wooorldd!” “Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake!”

“---a word of caution girls.”

Your words had them stopping in their tracks, their triumphant smiles only softening to acknowledge you. The only one it completely faded from was Rumi, who almost looked afraid to see you step on the elevator.

“The Saja Boys are a lot more determined than you’d think. Try not to be an obstacle for them.”

With that, the metal doors slid closed, and for once in a long time you were alone. Now came the hard part—telling them. 

______________________________________________________________

“You have got to be kidding me!?”

It was Bae Bee taking his usual spot at your back, his fanged sneer hissing into the side of your head he was previously nuzzling against. His nails had gotten longer penetrating the T-shirt you were wearing, a single flick to his wrist had him retract his claws but not loosen his grip.

Speaking of claws you could feel the demon on your lap allowing his to emerge and grip at your jeans all the tighter. The practiced action of oncoming tears soaking through the denim told you, Mystery was having a similar reaction. Across the room were Romance and Abby both dressed in their custom robes were drying with their respective blow dryers after using the dressing room’s shower. Both appliances were crushed and melted onto the floor within seconds of your announcement. The demons-responsible, flashing their marks and fangs at you. Romance immediately straightens up, adjusting his hair and robe before glaring down at you.

“I thought we had a deal.”

“YEAH A PROMISE! WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK THOSE.”

Abby was worse for wear marks and teeth on full display; you mentally noted to pay the venue for the damage he’d cause. Already a partition was torn through, a wall successfully punched into, and a microwave was effectively torn apart. If you didn’t ease his worries the staff would be next.

“I’m not leaving you guys. The deal was that if you all made an effort to change, I’d never leave.”

“Which is what you’re trying to do,” Mystery muffled protests had everyone nodding.

Romance stepped forward again, arms crossed and amber eyes glowing deviously down at you. 

“Then that would mean our deal is off!”

“No, it’s not! We never said anything about time off or leaving and coming back.”

“Didn’t have to,” Bae whispers into your ear with a smirk on his face, ” You are the one who agreed.”

It’s then you feel the need to reach for your whip, reaching for your beloved weapon underneath your coat. Searching for your saving grace next to your waist you only to find its empty holster. Looking over to Abby who’s suddenly stopped his violent tirade to pull at the much sought after weapon. 

“Then if you go that means we don’t have to abide by the rules anymore.” He looks at you like a puppy, one who’s done something awful and hopes you understand. The boisterous Abby was no longer there, a serious look on his face. 

You want to soothe him. To deny it. But the truth of the matter was just that, you had to leave and at this point,t it wouldn’t do you any good to demand they accept otherwise. Your whip across the room, your body held in place by a smirking demon, your legs held down by another, and your attention on the one you were sure had made the most progress. 

“We have changed if it helps. We’ve upheld our end of the deal. For you to go against us now…well we’ll just try to preserve our purpose.”

By now you were in no place to make demands.

“So go enjoy your…trip. We’ll be waiting and by then we’ll have changed some more just as you commanded.”

No trip to the Maldives would erase those words from your head.

______________________________________________________________

When you return from any kind of holiday there’s a moment of great depression. A crushing sense of reality from the joy you experienced comes in full force as you unpack and reenter your tiresome schedule. In your case it was no different, for two whole weeks you could ignore the haunting reactions of the demons you guarded to lounge with a poolside cocktail in hand. Of course, your return would be tumultuous. 

In the darkness of the condo you’d begun to call home, was Rumi. Sat crossed-legged in the mess of sliced furniture, just as worse for wear as the decor around her. You called to her, almost unsure it was she until she looked up. Her eyes were swollen, her marks an ugly black and the typically brown and golden eyes were red. 

“I…didn’t think anything would change,” she finally spoke carelessly musing as you tried to nurse her wounds, “that I would still be strong enough to beat them…I just wasn’t ready for them to…change like I did.”

You want to question her. To ask what she meant but the four pairs of golden eyes smiling back at you explained more than anything she could have said.

“A deal’s a deal.”

Out of the darkness limp bodies clattered to the floor. Battered and bruised it was Zoey and Mira. Unconscious and scarily still you watched Rumi struggle to carry them both, limping to the elevator. She spared you a single glance; eyes filled with too many apologies to ever speak.

“I…can’t be an obstacle to you anymore. Goodbye (Y/n).”

With the broken jingle of the elevator, you were left with your boys once again. Gripping the handle of your whip, you wait for them to reveal themselves to you…fully. Without a word, they emerge in their original forms circling around you with smiles on their marked and purple faces.

“So what are we doing now that I’ve returned?”

Their distorted chuckles don’t settle your unease.

“You said you changed do you plan to show me?”

“Of course, (Y/n).” Abby’s voice was the loudest and when you turned prepared to strike, your arm was held in place by the demon. 

“Whatever you demand of us.”

You dropped the whip catching it with your opposite hand, rearing to strike again only for your other hand to be caught and pried open. Your whip forcefully fell into the hands of Bae who smiles cruelly as he snaps your beautiful weapon in half with a ripple of magenta smoke. Of course, you struggle but the hands holding you in place are firm, warping your struggles so that you fall to your knees. Your chin is being held so gently by the new lead of the Saja Boys.

“We are always at your command, (Y/n). Because you are our purpose.”

You open your mouth to speak, to finally give a proper command since they demand it of you. Only for your lips to be covered in Dutch tape, which is played with as Romance comes even closer. The dark blue blush on his face shows just how much he relishes the glare you have for him.

“Since you broke your deal with us, we are free to change. To finally be free to serve our purpose however we see fit.”

It’s then you feel something monstrous intertwine itself with the barrier of the Honmoon pink and orange demon hands replacing the idol demons’ hands. Allowing them to look down on you as well all of them casually caressing your sealed lips.

“You right (Y/n), we have changed.”

There were hands in your hair.

“We’ve grown stronger and it’s all because you gave us a chance. Because you taught us to care.”

There were hands on your back.

“Encouraged us to try.”

Somehow they were in your brain.

“Even if it takes 300 years.”

You sleep in the arms of the Saja Boys—Your boys because you’re all they work for. All they try for. All they’d think to change for. 

You are their purpose and they’ll do anything you they demand.

Totally forgot some of these guys died on screen Whoopsie!

Kofi → Here Masterlist → Here Commissions → Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤

[minutelyfreaked]

simon riley x fem!reader smut blurb. nsfw below. mdni.

so, simon is a big guy.

like hugeeeeee in every sense of the word.

he takes a huge pride in towering over you, finding the way you peer up at him endearing. he loves to grip your chin and guide your lips to his for a deep kiss. his large hands are almost always on you, traveling long paths across your figure. his hand engulfs yours as he threads your fingers together. he always finds a way to press his large stature against your back, reminding you of how big he is.

something about how much bigger he is than you just really gets him going.

even as he presses your bare front into the mattress, cock pressing lightly at the entrance of your cervix, the position put an emphasis on the size difference between the two of you. his legs trapped yours as he looped his arms under your body. his head was tucked next to your ear as he pressed deeper.

he's been at it for hours, manhandling you into several different positions as he collect numerous orgasms from your overwhelmed cunt. he abused your clit with his tongue as he prepped your vice like hole for his girthy dick. once he fully stuffed his cock in your pussy, he was a goner. he just held you down and memorized the feeling of your warm, soft, cunt wrapped around him.

"is here 'bout right, lovie?" simon muttered into your ear, groping at your bare skin. he was pressed against the spot that caused your toes to curl and eyes to roll back. one of your hands was wrapped around his wrist as you weakly tried to escape the deepness of his thrust.

"simon-simon, i can't..." you tried, but couldn't quite get out the full sentence because of his depth.

"can't what, hm? gotta be a little more specific," he responded, palming over the slight bulge in your stomach. this called you to cry out his name as tears welled in your eyes.

"you're so big, si. 's almost too big," you slurred out as his cock stirred in your guts. he all but moans at your words, lips marking the side of your neck.

"'s neva' too big," he mumbled with a gruff snort, one of his hands slowly slid down your front, making its way to your overstimulated bundle of nerves. his slow circles had your back arching deeper into the mattress, his front pressing further into your back.

he was everywhere. he was all you could smell, hear, think of, and feel. his touch set your nerves into a frenzy, causing your senses to go haywire. you couldn't move away even if you wanted to as he held you firmly in his grip.

his thrusts began to turn brutal as he pressed most of his weight onto you, properly fucking you. his pace was nothing if not consistent, each thrust as quick and deep as the last. your thighs shook as another shattering orgasm ripped through you, juices coating both of your lower halves as simon finally chased his high. he nearly sent you into overstimulation before he came, painting your velvet walls white.

he allowed the two of you a few moments to calm down. he moved to massage your hips and lower back as you laid there, exhausted from his thorough fucking. you could feel his release dripping out of your worn pussy, painting your folds a milky white. simon hums at the sight, overly pleased with himself as he moved to massaging your thighs.

he sat between them, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs while watching his drip from your center. one of his hands left your thigh in favor of scooping his cum on to his fingers and pushing them deep into your cunt. he scissored his fingers a couple of times before pulling his fingers away, stuffing them into his awaiting mouth. the flavor brought a lustful spark to simon's eye as he gripped your thighs and dragged you to the edge of the bed.

"what'd ya say to one more round, love? just one and i'll leave you be," he said, already kneeling to be eye level with your core.

and who were you to say no?

— writing smut is a lot harder than i thought it would be omg.

( sincerely, gwen. )

© minutelyfreaked 2025 —do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

[yuwritesstuff]

Headcanons about Satoru as a Girl Dad 🌺✨

He cried the first time he held her. Not in front of anyone else — he was joking and cocky and obnoxious at the hospital, trying to hide all the worries. But when it was just the three of you and she curled her tiny fingers around his pinky, he broke. Quietly. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he cradled her and smiled happily. He had the whole world in his arms, given to him by his loved one.

She’s the only one (except her mom, of course) who can boss him around. “Daddy, sit.” And he does. “Daddy, today I choose what you’re gonna wear!” And these are the most mismatched pieces of his wardrobe, an absurd combination. But he puts these on and goes to meet with the higher-ups. “Daddy, put me on your shoulders!” And the world becomes even more interesting for her from the perspective of his height.

He’s obsessed with her laugh. He’ll spend hours doing the dumbest things just to hear it — ridiculous dances, jokes, and parodies. That sound is his favorite in the world. It means she’s safe. She’s happy. She’s so real, his little sweet baby. He hopes that this will be one of the things she’ll remember best from her childhood. That laughing is always allowed, even for adults.

She’s just as sharp as him — and it terrifies him. One time, she tricked him into giving her dessert before dinner. A four-year-old. He was both horrified and deeply, deeply honored. “She’s definitely my kid,” he said, wiping away a proud tear. But of course, he often falls for her tricks just because he likes to spoil her.

He teaches her how to stand up for herself. From day one, he tells her: “You don’t have to shrink for anyone. You don’t owe the world softness unless you choose to give it.” And she listens. She learns. It’s like a protective mantra that he whispers to her as she falls asleep, hoping that these words will stay with her and she will realize its meaning later.

He has zero resistance to her tears. If she starts crying, his whole world stops. No jokes. Just soft panic and immediate scooping up. “Who do I have to fight?” he whispers. “What made my baby cry?” His heart is aching, and he’s ready to do anything to make her feel better. It’s hard for him to say “no” if it’s tears of demand, so she’s already spoiled by him from a very young age.

He sees her mother in her constantly. Sometimes he quietly watches her, observes her gestures and behavior, and sees you in her. Mom’s features are intertwined with dad’s, and it strikes him to the core — this is a little person made of both of you. You soulmated so hard that you created another heart, a cute little friend for both of you. She’s everything.

Oh, but she definitely has his temper too. She once looked up at him mid-lecture and said, “Is this gonna be long? I have blocks to build.” He nearly exploded with laughter. “Siblings? What are the pros and cons of that?” she wonders seriously when you ask if she wants a brother or a sister. “If they’re as cool as me... hmm, I’ll think about it!” she sticks out her tongue and giggles. His little smartass.

He keeps her drawings in his wallet. Folded, worn, cherished. Even when he’s across the world on duty, her crayon versions of the three of you remind him why he fights. When he comes back from work, they draw together, and his own drawings are no better than a child’s spontaneous doodle, but she praises him so sincerely that he melts.

They have wild inside jokes no one understands. Even you, her mother. It drives you crazy sometimes because they act like real idiots. But they’re your favorite idiots. Like synchronized “dramatic faints” at the breakfast table. Or gossiping about you quietly with a sly smile on their faces. Or their secret handshake that takes 40 seconds (you counted). Sometimes they just treat life like a game they’re winning together.

She shares his love for sweets. He buys her all kinds of goodies and treats her with the best desserts in the city, on weekends he pampers her with custom-made sweets from a pastry shop. So when it’s time to visit the dentist, you send him with her to the doctor as a lesson. He taught her to brush her teeth well. It’s nobody’s fault she has a sweet tooth like him!

He loves to put her to bed. He reads her fairy tales and tells her funny stories, assures her that there are no monsters under the bed and checks it several times if she’s scared. “Your daddy is the strongest monster fighter!” he winks. And when she falls asleep, he kisses her on the forehead and just lies next to her for a while before going to his beloved wife to make another such cutie pie.

He talks to her like an equal — always. He doesn’t baby her thoughts or shield her from the truth. He explains the world gently but with honesty. She asks hard questions. He never lies. It’s not easy when she realizes what a complicated world she lives in. Every time something inside him breaks when she gets a little more mature. But he knows that this is part of the journey too.

He’s incredibly protective, but in stealthy ways. He won’t be the loudest dad at school (surprisingly). Instead, he’ll silently ward off anyone who makes her uncomfortable — a quiet glare, a sudden presence. Nothing gets past him. He doesn’t want to get into things that she has to experience on her own, but he also doesn’t want to be on the sidelines if something hurts her.

He’s terrified of failing her. Beneath the jokes and playfulness, he carries a deep fear — that the world will hurt her the way it hurt him. So he watches closely, listens deeply, holds tighter when she sleeps. He knows that there will definitely be challenges and pain in life, but while she is so young, he will protect her and her childhood with all his best. She will have a different, better life.

He tells her every day: “You’re loved. Always.” Not just “I love you” — but “you are loved”. By him. By her mom. By the universe itself. He wants her to know it, feel it, believe it in her bones. Despite all the hardships, there is so much beauty in the world, and it’s a true miracle that we are all here, so fragile and eager for love and validation. He deeply realizes it when he becomes a father. And he wants her to feel it too.

He dreams of seeing who she’ll become. Whether she becomes a sorcerer or an artist or a chaos gremlin scientist — he’s there. Sometimes he forgets about all his bravado and feels something that he hasn’t felt much before. Fear of leaving this world too soon, not being a present father and partner. He wants to have a future in which he will see his child grow up. Happy, no matter what path she chooses. “This is her story now, and I just wanna be a part of it for as long as possible!” he smiles.

[synity]

just gutwrenching fluff with cheol, pure love and gratitude— could be reader graduating uni and delivering a speech as a valedictorian, after having a hard time and him always being her biggest support (yes ive been crying for the past hour on tiktok watching graduation vids and speech about family/friends like just people loving and I AM UNWELL TO SAY THE LEAST) btw I love your work youre so precious and remember to take care of yourself loveee xx

LEGENDARY

(Choi Seungcheol x FemReader)

*Graduation Dayn Fluff | Gutwrenching Love & Gratitude, romance*

Your hands were trembling, not just because of nerves, but because everything was hitting you at once.

The cheers. The flash of camera lights. The scratchy gown clinging to your skin. The weight of years upon your shoulders. The raw, aching joy and disbelief that you had finally made it.

You clutched your speech tighter, the paper warm and wrinkled from how many nights you'd held it, crying into your pillow and whispering the words under your breath. You weren’t sure how you even walked up to the stage. Maybe it was muscle memory. Maybe it was something deeper the sound of his voice guiding you like it always had.

"You got this, babe!"

There he was. Cheol. Front row. Your everything. Eyes glassy, fingers clenched, like if he let go of his hands, he’d fly to you in seconds. You swore he looked prouder than anyone else in the room. Not just proud. In awe.

Your legs carried you to the podium, but your soul stayed seated with him. Right there in the safety of his gaze.

"Good evening, everyone..."

You paused.

A soft breath.

"I want to start this speech by saying that I almost didn’t make it here."

The room quieted. Your voice trembled, but your heart held steady.

"I know we’re all supposed to be proud today and I am. Deeply. But it would be dishonest if I didn’t share just how close I came to giving up."

A long pause. You tried to keep your voice even, but your throat burned.

"There were days I couldn’t get out of bed. Nights I stared at my screen for hours and wrote nothing. Weeks where I felt like no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t enough. For school. For anyone. For myself."

You gripped the edges of the podium. A deep breath. A look out into the sea of faces. And there he was still looking at you like you hung the stars.

"But someone believed in me. Even when I didn’t. Especially when I didn’t."

Your voice cracked. The lump in your throat grew.

"Cheol, you stayed. Through the breakdowns, through the all-nighters and mental spirals. Through the moments I told you to leave because I didn’t think I deserved you."

He was crying now, tears quietly falling as his hand clutched his chest.

"You brought me food when I hadn’t eaten. Held me when I said I wanted to disappear. Made me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry. You celebrated every tiny victory like it was the biggest win in the world. You reminded me I was more than my grades. More than my anxiety. More than my fear."

"And when I told you I wasn’t strong enough, you said, 'That’s okay. I’ll be strong for you until you can be again.'"

You choked on a sob, wiping your face quickly.

"This diploma might have my name on it. But this moment? It belongs to us. To the version of me that thought she wouldn’t make it. To the boy who never gave up on her."

"To every person who ever carried someone they loved until they could stand again thank you. And to you, Cheol. My rock, my light, my love… Thank you for loving me at my worst, and for helping me become my best."

When the speech ended, people stood.

But you didn’t hear the applause.

You only saw him.

You stepped down and he met you halfway, eyes red, arms open, like home.

You collapsed into him, sobbing into his shoulder. Your cap slipped off, and neither of you cared. The world faded into muffled claps and quiet camera clicks.

"You did it," he whispered against your temple, voice cracked. "I’m so proud of you, baby. You did it."

You pulled back just far enough to see him clearly.

"No," you whispered, cupping his cheeks. "We did."

He leaned his forehead against yours, tears mingling with yours.

"Always," he murmured. "Every step of the way, I’ll be here."

You wrapped your arms around him tighter.

Because the truth was, you weren’t sure how you survived before loving him. Before being loved by him.

And in that moment messy makeup, soaked tassels, and all—you realized something:

You had made it. Not just through school, but through the pain. The fear. The doubt.

And it was all because someone believed in you.

And because you had finally learned to believe in yourself too.

[mooningningg]

ᴊᴊᴋ ʀᴏᴄᴋ ʙᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

Notes, he's just sooo ughhhmmfmm.

★ Bassist!Toji meets you for the first time.

The studio was loud when you walked in — amps humming, drums pounding, Gojo mid-vocal run like he was auditioning for heaven, shirt half off, sweat glistening like a pop star that didn’t pay rent.

You raised your hand slightly, awkward but amused. “Delivery for a diva.”

Gojo turned mid-belt, eyes lighting up. “Oh my god, you’re an angel—” Then he tripped over a mic cord.

Sukuna slammed a cymbal. “Fucking hell, Gojo.”

You laughed and held up the tote bag. “You left your charger and sunglasses at mine.”

“Because I live in chaos, baby,” Gojo grinned. “Put it anywhere. You want water? Weed? A front row seat to my raw vocal brilliance?”

“No,” you said sweetly.

And then you noticed him.

Toji.

Off to the left. Bass slung low, body half-turned away, tattoos inked up his forearm where his sleeves were rolled, hair messy like he’d just woken up angry. He was tuning, or pretending to — his fingers barely moved, and his eyes… were on you.

Flat. Sharp. Curious.

Like he couldn’t figure out if you were real or just annoying.

You looked away first.

“Let’s take it from the top,” Gojo called out. “Try not to ruin my godlike momentum, yeah?”

They launched into the next take — Gojo wailing into the mic, Sukuna on drums like he was punishing them, Choso leaning on the keyboard like he was underwater.

And Toji—

Missed his cue.

The bass line came late. Not just a second. Noticeably.

They ran the song again. Loud. Messy. You leaned against the wall, half-watching, half-scrolling through your phone.

Then the rhythm dropped.

The room fell off-beat, the bass stumbling just long enough to make everyone stop.

“The fuck was that?” Sukuna snapped.

Gojo threw his hands up. “Why does this band hate my voice?”

“Toji,” Suguru barked. “You good?”

Toji said nothing for a second, then set the bass down with a quiet clunk.

“Take five.”

He grabbed a water bottle from the floor, cracked it open, and walked over to the side—closer to where you were standing. You didn’t move. He didn’t say anything right away.

He just stood there, unscrewed the cap, drank, and let the silence stretch.

You glanced at him. “You always take breaks after messing up?”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Didn’t fuck up.”

You raised a brow. “Sounded like you did.”

His gaze flicked down to your legs, back up.

“Yeah?”

You felt your face heat. He didn’t smile. Didn’t look away.

“Wasn’t paying attention,” he added after a beat. “S’fine.”

His voice was low, casual. Like he wasn’t saying much—but he was saying enough.

Gojo yelled from across the room. “Toji, you flirting again?”

Toji didn’t move.

“Bro, I felt that bass line die. What, did you forget how to play when she walked in?”

“Shut it,” Toji muttered, mostly to himself. Then, to you, without looking:

“You sticking around or what?”

That was it.

No charm. No smooth lines.

Just Toji—shoulders loose, mouth set, standing a little too close like he didn’t notice. Or maybe he did.

And that was the first time you saw it.

He wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

He just looked at you like he already knew how it would go.

And you didn’t hate it.

[freakmcnastyy]

Possession Games

Park Humin x f!reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, semi-public setting, fingering, unprotected sex, light pain, biting, possessive behavior.

Summary: Baku loses control of his jealousy after seeing you meet with an old friend.

Note: Anon requestttt

⸻ /Flashback/

Your eyes were fixed on the fractured navy of the sky. A soft breeze stirred the lazy whispers of the trees. The wind brushed against your back, speed danced at your feet, and a childlike hope glowed quietly in your gaze. You swung higher and higher on the swing, unaware of the two sets of eyes watching you.

In the far corner of the yard, hidden under the shade of an old walnut tree, two boys sat side by side. The weight of their conversation didn’t quite suit their age. They heard only your laughter, watched only the way your hair danced in the wind. But the meanings behind their gazes were far from the same—one held trust, the other, a secret.

Baek-jin tilted his head slightly, fidgeting with a stone in his pocket. The words sat heavy on the edge of his tongue, refusing to fall.

Baku’s brows were furrowed; he didn’t like this kind of silence.

“What is it?” he asked, his tone clipped and direct.

Baek-jin blinked, then subtly nodded in your direction as you soared back and forth.

“I love her,” he said.

The words hung in the air for a moment, suspended in time. Even the breeze seemed to still.

Baku didn’t respond at first. He squinted toward you, then turned back to Baek-jin.

“What did you say?”

“Yn,” Baek-jin repeated, firmer now. “I love her. I have for a long time. Maybe you’ve noticed, maybe not. But I… I don’t know. Keeping it in this long is starting to eat away at me. And when she smiles�� it’s like I can’t think of anything else.”

Baku said nothing. But his jaw tensed, a flicker tightening the muscle near his chin.

Baek-jin noticed—but didn’t back down.

“Everything’s going to change, I know. We’ll grow up. But no matter what happens… I think I’ll always love her.”

He looked down at his hands, then back toward you.

“Have you ever looked at someone and felt time stop? Like… even just the way they breathe feels like a miracle?”

Baku’s eyes shifted back to you again.

Baek-jin’s voice returned, quieter this time, unsure:

“Maybe I’ll tell her someday. Or maybe I’ll just stay beside her… quietly.”

Baku clenched his jaw, but stayed silent.

What was he supposed to say? Don’t love her, because I already do?

⸻ /Today/

It was a small café on a street corner. The table by the window sat in soft afternoon shadow, sunlight spilling through the glass at an angle. A slow jazz tune played in the background, and the outside world blurred into something cinematic.

You glanced at your phone. The time matched exactly what you’d agreed on.

Then the door opened.

Baek-jin.

His hair was slightly messy, his eyes familiar but a little more tired than before.

But the second you saw him, you stood without hesitation and wrapped your arms around him. It wasn’t a long hug, nor a short one. It was the kind that held just enough weight to carry everything unspoken.

You both sat down. The way you crossed your legs under the table, the sip you took from your coffee, the way you tilted your head—it all showed you still cared.

“How’ve you been?” you asked, voice soft.

Baek-jin didn’t look away. He smiled, faintly.

“Alright. Life’s shit in its own way, but I’m getting used to it.”

You paused. Your eyes lingered on his.

The distance between you wasn’t new or old. Just… known. Familiar.

That’s why you asked without hesitation:

“How’s the Union going?”

There was concern in your tone, though your smile stayed gentle.

“I don’t want to see you getting in trouble again.”

Baek-jin said nothing for a second. He took a sip of his coffee, then looked toward the window.

“I’m trying to grow it,” he replied. “But the more you build something like that, the more enemies come crawling out.”

Your head lowered slightly.

“Just… be careful,” you murmured. “There are still people who care about you. Not everyone’s abandoned you, okay?”

Baek-jin closed his eyes briefly. He sighed.

“I know,” he said. “I know you’ve always been there. But…”

He didn’t finish. Because both of you already felt the weight of that but, lodged somewhere in the space between.

While you spoke, someone was watching.

A few tables away, a boy in a hoodie sat motionless, hands clasped together, elbows resting on the table.

Baku.

His eyes were locked on your face.

The way you smiled, how your fingers danced around your cup, the gentle angle of your head—he saw it all.

But what really anchored him was the way Baek-jin looked at you.

That same look, from that same afternoon under the walnut tree.

“I love her,” Baek-jin had said.

And maybe he still did.

Maybe he always would.

Baku’s jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed.

Maybe he couldn’t hear what you were saying—but body language didn’t lie. Every gesture between you two felt like a quiet threat. Not because he didn’t trust you. But because he did.

And that made it worse.

⸻

Your footsteps echoed softly against the wet pavement. The exhaustion of the day hung over you like a damp coat, and the night had swallowed the city into a hush. You were only a few blocks from home, having cut through a quiet side street where hardly anyone ever passed. No music in your ears. No phone in your hands. You didn’t hear the footsteps behind you.

Until it was too late.

An arm wrapped around you from behind, pulling you back into a firm chest. A hand pressed over your mouth.

A warm breath brushed against your neck.

“Don’t scream” came a familiar, low voice.

Your body tensed—not out of fear, but surprise.

“It’s me” Baku whispered.

Your breathing was still uneven. Your heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of your chest. He let you go slowly—but didn’t move his hand away from you.

“How long have you been seeing him?”

You tried to turn your head, but he didn’t let you move far.

“I never stopped,” you whispered. “We’ve always kept in touch.”

Baku spun you around, gently but firmly. His gaze locked on yours.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

His voice wasn’t just accusing—it carried a quiet, bruised betrayal.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t like it,” you admitted, voice small but honest. Your eyes didn’t look away. You didn’t hide.

He took a step closer.

“Then why are you still seeing him?” he said, the calm in his voice barely holding.

“He’s dangerous. He’s into shit again. He could hurt you.”

“He’s my friend,” you replied.

And that—that word—was what set him off.

“Friend?” he scoffed.

The word rolled off his tongue like poison.

Before you could process it, your back was pressed to the wall. His body didn’t touch yours fully, but the air between you vanished.He raised a hand, brushed your cheek, then slipped his thumb under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Don’t act like you don’t know how he looks at you. He still wants you.”

His voice dropped, turning into something dark, something real.

“And you let him.”

His hand slid to your waist, no longer gentle. Fingers curled under the hem of your shirt, dragging upward slightly before smoothing back down. You gasped, and he felt it.

He didn’t stop.

“The thought of someone else imagining you like that… fucks with my head,” he murmured.

“But what messes me up more is knowing you don’t even care.”

The heat between you changed. Anger turned to desire. Possession became need.

Baku’s eyes burned with something deeper than jealousy now. His fingers slid lower, past your waist to your hips. His other hand tangled into your hair.

His lips didn’t kiss—but hovered.

Close enough to feel. Close enough to want.

But not yet.

“You knew you’d drive me crazy, didn’t you?” he whispered.

When his hand squeezed your ass, you leaned into him—instinctively.

Not because you had to.

Because you wanted to.

Fingertips skimmed just under the edge of your skirt, tracing the elastic of your underwear.

But he didn’t slip inside.

He just stayed there.

Right at the edge.

“I could go lower” he murmured, his lips ghosting your skin. “Should I?”

“Finish what you started” you finally muttered, breathless. “Do it.”

Baku chuckled. He already knew you’d give in—but hearing it lit a fire in him. Without hesitation, his hand slipped under your skirt and into your panties. But he didn’t dive in just yet. He wanted to feel how much you needed it first.

“God” he muttered, “is this what being claimed does to you?”

He laughed, low and dark.

“I haven’t even kissed you yet… and look at you.”

And he was right. You were soaked. Because nothing turned you on more… than knowing you were his.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Two of his fingers slid into your entrance—not to get you off with them, but to prepare you for something much bigger. You nearly screamed when you felt his thick fingers stretch you from the inside, but he caught your cry with his mouth. His kiss muffled the sound, but not the overwhelming feeling.

His movements were rushed. Was it because he wanted to finish before anyone found out? Or was it because he just couldn’t wait to be inside you? You couldn’t tell. Not when those two fingers were scissoring you open, making it almost impossible to think straight.

Your eyes were teary now, your legs trembling like they could give out at any second. But he held you down so easily, one hand gripping your waist, the other steadying you with his body. Just when your vision started to blur, Baku pulled his fingers out. It wasn’t supposed to end yet. You felt the sudden emptiness, but knowing what came next eased the ache.

He looked at you one last time. He needed to be sure. And when you looked back with eyes full of need, he didn’t hold back anymore. While you clung to him, he unbuttoned his pants—not all the way down, just enough to free himself. His hand found your underwear again, but this time, just to push it aside.

It was too dark to see anything clearly. You could only feel it. And what you felt now was something thick pressing at your entrance. Your eyes widened.

“Baku—fuck—what is that?” you gasped. He chuckled and kissed you again, his tongue invading your mouth with no hesitation. Your tongues tangled in a messy rhythm until he bit your lip suddenly. As you flinched at the sting, he used that moment to sink into you completely. Your eyes rolled back from the shock, your body frozen for a moment in white-hot overload.

He pulled back from your lips only when he was fully inside. You bit down on your own moan, trying not to make a sound, but fuck—he was huge. He waited, letting you adjust, not moving just yet. Instead, his mouth latched onto your neck, sucking in a slow, burning trail.

If someone walked in right now, you’d both be screwed. But neither of you cared. You were too far gone, wrapped up in each other like the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, hips rolling into you at a steady pace. His voice sounded like he might stop if you said yes. But you knew he wouldn’t. And honestly, if you weren’t clinging to him, your legs would’ve collapsed by now.

When you didn’t answer, he picked up the pace. His bare cock kept slamming into you, again and again, harder every time.

“I was gonna do this in a more romantic way, but—fuck,” he groaned, thrusts turning frantic. “But you don’t respond to sweet talk, do you?” he finished through gritted teeth. He was pounding into you so hard, it felt like the wall behind you was going to crack.

And about a minute later, it wasn’t the wall that cracke—it was you. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, so intense it nearly knocked you out. He’d already come deep inside you by then.

The moment was so overwhelming you couldn’t catch your breath.

“Humin—what the hell are you, some kind of monster?” you asked, still panting, while he was still buried inside you.

“Oh yeah. A pink one,” he teased, making a joke out of it. And it was funny—if you weren’t so completely wrecked you might’ve laughed.

When he finally pulled out, the emptiness made your face twist into a grimace. Your legs felt useless, like they weren’t even yours anymore. He moved fast, adjusting your clothes, taking care of everything without needing to be asked.

“Want me to carry you?” he asked, completely serious.

“You better” you half-joked, half-meant it.

Everything had happened so fast, it felt surreal. But you didn’t regret it. Meeting Baekjin that day had been the best mistake you could’ve made—because if you hadn’t, this moment might’ve never happened.

[emeraldserenade]

i've been thinking about jealous!joaquin but like jealous - nick jonas

Jealous and Obsessed ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín can't handle seeing a stranger flirting with you

tw: fem!reader, jealous!Joaquín, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! How I've never written jealous!Joaquín in a Jealous b Nick Jonas way is beyond me, but I'm glad you've been thinking about it!!

➽──────────────❥

Joaquín Torres considered himself lucky, you were everything he never dared to dream about. Never dared to let himself believe that he could have, yet you keep choosing him. You've proven that you would keep choosing him every time, but he couldn't shake the feeling of jealousy. You were just being polite, he told himself. That you're only talking to the man in front of you because you're nice.

He knows what people think when they look at you too long, hell he thinks it too. You're attractive and funny, but you're also so kind and caring and people don't know that. They don't know that looking at you and they don't know that you're his just by looking at you. They don't know that you're going to turn them down the second you could, that you'll get jealous when some girl approaches Joaquín. But Joaquín does, he knows everything there is to know about you.

Joaquín downs the rest of his drink, placing the empty cup down on a passing waiter's tray. He crosses the room, his chin held high and his chest puffed up. He knows you're doing fine on your own, but he couldn't stand it anymore. The longer he watched you talk with the stranger the more the edges of his vision blurred red. "Hey, querida," Joaquín said, planting a kiss to your temple. querida = darling

"Hey, baby," you smiled at him, your red painted lips drawing his attention.

"I'll leave you two alone," the man excused himself and you gave him a smile with a small wave to be polite.

"You're obsessed, you know that?" You turned to fully face Joaquín and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands landed on your waist like they belonged there, mainly because they did.

"Can you blame me?" He smirked down at you.

"I guess not," you sighed, fake annoyed. "Want to get out of here? We can go home and watch that movie you were talking about," you offered, watching him think it over. Joaquín's lips curled into a softer smile before kissing you, it was soft and sweet and over way too soon. You giggled lightly when you saw the red smeared on his lips but he didn't move to wipe it off.

"Yeah, let's go home," Joaquín said, giving you one last kiss.

"If you're nice, I'll even let you remove my dress for me," you whispered against his lips before pulling away. You didn't make it far before Joaquín pulled you back to him and kissing you, just a little deeper and more desperate this time.

"I'll be so nice," he promised before leading you out of the party, not bothering to say a proper bye to Sam on the way out.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[earpskeeper]

word count - 11.5k trigger warnings - minor argument, happy ending, smut (minors do not interact) requests are open :) written for @a-pute11as even if you do smell

There were thousands of people in the crowd. Chants. Flags. Phones held high. The usual chaos of a home match. But Leila Ouahabi wasn’t watching the pitch during warmups.

She was watching her.

A woman. Alone.

She stood near the back of the lower stand, just left of the halfway line, same place she’d been last time. Tall, striking, dark coat buttoned neatly to her collar, arms folded like she was holding herself still. She didn’t sing. Didn’t cheer. Didn’t have her phone out to film. She just... watched.

Attentively. Like the game was hers to study.

The first time, Leila had clocked her only in passing, just a face in the crowd. But when she turned up again two matches later, standing in the same exact spot with the same unreadable stare, Leila noticed.

And now, here she was again.

The woman’s gaze swept across the pitch like she was tracking something no one else could see. Leila’s eyes lingered too long.

“You’ve got that face on again,” Kerstin called from beside her, tugging at her training top.

“What face?” Leila asked, distracted.

“The one where you’re looking at someone like you’re trying to decide if you want to talk to them or paint them,” Kerstin smirked. “Who is she?”

Leila blinked, forcing herself to look away. “No one.”

“Ohhh. Mystery girl,” Kerstin said, delighted. “You keep glancing over like she’s some secret lover in the stands. She a fan?”

“I don’t know. She’s just... there.”

Kerstin wiggled her brows. “She pretty?”

Leila ignored her and turned back to the field, but her heart was beating just a touch faster.

It happened again.

And again.

At first, Leila convinced herself it was a coincidence. Maybe the woman was a season ticket holder. Maybe she lived nearby. Maybe she just liked football. But when she appeared at an away match, standing halfway up the terrace with a black umbrella folded in one hand and rain clinging to her coat, Leila’s certainty cracked.

Because there was no reason for her to be there. No City gear. No companions. Just her. Alone. Watching.

And something about that stillness (like she wasn’t just observing) made Leila’s skin buzz.

She didn’t tell anyone. Not even Kerstin.

But she kept noticing.

The way the woman tilted her head when the midfield got congested. The slight crease of her brow after a missed pass. The fact that she never looked bored. She didn’t come for spectacle, she came for the game.

Or maybe, a quiet voice whispered, she came for you.

Ridiculous.

And yet...

Leila started to feel it like gravity. A pull.

Weeks passed.

She would spot the woman from the edge of the pitch, or in the split second between a throw in and a restart. Never in the same outfit, but always in the same posture - stoic, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

Once, their gazes met. Just for a breath.

The woman didn’t look away.

Neither did Leila.

And something shifted, just slightly. The corner of the woman’s mouth lifted. Barely a smile, not quite a smirk. Like she’d heard Leila think something out loud.

Leila looked away first that time. But she smiled too.

It came to a head at the end of a grueling away match down south. The weather had been cold, grey and unforgiving. It was the type of match where the wind turned your lungs to ice and every ball felt like a rock. By the end of it, Leila was soaked and exhausted. Mud on her socks, her ponytail heavy with rain.

But as the whistle blew and the players jogged to the tunnel, Leila paused.

There she was.

Standing in the downpour, no hood, no umbrella. Water plastered her dark hair to her face, but she didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She just stood there, watching.

Soaked to the skin, still watching her.

And Leila... smiled.

She couldn’t help it.

It bubbled up like instinct. Quiet, involuntary.

For once, the woman didn’t hide behind stillness. Their eyes met. She didn’t smile back, but she didn’t look away either.

Then, out of the corner of her vision, someone jogged up the stairs toward her. A blonde figure, hoodie soaked with rain.

Leila recognized her instantly.

Lauren Hemp.

The two women exchanged a few quiet words. Lauren said something that made the woman laugh (soft and fleeting) and gave her a playful nudge before heading back down toward the players exit.

Leila’s breath caught.

She turned her gaze back to the woman, who was now alone again - composed, unreadable.

The rain continued to fall.

Leila wiped her face and stepped into the tunnel.

That... was new.

That was interesting.

Kerstin teased her mercilessly.

“She’s your football spook!” She said during recovery.

Leila looked up, confusion written all over her face. “My what?”

Kerstin spoke again “Your football ghost” as she dramatically draped a towel over her head like a cloak. “Haunting you from the stands. Always watching. Never cheering. Has anyone even checked if she casts a reflection?”

Leila snorted, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” Kerstin pressed, tossing a protein bar at her. “She’s like a beautiful phantom who only appears when you're on the pitch. What’s next? Love letters on your locker? A mysterious bouquet of lilies shaped like a City crest?”

“She doesn’t even cheer,” Leila said, baffled all over again just thinking about it. “She just stands there. Arms crossed. Not even a chant. It’s weird.”

“Or she’s scouting you,” Kerstin said, eyes lighting up. “You know, like some undercover agent for a secret elite club in Spain. Or, wait, maybe she’s secretly in love with you and this is her very dramatic slowburn. A woman of mystery, a tragic backstory, a forbidden love!”

Leila rolled her eyes. “I think Ruth needs to stop getting you to watch romance dramas.”

“Oh please,” Kerstin scoffed, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re literally living one. Girl plays football. Girl keeps seeing mysterious woman in the stands. Girl is in denial. Classic queer pining. It’s giving Netflix mini series coupled up with tearful love confessions at the end.”

Leila hesitated.

Then, “I saw her speaking to Lauren Hemp.”

Kerstin sat up so fast her water bottle fell over. “WHAT?”

Leila shrugged, trying to play it cool. “After the match. The away game against Brighton. It was raining, she was soaked. Just standing there like it didn’t bother her. And then Lauren ran up the steps and started talking to her. Looked like they knew each other.”

Kerstin’s jaw dropped. “OH MY GOD. SHE’S REAL! She’s not a ghost. She’s a real person with connections!”

“Obviously she’s real.”

“Yeah, but I thought she might be like… metaphorical, or a hallucination, or a really niche figment of your memory.”

Leila gave her a flat look. “Thanks.”

Kerstin was still buzzing. “Okay but if Hempo knows her, we can find out who she is! Do we ask her? And before Leila could stop her, Kerstin suddenly swung her legs off the recovery bed like she was about to physically go find Lauren right then and there.

“I’m just gonna ask her…”

Leila grabbed her arm mid motion. “No!”

Kerstin froze. “What do you mean no? You’ve been drooling over this woman for weeks, and now we’ve got a direct connection! I could have a name by lunch.”

Leila narrowed her eyes. “You are not ambushing Hempo in the physio room like some deranged gossip reporter.”

Kerstin smirked. “Oh, so you do want to know who she is.”

Leila sighed. “Of course I do. But not like this. Not through someone else. It’s…” she hesitated, struggling to explain it, “I don’t know. It feels personal.”

Kerstin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never even spoken to her.”

“I know,” Leila muttered. “That’s what makes it worse.”

Kerstin flopped back dramatically onto the bed. “You’re killing me. Absolutely killing me with this slowburn nonsense.”

“You love it.”

“Oh, I live for it,” she said, grinning. “But the second she shows up again, I’m taking notes. Height, vibe, possible star sign. I’m building a profile.”

Leila rolled her eyes and threw a towel at her face. “You are so annoying.”

“You love me,” Kerstin grinned. “And you definitely love your rain soaked mystery woman. Admit it.”

Leila didn’t. Not out loud.

But she wasn’t denying it.

It started with a glance. Then it became a pattern.

Now, it was practically a ritual.

Leila stood just behind the touchline, waiting for the team photo before kickoff. Her eyes flicked to the stands before every match, no longer out of idle curiosity but out of need. Compulsion. A tether to something, someone, that steadied her.

It had begun so innocently. A glimpse of a figure in the crowd, nondescript among thousands. A hood pulled up, hands buried deep into the pockets of a weathered jacket, face partially obscured. But something about her stuck. Became a fixture. A lighthouse in a storm of nerves and adrenaline.

There was comfort in her presence. A strange kind of grounding. Leila didn’t even know her name, but the sight of her - always in the same spot, always watching - anchored her. Like a deep breath before the plunge.

But today?

Nothing.

The familiar spot was empty.

Leila's stomach tightened, her pulse quickening as her gaze swept the stands with increasing desperation. She scanned once. Twice. A third time. Nothing. Just a blur of fans, flags, painted faces, and waving phones. All color and noise, but no calm. No her.

Her mind spiraled. Was she running late? Caught in traffic? Maybe something had happened. Maybe she wasn’t coming back. Maybe it had all meant nothing to the woman in the stands. Maybe Leila had read too much into it, built a fantasy around a figment.

The air felt different. The stadium didn’t hum, it rattled. Her boots felt too tight, too heavy. Her shirt clung in all the wrong places. Like everything was misaligned.

When the team huddled for the photo, Leila barely mustered a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. And when the whistle blew, she moved like someone out of sync. Like she was half a second too slow for everything.

Her performance unraveled almost immediately. Passes that usually hit with laser precision veered wide. Her first touch was too heavy. She chased through balls too late. She collided with teammates. The game moved around her like a tide she couldn’t fight.

It was like her vision blurred without the clarity of knowing the woman was there. Like she'd lost her internal compass, the quiet confidence that came from feeling seen, really seen. Without it, every decision felt foggy. Every movement tentative.

Voices around her faded into background noise. Her teammates called out instructions, encouragements, warnings, none of it stuck. Her body went through the motions, but her mind was still searching the stands, still hoping for a miracle.

She made a careless pass that nearly gifted the opposition a goal. Lost her marker on a set piece. Got burned down the wing by a player she normally had on lockdown. She was disoriented. Vulnerable.

She got subbed at halftime.

The coach was gentle, but firm. “You’re not yourself today, Leila. We’re giving you a rest.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t fight. She couldn’t. She just nodded, numb.

On the bench, she zipped her jacket up to her chin and stared out at the crowd, eyes scanning the same section she always did, even though she already knew. The seat was still empty. That absence settled into her chest like a stone.

She didn’t need to be told.

She knew.

The slump didn’t end with the final whistle. It lingered.

Game after game, Leila checked. Her eyes found the spot before anything else - before the ball, before the ref, before the play. And when the woman was there, her game transformed. Her passes were crisp. Her tackles sharp. Her runs, electric. It was like the stadium brightened.

But when she wasn’t...

It hurt. A dull ache in her ribs. An absence she didn’t know how to explain.

Kerstin noticed, of course.

“You’re in love with a fan. Just admit it.”

Leila rolled her eyes as they walked off the training pitch, sweat drenched and flushed. “She’s not just a fan.”

“Oh? So what is she then? Your emotional support stranger?”

Leila shook her head, trying not to smile. “She watches like she gets it. Like she understands what I’m trying to do out there. Like she sees me.”

Kerstin grinned, smug. “God, that’s worse. You’re completely gone.”

At night, the mystery seeped into Leila’s dreams.

She never saw her face clearly, just glimpses. The curve of a jaw. The flicker of a smirk. The feel of someone standing just close enough to matter. Her presence in the dreams was always warm. Steady. Like a current pulling her toward something unnamed.

The dreams weren’t overly romantic, but they were intimate. There was a hand brushing hers. A nod across the noise of a crowd. Moments that lingered too long. Moments that filled the spaces between sleep and wakefulness with questions.

She was someone who saw her, truly, fully. Who didn’t look through her like so many others had.

She started imagining possibilities. Who was she? A coach? A scout? An ex player with a secret past? Perhaps Kerstin was right and she was a ghost but then who was Hempo talking to after that damn match.

The truth was, Leila felt more and more disconnected from the people around her. She had teammates. Friends. Banter. But it all skimmed the surface. With this woman, there was depth, even if they’d never spoken. Even if it was all illusion.

She found herself replaying their glances like they were match highlights. The first time they locked eyes. The subtle smirk. The way the woman stood unaffected by the rain, as if the world couldn’t touch her.

Kerstin had started a running joke.

“She was there today, wasn’t she? You were on fire. I’m making a spreadsheet: ‘Mystery Woman Sightings’ correlated with ‘Peak Leila Performance.’”

Leila rolled her eyes every time, but she never denied it.

Because it was true. She was better when she was there.

Your POV

You stood near the top of the stand, hoodie up, hands in your pockets, eyes fixed on the pitch. On your sister, darting down the wing, relentless as ever, the engine of the team. Lauren was easy to watch. Easy to admire.

But your gaze always drifted. No matter how hard you tried to stay focused, it pulled you elsewhere.

To her. To Leila.

You didn’t know when the watching began, only that it had become impossible to stop. The stillness in her eyes before kickoff. The way she always scanned the crowd like she was searching for something (someone) and the way her gaze would settle exactly where you stood. It made your chest tighten. Like maybe she saw you. Like maybe you were the thing she was searching for.

You found out her name the day you returned from working overseas. You’d gone to the first home game just to support Lauren, still jet-lagged and unmoored. But after catching Leila’s glances on the pitch (so deliberate, so direct) you couldn’t let it go. You scanned the matchday programme from front to back until her name jumped out at you: Leila Ouahabi. It felt like unlocking a secret.

At first, you dismissed it all as coincidence. Just a misread glance. Just imagination. But then it kept happening. The stolen looks. The flickers of awareness. The moments when it seemed like time paused, and her eyes stayed locked on yours just a little too long.

You never waved. Never smiled. You weren’t ready to make it easy. You didn’t want to break the spell.

But you noticed. And you kept showing up. And you stayed.

You’d been staying with Lauren since coming back. Her spare room had become your temporary base - quiet, comfortable, safe. She hadn’t pushed for answers you weren’t ready to give, hadn’t asked why you weren’t rushing to get your own place. It worked. It worked because she understood.

So when she mentioned, in passing, that she was hosting a team bonding night later that evening, you froze.

She expected the usual response. A polite no. A vague excuse. You hated big groups. The forced laughter. The curated versions of people. You didn’t do well with small talk, and you’d become an expert at hiding in the upstairs room when things got too loud.

But this time you hesitated. 

Because if Leila was going to be there…

Maybe the glances meant something. Maybe you weren’t imagining the pull. Maybe it wasn’t just you, standing there in silence, waiting for nothing.

Maybe the mystery had a heartbeat.

So, much to Lauren’s surprise, you said yes. You agreed to come downstairs. To participate. To exist in the same space as her - not just from the safety of the stands, but up close. Real.

Just to see. Just to know.

Lauren’s house buzzed with the low hum of conversation and music, soft lights casting a warm glow across the living room. It was nothing over the top, just a chill team night like she’d promised. A few drinks, snacks on the coffee table, people sprawled on cushions and couches, laughing over old matches and inside jokes.

You hovered near the edge of it all, a glass of wine in hand, content to watch. You weren’t exactly the life of the party, but you looked the part; poised, composed, effortlessly stylish in the way that made people wonder if you were older than you looked, or just quietly intimidating. A part of you knew you stood out, but you didn’t mind. You preferred it that way.

The door opened again. You didn’t look up at first, just another teammate arriving late.

But Leila’s voice drifted in from the hallway, bright and casual, caught mid-laugh as she spoke to someone behind her. The sound prickled down your spine. And then…

She stepped into the room.

And you froze.

Mid sentence. Mid step.

Eyes wide. Jaw slack. Like she’d seen a ghost.

You held her gaze, steady and unreadable, the corners of your mouth barely twitching in amusement.

Because now you understood.

All this time, she hadn’t known, and now you were standing in Lauren’s living room, sipping wine like you belonged there.

Chaos played behind Leila’s eyes. You saw it instantly; confusion, panic, calculation.

Kerstin clocked it too. She followed Leila’s line of sight and then glanced between the two of you with a smirk of realization so sharp it nearly cut the air. She nudged Leila’s arm gently, muttered something only she could hear. Leila swatted her off with a shaky laugh, but her eyes didn’t leave yours.

Lauren, oblivious, waved her over.

“Leila! Kerstin! You made it. Come here, I want to introduce you to someone.” She beamed and gestured toward you. “This is my sister. She’s staying with me for a bit, just moved back from working abroad.”

Leila turned to her, face carefully neutral. “Oh,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Your… sister.”

You gave a polite nod, suppressing the urge to grin. “Nice to meet you.”

And Leila (who could normally talk tactics with coaches, joke effortlessly in interviews, and light up entire locker rooms with her confidence) was struggling.

“Hi. I mean… yeah. I… I’ve seen you before. I mean, not like, well, yes, I’ve seen you, but not…”

Kerstin coughed into her drink to hide a laugh. Someone turned up the music. The moment passed.

You moved through the night like mist - quiet but present, slipping between conversations, never fully settling. But always aware of where she was.

And Leila? She was flustered. Miserable at pretending not to look at you. She knocked over a bowl of crisps at one point and muttered something in Spanish under her breath that made Alex glance at her sideways.

Eventually, your paths crossed again. It happened naturally, sort of. You drifted into the kitchen to refill your glass, and when you turned, she was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, clearly gathering courage.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Thirsty?”

A beat passed, and then panic flickered across your face.

“I mean, do you want a drink?” you corrected quickly, eyes wide.

Leila let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

You laughed too, a little breathless, trying to shake off the embarrassment as you leaned against the counter. “You okay?”

Leila nodded, then shook her head. “You’re… you’re Lauren’s sister.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“I thought you were just” She hesitated. “A fan.”

“A fan who just happened to be in the friends and family section?” you teased.

Leila winced. “Okay, yeah. That should’ve tipped me off.”

You watched her for a second, then softened. “I saw you too, you know.”

She blinked. “You did?”

“Of course. You weren’t exactly subtle,” you said. “You looked at me like I was the only person in the stadium.”

Leila rubbed the back of her neck, eyes darting to the floor. “I honestly thought I was imagining you. Like maybe you were a ghost or something.”

That made you smile, real and warm. “A ghost with a wine glass and a sister who steals all the blankets? Doesn’t sound very spooky.”

She laughed, finally, and something in her posture eased.

There was silence, then, comfortable, suspended. You let it settle between you.

“Leila,” she said suddenly. “My name. It’s Leila.”

“I know,” you replied. “I read the programme.”

She laughed again, softer this time. “And you?”

“Y/N” 

It had started to get loud.

The music, the laughter, the way conversations overlapped and tangled until the walls of Lauren’s house felt too close, the air too warm. The hum of familiarity that everyone else seemed to move through so easily only pressed harder against your chest. You smiled through it for a while. You leaned into the performance of being fine. But eventually, it was too much.

So you slipped away.

No one noticed.

Not even Lauren, who was in the middle of a heated debate about which was the worst Lego set ever made when you made your quiet escape. Right through the kitchen door, easing it shut as you stepped into the garden.

The cool night air wrapped around you like relief. It was quiet out here, peaceful. The stars blinked faintly above the rooftops, and a breeze stirred the leaves of the hedges that bordered the fence. You sank down onto one of the patio chairs, tucked your knees up, and let the calm settle into your bones.

Finally, you could breathe again.

You didn’t know how long you sat there. Long enough for the muffled sound of voices inside to start fading into background noise. Long enough to feel like maybe you could vanish into this quiet and not be missed.

But then the door creaked.

Footsteps.

Leila.

You glanced up, and she was already looking at you - soft eyes, hands in her jacket pockets, uncertainty written in the slope of her shoulders.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” she said.

You tilted your head, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Let me guess. I didn’t exactly blend in?”

She let out a breath of a laugh, stepping closer. “You kind of ghosted the whole party.”

“And you followed.”

She gave a small shrug, then lowered herself into the chair across from you. “I think I needed to.”

Silence stretched between you, not awkward just open. The kind of silence that waits for the right words.

“You don’t really like crowds,” she said eventually.

You looked over at her, surprised. “How do you know that?”

Leila smiled, soft and almost shy. “I’ve been watching you longer than you probably think.”

You didn’t answer at first. Just studied her face in the dim light. “Like at the matches. Were you disappointed to find out I was just your teammate's sister and not a ghost?” 

Her cheeks flushed. “Not even a little.”

Your breath caught.

There it was again, that shift. The quiet gravity between you pulling tighter.

You talked after that. Not about the party or the team or what everyone else was doing, but about the important things. About how you found peace in repetition, in routine. How you had to leave the country to find yourself again, only to realize that maybe the thing you were looking for was always back here. You told her you weren’t sure how long you’d stay in England. She told you she hoped it would be long enough to find out where this - whatever this was - might lead.

You didn’t notice how much time had passed until you heard the creak of the back door again, but no one was there.

Leila glanced back, then pulled out her phone.

She blinked.

“Everyone’s gone,” she said.

You frowned. “Seriously?”

She showed you the screen. A message from Kerstin.

Kermit: Hope the garden’s comfy, love birds. Don’t worry, I distracted everyone from seeing you two. You’re welcome.

Leila stared at it for a moment in horror, then burst out laughing.

You pressed a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh of your own. “Oh my god.”

“Dios mio!” Leila groaned, slumping in her chair. “Everyone’s going to know.”

“I don’t care,” she said, eyes finding yours again in the dark. “Let them.”

And suddenly, you didn’t either.

Because for the first time since being back, this felt like something real.

Leila had barely stepped off the training pitch when Kerstin fell into step beside her, grinning like she’d been counting down the minutes just to pounce.

“So,” she began, dragging the word out dramatically as they headed down the corridor toward the changing rooms, “are you actually coming out later with me, Ruth, and the girls, or are you pulling another vanishing act?”

Leila rolled her eyes, tugging her hoodie over her head.

“You never hang out anymore,” Kerstin went on, undeterred but playfully accusatory. “Ever since that team bonding night, you’ve been disappearing faster than Khiara when someone mentions ice baths. I’m starting to take it personally.”

“I’ve just been busy,” Leila muttered, avoiding her gaze.

Kerstin slowed, eyes narrowing. Then she gasped. “Oh my God. You’re blushing.”

Leila kept walking, but her cheeks were already giving her away.

“Oh, I know that look!” Kerstin declared triumphantly.

Leila groaned. “Kerstin…”

“I knew it!” Kerstin laughed, nearly tripping over her own feet in delight. “You’ve got that post hookup glow. Who is it? Oh my God, is it someone we know?”

Leila hesitated for just a second. Too long.

Kerstin’s eyes lit up. “It is, isn’t it?! It’s someone here. Wait, don’t tell me… let me guess…”

Leila ducked her head, clearly flustered, trying to shut it down without outright lying - her mind flashing, unhelpfully, back to the other night…

Flashback to a week after the team bonding night:

It had been a quiet evening and Leila had just gotten home from training, muscles sore, hair still damp from a rushed shower. And yet the second she’d seen the name light up her phone - Y/N - Leila’s exhaustion melted into anticipation.

The knock came just ten minutes later. There she was, hood up, hair a little messy from the wind, bottle of wine in one hand and a takeaway bag in the other.

It had been a quiet evening and Leila had just gotten home from training, muscles sore, hair still damp from a rushed shower. And yet the second she’d seen the name light up her phone - Y/N - Leila's exhaustion melted into anticipation.

Be there soon ;)

The knock came just ten minutes later. There you stood, hair a little messy from the wind, bottle of wine in one hand and a takeaway bag in the other. 

“Hey” you spoke with a shy smile adorning your face.

“Hey yourself,” Leila grinned back.

You held up the takeaway bag and the bottle of wine as Leila stepped aside, allowing you to enter. 

“Rosarios?” Leila arched an eyebrow, amused. “Trying to impress me?”

“Is it working?” you teased.

She just smiled, turning on her heel and leading you into the kitchen.

As you set the food and wine down on the counter, Leila moved beside you, grabbing glasses and napkins from the cupboard. You became hyper aware of every brush of your bodies as you moved around the narrow kitchen space (her arm grazing yours) her shoulder brushing against your back when she reached past you.

Your fingers touched briefly when you both reached for the same fork. She looked up at you, lips parted like she was about to say something, but didn’t. Just smiled, soft and knowing.

You swallowed, pulse quickening as the silence stretched. It wasn’t awkward. It was charged.

“Movie?” Leila offered, voice light, but her eyes said something else entirely.

“Sure,” you said, maybe too quickly.

You ate cross legged on the couch, laughing between bites, a movie playing gently in the background as you teased Leila about the way she pronounced the film’s title.

She rolled her eyes, nudging your foot under the blanket. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re obsessed with me,” you quipped back.

Leila didn’t deny it.

It started like it always did, with your fingers brushing hers between the takeaway containers, soft looks held a second too long, an accidental touch on her thigh that wasn’t really accidental at all. Then you were leaning in, and Leila met you halfway.

The first kiss was slow, indulgent. The second, deeper. And then you were climbing into her lap, straddling her thighs with easy familiarity, hands sliding into her hair as you kissed her like you’d been waiting all day for it.

Leila’s fingers gripped your hips, grounding you there. You could feel the tension in her body, the way she gave in so completely when you tugged gently at the hem of her shirt.

“Food can wait,” you murmured against her lips, breathless as you kissed her again - longer this time, more sure.

Leila let out a quiet laugh, but it was cut off with a gasp as you pushed her back into the cushions, your hands slipping under her hoodie. She looked up at you with wide, dazed eyes, legs spreading instinctively beneath you as you settled between them.

You grinned wickedly, your eyes darkening with lust as you looked down at Leila sprawled beneath you. She was a vision - her hair tousled, lips kiss swollen, eyes hazy with desire. You felt a surge of power, knowing you'd reduced her to this state of need.

Your hands slid under her hoodie, pushing the fabric up to expose the smooth skin of her stomach. Leila arched into your touch, gasping as your fingers grazed the underside of her breasts. You leaned down, trailing open mouthed kisses along her collarbone, feeling her shiver beneath you.

But just as you were about to move further, Leila surprised you by pushing up on her elbows. She gripped your shoulders, flipping your positions in one swift move. Now she was straddling your hips, pinning your wrists above your head.

"Hey," you gasped, taken aback by her sudden dominance. "What are you doing?"

Leila smirked down at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think it's my turn to be in charge," she purred, grinding her hips against yours. You could feel the heat of her core through the fabric of your jeans, making you groan.

"Oh really?" you challenged, arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly do you plan to do with me?"

In response, Leila leaned down and captured your mouth in a searing kiss. Her tongue delved between your lips, stroking against yours in a sensual dance. You moaned into her mouth, your hips bucking up involuntarily.

Leila chuckled against your lips, the sound low and sultry. "I'm going to make you forget your own name," she promised, nipping at your bottom lip. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, so good, that you'll never want anyone else again."

With that, she sat up, reaching for the hem of her hoodie. In one fluid motion, she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside, revealing her choice to forgo wearing a bra under her hoodie. Your mouth went dry at the sight of her, all smooth skin and toned curves.

Leila leaned back down, kissing a hot trail along your jaw and down your neck. Her hands slid under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and off in a quick motion. Her nails raked down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You writhed beneath her, your body aching for more of her touch. Leila seemed to sense your need, her hand sliding down to palm your aching core through your jeans. You bucked into her hand, a whimper escaping your lips.

"That's it, baby," Leila cooed, unbuttoning your jeans with deft fingers. "Let me take care of you." She pulled your jeans and panties down in one swift motion, leaving you bare and exposed.

Leila sat back on her heels, taking a moment to admire you laid out before her. Her eyes were dark with desire, her pupils blown wide. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," she breathed, running a hand reverently over your stomach.

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliment, but before you could respond, Leila was moving again. She shimmied out of her own jeans and panties, revealing her glistening core. Your mouth watered at the sight, making you wonder how you hadn't noticed how soaked she was.

She leaned down, her fingers hovering over your clit. "Ready for me?" she whispered, her voice husky.

You nodded, unable to speak, your entire body tensing with anticipation. Leila's fingers dipped into your wetness, and you gasped, arching into her touch. Her fingers were firm yet gentle, exploring your slick folds with practiced ease.

"So wet for me," Leila murmured, her thumb circling your clit. You moaned, her touch sending waves of pleasure through you. She increased the pressure, her fingers dancing over, and you felt yourself starting to climb.

"Leila," you gasped, "please."

She leaned down, kissing your lips deeply as her fingers continued their work. Her thumb found your clit, rubbing it with a rhythmic pressure that made you cry out. You felt yourself building towards an orgasm, your body coiling with an unbearable tension.

"Don't hold back," Leila breathed against your mouth, her fingers moving faster, harder. "Let go for me."

With a guttural cry, you surrendered to the pleasure. Your orgasm crashed over you in intense waves, your entire body convulsing as you came. Leila held you steady, her fingers continuing to stroke you until the last tremors subsided.

You collapsed against her chest, both of you panting heavily. Leila peppered your face with soft kisses, murmuring sweet words of praise as she held you close.

"Wow," you managed to say after a moment, still trying to catch your breath.

Leila chuckled, nuzzling your neck. Her voice warm and sweet like she didn’t just fuck you into the sofa, "but I'm not done with you yet, we've got all night."

“Oh my God,” Kerstin breathed, eyes going wide with delight. “Y/N? Hempos sister?”

They rounded the corner, still mid banter, just as they nearly ran straight into Lauren and Alex, deep in conversation and mid-stride.

A few seconds earlier…

“Ale, wait up!” Lauren called out, jogging a few steps down the hallway after spotting Alex Greenwood near the physio room.

Alex slowed and turned, one brow raised. “What’s up? You alright?”

Lauren caught up, a little breathless but clearly wound up. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I need to talk to you. About my sister.”

Alex gave her a curious look as they started walking together toward the lockers. “Okay, tell me if I’m being paranoid, but don’t lie to me, yeah?”

“Always honest,” Alex promised.

Lauren glanced over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. “I think my sister’s seeing someone.”

Alex blinked. “Wait your sister? Y/N?”

Lauren nodded quickly. “Yes! She’s been acting weird since the team bonding night. Like smiling at her phone constantly, taking phone calls in the garden like she’s in a bloody rom com.”

Alex tilted her head. “Maybe she’s just enjoying being back in the country?”

Lauren gave her a flat look. “She started wearing mascara before breakfast. And don’t even get me started on the mysterious late night ‘reading’ sessions.”

Alex tried not to laugh. “Could be a skincare routine.”

“She’s glowing, Alex. And she won’t tell me why. I’m going crazy.”

Alex held up her hands. “Alright, alright. What’s your theory?”

“I don’t have one,” Lauren groaned. “That’s why I’m asking you, before I start pinning red string to a wall.”

That’s when voices drifted around the corner - light footsteps, laughter, unmistakably familiar.

A second later, Kerstin and Leila appeared, still flushed from training. Leila had her water bottle in one hand, her hoodie half zipped, Kerstin grinning like the devil himself had whispered gossip into her ear.

“So,” Kerstin said in her usual mock-casual voice, nudging Leila in the ribs, “another date after training? Should I start calling her your girlfriend now or do you want to keep pretending it’s ‘just dinner’?”

Leila groaned, clearly flustered. “Shut up, Kerstin.”

Kerstin cackled. “You’re blushing! That’s a yes. She is your girlfriend. Oh my God, this is so…”

Lauren’s head snapped up. “Wait, who has a girlfriend?”

Leila froze mid-step.

Kerstin blinked, then smiled with just a touch too much brightness. “Oh hey, Lauren. Perfect timing. I was just thinking I needed your help.”

Lauren narrowed her eyes. “Funny. I was actually about to ask you something. About my sister.”

That made Leila’s stomach flip.

Kerstin tilted her head. “Your sister, huh? What kind of something?”

“She’s been acting weird lately. Different. Like she’s… I don’t know, glowing or something. Smiling at her phone, avoiding questions, being all mysterious.” Lauren looked directly at Leila now. “And I remembered something.”

Leila tried to look casual, but her pulse thumped in her throat.

Lauren’s gaze sharpened. “At team night. You two were sat talking for ages. Just the two of you.”

Leila cleared her throat. “Yeah. She’s easy to talk to.”

Lauren nodded slowly. “She is. But I’ve known her my whole life, and I know when she’s hiding something.” Her eyes narrowed just slightly. “So I guess I was wondering… do you know if there’s anything going on? Anything I should know?”

Kerstin’s eyes slid to Leila in quiet surprise.

Leila forced a soft laugh. “No. Not that I know of.”

Lauren blinked. “Really?”

“I mean, we’ve talked a few times,” Leila said, voice carefully light. “She’s great. But I don’t know anything about her love life.”

Kerstin tilted her head but said nothing, clearly clocking how careful Leila was being.

Lauren exhaled, frustrated. “I feel like everyone’s keeping something from me.”

Leila offered a small, almost apologetic shrug. “Maybe she’s just figuring things out.”

Before Lauren could respond, one of the assistant coaches popped her head around the corner.

“Video room, ladies. Let’s move.”

Lauren sighed. “This conversation isn’t over.”

Kerstin waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to Leila with a look.

Leila’s fingers drummed nervously against the physio bench as she sat beside Kerstin, the post training quiet settling over the room. Kerstin, ever the instigator, was already halfway through teasing her again.

“So, how long until you stop pretending this is just a fling and admit you're whipped?” she smirked, tossing her water bottle from hand to hand.

Leila rolled her eyes. “I’m not whipped.”

Kerstin gave her a look. “You literally rearranged your gym sessions to match her work schedule. You, Leila Ouahabi, are dating Lauren Hemp’s sister and acting like it's not a thing.”

Leila laughed under her breath, exasperated. “Okay, fine. I’m dating her sister. Happy?”

A beat of silence.

Then: “What?”

The voice came from the doorway.

Both of them turned sharply.

Lauren stood frozen in place, gym bag slung over one shoulder, wide eyes locked on Leila. Her face was unreadable - shock, confusion, something beginning to harden into hurt.

Leila’s stomach plummeted. “Lauren… wait, I didn’t mean it like… I was going to tell you.”

“You’re dating my sister?” Lauren’s voice cracked, low and sharp.

“It’s not what you think.” Leila stood up, hands raised slightly like she could stop this from unraveling.

But Lauren was already shaking her head. “No. Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Leila didn’t even think, her feet moved before her brain caught up. She shoved open the door Lauren had just stormed through, heart hammering in her chest.

“Lauren, wait… please!”

Lauren was halfway down the corridor, walking fast, shoulders rigid. But the moment she heard Leila’s voice, she spun around so abruptly it made Leila stop in her tracks.

“You know,” Lauren said, voice trembling with anger, “I thought you would've told me. But obviously not.”

Leila winced like the words physically struck her. “I wanted to. I was going to.”

Lauren let out a bitter laugh, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “When? At your wedding? Or were you going to keep sneaking around until I found out from someone else?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Leila insisted, taking a tentative step closer. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. You're her sister. I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Lauren’s eyes flashed. “Well, guess what? It’s weird now.”

Leila’s mouth opened, then shut. The corridor felt suddenly too bright, too quiet.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said softly.

“Then you should’ve trusted me,” Lauren snapped, before turning away again.

This time, Leila didn’t follow.

You knocked gently on Leila’s door, balancing a bottle of wine under one arm and a small bag of groceries in the other. She opened it quickly, her expression softening the moment she saw you.

“Hey,” she said, stepping aside so you could come in.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

The apartment was warm, the scent of simmering tomato and garlic filling the space. You wandered into the kitchen, setting the wine on the counter while Leila fussed over a pan on the stove. She moved around almost robotically, stirring without really looking, barely saying a word.

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Leila said, too fast. “Just tired.”

But as the evening wore on, it became impossible to ignore.

She barely touched her food. She didn’t laugh when you teased her about burning the garlic bread. She didn’t meet your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.

Eventually, after enough half hearted nods and empty smiles, you set your fork down and said it plainly.

“Okay. Spill. What’s up?”

Leila let out a breath through her nose, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “It’s Lauren.”

You sat back. “What about her?”

“She found out. About us.” Leila’s voice was quiet but steady. “She overheard me talking to Kerstin.”

“Shit,” you muttered. “What did she say?”

“She’s angry. Hurt.” Leila looked up finally, and the guilt in her eyes hit you like a punch. “She thinks I betrayed her.”

You frowned. “Come on, Leila. You didn’t betray her.”

“I lied to her,” Leila said. “She asked me if there was anything going on and I looked her in the eye and lied. I’ve never done that to her.”

You reached across the table and took her hand. “You were protecting something new. Something personal. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Leila didn’t squeeze your hand back. “It makes me a coward.”

You sighed, trying to stay calm. “No, it doesn’t. It makes you human.”

But she was already pulling away again - emotionally, physically. You could feel it in the way she shifted in her seat, the tension radiating off her in waves.

“I hate knowing she’s upset with me,” she murmured. “I have to see her every day, and now it’s like she doesn’t even trust me anymore.”

“Okay, but you’re overreacting,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Leila froze.

Her eyes snapped to yours, hurt flaring instantly. “Are you serious?”

You blinked. “Leila, I just mean…”

“No. I heard you,” she said, her voice sharp and trembling. “You think I’m blowing this out of proportion because you don't have to deal with the consequences. She’s not your teammate. You don’t have to face her every day, knowing she’s disappointed in you.”

“I’m not saying it’s not hard for you,” you said quickly. “But you’re acting like this is the end of the world. People argue. People get over things.”

“She’s one of my best friends,” Leila said, voice rising. “I know how she is. This isn’t just going to blow over.”

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. “Jesus, Leila, what do you want from me? I came over here to have dinner with you, not to get dragged into some spiral over your guilt.”

She flinched like you’d slapped her.

And then, softly (almost broken) she whispered, “I just wanted you to understand.”

But you were already too worked up to hear it clearly. “You know what? Maybe I don’t. Maybe I don’t understand why you’re so ready to throw this away over one uncomfortable conversation.”

Tears filled her eyes instantly, her lip trembling. “I’m not throwing anything away.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell pushing me,” you snapped.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You grabbed your coat without another word, the weight of the argument suffocating. Leila stood frozen in the kitchen, hands clutched into fists at her sides, trying desperately not to cry.

And then you walked out.

The door slammed shut behind you.

Inside, Leila sank to the floor of her kitchen, tears spilling freely down her cheeks, her food long forgotten about going cold on the table behind her.

Over the next few days it was clear that ​​Leila was falling apart, and everyone could see it.

Her usual sharpness on the pitch was gone. Her mind was clearly somewhere else, eyes distant even as she tried to focus on the ball at her feet. During one training game, she completely missed a through pass from Laura, letting it roll past her as if she hadn’t even registered it. The coaches didn’t even yell this time; they just exchanged silent, uneasy looks.

She barely spoke in the dressing room. Didn’t laugh at jokes. Didn’t chirp back at Khiara when she made one of her usual sarcastic comments. Even when Jess nudged her and asked if she was okay, Leila just nodded without meeting anyone’s eye.

And Kerstin had had enough.

By the third day of this, of watching her friend walk around like her heart had been cracked wide open and she was too proud to tape it back together, Kerstin made a beeline for Lauren.

Lauren was sitting on a bench just outside the boot room, retying her laces with a practiced intensity, her expression guarded and far too serious for someone getting ready for cool down. Her jaw was clenched tight, shoulders hunched forward.

Kerstin didn’t bother softening her approach. She crossed her arms and stood right in front of her.

“We need to talk.”

Lauren didn’t even look up. “If this is about Leila, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, too bad,” Kerstin snapped. “Because you need to hear it, and besides Ruth will kill me if I go home without any better news today.”

Lauren finally met her eyes, her own gaze sharp. “She lied to me, Kerstin.”

“She didn’t lie, Lauren. She kept something from you because she was scared. There’s a difference.”

Lauren scoffed and went back to tightening her laces, like that was the end of the conversation. Kerstin refused to let her shut down so easily.

“You don’t see what I see,” she said, voice low but firm. “You don’t see how she’s been showing up here looking like she didn’t sleep. How she’s dragging herself through training like her body’s here but the rest of her got left behind.”

Lauren stayed quiet, but the tension in her shoulders visibly stiffened.

“She’s completely unraveling,” Kerstin went on. “She misses you. And your sister? She hasn’t even heard from her since the fight. Leila’s trying to hold it together, and she’s failing. Miserably.”

Still, no response. Kerstin stepped closer, dropping her voice even more. “You think this is easy for her? She was terrified to tell you because she cares about you that much. And now she’s punishing herself for not doing it sooner. She thinks she’s lost both of you.”

Lauren let out a shaky breath, finally meeting Kerstin’s eyes again. “She should’ve trusted me.”

Kerstin’s face softened. “Maybe. But you know Leila. She overthinks. She puts everyone else first. She panicked and made a mistake. A dumb one. But she didn’t do it to hurt you.”

Lauren’s voice cracked slightly. “I just… I would’ve been happy for her. For both of them. But now it just hurts. That they thought I couldn’t handle it.”

Kerstin’s expression softened. “Then tell her that. Don’t just keep freezing her out. It’s not solving anything.”

A long silence stretched between them. The only sounds were the distant thud of balls being kicked on the training pitch and the quiet rustle of wind through the trees nearby.

“She loves her,” Kerstin said quietly. “Your sister. She’s it for her. I’ve known Leila a long time. I’ve seen the way she dates, how she keeps things surface level to protect herself. But this? This is different.”

Lauren swallowed, emotion flickering across her face. “You really think she loves her?”

“I know she does,” Kerstin said simply. “And it’s killing her not being able to talk to either of you. She’s not eating. She’s not sleeping. She’s not herself.”

Lauren stood slowly, the boot she’d been lacing now dangling from one hand. Her posture was tense, torn.

“I need time,” she said.

“Fine,” Kerstin nodded. “Take time. But don’t take too long. Because if you keep waiting, you’re going to lose her and your sister’s going to think you don’t care at all.”

Lauren didn’t respond. She just stood there, staring down at the grass, jaw tight and eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like guilt.

Kerstin gave her a final look, voice soft again. “Just think about it, okay?”

And then she turned and walked away, leaving Lauren alone in the silence with nothing but her own reflection to wrestle with.

You furrowed your brows as you pulled on your jacket, shooting a suspicious glance at Lauren. “Why exactly are we going to Ruth and Kerstin’s? I’ve barely spoken to Ruth. And didn’t Kerstin almost set their kitchen on fire the last time she ‘tried a new recipe’?”

Lauren shrugged far too casually, grabbing her keys. “Apparently they need more taste testers. Also, Kerstin’s officially banned from cooking now.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Still doesn’t explain why I’m invited. You’re the one who’s actually friends with them.”

Lauren avoided your gaze as she opened the front door. “Ruth insisted. You know how she gets.”

You followed her reluctantly, suspicion building with every step. “This isn’t some weird intervention, is it?”

Lauren threw you a look of mock offence. “What? No. Just dinner. Chill.”

But the moment you stepped through Ruth and Kerstin’s front door and heard the unmistakable sound of familiar voices (one in particular that sent your stomach into freefall) you froze.

You spun to glare at Lauren, who suddenly found the hallway wall extremely fascinating.

“Lauren.”

“What?” she said too quickly.

You stared at her, jaw tight. “You absolute snake.”

She offered a sheepish smile and nudged you toward the kitchen. “Just go in. Trust me.”

You hesitated. “I swear to God, if Leila’s in there…”

“She is,” Lauren admitted, wincing. “But you’re not leaving. Ruth will actually murder me.”

As if summoned, Ruth’s voice floated in sweetly from the kitchen: “If she tries to run, block the door!”

Your mouth dropped open. “What is this, a hostage situation?!”

“Basically,” Lauren muttered, pushing you forward with a resigned shrug. “Good luck.”

Your feet felt like concrete as you stepped into the living room, heart thudding so loudly you were sure Lauren could hear it. The air was different here - warmer, heavier, like it knew something you didn’t.

And then you saw her. Leila.

She stood near the bookcase, her back to the door, chatting quietly with Kerstin. Kerstin’s eyes lit up the moment she spotted you entering the room. Leila’s hair was pulled up messily, a few loose strands softening her face. She wore trainers, jeans, and a hoodie (simple, casual) but somehow still utterly beautiful.

When Leila finally turned around, your eyes met, and everything else seemed to vanish. The hum of voices from the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, even Lauren’s presence, all faded away. All that remained was the look on Leila’s face: a mixture of surprise, guilt, relief, and pain.

It struck you hard, right in the chest.

Memories crashed back: the fight, the shouting, her voice trembling, the brokenness in her eyes just before you walked away. You’d convinced yourself you were angry. That walking out was the right choice.

But now? All you felt was the deep ache.

You tried to find words, anything to say, but your throat was too tight. So you simply stood there, holding her gaze.

And she didn’t look away.

Not immediately. There was something flickering in her eyes - maybe hope, maybe fear. But then she blinked, lowered her gaze, and clenched her fists, like she was forcing herself to stay steady.

You swallowed hard.

“What is this?” you finally asked, your eyes flicking between Ruth and Lauren.

Kerstin grinned from the kitchen archway, carrot stick in hand. “Total coincidence. Wild, right?”

Ruth didn’t even look up but you could almost feel her eye roll from where you stood. “It’s not a coincidence. Sit down.”

Leila then spoke, her voice sharp but tinged with frustration: “I thought I was helping you move a bookcase? I almost brought my toolkit. I spent twenty minutes hunting for a screwdriver because I thought I’d have to unbolt something.”

You covered your mouth, trying to suppress a snort, but it slipped out anyway. Leila’s glare deepened immediately.

“Sorry, sorry,” you managed between quiet giggles. “It’s just kind of funny.”

Leila huffed, folding her arms. “I thought I was being a good friend. I’m not the one who walked away when things got hard.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. “Oh my God. You make it sound so simple, as if leaving didn’t shatter me.”

Her eyes locked on yours, breath caught somewhere between fury and heartbreak. “And you leaving didn’t break me?”

The room fell into an awful silence, like the air had been sucked out of it.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

Then Ruth’s voice came again, sharp as glass. “I swear to God, if you two don’t sit your asses down and shut up!”

You both jumped.

“NOW,” she barked, pointing at the table.

Leila dropped into a chair, glaring at the floor.

You folded your arms and dropped into the chair furthest across from her, legs crossed and jaw tight.

Satisfied, Ruth turned toward your sister. “Lauren. You’ve got the floor.”

Lauren stepped into view, her usual confidence muted. Hands in her hoodie pockets, she let out a slow breath before crossing her arms and glancing between you and Leila.

“I didn’t plan some big speech,” she began. “But I guess I don’t need one. Because this whole thing? It hurt.”

You frowned. Leila looked down at her hands.

“You’re both important to me,” Lauren said. “My sister. My friend. And it felt like neither of you trusted me. Like I wasn’t someone you could come to. Just someone to work around.”

Kerstin, still leaning on the fridge, bit into her carrot with a grin. “This is better than Coronation Street.”

Without even looking, Ruth smacked her arm.

Kerstin yelped. “Ow! What?!”

“Out,” Ruth ordered, already grabbing her by the sleeve and marching her out of the kitchen.

“I wasn’t even being that loud!” Kerstin called back as she was dragged away.

Ruth didn’t respond.

Lauren barely blinked. “I’m not mad you were together,” she said quietly, turning back to you both. “I’m hurt. You’re my sister. And you…” she looked directly at you now, her voice softer, “you’re one of the people I trust the most.”

You felt your gut twist.

“I would have supported you,” Lauren went on. “But I found out in the most awkward, backhanded way possible. Because neither of you thought I could handle the truth. That hurt more than anything.”

Leila blinked rapidly, jaw clenched.

“I know it was scary. I know it was complicated. But I deserved better from both of you.”

Silence fell again.

Then Lauren exhaled. “Now, talk. Resolve this. Because Ruth will kill us all if you don’t.”

From down the hallway, Ruth’s voice rang out: “And that is a promise!”

Kerstin’s sulky voice followed: “How come you get to talk and I don’t?!”

You and Leila both let out soft, shaky laughs, tense but real.

Lauren arched a brow, but smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.”

Then she turned and walked out, leaving the two of you alone.

The silence that followed was thick. Tangled in everything left unsaid.

You glanced over.

Leila looked like she might break.

And maybe, so did you.

The door clicked shut behind Lauren.

And then there was just silence.

Not the peaceful kind. The kind that settles in your chest like a weight. That makes it hard to breathe. Harder to speak.

You stared at the table, fingers clenched in your lap. You could feel Leila’s presence across from you (every shift, every shaky breath) but neither of you moved.

Finally, you spoke. Quiet. Hesitant.

��So this is weird.”

Leila let out a soft huff. Almost a laugh. “Yeah. Just a bit.”

Another pause. A breath passed between you, thick with everything unspoken.

You dared to look up.

Leila was already looking at you.

She didn’t look angry. Or defensive. She just looked tired. Like the weight of it all had finally caught up to her.

“I didn’t want it to end like that,” she said quietly. “That night. I didn’t want it to end at all.”

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Then why did it?”

You took a breath. “I was wrong.”

That softened something in her face. Barely. But it was there.

“I was cruel,” you continued. “And defensive. And dismissive as hell. You were trying to let me in and see how this was affecting you and I treated your feelings like they were inconvenient. I hate that I made you feel alone in it.”

Leila didn’t say anything. But her arms dropped slowly to her sides.

“I get it now,” you said. “You were scared because Lauren means something to you. Because we meant something to you. You were trying to protect us both, and I acted lIke a child.”

Her chin trembled at that.

You stepped closer.

“I should’ve listened. I should’ve told you then what I’m telling you now, that I love you. That I don’t need you to pretend everything’s okay. I just need you. However you are. However messy.”

Her eyes filled. She bit her lip to stop the quiver.

“And I’m sorry,” you said again, softer now. “I walked out when I should’ve stayed. I was scared too. I just handled it worse.”

Leila finally spoke, voice hoarse: “I didn’t want to lose you. Or her.”

“I know.”

“I felt like I was choosing.”

“You weren’t,” you said. “And I should’ve helped you see that.”

A long pause. She took one tentative step forward.

“You hurt me,” she admitted.

“I know,” you said. “And I’m going to spend as long as it takes making that right.”

Her breath caught.

You held out your hand. “Can we try again?”

She didn’t take it.

Instead, she stepped straight into your arms, burying her face in your shoulder as her hands clung tightly to the back of your coat. You wrapped your arms around her, grounding her, holding her like you never wanted to let go again.

“I hate fighting with you,” she murmured.

“Me too,” you said into her hair.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you more.”

Five Years Later

The sun hung low over Manchester, painting the Etihad in warm amber light as the final whistle blew. The crowd erupted, rising in a sea of sky blue to give Leila the send off she deserved. Her last match. Her final minutes on the pitch. It had been emotional from the start, but now, watching her teammates surround her in a group hug, lifting her slightly off the ground, it hit you with full force.

This was the end of a chapter.

But for you (and for the small girl currently bouncing excitedly at your side) it was also a new beginning.

Your daughter, now almost five, was practically vibrating with pride. She wore her little Man City kit proudly, the shorts slightly too big and the sleeves rolled up. The familiar "MAMI" jersey had been replaced today, though. Across the back, in clean, crisp lettering, her shirt simply read:

BIG SISTER.

She didn’t understand the full gravity of it, of course. But she knew it meant something special. She knew it was a secret, just between the two of you. One she was desperate to share with her mami.

You placed a hand over your belly not yet noticeably round, but carrying life again. Hope again. After months of IVF treatments, heartbreak, and patience, the second time had worked. You were pregnant. And today, you were telling Leila.

As the team and staff completed the post-match routines, Leila stood at midfield, arms around Lauren and Steph as the crowd chanted her name. City had planned the day perfectly. Banners waved. A video montage played. And then came the flowers and speeches.

Lauren was first. Her voice cracked halfway through, and she kept dabbing her eyes as she spoke.

"She’s more than my teammate. She’s my family. Always has been. Always will be."

Leila smiled through her tears, pulling her in for a hug. When it was her turn to speak, she gripped the microphone with both hands, eyes sweeping the stadium. She looked older now, but in the best way - softer around the edges, stronger in presence.

"Football has given me everything," she began. "A career. A home. A life I could never have dreamed of. But more than anything, it gave me them."

She looked up toward the family section, directly at you and your daughter.

"My heart. My girls."

Your daughter beamed. You felt tears in your eyes again.

Soon after, the club families were invited down to the pitch for the traditional end-of-season walk. You held your daughter's hand as you descended the steps to the turf, letting the surrealness of it all wash over you. Fans clapped, waving and taking pictures. There were toddlers in kits, babies in arms, and partners snapping photos with their loved ones.

The moment your daughter saw her Auntie Hempo, though, she took off like a shot.

"HEMPOOOOO!"

Lauren turned just in time to catch her niece in her arms. "You little rocket!"

The two of them ran off together, circling the edge of the pitch like two kids at recess. Lauren lifted her into the air at one point, pretending to fly her like a plane, and your daughter’s giggles echoed through the stadium. They raced each other toward the corner flag, Lauren pretending to lose every time. Then they joined in an intense game of penalty kicks with some of the other kids with your daughter mimicking everything from goal celebrations to chants she'd picked up from the crowd.

More players and their families were joining the pitch walk now. It was a strange, beautiful chaos: toddlers weaving between boots and cones, older kids trying to score on the substitute keepers still in full gear, and babies snoozing in prams decked in City blue. The stadium lights shimmered like stars, reflecting the joy bouncing off the faces of everyone lucky enough to be a part of it.

You stood at the edge of it all, your heart full. Watching your daughter be tossed playfully into the air by Lauren, arms flailing, laughter spilling from her lips. She belonged here. Among this team. Among this love.

"She’s got her auntie’s energy," you murmured to yourself, still smiling.

Then you spotted Leila.

She had just finished taking a photo with a young fan and was slowly weaving her way back toward the tunnel area, away from the press and cameras, her bouquet of flowers still in hand. Her boots hung from one shoulder, and her jersey was crumpled slightly, but she wore that same content, glowing look that made your breath catch in your throat every time.

You made your way over, weaving past a few press photographers and waving away one last eager reporter. Your heart thumped as you approached. She spotted you and stopped mid step, her face softening, smile stretching wide.

"There you are."

You reached her, pulling her into a tight hug. She sank into it instantly, like a sigh into safety.

"You were amazing," you whispered.

"I cried like five times."

"So did I."

She leaned back to look at you. "Thank you for being here. For all of it."

You smiled softly, fingers brushing a piece of hair off her cheek. "We have something for you."

Leila tilted her head. "We?"

You turned and motioned for your daughter. She came running over, cheeks flushed and hair a mess, but beaming. She threw her arms around Leila's legs, and Leila immediately dropped to her knees to catch her.

"You were so fast out there," Leila said, kissing her cheek. "Did Auntie Hempo give you sugar or something?"

Your daughter shook her head. "No! I”m just super duper fast!"

"Well, you did amazing. But I think your mama said you had something for me?"

Your daughter blinked, confused with a facial expression nearly identical to your sister. You just gave her a smile and gently turned her around so that the writing became visible.

BIG SISTER.

Leila froze.

The words hit her like a wave, and her eyes widened. Then her hands slowly came to rest on your daughter's sides, still holding her as she looked up at you, stunned.

"Are you serious?"

You nodded, your voice suddenly thick. "Eight weeks. I found out last week. I wanted to tell you here. Today."

Leila’s jaw dropped slightly, tears already welling up. "You’re pregnant?"

"We did it again. The second round worked."

She let out a shaky breath and pulled you both into her arms, hugging you tightly. You felt her shaking slightly from the emotion, your own heart pounding against her shoulder.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "Oh my god, we’re having another baby."

"You’re not just retiring from football," you said with a watery laugh. "You’re retiring into full time chaos."

She laughed through her tears, kissing you hard and then planting about ten kisses all over your daughter's cheeks. Her hands drifted to your stomach for a moment, hesitant, reverent.

"Does anyone else know?"

You shook your head. "Only us. Just you."

She pulled back just enough to look at the both of you. "Thank you. Thank you for today. For this life."

And there, standing on the edge of the pitch she was leaving behind, Leila Ouahabi held her future in her arms. 

The crowd was still there (cheering and clapping) but none of it mattered, not in this moment. 

Not when you were wrapped in each other. Not when your daughter was giggling between you. Not when Leila’s hand rested gently on your belly, her eyes shining with tears and something even deeper.

And then, with her hand still resting on your stomach and her voice barely above a breath, Leila whispered to the moment itself;

"Te amaré por siempre."

I will love you forever.

[brinasheqrt]

hi sweets <3

been craving a fic with sabrina wearing a perfume that has reader folding for her instantly, but no pressure to write!

Smell Like Trouble

summary - request <3

warnings - light kissing, suggestive.

wc - 2.3k

a/n - guys this is my first time writing something kinda sultry so please ignore if it’s terrible 😭

You’d been pacing the living room for at least fifteen minutes.

Well, pacing is generous. You were mostly standing in front of the mirror by the door, half-watching your reflection, half-listening for the sound of heels against hardwood. You’d dressed up — button-down tucked in, a leather watch that Sabrina always liked, your cologne a little stronger than usual. Your fingers were fidgeting though, tugging at your cuff, smoothing your shirt for the eighth time.

She wasn’t even late. She was just… taking her time. And that made you nervous. Sabrina never rushed when she wanted to make an entrance.

You heard the soft click of the bedroom door and stilled. A second later, the sound of her heels — slow, deliberate. And then she turned the corner.

You were done for.

Her dress was nothing overly dramatic — black, silky, hugging her body like it was tailored with you in mind. Hair down, glossy waves resting over one bare shoulder. Her lips were painted a deep red, the kind that always made you want to ruin her lipstick within five minutes of leaving the house. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way she moved. Effortless. Knowing. Like she was walking into a dream she already owned.

And then — the scent.

It hit you like a slow, warm wave. Something floral, but not sweet. Rich, sultry, just this side of dangerous. You actually stepped back half an inch, breath catching as she approached.

“You okay?” she asked, smile tilting as she came to a stop in front of you. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

You shook your head slowly. “Not a ghost. Just… death by perfume.”

She laughed, soft and bright, and turned in a half-circle like she was modeling for you. “Too much?”

You swallowed. “Not even close. What is that?”

She hummed like she was debating telling you. “Something new. Paloma gave it to me. Said it’d make people weak in the knees.”

You stared at her, deadpan. “It’s working.”

“Is it?” she teased, stepping closer. She smoothed her hands over your chest, like she was brushing imaginary lint from your shirt — but she knew what she was doing. She leaned in just slightly, and the scent got stronger. You felt your stomach tighten.

“I don’t know if I can take you to dinner like this,” you muttered.

She blinked up at you, feigning innocence. “Why not?”

“Because you smell like…” You trailed off. Shook your head. “Trouble.”

Sabrina’s smile turned smug, eyes glinting. “Good trouble?”

You looked her over again — the dress, the lipstick, that maddening perfume. You could already feel your self-control leaving your body.

“The kind that ruins lives.”

She giggled, delighted, and stood on her toes to kiss your cheek. “Then I guess you better behave.”

You caught her hand before she could pull away. “No promises.”

⸻

You made it to the restaurant — barely. The drive was torturous. She sat next to you with one leg crossed, her perfume curling through the small space like smoke. Every red light was a test of will. She kept shifting in her seat, adjusting the neckline of her dress or brushing her hair over her shoulder, and every time she moved, the scent rose again — warm and heady, and so her it made your chest ache.

“You’re quiet,” she said, peering at you over the menu once you were seated.

You glanced up at her. The lighting in the restaurant was low and golden, and it made her skin glow. Her collarbone caught the light like something sculpted. Your eyes drifted down, just a little too long.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” you murmured.

Her smile was lazy, slow. “Doing what?”

“That perfume. The dress. Looking at me like that.”

She leaned in, chin resting on her hand, voice quiet. “You’re the one who said I smell like trouble.”

You held her gaze, pulse thrumming in your neck. “I wasn’t kidding.”

The server came over, saving you from saying something that would’ve definitely earned a kick under the table. Sabrina ordered her drink with a sweet smile, then turned back to you like she hadn’t just had you squirming.

“Breathe,” she whispered once you were alone again.

“I can’t breathe,” you said. “It’s in the air, it’s on your skin—Jesus, it’s in my lungs, Sabrina.”

She tilted her head, amused. “You really like it that much?”

You shook your head, unable to form words for a second. “It’s… not just that it smells good. It smells like you, but dialed up. Like every part of you I already have no defenses against, turned into a weapon.”

She blinked. For once, she looked like you had flustered her.

“That might be the hottest compliment I’ve ever gotten,” she murmured.

You raised your glass to her. “To your villain origin story.”

She clinked her glass against yours. “To your downfall.”

⸻

Dinner was slow, indulgent — laughter over shared plates, the low light turning everything intimate. You touched her hand when you passed her the wine. Her fingers lingered a little longer than necessary. You didn’t even remember what you ordered. You were too busy watching her lips move, distracted by the way her perfume lifted every time she turned her head.

At one point, she caught you staring and leaned in with a smirk. “Is it the perfume again?”

You gave her a dry look. “It never left.”

“You know what’s funny?” she said, fingers playing with the stem of her wineglass. “I didn’t even put that much on. Just a dab on my wrists, behind my ears.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.” She leaned toward you, exposing the slope of her neck. “Want to smell?”

You froze. Just for a second. Then you leaned in.

Your nose brushed just beneath her ear — her skin warm, soft, and glowing with that exact scent that had been undoing you for over an hour now. You stayed there a moment too long, breathing in, nearly dizzy from the combination of her skin and the heady perfume.

You pulled back slowly, jaw tight. “Sab.”

She was watching you with wide, amused eyes. “What?”

“If we don’t leave soon,” you said, voice low, “I’m going to forget where we are and kiss every inch of your skin until that perfume’s the only thing I know.”

Her breath caught — just for a beat. Then she licked her lips and grinned.

“Check, please.”

⸻

You made it back to your place in record time.

The second the door shut behind you, she was on you — not rushed, not desperate, just that same confident, slow burn. She slid her hands up your chest, watching your eyes flicker as the scent swirled around you again.

“You’re so easy,” she teased, brushing her lips against yours.

“You’re evil,” you whispered.

Her grin widened. “And you like it.”

You didn’t even bother replying. Your hands found her waist, and you buried your face in the curve of her neck, right where you’d smelled her at dinner. Your lips grazed her skin there, barely a kiss — more like reverence.

“That spot,” you murmured. “Right there. It’s lethal.”

Her breathing hitched. “You really are obsessed.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “I always am. But tonight? You smell like a sin I want to commit over and over again.”

She blinked at you — then tugged you down into a kiss that made your knees go weak.

⸻

Later, after things had slowed, you lay with her curled up on your chest, her perfume now mixed with your cologne and the scent of sweat and skin. You were tracing lazy circles on her back, still a little dazed.

“I’m throwing out all your other perfumes,” you mumbled.

Sabrina laughed sleepily. “But I have like twenty.”

“Don’t care. You only need this one.”

“Mm. So I should wear it every day?”

You tilted your head, considering. “No. Only when you want something.”

She looked up, smiling. “Why?”

“Because I can’t think straight when you wear it,” you said honestly. “I’d give you anything you asked for.

Her smile softened, eyes shining even in the dark. “That’s dangerous, you know.”

You kissed her forehead. “So are you.”

[brooklyn-duo]

Bucky takes another bite of his crackers, trying to think because he had avoided thinking of it until now.

“Steve I..I care about him, I know I do. And he cares about me, at least..it seems like he does. You don’t..” Bucky looks up at him for a moment and after a long pause he speaks again, “If you promise not to judge then I..I don’t mind telling you. He..he does things for me that I can’t explain. He helps me when I have panic attacks, when I have nightmares, when I don’t feel like myself anymore. He..I do care about him, and he makes me happy Steve. It ain’t conventional, trust me I know that. Half the time we laugh together about how convoluted it is on paper, the fact that we…we’re doing this,” he admits softly with a weak smile as he takes his juice to sip again.

Bucky doesn’t know if he should be talking about this, he and Tony had never said they were going to keep it a secret exactly but he never wanted to speak for the other man. He honestly was just stating how it felt, the things that Tony did for him, the way he held him close each night especially after a nightmare, always made time for him even if it was just for Bucky to read a book while Tony worked.

“It doesn’t look right on paper,” he repeats as he looks back up at Steve again, “But it’s what I want, it’s always what I want, he never….Tony always checks, every time he tells me we don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, that he’s happy to just..just watch dumb movies and eat takeout with me.”

Bucky smiles at Tony, it’s fragile but there’s a hint to his usual charm when he feels his hand sliding down his arm, “you’re a godsend Tony, thank you,” he murmurs, catching his hand to squeeze it lightly before letting him go.

He was just starting to eat one of his crackers when Steve comes in, smiling weakly, “I’m alright, a little..groggy but mostly fine, and the new arm is…Steve it’s great, I didn’t…I can feel with it now, actually feel, I hadn’t been expecting that,” he admits happily, holding out his hand and flexing it to show Steve.

He goes quiet when Steve mentions before, what had happened at breakfast. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it, honestly he would rather forget it had happened, he was still struggling not to panic but he takes a sip of his juice and stays calm. He pats the empty spot on the bed where Steve could come and sit down and he takes a slow breath.

“It’s alright Stevie. I let you down..even if I didn’t mean to, I did. And you don’t approve, I don’t expect to change your mind about it I was just…not expecting some of the things you said,” he admits quietly, looking down at his crackers. He doesn’t know why but his mind is hung up on ‘voucher and a ride, voucher and a ride’ as if he too meant nothing. That’s not true, right? He meant something…Tony made him feel like he was important but…but maybe he did that with all his hookups? He doesn’t like thinking that way, it didn’t feel like it matched the Tony he knew and spent time with, to pretend that he mattered, but his internal fears weren’t exactly rational.

[literaryavenger]

Back To You - Bucky Version

Summary: You've always been there for Steve, and now you're watching him go back to the girl he always wanted. And Bucky's there to pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Maybe language. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: This was supposed to be a Reader x Steve story, but I was too tempted to make reader end up with Bucky. So I decided to make two separate endings, the original with Steve and an alternate one where she ends with Bucky, if only for @ordelixx who gave me the idea. I'd also like to thank @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for the idea and for helping me write about other characters. This is Bucky's version. Steve version here.

Masterlist

You know what’s about to happen. You know he’s gonna leave, you know he’s not gonna come back, you know you’ll never see him again.

You know he’s gonna try to have the life he always wanted with the girl he always wanted. The girl he loves.

And that girl is not you.

You watch him as he says goodbye to Bucky, you know he knows as well as you do that his best friend isn’t coming back.

Then Steve turns to you and you try your best to smile.

“I wish I had met you earlier.” he whispers as he kisses you on the forehead and you know in that instant this is really goodbye.

You smile and nod, not being able to get a word out, willing yourself not to cry.

He walks onto the platform and soon he’s gone.

You’ve been by Steve’s side ever since he came back from the ice. You were the agent assigned to watch over him, you were there when he woke up and had to run after him when he freaked out.

You were there during the battle of New York, during the fall of Shield in DC, during the whole Ultron incident and in Lagos.

You were on his side for the Accords, and you were by his side in London as he said goodbye to the love of his life. 

You were there with him and Sam in Romania to try and help Bucky, you were arrested with them and then helped fight the Winter Soldier, yet again.

You were on his side to fight against Tony and the rest of the Avengers, you got arrested again and were broken out of the Raft by him.

You spent two years on the run with him, and fought next to him in Wakanda.

You watched his dumb ass try to fight Thanos barehanded and you were quickly knocked down when you tried to help him.

You snapped like half the universe and apparently lost 5 years of your life. You came back, thanks to him, and fought against Thanos one last time.

And now you're watching him leave.

You were there to help him get accustomed to the 21st century, you were there for him on sleepless nights.

You were there for him as he cried for his lost friends, his lost love and his lost life. He always came to you when he needed to talk, to be held, help sleeping and even advise.

And you were always there for him, falling in love little by little against your better judgement.

You’re brought back to the present as you hear Sam freaking out on Bruce because Steve missed his mark and didn’t come back.

You look at Bucky and you both know what this means. He gives you a sympathetic smile and you try to give a smile back but fail.

You look away from him and take a deep breath. You turn around and start walking away.

You’re done here, and about to break down. Something you never allowed yourself to do in front of anybody, with the exception of Steve.

And now he’s gone.

You get in your car and quickly drive away, not looking back. You drive straight to Steve’s apartment.

You’ve been staying there since you came back while the compound gets fixed since your old apartment has been someone else’s home for the past 5 years.

Five years. That’s how long you’ve been gone. That’s how much of life you’ve missed. 

And now you’re left to pick up the pieces of your life by yourself, along with your broken heart.

If you were completely honest with yourself you always knew it wouldn’t have worked with Steve. You’ve never thought you were remotely good enough for him, and that was before even comparing yourself to Peggy. 

There was no doubt in your mind that she was Steve’s soulmate, and you’ve talked about her enough times to know he thought the same.

You’re taken out of your thoughts by a knock on your door. You frown and cautiously walk to it, picking up your gun from its hiding place under the coffee table.

It’s probably nothing but better safe than sorry, right?

You take a peek from the peephole and immediately roll your eyes, lowering your gun while opening the door.

“I guess you weren’t expecting company.” Bucky says, more amused than anything when he sees the gun in your hand.

You make no attempt to try and hide your annoyance as you roll your eyes again. “What are you doing here, Barnes?”

It’s not that you don’t like Bucky, you just don’t know him all that well if not only thanks to the stories Steve shared of him in the 40s.

“I thought I’d make sure you were okay. You ran out of there pretty fast.”

“Yeah, well, he’s gone. It’s a done deal, don’t see why I had to stick around.” You say crossing your arms defensively. 

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind your response as he simply leans on the doorway and keeps talking. “He was disappointed not to see you.”

You frown, beyond confused by a single and simple sentence. Bucky smiles and elaborates. “He lived a life. And he’s old now, but still alive.”

“Oh.” is all you can say. Steve old? You can’t even imagine it.

“He gave the shield to Sam.” Bucky continues, just making conversation.

“Really? I would’ve thought he’d give it to you if he had to choose.” Bucky frowns a little and tilts his head, seeming genuinely confused.

“Why would he give it to me?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, you were his best friend, you’re a supersoldier. I guess I just assumed.”

“None of that matters, Sam is a good man. He deserves it.” He argues, then quickly adds. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

You grin and nod, then say. “For what it’s worth you’re a good man too, Bucky. Steve thought the world of you, trust me. He never stopped thinking highly of you.”

That was nothing more than a simple reassurance for you, but for Bucky it was so much more than that.

He knew you were talking about his time as the Winter Soldier. You were telling him that, even knowing about all that, Steve never let that influence his opinion of his former best friend. He still knew who Bucky was, deep down.

Bucky never heard words like that coming from anyone that’s not Steve, and you said it so casually, like you really believe it and to you it’s no big deal to just say it.

But for him, it was everything.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the moment Bucky started falling for you.

“Why are you checking up on me, Bucky? Really?” You say after a moment, breaking the silence that fell between you.

“Steve made me promise to take care of you before he left.” He said simply.

Bucky didn’t know it then, but that was the moment your heart broke completely.

You managed to keep yourself from breaking right then and there, but Bucky could see that something was wrong.

He didn’t push it though, making conversation a little more before saying goodbye with the promise that he’d be back the next day.

And that’s what he did.

In fact, he came back everyday, no matter what, to check on you.

It started out as quick visits where he wouldn’t even enter the door, then you started inviting him in for coffee because you felt bad he came to Steve’s apartment everyday, always refusing to let you meet him somewhere else. 

After a while you started inviting him for meals, to watch a movie or just to hang out.

You almost didn’t know how, but at one point you started to really look forward to Bucky’s visits everyday, getting excited every time he knocked on the door.

It was the best part of your day, really.

You knew Bucky felt the same, it was like you both knew what was slowly happening between you and you had a silent understanding not to discuss it.

You also never discussed your feelings for Steve, but you felt like Bucky somehow knew nonetheless. 

But the more time you spent with Bucky the more those feelings seemed to fade.

You still loved Steve, still missed him, you could feel yourself letting go of him with every time you spent time with Bucky, every time he made you laugh, every time your hands would accidentally touch.

You could feel yourself falling in love with Bucky and, this time, it felt right. This time you didn’t even try to stop it. 

And it seemed like Bucky felt the same way.

Time after time he became more bold with his flirting, with physical touch, until eventually he was shamelessly hitting on you and cuddling you every time he could.

And, when you made no attempt whatsoever to stop him, it was the only signal he needed to keep going.

One day, after about a year of his daily visits, he couldn’t hold back anymore and kissed you, overjoyed when you kissed him back. He asked you out right after and you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

It was the best first date of your life, but to be fair you’d been hanging out and basically dating for almost a year, so it felt simple. Effortless and uncomplicated. 

It was everything both of you needed. Your feelings for Steve were almost gone now, which is why you couldn’t even begin to explain what happened yesterday.

You were out with Bucky, hand in hand as you walked around the park, just enjoying the sunshine, when you could swear you saw Steve, not old Steve but your Steve, just standing there, looking at you and Bucky.

It was for a second, you merely glanced in his direction and by the time you turned back he was gone. 

Bucky didn’t notice anything, if not only the way you tensed and stopped in your tracks.

You thought about telling him what you thought you saw, but even you knew how crazy you would’ve sounded. So you said nothing and shrugged it off.

Because it was nothing.

Right? 

[sturniololuvz]

Could you do something of either dad!matt or dad!chris helping their teen daughter through her first breakup?

(i’m obsessed with your teendad!chris btw it’s so good!!)

💄teendad!chris

It was already dark when Chris heard the front door click shut a little too hard.

He glanced up from the kitchen sink where he was rinsing out Daisy’s favorite water bottle — the one with the cartoon stickers she never let anyone touch. She’d been out with her friends, supposedly just going to get smoothies and walk around the outlet mall.

But the second she stepped into the kitchen, he knew something was off.

Her face was pale, blotchy. Eyes red. And she wasn’t talking — not even a “hi, Dad.” No humming. No teasing. No asking what was for dinner.

“Bug?” he asked gently, setting the bottle down. “Everything alright?”

She shook her head once, sharply. Her bottom lip wobbled and her voice cracked when she muttered, “No,” and turned away fast, wiping her face with her sleeve.

Chris’s whole body froze for a second.

It was like the air in the room changed. Like something sank in his chest.

He followed her slowly down the hall, watching her retreat into her room and sit on her bed. She didn’t slam the door, but she didn’t close it either — a silent invitation.

So he came in.

She didn’t look at him, just picked at the hem of her hoodie with shaking hands. Chris sat beside her, carefully, giving her space.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, voice soft and steady.

She shrugged. Then, like a dam broke: “He dumped me.”

Chris blinked. “What?”

Her face crumpled. “He fucking dumped me, Dad. Like I’m nothing.”

The word hit him like a slap. Not the cursing — though it still felt weird to hear her say it — but the pain behind it. That kind of hopeless ache in her voice that he hadn’t heard since she was a little girl with a skinned knee and a broken toy.

Only this was way worse.

He swallowed hard. “Daisy…”

“I didn’t even see it coming,” she whispered. “He just said it wasn’t working. That he needed space. That I was too much. Like—like he didn’t even care.”

She curled her legs up and buried her face in her knees, and that was it.

Chris reached for her.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in, holding her like he used to when she was five and afraid of thunderstorms. Her hair smelled like coconut shampoo, and her body shook in his arms.

She cried into his chest. Big, messy, heartbroken sobs.

And Chris—Chris just held her. Quietly. Tightly. His jaw clenched, eyes blinking fast.

Because yeah, part of him wanted to go find that boy and make him regret ever laying eyes on his daughter. But most of him just ached for her.

“I hate him,” she whispered at one point.

“I know, baby.”

“I gave him everything. I was so good to him.”

Chris rested his chin on top of her head. “You were. You are.”

She sniffled. “What’s wrong with me?”

His arms tightened.

“Nothing,” he said, voice low and full of emotion. “Absolutely nothing. You hear me?”

She didn’t answer, so he pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her face up so she had to look at him.

“You are smart and kind and beautiful and way too good for some high school boy who can’t handle that. He let go of you, Daisy. Not the other way around.”

Her eyes filled again.

Chris’s own were red now. He cleared his throat. “I wish I could take this pain for you. God, I wish I could. But I promise you — this won’t be what defines you. You’re gonna heal, and one day someone’s gonna show up who sees all the things that dumbass missed. And they’re gonna be lucky to have you. But for now? You’ve got me.”

She folded into him again. “Thank you, Dad.”

Chris kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Just father and daughter. No advice, no fixing. Just love, and safety, and space to hurt.

And even though she couldn’t see it — Chris knew that this, right here, was the beginning of her putting herself back together.

⸻

taglist : @sturniolo-szn2 @fadedstvrn @tezzzzzzzz @stayingstromboli @ivysturnss @sturniolofreakk @ihateemetoo @sturniolo-tease @sturniololuv3r @sturnsclam @nxvasturns @csturniolo43 @mattspillowprincess @sturniolo-fann @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @bernardmatthews @bugs-tags @emely9274 @arianna1342 @stevielovesmatt @riggysworld @ph3ebssturniolo @whore4chris @amelia4chris @pizzapocketpocketpizza @strxn-2 @xxxxxxlovesstuff @whump-loverz @sarahsturnn @urloveanaa @k-pevensie28 @chrissturniolobendmeovernow @chriss-slutt @lenus1aa @kitty-meow-meow44 @sturnslux3 @blahbel668 @kingofeverythingmb @kenah-sturniolo @sturniolobananas1

[shyxcherry]

caught in the act | leehan

summary: when your crush leaves you all hot and bothered, you sneak off to get some relief. too bad that said crush hears you moaning out his name.

pairing: leehan x female!reader

warning: pure smut with a little fluff (fingering, oral (f), spanking, unprotected sex, leehan has a filthy mouth)

word count: 3.2k

notes: request! this was not supposed to be this long lol. i blame my period for this...

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

you often regretted the day that your roommate introduced you to her friend group. they were all great, and you fit in perfectly. there was only one issue. you had the biggest crush on one of them- leehan.

it was all your fault really. you had no one to blame but yourself, but you couldn't help it. his soft eyes were so enchanting. you could stare into them for hours, and you have as you listened to him rant about a subject that you could honestly care less about. you also found yourself staring at his lips, watching the shapes he makes when he's not paying attention to you, wishing to know what they felt like against yours.

and god, his voice. you were pretty sure he could read you the encyclopedia, and you would be entertained. it was just so soothing, always calming you down. one time when you drank too much, you told him that. he didn't tease you for it which shocked you. instead, he told you to call him whenever you wanted to hear him, so now when you can't sleep, you call him. he'll talk to you about anything until he hears the soft breaths signaling that you fell asleep.

you knew you were down bad for him when he brought you with him to get another fish, and he told you which one would be perfect for you. so of course you got it, and now you have a fish named yin to match his new fish that he named yang. he helps you take care of it, often coming over to make sure you're following his directions.

your roommate teases you endlessly for you very obvious crush. she even brought leehan's friend, jaehyun into your teasing. they tried endlessly to get you to confess to him because you would be waiting forever for leehan to confess (jaehyun's words), but you always refused. you valued his friendship way too much to confess when you're not even sure he felt the same way. they were certain he did, but you still wouldn't do it.

lately, he's been leaving you hot and bothered. it didn't help that it's summer, so he's been walking around in tank tops and showing off his arms. today wasn't any different. all of you were at jaehyun's house playing a game, and the loser had to jump into the pool. leehan lost and didn't even take any of his clothes off before he cannonballed into the pool.

you felt nauseous as got out of the pool. his hair slicked back and showing off his forehead. his clothes were sticking to his body, and you swore you could see ab lines from where his shirt was clinging to his stomach. you felt like you couldn't take it anymore. so when he went upstairs to change, you told everyone you weren't feeling good before leaving. you played it off pretty good because none of them teased you like they normally did. your roommate even offered to go with you, but you refused.

that leaves you where you were now, softly moaning leehan's name as your vibrator ran across your clit. you imagined it was him laying on top of you, mouth running across your body while he held the vibrator to you, whispering everything he was going to do to you. your eyes shut in pleasure, back arching when you press the vibrator harder. right as you felt yourself getting close, you heard someone knock on your door, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"yn." you heard your name being called from the other side of the door, and you nearly scream when you recognize the voice as leehan's. "are you in there?"

"just a sec!" you quickly shut off the vibrator before throwing it in your drawer. you fix your shorts before getting up. you run your hands down your shirt as you open the door. leehan was standing there with a concerned look on his face. you move back and let him in before shutting the door. "what are you doing here?"

"jaehyun said you weren't feeling good, so i wanted to come and check on you."

thankfully leehan wasn't looking at you, so he couldn't see your face. he did his usual, going to check on your fish before laying down across the end of your bed. you join him, leaning on the head rest as you cross your legs.

"you didn't have to do that. i think i just got overheated."

leehan looked over to you, slowly examining you to make sure you weren't lying. "so you're feeling better now?"

you wanted to say no. if he would've came five minutes later after you had gotten yourself off, you would've been fine. but now here you were, sexually frustrated with the one who is causing it laying right in front of you.

"yep. feeling much better." leehan hummed at your answer.

"then why did it take you so long to open the door?" you had to stop your eyes from widening at his question. you motioned to the bathroom that was connected to your room.

"i was in the bathroom."

"you didn't sound like you were in the bathroom."

you force out a laugh at him as you try not to freak out. "what are you? an interrogator?"

"no." he answered. "i just want to know why it took you so long to open the door."

"i just told you. i was in the bathroom."

"no you weren't." leehan argued with you. you shift under his gaze but was determined not to break like you normally did.

"is the heat getting to you too?" you ask. "because i'm pretty sure i was in the bathroom. i would know."

leehan clicked his tongue like he was scolding you. "you're lying to me."

"no i'm not."

"yes you are."

"what makes you think i'm lying to you?" you ask, getting fed up with him. he rolled over on his side, smirking at you and catching you off guard.

"i was standing at your door long before i decided to knock."

you felt your mouth dry up as you blink at him. he heard you. your friend heard you moaning his name while you pleasured yourself. you felt like you wanted to cry, especially since you couldn't tell how he was feeling. your mind told you he was teasing you due to the smirk on his face that still hasn't left.

you quickly untangle your legs before making a break for the bathroom. he tried to grab you, but you were too fast, closing and locking the door before he could get to you. you felt tears hit your cheeks as your back slides down the wall.

leehan knocked on the door. "yn, open the door."

"no." you willed your voice to come out strong, but it shook at the end. you knew leehan could tell you were crying be he cursed when he heard you.

"please open the door."

"please leave." you beg.

"i'm not leaving, yn." you heard leehan sigh. you could hear him shift like he was sitting down in front of the door. "i'm not leaving until we talk about this."

you kept quiet, not wanting to respond. you knew he wouldn't leave. he was too stubborn. once he said he was doing something, no one could stop him from it. "how long were you standing there?"

"long enough." he answered.

"can you just reject me and leave?"

"why would i reject you?" you scoff at his question.

"oh please. you were on the verge of laughing."

"i wasn't going to laugh." he replied softly. you shook your head, not believing him.

"then why were you smiling like that?"

"because i was thinking about how good you sounded while moaning my name." you nearly choke at his answer. "i had imaging how you sounded for months, and somehow you sounded so much better than anything i could've imagined. and its driving me crazy that you're locked behind this door, and i can't touch you."

you were stunned by his answer. you could hear the desperation in his voice towards the end. you quietly stood up before moving towards the door. "you- you like me back?"

you hear him shuffle as he quickly stood up once he heard how close you were to the door. "how could i not? you're like the most perfect person i've ever met."

you wipe your face, getting rid of the dried tears before you unlock the door. you didn't even get a chance to open it before leehan barged into your bathroom. you barely had a chance to look at him when his hands gripped your cheeks, pulling your lips to his. you gasped at the actions before kissing him back.

he kissed you deeply, hands roaming your body like he was trying to memorize everything about you. your back hit the counter when he backed you up. he easily lifted you up, sitting you on the counter as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch of you.

you felt your head spin, and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. he chased after your lips, molding them to yours as he pulled you closer to him. his grip was tight on your legs, tight enough to leave bruises as he wrapped them around his waist. his erection was poking through his shorts, brushing against your heat and causing you to moan into his mouth at the friction.

"you drive me insane." his voice deep with lust. he moved his head, sucking and biting at every inch of your exposed neck, making you squirm in his hold. "it took everything in me not to barge in and fuck you when you said my name. you would've like that though, wouldn't you baby?" you nod desperately, too far gone to speak sentences. "is that what you want? for me to fill this pussy up the way she deserves?"

"leehan." you whimper, voice cracking with need as you cling to him. he bites your neck harder when his name leaves your lips. you hands grip the counter as you roll your hips against his, moaning again when his hips desperately bucked into yours.

his hands cup your ass, squeezing tightly as he pulls you flush against him before picking you up. "you're already a mess, and i've barely touched you. i can practically feel how soaked you are through your clothes, my desperate girl."

your back hit the soft mattress before leehan kneeled over you. his hands gripped your knees before prying your legs apart, exposing your core to him. one of his hands left your knee before his fingers ran over your shorts. you choke out a moan, lifting your hips at the contact. you hear him darkly chuckle at your desperation. "how bad do you want it, baby?"

"so bad- please." his hand leaves your core, running across your hip, leaving you whining at the loss of contact. his hand roughly kneed the smooth flesh of your thigh before slapping it, causing you to jump while desperately moaning his name again.

"i don't think you want it that bad. why would you run away if you wanted this?"

you shake your head at his words. "i want it- want you. i'm sorry for running. i didn't mean to. please, leehan."

leehan stops your pleas with his mouth, tongue coaxing yours, causing your hips to rut against his. he bites your lip at the action, holding your hips down before sliding his hand into the front of your shorts. you stutter against his lips as his fingers teasingly slide down your dripping cunt. "you're fucking dripping. all for me baby, right?" you nod your head, eyes rolling in the back of your head when his thumb finds your throbbing clit. "and to think you thought a vibrator would be better than me." you almost scream when his hand pinches your clit. "tell me. can your vibrator do this?"

you thrust into his hand, broken moans leaving your lips when he thrust two fingers into you. he doesn't give you any time to adjust, leaving you squeezing around his fingers as continued to shove his fingers deep inside of you. the wet sounds of your cunt along with your moans and whimpers brought a smile to leehan's face. "answer me, or i'm going to stop."

"p-please don't stop." you cry out. "it doesn't. n-nothing has felt even a fraction as good as you."

he rewards you, curling his fingers, hitting that spot that has you squeezing so tightly around him, he could barely move. tears prick your eyes, hips moving against his hand as he leans down. his lips brush yours, drowning your sounds with his lips. "why don't you be my good girl and take your shirt off, so i can see these pretty tits?"

his fingers don't stop moving at all, leaving you to try to sit up with shaky arms. your hands barely work which leaves leehan chuckling, before you pull the shirt over your head. you throw it before unhooking your bra, letting it slide down your arms before throwing it as well. leehan pushes you down, lips instantly finding your hardened nipple. your back arches into his mouth, whimpering when he bites the sensitive bud.

he marks every inch of your chest, leaving it glistening with his spit and bruises, making him groan against your lips at the sight of your trembling body. his name barely leaves your lips, legs tightening around his waist when your stomach clenches so hard it hurts.

"cum for me." he demands, hand finding your sore nipple before pinching it, causing you to cry out. "cum all over my fingers. make a mess."

you scream out his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. it left you shaking, clenching around his fingers that have yet to cease moving. he took his other hand, pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving him completely exposed to him. he stands by the edge of the bed, lustful eyes scanning over every inch of you. you tried to pull away from his hand that was still buried inside of you, causing him to slap your ass in warning.

"stop running from me." he growled, ripping his hand out of your cunt, leaving you moaning for more. he gripped your thighs, pulling you towards him. "roll over."

you did as he said, rolling over to your stomach and letting leehan position you the way he wanted you. your ass was in the air, leaving your face pressed into the mattress, back arched for him that nearly had him moaning your name. he rips off his shirt in one clean motion before kneeling down, lining his face up with your cunt. his hand held your folds open while he darted his tongue out, brushing over your puffy clit with a groan of how you sweet tasted.

he started out slow, tongue moving slowly as he circled your clit teasingly, smiling when he hears you moaning for more. "patience, baby. i'm just getting started." he presses a little harder, flicking his tongue over your clit before sucking the swollen bud, leaving you moaning his name clenching around nothing. "do you feel that? how much this pussy is begging for me? should i give her what she wants, baby?"

"yes. please, leehan." you voice full of need that leaves leehan straining in his pants. "i need you, so bad. please fuck me."

leehan groans at your words, shedding his shorts as he stands up. his dick hits your clit, making you moan at the feeling. you could feel him pulsing as he slowly ran his dick through your dripping folds, coating him in your slick. he soon got sick of the teasing, the two of you moaning out in unison as he slides into you in one slick thrust. he groans when he feels you clench around him at the stretch.

his warm breath was hot against your neck as he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your spine. "do you feel how well your pussy takes me? like you were fucking made for me?"

you can't do anything but moan at his words, lost as he completely fills you with his cock. he start out slow, tortuously slow, letting you feel every inch of him against your walls as he almost completely pulls back before thrusting back inside of you. his hands dig into your hips, nails leaving crescent shaped marks as he held you in place.

your eyes clench shut, tears pooling in the corners as he speeds up, slamming into you. your knuckles turn white from how hard your gripping the sheets. the only thing leaving your mouth was his name. "that's right, baby. let me hear you scream out my name. let every know who's fucking you stupid."

you cry out his name, eyes rolling back when his hands push on your stomach bulge. your back arches more with his touch, leaving your back the perfect canvas for leehan's lips. he leaves your entire back covered in bruises as he continues to slam into you, loving that you turned into a sobbing mess beneath him.

"my good girl." you cry when his hand threaded itself into your hair, yanking you up with a sharp tug, groaning when he feels you squeeze his dick. "you're just mine to ruin, aren't you?"

he could tell you were already there, tears running down your cheeks as you begged him. "leehan, please. i- i need you."

"you have me baby." he coos, tongue trailing along your cheek, catching the salty tears with a groan. "do you want more? are you going to let me fill this pussy, so she knows who she belongs to?"

"please."

he lets your hair go, your face pressing into the mattress as he picks up his speed. he groans when you squeeze around him, stomach coiling tightly, signaling your climax. his hand moved around you, mercilessly rubbing your clit. you see stars, clenching your eyes so tightly as you cum. leehan groans at the feeling of you, thrusting into you a few more times before he fills you with his release.

the two of you stay in that position as you come down from your highs. leehan leans over you, pressing sweet kisses to your spine which was a complete contrast to how he just was. his hands run soothing circles on your hips as he pulls out of you. you hiss at the loss of contact, letting leehan roll you over on your back before covering you with his body.

"you did so good, my sweet girl." you smile at the compliment, grabbing his face before kissing him which he responds to instantly. he runs his hands all over your body, massaging the tender areas, leaving you moaning into his mouth.

"we picked the worst time of the year to get together. we're all sweaty." you complain as you pull away. you were right- the both of you were covered in sweat. leehan's hair was damp and sticking to his forehead, and you could feel yours clinging to your neck.

leehan laughs against your lips before kissing you again. "it's not all bad."

"why's that?"

leehan wraps you around his body once again, making you gasp as he stands up. he laughs, kissing your cheek as he carries you back to where everything started.

"because now i get to clean you up before doing it all over again."

[loricciardo]

CHAPTER ONE | SO THIS IS HOW IT STARTS?

tags. original female character, jos verstappen, depictions of physical and verbal abuse in reference to max & jos, mild references to childhood loneliness and emotional isolation, mentions of of pressure and high expectations in youth sports, neglectful parenting.

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The first time Natalie Schumacher met Max Verstappen, she was seven years old.

They were in Wackersdorf for the weekend. It was another karting event, another lineup of engines echoing across the tarmac and the familiar scent of petrol clinging to everything. Natalie already had grease under her nails and a smear of oil on her cheek from helping Mick zip up his suit too fast.

In the beginning, her mama had been hesitant about letting her race. Not because she didn’t believe Natalie could do it but she’d seen too much of what the sport could take. The injuries, the pressure, the loneliness that sometimes came with living life on a pedestal. “One Schumacher on the track is enough,” she’d said once, half joking. But Natalie wanted it too badly. She wanted to follow in her papa’s footsteps, to chase what her big brother Mick chased. It wasn’t expected of her but it called to her. And eventually, her mama stopped protesting. Not because the fear went away, but because she saw how Natalie lit up every time she got behind the wheel.

But what mattered the most, arguably, was that their father was here. Not just in the “he brought us and paid our entry fees” way, but really here. Michael Schumacher had been away a lot that year, just like every year, swallowed up by Ferrari duties and sponsor meetings. Luckily, it was his last year as a driver. And this weekend, he had cleared everything just to watch them race.

Natalie knew that because she’d asked him twice.

Now, sitting criss-crossed on a folding chair next to their kart, she picked at the velcro strap on her glove while Mick paced the tent with quiet nerves. He always got like that before the race started. His mind would buzz in circles. Natalie liked to think it was because he wanted to win, but deep down, she suspected it was because he didn’t want to disappoint their dad.

“Meinst du ich sollte in Turn 5 später bremsen?” Mick asked suddenly. (Do you think I should brake later in Turn 5?)

Natalie shrugged. “Sie haben dort das letzte Mal abgeschlossen.” (You locked up there last time.)

“Ich habe fast abgeschlossen.” (I almost locked up.)

She raised a brow. “Okay… Du wärst fast ins Schleudern gekommen.” (Okay… You almost spun into the gravel.)

That earned a look from Michael, who was crouched by Natalie’s rear tires, double checking the pressure gauge like it hadn’t already been done by five other track mechanics. “You two, be nice,” he scolded in English, without turning around. “You’re both here to learn. No one’s perfect.”

Natalie held back rolling her eyes at him. Papa always said that. No one’s perfect. Even though, to her, he was.

Mick frowned but nodded slowly. Natalie leaned back in her chair and watched the other kids trickle into the circuit. Some in karts, some dragging helmets behind them like they were too heavy to carry. Regardless, all the boys looked older, taller. More serious.

She didn’t feel out of place, despite being the only girl. At least, not in the way people expected her to. Natalie didn’t flinch when boys stared too long or made snide comments under their breath. She was used to it by now. The double takes, the raised eyebrows, the occasional series organizer asking her if she was in the wrong tent. None of it mattered once the kart turned on. Out there, she wasn’t someone’s sister or someone’s daughter or that girl who thinks she can race. She was just a racing driver. And that was all she needed to be.

Michael stood up, brushing his hands off on a rag, and turned to look at them both. “Remember,” he smiled gently, “you don’t have to win. Just drive your best. That’s enough for me.”

Natalie tried not to smile too hard. She hated when Mick called her soft. He always did it in that annoying older brother way that meant he did care, but didn’t quite know how to say it. Mick always got weird when their papa said things like that. Like he didn’t know how to hold onto praise taking it to heart. Natalie understood that a little.

Natalie Schumacher did not expect to win that race.

She knew she was fast but this track was always brutal to her used tires. Papa always insisted that he put them on her and Mick’s karts. He said it was to teach them how to adapt. To feel the loss of grip, to wrestle with unpredictability. “You have to learn how to win with worse equipment,” he told them, tightening a lug nut with calloused hands. “I didn’t grow up with the best parts. I would fish them out the bin. If you can drive well on these, you’ll fly on brand new ones.”

And of course, the name Max Verstappen had was being whispered all weekend. Her papa had warned her about him, too. “He’s aggressive,” he’d told her, kneeling beside Natalie’s kart that morning. “Clever as well. You’ll have to be smarter, not just quicker.”

And the Max boy was quick. He took different lines than she did. They were wider, riskier ones. He would break late, causing her to almost fly off track. In practice, he had flown past her twice. It had made Natalie’s jaw clench, made her papa sigh, and made her stomach twist in that sickening way it always did when she felt like she was falling short.

But that wasn’t the case for today.

Today, she drove that kart with fire in her veins and dirt under her tiny fingernails. She fought for her spot every turn, and when the chequered flag dropped, she crossed the line first. Barely, in front of the Max boy, but she did.

Again: Natalie Schumacher had just won her first karting race.

She couldn’t stop smiling as she slowly climbed onto the taller podium, her blonde hair a mess beneath her winners cap, her race suit dusted with mud. The cheers of the small crowd were loud, and the sun caught the edge of the little gold trophy in her hands, making it glint like something bigger than it was.

But something felt off.

Max, the boy who was supposed to be standing beside her, wasn’t there.

His name was still printed neatly on the silver trophy that lay on the second place pedestal, waiting for his little boots to fill the space. But he never came. The officials called for him once, maybe twice, before giving up and continuing with the ceremony. Natalie frowned, scanning the crowd, trying to spot that unmistakable bright orange and white helmet or the sharp blue eyes beneath the weight of his little scowl.

Natalie didn’t see Max near the tents. Instead, her eyes caught movement far behind the motorhomes barely visible beyond the chain link fence.

Ah! There he was!

Max stood stiff and still, his face bright red, head cast toward the ground. A tall man hovered over him, speaking rapidly in some foreign language. The language wasn’t German. Not French either. Natalie’s young self couldn’t place it, but the meaning didn’t need translating. The scary man’s hand was clenched tight around Max’s shoulder, shaking the boy once, sharply, before releasing. Max didn’t flinch, but even from this distance, Natalie could feel something sour twist in her chest.

The scary man wasn’t just angry. He looked furious. She wanted to march over there and tell the scary man how hard Max fought her for first. And honestly, the thought made Natalie wish she had gotten second. She didn’t understand the words, but she didn’t need to.

Natalie had never seen a parent look at their child that way before. Her papa never raised his voice like that. Even when she messed up, or rather, especially when she messed up. His voice stayed calm, steady. We’ll work on it, he’d say. You’re getting there.

Before she could watch any longer, a sudden POP! beside her made her flinch.

“Hah!” a young boy’s voice chirped, high and teasing.

Small but mighty, there was Charles Leclerc, triumphant in third place, grinned as he sprayed her with cheap pretend champagne, half of which missed and splattered onto her race boots. Natalie squealed, laughing despite herself, raising the little bottle in defense and catching him in the chest.

And just like that, Max and the scary man disappeared. Natalie Schumacher felt like a real race car driver.

Natalie sat on the steps of the Schumacher motorhome, her tiny race suit rolled down to her waist, the arms tied in a loose knot around her hips. Her hair was still messy from the fake champagne, and her cheeks were warm from the evening German sun. Across from her, their papa crouched low over the little fire pit he’d built out of bricks and gravel, carefully turning the sausages he’d set on a metal grate.

“Paaaaa! Don’t poke them so much,” Mick spoke from behind him, nose wrinkled. “They’ll split.”

“They won’t split,” Michael replied, amused as he looked at his son. “They’re fine. Do you want yours burnt, or not burnt?”

“… Not burnt.”

Michael grinned. “Then stop giving advice and let the sausage master work.”

The fire hissed, and the smell of charring meat mixed with the nearby scent of gasoline and fresh cut grass. Someone else at the campground was cooking too. It was something buttery and smoky, yum. And with the sun slowly setting, it was finally starting to cool off. Natalie was realizing that this was her favorite smell in the whole world: grease, petrol, and campfire.

She was still holding her little gold trophy in one hand. She hadn’t put it down yet, not really out of pride. Well, yes, she was proud, but, because the weight of it in her hand reminded her that it had actually happened.

Natalie leaned her head against the edge of the doorframe, eyes scanning lazily across the lot. Until a sharp slam cut through the quiet.

Her gaze snapped to the source of the noise. It was Max. And that scary man from before.

They stood a few motorhomes down, under the weak yellow glow of a lamp post. It was the second time that weekend she’d seen that man yell at him like that.

It was happening again. Worse, maybe. The man was louder this time, more animated. His hands sliced through the air like he was trying to cut something that wouldn’t go away. Max stood perfectly still, staring up at him with this blank sort of expression. He’d learned a long time ago that it was better not to respond. His face was red from holding his tears all in.

She didn’t know what the scary man was saying, but it was clearly bad. He looked very mean. He was the kind of grown up that made your stomach knot just from being in the same space.

The man turned to walk away, then spun back around suddenly and shouted again, louder this time. Max flinched, just barely, but didn’t move otherwise.

When the man finally stormed off for good, Max stayed behind. He just sat right there in the grass beside his motorhome, legs pulled up, elbows resting on his knees. His hands moved automatically, picking at the dirt and stray blades of grass. It was something to do, something to focus on instead of whatever had just happened.

Natalie’s cautious, curious eyes stayed on him longer than she meant to.

“Dinner’s ready,” Papa smiled gently beside her, handing her a bun with a sausage tucked neatly inside, wrapped in kitchen roll.

“Danke,” she murmured, taking it with both hands. But instead of taking a bite, she stared down at it.

Then she glanced sideways at Max again. Still sitting there, still quiet, still alone. She shifted on her feet. Thought for a second. Then looked up at her papa.

“Papa?” she asked, softly. “Do you.. think I could give one to him?”

Michael looked up again, this time following her gaze. He saw little Max Verstappen, alone in the grass, and his expression changed slightly. His brow creased, just a little. He took a breath, slow and steady.

Michael, of couse, had raced against Jos Verstappen. He remembered him well. Not for his skill, which was average at his prime, but for his temper. The way Jos shoved mechanics in the garage. The way he barked orders at engineers like they were below him. He remembered the way Jos had spoken to people when he thought no one important was listening.

And everyone had heard the numerous stories. Everyone knew that Jos was hard on his son. Way too hard. Hell, he even boasted about it! Michael had never seen it up close, but he had heard things. Seen the way the little boy flinched when Jos raised his voice behind the fences of junior events.

Michael looked back at his daughter, her little face scrunched with concern, thumb nervously brushing the edge of the paper napkin.

“Nat… I think it’d be a very nice thing to do,” he spoke finally, his voice quiet. “But you can’t take it personally if he doesn’t say thank you.”

Natalie slowly nodded, trying to understand why Michael would mention such things.

“You have to remember, he’s not used to kindness, Kleine,” Michael added, almost more to himself than to her. “Not from people who don’t want something from him.” (Kleine = little one)

She looked up at him, confused. “But.. Papa, I don’t.. want anything from him?”

Michael smiled softly. “I know you don’t,” He nodded, slowly. “You can go ahead,” his voice quiet. “But don’t stay too long, okay?”

“I won’t, Pa,” she promised.

Natalie spun around and walked across the gravel with no hesitation, sausage bun in both hands, toward the boy no one seemed to look at twice. Her eyes moved from the food to Max, then back again.

The boy didn’t look up right away. He was crouched low, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the dirt. His fingers were smudged with mud, busy pulling up little weeds just for something to do.

But when her racing boots crunched softly against the grass, Max tensed. His head snapped up, and cold blue eyes met hers. Wide, suspicious, a little red around the edges. Natalie froze; she hadn’t expected his stare to feel like that. She felt her face go warm, suddenly too aware of how quiet it was between them. But she held up the hotdog anyway.

“Um… hi,” she slowly smiled.

Max didn’t answer. Just blinked at her, not moving an inch.

They hadn’t spoken before. Not even once. She didn’t know if he spoke English. Or German, or anything she knew. But she figured she had to try something.

“I… I brought you food,” she added awkwardly, holding it out a little further.

Max glanced at the hotdog, then back at her. His shoulders stayed hunched. His small face didn’t soften.

“Why..?” he asked confused, voice quiet.

Natalie shifted her weight, unsure what to say. She didn’t have the guts to explain all of it. That she’d seen the way his father yelled, how it reminded her of stories Papa never told but the adults sometimes did. That she didn’t think anyone should have to eat dinner alone, especially not after working so hard to win a race.

So instead, she shrugged. “Because you didn’t get one,” she settled on. “And it’s good. And I thought you might’ve wanted one.”

Max looked at her like she’d just said something in a completely foreign language. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment she thought he might stand up and walk away.

But then, slowly, carefully, Max reached out and took the hotdog from Natalie’s hands. Their fingers brushed for a second, and he flinched, just barely, but didn’t let go.

Natalie smiled, relieved. “See? Not poisoned.”He didn’t smile back, but he didn’t scowl either. Which felt like progress.

Natalie sat down beside him in the grass, close enough to be friendly but not enough to crowd him. Her knees brushed against a dandelion, and she plucked it absentmindedly as he stared down at the food like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“You can eat,” Natalie raised a brow, glancing sideways at him. “I told you it wasn’t poisonous.”

She watched with quiet curiosity as Max slowly unwrapped the hotdog in his lap. His tiny fingers moved carefully, like he was afraid of tearing the paper wrong, or maybe just buying time. Then, without saying a word, he tore the hotdog in half. He glanced sideways at her, a little shy, then held one half out in her direction.

She didn’t move at first, too surprised to. “Huh? You can have it,” Natalie said softly. “It was for you.”

Max shrugged, still holding it out. He didn’t explain, and Natalie didn’t push him. Eventually, she took it from his hand, their fingers brushing again for the briefest second. It wasn’t a big piece, but her stomach was grateful anyway. She hadn’t even realized how hungry she still was.

With a smirk, she took an overly dramatic bite, exaggerating the chew and letting out a satisfied “Mmm” that made Max’s lips twitch. Then he giggled. Just a little, barely more than a breath. Natalie tried not to make a big deal out of it, but it made her grin widen.

She watched from the corner of her eye as he finally brought his half to his mouth and took a small, cautious bite, like he was waiting to make sure it wouldn’t disappear before he could finish it.

“Natalie,” she spoke after a moment, pointing to herself. “I’m Natalie.”

Max tilted his head, swallowed his bite, and echoed, “Nah-lee?”

“Close enough,” she smiled.

He paused, then pointed to himself. “Max.”

“I know,” she shook her head, and then laughed softly. “You’re very fast.”

Max blinked, surprised by the compliment. His face shifted a little. It was less guarded, and more curious.

“You too,” he acknowledged, the words slow and thick with what she realized was a Dutch accent. “Very fast.”

Natalie nodded, chewing the last bit of her food. She liked the way he said it. His voice sounded better now, separated from the fright of his father.

They didn’t talk much after that. There wasn’t really a need to. They sat there in the grass, the firelight from the camps scattered around the grounds casting flickers of gold across Max’s face as he ate quietly beside her.

When they finished, Natalie stood, brushing crumbs from her knees. Max looked up at her unsure.

She reached out and took the crumpled kitchen roll from his lap, combining it with hers in one hand. Max blinked at her, clearly surprised, but didn’t argue. Just folded his hands awkwardly in his lap.

“Uhm… Bye,” Natalie offered him a little wave and a small smile.

Max hesitated, then returned it with the same tiny wave. “Bye.”

And just like that, Natalie turned and walked back toward her motorhome, toward the warm hum of her father’s voice and the quiet comfort of knowing she was loved. Never realizing that for Max, that hotdog and that five minutes of peace might be the kindest thing anyone had done for him in months.

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Congrats on 7k ♥️ what about Bucky Barnes + last second confession?

.⋆｡First (and Last)｡⋆.

7k Bingo Celebration

40s!Bucky Barnes x plus size reader

You loved him for so long, and now he’s being sent to war. Will you tell him that you love him before he leaves you behind?

Warnings: angst, fluff, friends to lovers, canon events, last second confession, ww2, time skip, general HYDRA warnings WC: 1k Minors DNI Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You had known this day was coming for weeks, since the moment that damned letter arrived at the Barnes household that changed everything. You knew it was coming but you didn’t accept it, how could you accept the fact that your best friend was being sent to fight in a war halfway around the world and you might never see him again. You don’t think you even processed that he was leaving until Steve stood on your doorstep, his head tilted down so no one could see his tears. You tore down your apartment steps before he could utter a word, blindly running towards the train station you had been avoiding for weeks.

Bucky had always been by your side, a constant comfort that never allowed you a moment of peace. You don’t know when your childish crush on him had morphed into something more. Maybe it was when he cradled your face, wiping away your tears after a date stood you up, or when he blew almost all his money to get you a leather-bound copy of your favourite book. Or maybe it wasn’t just one moment but an amalgamation of every second you spent by his side, watching him grow from a gangly, reckless boy into a charming, honourable man. With that stupid cocky grin of his and blue eyes that held an ocean of fondness each time he looked at you.

You had fallen in love with him and he was leaving before you could even say good-bye.

The station was packed with smoke, people and tears. Families cried over their sons, leaning on each other as hundreds of boys crammed into the train cars, uniforms pristine and rucksacks loaded down with terror and hope. You shoved your way through the crowd, searching each tear-stained face and fogged up window, your panic mounting with each carriage you passed. Were you too late? Was Bucky on an earlier train?

Your mind spun with despair. You should’ve been there for him the second he got his draft letter, should've held him close and reassured him that no matter what, you would always be there. Instead you cried when he got his uniform and refused to accompany him and Steve to the science expo in favour of your own self-pity. You had lost him before you could even have him.

“Bucky!” Your voice barely broke over the din.

“Sweetheart?” You spun on your heel and suddenly, he was there. Bucky jumped from the train’s caboose, uncaring of his abandoned bag as he pushed through the crowd towards you. He looked perfectly put together which made your heart ache. You wanted him in his simple button-down shirt and trousers, lounging in your kitchen.

The crowd parted for just a moment, letting you run straight into his awaiting arms. He caught you like he always did, without hesitation or shame. You buried yourself into the warmth of his body and willed yourself not to imagine the worst. You had to make yourself believe that he would come back because without him, who were you?

“Hey there, gorgeous. What are you doing here?” You wanted to answer him, to apologise for every selfish thing you had done, to even say that you would miss him. But instead you wrapped one of your hands around the back of his neck and tugged his lips to yours.

Bucky stiffened in your arms before he melted into the kiss, holding you even tighter to him as it deepened. You clung to his broad shoulders, his arms, anywhere you could grab while your mind buzzed happily. His hands trailed down your body to your wide hips, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Now what was that for? Not that I’m complaining.” Heat bloomed across your cheeks as you both struggled to catch your breath.

“I love you.” It burst out from somewhere deep inside of you. “I love you so much James and I couldn’t let you leave without telling you.”

He beamed at you. “I love you. My sweet girl, god do I love you but you have terrible timing. Springing this on me when I can’t take you out and treat you right.” Your tears came suddenly, relief dripping down your face and onto his uniform. 

“I have to keep you on your toes don’t I?” The thrum around you began to die as time slipped away. He cupped your jaw, cradling your face as if you were delicate china.

“I’m gonna come back and take you on that date sweetheart.” You laughed through your tears as Bucky’s smile softened.

“You better keep that promise Barnes.” His thumb traced the soft line of your cheek, eyes dropping to your lips once more.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He kissed you one last time before the train whistle screamed and he was pulled away from you. He kept your gaze until the train disappeared around a bend, leaving you standing on the platform, waiting for that date.

——————

90 years later

The buzz of electricity overhead was the only sign of life within the base but still, Bucky kept his gun raised, anticipating the worst. His team had already slipped into the lower levels, letting him ignore the burning in the back of his mind every time he thought about those damned labs. 

With each room he cleared, that burning eased until he felt a bit more like himself again. He knew it wouldn’t all come back, so many pieces have been lost over the years and most of him was bound to you, still on that platform, waiting for the day that he would come home.

Sam’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “There’s more cryo-pods down here. Only one is operational.” His stomach twisted. Who else was subjected to the torture he endured? Or maybe it was a scientist that inevitably would get a government pardon just for the capability of their mind. 

“Got a name plate here, that’s new.” Bucky rolled his eyes and reached for the small plastic part in his ear until the next words froze him in place, a lost piece of himself suddenly clicking back into place.

“Anyone know a Y/N Y/L/N?”

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[bewitched-hours]

Hello there ! first of al you are realy cool writet:D

and second of all can l have small request so l have idea fantasy!forsaken /Yan!azuretime ×lapis lazuli reader like reader is a water gem robloxian and live in water towers whit their kind and azure and two time meet whit them by accident and fall in love whit reader (reader have same traumas like lapis lazuli)

Gonna be honest, I genuinely had trouble reading this but I'll still happily do it! And thanks for the compliment! I love Steven Universe so this is gonna be a lot of fun!

Reader gets She/Her-

Being a gem was never easy.

Sure, your kind were adored for keeping this world in such great condition and bringing balance to the elements but...

Sometimes it got overwhelming.

That's why you preferred your time in the water towers you made with your fellow water gems. You could hide from the public there and relax... Usually.

Hell, you didn't even mind the occasional visitors if they were being polite but maybe that's why you ended up in a mirror.

No... Who were you kidding... You had no fault in this.

It was all the gem war that started this. A war where all of gemkind were wrapped into the chaos and had to choose between fighting and fleeing.

But you took too long to choose and ended up sealed into your gem form to be put into a mirror and show the holder whatever they want from a moment in history.

You never forgot... And you wanted out...

You've been held by many people, told to show them different points in time which forced you to relive those memories even if you weren't apart of them initially.

You figured you could finally rest when you were hidden away from prying eyes and left in darkness after a crack in your gem messed with your abilities. They finally grew tired of you not functioning and left you to rot in your own abyss...

Naturally, it was a shock to see another face again. Much less that of a regular robloxian.

You were confused at first, trying to figure out how much time had passed as they called out to someone to take a better look at your current form.

They creeped you out a bit but you'd take any chance for freedom you could get. You just had to wait and spend enough time with them to hopefully form your own sentences to communicate.

You fortunately- or unfortunately- knew you couldn't access the long-forgotten history anymore. There was no more torture but also no way to call for help because you just knew if you had called for help when you could, those who knew would've only punished you for being unruly.

"Azure! Come look at this!" Two Time called out as they held your prison of polished silver with a reflective metal framed with turtle shell and gold. Back in the times where this mirror was made, it could've sold for a lot. It gave you an odd sense of pride back then.

Another face came into view before both of them seemed to admire your little prison... If only they knew...

Regardless, you were patient. You watched whatever the mirror allowed you to see as they took you away and brought you to a small cabin by the ocean.

Although they didn't place you in a way where you could see the waves, hearing them was just as comfortable as you allowed them to inspect your gem.

"I wonder what happened..." Azure muttered.

Oh, you would've happily shown them the war that happened after robloxians got a little too greedy and decided to spark a war between gems... But alas...

"Well, we could try to get it out but it seems stuck pretty deep... It would sell better after being repaired." Two Time's words stuck to you like a needle. They didn't know you were alive but thinking of being sold was... Unpleasant...

It was over the span of the next few days where you could capture enough from them to start your plan.

It started small, grabbing their attention by butting into their conversation with a suggestion you picked up from Azure, using their own morning greetings to wish them a good morning, that stuff.

Once they actually began talking to you did things go quicker.

They'd learn fast that you can only repeat back what they've indirectly taught you and they tried to use that to figure out more about you. It wasn't too surprising but you've been able to explain you were the gem on the back of the mirror and that you needed to be freed.

You promised them you'd do anything for your freedom and they agreed to talk about your end of the deal once you were out. You couldn't thank them enough for it.

Maybe you should've never asked them in the first place. Just stay quiet and wait for another century or two. It would've been easy.

But no, you were too eager to move again.

The real story started when they finally got you out. They somehow managed to put in enough force but still be as careful as ever when they pulled you out and you were able to reform. You didn't have any pupils because your gem was still cracked so your eyes were a little more reflective.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" You practically rushed to see them up close and show them your gratitude. "I-I can finally move! I can see freely!"

You spun around and materialized your water wings to make sure your gem was still properly intact.

But you didn't forget your end of the deal.

"What can I do to show my gratitude?" You smiled softly, not realizing they had both been mesmerized by your beauty and quietly agreed on something while you had been spinning and looking at the stars.

"We want you to stay with us." Were the words that sealed your fate. Innocent at first glance and you were too overwhelmed with the feeling of freedom to really deny.

With a simple handshake, your fate was sealed and you were effectively bound to them until the day they'd die.

You could still be around the cabin and play with the water like you used to but they were patient in showing you why they wanted you to stay with them.

From the moment they laid their eyes on you, it was an obsession. They wanted to be the only ones admiring your beauty and gentle nature but they didn't want you to get scared or lose your smile.

It started with convincing you that you would be taken away and tortured if you were found out along with some convenient coincidences where strangers were being pushy with you and they stepped in to protect you... It just helped that you had a more timid nature with strangers now that you were out and vulnerable again.

Then it evolved into little affectionate gestures and convincing you they wanted to make you feel safe and comfortable even though you couldn't figure out where other gems were.

Eventually they even had you convinced that any gems spotted were crushed and turned into jewelry, which further aided in keeping you dependant on them.

It was through all that, all their work, that eventually got them to their goal when you confessed you've felt a strong draw to them and they were quick to reciprocate. It made your heart flutter and you never once considered questioning them, making their prepared excuses for nothing.

Although, you could've sworn that they'd whisper about their obsession with you whenever you dozed off... But they'd always tell you you must be hearing things...

If anyone picked up on the fact I used a mirror specifically from medieval times in this, you get a cookie (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!