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scribblesofagoonerr · 2 days

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— Yeehaw' it's cowgirl era!

pairings: leah williamson x reader

summary: readers' in her cowgirl era as she goes to nashville with leah and her family, she tries to contain her excitement, but its' too much to handle at the end of the night.

↪ this is my fav one shot to write, because I love country music!

and as always thank you to @alotofpockets for the help/inspiration to keep going with this fic!

"I'm so tired, why's the airport so noisy?" You grumble in complaint, all you want to do is sleep but with the news around the airport, its' difficult to do that.

You're tired, so tired. You weren't going to miss the chance to speak to your best friend in Australia though.

Stupid time zones really do suck.

"Well, that's what you get when you don't sleep, monkey," Leah chuckles, glancing at you while you are curled up on the floor.

"Its' not my fault though-- Kyra phoned me!" You whine in protest.

Leah chuckles and shakes her head, "Surely you can't be comfy down there?" She wonders, trying to understanding your reasoning to lie on the floor.

"Its' fine," You murmur, keeping your eyes shut and trying to ignore everyone around so you can sleep.

"Why don't you come and sit up here, love?" Berny, Leahs' grandma suggests, "You can't be comfortable down there."

"M' fine here," You repeat, trying to be as polite as possible.

"Shes' fine, Grandma. I'm happy for monkey to sleep wherever as long as I don't have to chase after her," Leah tells the older women, speaking nothing but the truth about the matter.

"What?" Jordan, Leahs' older cousin chuckles.

Leah exhales a sigh and locks her phone from where she's previously scrolling through Instagram, "Monkey likes to do this thing where she bolts, at literally any single chance that she gets. So as long as she's not making me run after her then I'm fine with that," She explains to them both.

Jordan blinks her eyes in confusion, "Uh, er, what?"

"Don' make me move, I'm comfy!" You whine from your position on the floor still.

"See?" Leah gestures to you with an amused smile, "Be grateful shes' not trying to pet the dogs over there." She adds.

"That was one time!" You exclaim in protest.

You try pet a few dogs' in the airport and suddenly everyone starts to make a big deal out of it, pft.

All you wanted to do was say hi to them.

You like animals, so what?

"I have so many questions right now," Jordan remarks.

Leah chuckles amusedly, "Well, we might be here a while then."

"The floors' not comfy anymore," You complain, huffing in annoyance.

"I thought you said it was?" Leah teases you at your own expense.

"Well now I'm not and everyones' been too loud," You whine in frustration, scrambling to get up from the floor, "Everyone needs to shuuuut up!"

"Uh, Le, is she okay?" Jordan turns to look at Leah in concern.

"Oh, yeah, this is just monkey being well, this is just monkey being her normal self-- Ooft, I didn't think you'd literally flop yourself down on me there," Leah groans as she feels your whole body weight completely slump down on her.

You let out a yawn and rest your head on her shoulder, "You make a comfy pillow, so deal with it." You state.

"But, you know..." Leahs' words are cut short by you.

"Shush, you're bein' too loud, Le," You grumble, not happy with her continuing to yap in your ear when you just want to sleep.

"Oh you poor baby," Leah mocks you.

"Mean Malfoy," You murmur under your breath, but it's still loud enough for the blonde to hear.

"What-- Whos' Malfoy?" The blonde's completely thrown off by the namedrop of a certain character.

"You are," You don't hesistate to admit.

"What? I am... I am not--" Leahs' still in disbelief to even realise that you'd managed to drop off to sleep while using her shoulder as a pillow, "Oh, she's asleep. Would you look at that?" She mutters.

"Must've been tired," Berny chuckles, amusedly.

"I still-- I... I don't look like him," Leah is still continuing to have a full blown crisis over the newfound nickname, "Do you guys think I look like Malfoy?" She questions, confused.

"Hey, monkey. You're quiet," Leah pokes her head around the door to check in on you, after not hearing much from you since you had all arrived at the hotel, "Whatcha up to?" She questions.

"Watchin' Black Widow," You pause the current film your watching and peer your head up from your iPad, "Wouldn't it be so cool to have Widow Bites?" You wonder.

That would definitely be so cool.

Apparently Leah thinks different by her facial expression.

"I think I'd fear for everyones' safety around you with them things," Leah remarks, shaking her head in disagreement, "What would you even use them for anyways?" She asks.

Shrugging your shoulders, you fumble with the strings of your hoodie, "Hurt my enemies and stuff, ye know'?"

"Enemies?" Leah questions in amusement.

"I got 'em, Le. Loads of 'em!" You tell the blonde.

Leah continues to look at you bewildered, "Right, oookay then. Well, we're gonna get ready to head to the festival soon, so are you ready to go?" She wonders.

"Uh huh, just watchin' this to kill the time-- Ooh! I still need one of them fancy hats!" You exclaim in realisation, jumping up from the bed.

"Slow down there cowgirl," Leah chuckles, making the reference to the jumper that you're wearing, "I've got you covered." She gestures to the cowboy hat which she just so happens to have in her hand before she plonks it on top of your head.

"Yeehaw! Howdy there partner!" You beam a wide grin as you try and put on the perfect accent.

The blonde continues to laugh in amusement, "You are something else sometimes, monkey," Shaking her head, she slings her arm around your shoulder, "C'mon, lets' go and find my family." She adds.

"Whatcha mean by that?" You turn your head to look at her in confusion.

"Well, you've heard the phrase 'one sandwich short of a picnic', right?" Leah explains to you as the two of you start to head out of the hotel room.

"Uh huh," You nod your head slowly in understanding.

"You're that sandwich, monkey," Leah states as she smiles.

Now its' your turn to look at the blonde bewildered, "What? I--"

"Anyways, let's go before we're late!" Leah interjects, tugging you in the direction to go and meet her two family members down in the lobby of the hotel.

"Whoa!" Your eyes are lit in excitement as you take in the sight around you of the festival, "We're in Nashville!"

"We are indeed, monkey," Leah chuckles in amusement, using her usual nickname for you since your well, a cheeky monkey.

The blonde also has another nickname though, menace, but that's usually referred to when you're being well, a typical little shit in her eyes.

So, most of the time... You guess.

You still to look around at the atmosphere in awe, "Whoa! This is so cool!" You whisper in awe, not actually believing you were here right now, "Like, I can't believe we're here-- It's so awesome, isn't it?" You turn to the blonde for her answer.

"I can see somebody's excited, huh?" Leahs' grandma, Berny chimes in as she watches you take it all in.

"Hey!" You gasp excitedly, spotting a girl nearby who just so happens to be wearing the same boots as you are, "That girls' got the same boots that I've got! We're totally matching!" You can't help but squeal.

"That's bound to happen here monkey," Leah remarks as she rests her hand on your shoulder and you sense that she's got something to say, "Listen, I know you're excited to be here, but I don't want you to be running off at all, alright?" She questions, knowing just what you're like.

"C'mon Le, I know that. I'm no idiot!" You dramatically whine.

"I didn't say that, but you know, sometimes you get distracted--" Leahs' words are cut short when you do in fact get distracted.

It's only a matter of seconds before it would happen.

"Look, they've got Churros!" You gesture over to a nearby van that's selling them and try to walk off in that direction.

"Ah, ah, no you don't," Leah's quick to yank hold of you by the back of your jumper, "See? This is exactly what I mean!" She states, firmly.

"But there's Churros, Le-- Churro's are life!" You all but insist, you couldn't get enough of the sugary treats.

"Don't even think about running off, menace!" The blonde is quick to warn you seeing that it looks like you're keen to bolt in that very minute, "I can see that look in your eye!" She adds.

However, the blondes' made the rookie error of letting go of you as they start to walk over to enter the arena where the music would be, at least the blonde still thinks you're following behind her.

Only for her to turn round and her eyes' widen when she realises you had not followed her at all, but went wandering off because of course, when there's Churros around... It's an easy decision to make.

So you bolted, running right in the direction for them without even second guessing it.

"Where the hell has she gone?!" Leahs' throwing her hands up in the air and looking fed up already, not even making it near the arena yet and you're already up to your old tricks, "I swear to god, I need to put a tracker on that girl!" She grumbles under her breath.

Both Berny and Jordan can't help but laugh, "You've got your hands full there, huh?" Her cousin jokes.

"Yeah, you're telling me," The blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, "I need to go find her, I'll be back." She huffs, very much not in the mood to deal with your antics.

And here Leah thought you will be tame tonight...

Ha, no.

"Good luck, love," Her grandma tells her, amusedly.

Leahs' shaking her head in annoyance, wandering through the various food vans' to get to where you where, currently being served the battered sweet treats, "There you are, menace! C'mere!" She states, annoyed.

You whip your head round and give the blonde a cheeky grin, "Le, look. Check out all the Churros I got! Do yer' want one?" You offer one out to the blonde, completely unaware of how peeved she is.

"What, no, I do not want one. What I want is for you to stop wander off," Leah looks at you in disbelief as she is quick to yank hold of the back of your jumper, "C'mon, now!" She states, firmly.

"Sooo, you don't want a Churro then?" You repeat the question, clearly not getting the idea of how annoyed Leah was, "Oh well, more for me then..." You shrug your shoulders and continue to shove it in your mouth.

Keeping a hold of you in one hand to not make the same mistake for you to run off again, Leah uses her other hand to rip the Churro out of your hand and toss it in a nearby bin, "You know you shouldn't be eatin' that many. You're going to get sick!" She tells you.

"But they're so good though!" You whine in protest.

Leah shakes her head, "No, no, that's enough of them. I'm not dealin' with you being sick. You know what you're like with that much sugar!" She states, firmly.

"COUNTRY GIRL, SHAKE IT FOR ME, GIRL," You sing along to the lyrics of the song that's currently being performed at the top of your lungs, having the best time of your life, "SHAKE IT FOR ME!"

If there was a table to stand on top of right now, your damn sure that you would be standing on it and pumping your fist in the air.

"Enjoyin' yourself there, monkey?" Leah glances at you and smiles, although slightly concerned for the impending sugar crash that's going to follow anytime soon.

"Hell yeah! I'm in my cowgirl era right now!" You scream in response, swaying to the music and continuing to live in the moment, "I never ever wanna leave this place!" You exclaim.

Leah laughs slightly and shakes her head, "Stay here, alright? I'm goin' to get some drinks-- Don't even think about moving!" She warns, following what happened earlier on when you went on an adventure for Churros.

"Ooo, drink. I want one!" You insist, whipping your head in the blondes' direction, "I'll take a vodka coke, please!" You declare.

"Sure, nice try. How about we hold the coke, eh?" Leah remarks, amusedly, "Legal age is 21 here, sorry, monkey." She pats you on your shoulder.

"Boo!" You huff in protest at the news, "C'mon, the rules don't have to apply to me!" You tell her.

Rules are there to be broken, right?

Definitely.

"Yes they do," Jordan chimes in.

"Pft, says who?" You scoff and roll your eyes at the older women. Your definitely not a rule follower most of the time, "Rules don't mean nothing to me."

"Me, because the rules really do apply in this case, monkey. I'm not being the one bailing you out of jail," Leah tells you, laughing in amusement.

You can't help but huff once more, "Meanie, complete meanie, Malfoy."

"I do not look like Malfoy!" The blonde exclaims.

"Yer you do, carbon copy of him," You remark cheekily, sticking your tongue out at her.

"You little-- I'll be back. Stay put here, don't even think about moving or I'll follow through with the threat of that tracker!" Leah warns, wagging her finger in front of your face, "Stay." She repeats.

"Woof," You reply to the blonde by barking, being completely, well, being completely you.

"Le? Pst, Le!" You not to gently nudge the blonde in the ribs as you start to get bored in the middle of a performance and want her attention, "Le... Leeeaaah!" You continue be that lovely irritating twerp that everyone seems to put up with.

"What?" Leah turns to face you confused, "What's up, monkey?" She questions.

"Hi," You can't help but snicker in amusement, just winding her up for the sake of it.

Mission success when you see the facial expression is unamused.

"Your such a pest sometimes," The blonde grumbles, shaking her head before she takes a swig of her drink.

You smirk and take the opportunity to be even more of a pest per say, "Malfoy's cranky." You murmur, just loud enough to still be heard.

Leah's head whips around in your direction, "I heard that, you little shit!"

"Language!" You gasp dramatically and widen your eyes, "You said a bad word!"

You feel a swat around the back of your head, "You're a menace sometimes."

"Le, love, don't hit the child," The blondes' grandma chides.

"She's not a child, she's a literal devil," Leah remarks, scoffing as she scowls at you as if to be cautious of your next move.

"Regardless, don't hit Y/N," The older women states.

You can't help but stick your tongue out at the blonde, "I win!" You exclaim, doing a little victory dance in your spot where your sat.

"I can ground you again, so be careful with your next move!" Leah warns, giving you a pointed luck.

Where's the fun in that?

You faux hurt and rest your hand on your chest, "Who, me? I didn't do out. You can't prove anything," You play innocent in front of Leah's family members.

"I was right, you really are a devil sometimes!" Leah murmurs, shaking her head in disbelief, "A complete menace to society."

"Yeah, but you still keep me around, right?" You can't help but grin cockily, letting out a sudden squeal when you feel an arm wrap around your neck and pull you down slightly, "Agh! Lemme go, lemme go!" You whine in protest.

Soon enough the wave of the sugar rush soon turns into a sugar crash.

Eating a bunch Churros was really, really not a good idea.

Although they were too good to not eat, so definitely worth it at the time in your opinion.

However, now, it is a completely different story now your energy is starting to wear off.

The state being where you somehow manage to slump off your chair down to the floor and curl yourself into a ball on the ground in front of Leah and her family.

You just want to get comfy, and the ground seems acceptable.

No judgement here, alright?

Leah's a bit drunk from the alcohol but seeing you in the way that you are and shes' sobering up pretty quick, "Monkey, what an earth are you doin'?"

"I'm tired," You murmur in half asleep state, finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

Leah exhales a sigh and shakes her head, "Why don't you come back up here and sleep on the chair, like a normal person?" She suggests.

You barely are shaking your head in response due to the tiredness, "No thanks, I'm comfy here."

"That can't possibly be comfy though?" The blonde continues to look at you in disbelief.

Jordan can't help but look over at the chaos and chuckle slightly, "Are you okay, kid?" She asks.

"M' tired and the grounds comfortable," Your voice is just loud enough to be heard, as your eyes flutter shut as your just content enough to listen to the music, "Night night."

"Monkey, come on. The grounds dirty and cold, get up please," Leah looks at you in bewilderment, trying to get you up of the floor where's there no doubt several amount of things you definitely shouldn't be lying in, "Monkey, come on. Up here." She repeats.

There's not much response from you, because somehow bizarrely, you have managed to get curl yourself up in a ball and fall fast asleep.

The soft snores are a dead giveaway that you are indeed out cold.

"Is she... Is she really asleep?" Jordan looks completely baffled.

Berny peers over at you and chuckles, "It appears she is."

"Monkey can sleep anywhere. I've never seen her fall asleep in the middle of a festival though," Leah snorts in amusement, before she takes pity on you and moves off her seat to crouch down and gently scoop you up into her arms, settling back onto her seat with you nestled against her.

It takes a few minutes before you shift in your sleep, burying your face in the blondes' neck and letting out soft snores, which make all 3 women smile in amazement.

"Shes' out for the count so it seems," Leah murmurs, swaying to the beat of the music and softly patting your back to allow you to still stay asleep for the rest of the concert, "Hopefully she can make it all the way through the acts tomorrow before she sleeps." She jokes.

Another day in Nashville, a whole lot more for you to see.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #woso one shot #scribblesofagoonerr #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #leah williamson x reader #chaos fc #woso

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togeppys · 2 days

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the waiting game ;

tsukishima kei x reader

reader is childhood friends with tsukki, and has an ongoing bit where she'll ask him out periodically. she's grown used to him saying no, and doesn't expect it when he actually says yes.

You would easily consider Tsukishima Kei your closest friend. You grew up on the same street, went to the same schools, and were in the same class on multiple occasions, so your frequent proximity had forced the two of you to become very familiar with one another. Though he had a personality that others may find sour, knowing him for so long meant that you had seen every version of him, and knew that there was more to him than the reputation that he had gained. Sure, he was arrogant and standoffish a vast majority of the time, but you knew that he was also kind and considerate towards those he cared about.

You didn't think that it was possible to gain feelings for a friend so close to you, but over the years you couldn't help but find yourself growing more and more intrigued with the idea of being in a relationship with your best friend. You cherished the friendship that the two of you had, but you couldn't help but wish that it could blossom into something more. Even as a child, you knew you wanted to make a move, but were held back by the fear that he would take it negatively, and you would lose a friend that meant the world to you. Sure, you both had other friends outside of each other, but a life without Tsukishima Kei by your side was not something you wanted to risk.

The first time you asked him out was a joke to test the waters. The situation had been perfectly laid out for you, so you figured you might as well give it an attempt.

At twelve years old, you, Tsukki, and your deskmates sat chatting about how White Day was approaching, with some members of the conversation more enthusiastic than others. One boy excitedly announced that he had started dating another girl in the class, and was planning on surprising her with candy on the special day. One by one, each of the boys rattled off who they wanted to give a present on the holiday, while the girls helped pitch ideas on how they could make their surprises even better.

"Who are you getting a present for, Tsukishima?" a voice sounded next to you, a bright eyed girl addressing the one member of the circle who had not made a contribution.

Tsukki stared blankly at her, before shaking his head, "No one, I don't have a girlfriend."

The boy seated next to him accusingly pointed a finger in his direction. "There's gotta be someone you want to get a gift for. It's White Day, this is your chance to get one!"

Your best friend scoffed, folding his arms in defiance. "It's a made up holiday, and a girlfriend right now would be a waste of time and money. Why would I buy chocolates for someone I don't have any interest in?"

Sounds of protest came from everyone sitting at the table. Upon hearing his thoughts, you supposed that should have been a clear enough answer to whether or not he had an interest in anyone, but you couldn't help but think that he was only staying quiet because you were present at the table. While somewhat disappointed, you knew that this was your chance to prod him further and get a more concrete answer.

"Date me, I'm your best friend and I'll gladly take the chocolates," you half-joked, trying to play it off as cool as a twelve year old possibly could.

Your answer came quickly, not in the form of an answer, but in the ease of him brushing you off, not even considering the possibility that you could genuinely mean what you had just said.

"I'm not getting anything for anyone, find someone else to buy your chocolates."

Following that conversation, it had been a whole year before you took another chance at proposing the idea of a relationship, fearing that you would be shot down once again. It was a similar situation; the environment had given you the chance to casually slide the idea into the conversation, and you couldn't give up the opportunity.

You and now-thirteen-year-old Tsukishima Kei stood in a convenience store on your way home from school, picking out snacks after you had spent a long day with your clubs at school. You were in the art club and had to take home a painting that you had done on a disproportionately large canvas. As you decided you wanted a barbecue pork bun, Tsukki picked yours up on your behalf, seeing as your hands were fully occupied with your artwork. Standing at the till, he gave the payment to the store owner, an elderly man with a strong gaze, and took the bag that was handed to him in return.

"Young man, why don't you give the food to your girlfriend and carry that massive painting for her instead?" the elderly man chimed as the two of you began to pull away from the counter.

Both your eyes widened, and you could see that the taller boy's cheeks had gone slightly red at being criticized by the man before you, along with the realization that you had been incorrectly identified as his girlfriend. He opened his mouth in protest, but the store owner gave him a pointed look, forcing him to place the bag back on the counter and take the painting from your arms. A large grin broke out on your face as you picked up the buns and gave the man a toothy smile while the two of you gave him a small bow before exiting the store.

"That's more like it," you heard the owner's voice carry from behind you as the doors to exit the store chimed while you walked into the evening air.

The second you were out of earshot of the man, you broke out into laughter, immediately turning to the boy who had turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Hear that Kei? Carry the massive painting for your girlfriend," you mocked, taking your bun out of the bag and taking a bite, ensuring to make a grand show of the amount of freedom your arms had in that moment.

"Tsk," was the only response heard from the boy as he turned his face away from you to try and hide the red that was slowly disappearing from his cheeks.

"I say we should start dating so that you can become my personal artwork carrier," you quipped as you skipped ahead of him along your path.

"Never going to happen," his voice sounded from behind you, unamused.

"Go out with me!" you called back, continuing to skip ahead of him.

"No."

That incident had begun the joke that ran between the two of you. You would ask him out, and he would respond with some form of deadpan denial. Your friends had grown accustomed to it, expecting you to make the joke from time to time. On the days you spent with both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, the shorter boy would even occasionally play along.

"What in the world is that poster for?" you asked one day, noting an obnoxiously coloured poster stuck to a pole near the corner where you and Tsukishima split off from Yamaguchi on your paths home.

"A couples dancing competition," the green haired boy read off with a laugh.

"I wonder what the turnout would be, based on how ugly that poster is," your best friend commented, leaning forward to get a better look at the image before the three of you.

"The two of you should sign up," Yamaguchi responded jokingly, matching the smile that was growing across your face, "It would be a sight."

"You're so right, both of our incredibly above average dancing skills would blow the competition away," you joked, "the only thing we're missing is being an actual couple."

"I'm not going out with you."

"It was worth a shot."

As you grew older, the two of you continued to remain best friends. You had shared sentiments over schoolwork, had jokes shared between each other, and you knew the ins-and-outs of each others' lives. You were closer than ever, but the fact that you two had only grown closer meant that it hurt even more that the two of you wouldn't be anything more than friends. As far as you were concerned, he only thought of you as a cherished friend, and all the times you had asked him out were nothing more than a gimmick resulting from a comfort level obtained from your level of friendship. You loved having him as a friend, but as you grew older and more mature, your feelings grew with you, and your childhood crush developed into infatuation with the boy living down the street.

When high school came around, you both joined Karasuno together, acknowledging that it made sense for you to attend the same school once again. After the incident when you were thirteen, he had formed a habit of helping you carry your larger paintings on the walk home, and in turn you feigned some interest in the volleyball club, hearing what he and Yamaguchi had to say about their matches.

When the boys volleyball team qualified for the finals of their tournament, you joined your school in supporting your two friends as they faced the top school in the prefecture. You were one of many loud voices cheering the boys on, though you liked to believe that amongst them all, you were cheering the loudest. When Tsukishima made the first block against the opposing ace, you felt a burning pride to see the boy you liked finally begin to show some emotion on the court, your excitement visible from the stands.

Though you didn't understand the game well, it had you on your toes; everything that took place was crucial to the boys' success in the game. So encapsulated by the gameplay, and cheering on the series of blocks that Tsukki had done only moments before, you were confused when murmurs started to pass through the crowd and the players began to crowd around the tall blonde. It took a few seconds for you to realize that he was injured and was gripping his hand while the others spoke to him. Concerned, you left your spot amongst your classmates and approached his brother, who had a matching look of concern etched upon his face.

"Akiteru, did you see what happened? Is Kei injured?" you questioned, standing next to the older Tsukishima brother.

"I hope not," he muttered back, eyes carefully watching what was going on below.

You both watched intently as your friend wrapped a towel around his hand and began to walk towards the gymnasium exit.

"C'mon, let's go see what happened," he stated, as you both left the stands along with the first-year Karasuno manager to go meet his younger brother. Walking down the steps you could feel the anxious energy radiating off of all of you, and you tried to shake it off so that the injured boy would not sense it too. The three of you met him outside the doors of the gym.

"Kei, are you okay?" you asked, somewhat redundantly; of course he wasn't 'okay' if he was leaving the game because of an injury.

"I'm fine," he quipped back, trying to act more nonchalant than you could tell he felt inside. You observed your friend as he had a back and forth with his brother over his physical state. He commented on how it was nice to rest after all the sets- you could tell that there was some truth to the statement, but you could also see that he had finally found his groove, and really wanted to be back in the game. As he began to walk away, you could see the frustration emanating from his stance, and you and his brother decided to follow him and the older manager to the infirmary.

You ran up to catch him, and walked alongside Tsukki, Kiyoko and Akiteru. You walked in silence, knowing that the middle blocker was busy ruminating on the events of the game, and could only think of getting back on the court, despite his efforts to pretend otherwise. As the four of you arrived at the infirmary, you sat beside him and the two others stood near the door behind you while the nurse took a look at his hand. You could tell that he was scared that the nurse would announce his hand was too severely injured and he would have to sit out the remainder of the match.

To try and ease some of the nerves that he would be feeling, you grabbed his non-injured hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"I'm sure it's fine and you'll be back soon," you whispered so that only he could clearly hear, "and once you get back, you'll win the game and go to nationals."

You gave him a small encouraging smile, finally meeting his eyes, and for a few moments the boy did nothing but stare back at you.

After a short pause he finally responded with a nod, "I hope so," before dropping his eyes as the nurse analyzed and dressed his wounds. The remainder of the visit, you four sat in silence, the volleyball player evidently deep in thought over what he would do when he returned to the match, however his eyes occasionally fluttered away, as if something were distracting him.

Soon, his finger had been wrapped and immobilized, and the nurse announced that he would be allowed to return to the game. The four of you sprung up, and began jogging back to the gym, Tsukki slightly out-pacing the rest of you. You and Akiteru stood by the doors as the other two ran to the coach to explain his condition and request that he be put back in the game. You and the other Tsukishima brother ran back up to the stands to watch upon seeing him take a seat on the bench, the substitution card in his hand.

You watched as the remainder of the match unfolded, Tsukki back on the floor, knowing that he was still in pain though he tried to hide it. You didn't think it was possible, but you were even more captivated by the game in front of you, every movement drawing you closer and closer to the edge of your seat, more and more in awe of your best friend’s tenacity. When the final point was scored and Karasuno were announced as the winners, you jumped out of your seat, cheers and hollers all around you as your entire section cheered on the victory of your school's team.

The victory party had begun, with Karasuno staff and students overjoyed alike, excitement filling the air. The team bowed to your cheering section, and you let out more cheers to your two friends before you. You first made eye contact with Yamaguchi, who had found you in the crowd sooner and you gave him a smile and a thumbs up to show your congratulations. Noticing his teammate's line of vision, your best friend found you as well and you beamed even more, changing your thumbs up into a heart that you made with both your hands. You could almost hear the half-laugh, half-scoff that came from the boy as he immediately turned away from your antics. You couldn't help but laugh as well when you turned away from your seat and started to join the crowd that had begun to trickle out of the stands.

When everyone had finished mingling in the lobby, you excused yourself from your other friends to go greet the volleyball players who were dispersed outside the gym. You easily spotted the blond head of hair that stood taller and slightly apart from his teammates, the green-haired boy nowhere in sight.

You decided that the best course of action to get his attention was to launch yourself at his back. So you did, and he let out a yelp as he caught you behind him, a small exasperated laugh being let out. You let go of him and gave him a proper hug, but from the front, despite his protests.

"What did I say, go back soon, win the game, go to nationals," you said matter-of-factly, pointing a joking finger in his face once you had finally freed him of the hug, "I think I can see the future."

"I mean we were already so close to winning, the prediction was right in your face," the boy responded sassily, obviously trying to get back at your outrageous remark.

"I don't know, I think I have a gift," you continued joking, "I'll show up to all of the nationals games and start predicting who's going to win, just you wait and see."

"There are too many games going on, you'd never go to them all," the boy responded, trying to shut down your new aspirations.

"No, I'll do it, just you wait and see. I'll go to all of yours too, up until you win it all."

"You'd look like a stalker, the crazy fan of Karasuno who won't leave us alone."

"Hmm... no," you responded back, "The best course of action is for us to start dating because then I would no longer be a crazed fan and instead a loyal girlfriend there to support my boyfriend."

"Mhm okay."

"And then if anyone asks I could just say that I... wait did you just say okay?"

You had continued on your rambling, so focused on the dumb situation that you had thought up, that you had completely failed to notice the boy's response, or the way that he had been looking at you since the moment you had met him outside the gym.

He now stood, smiling smugly at you, and you realized that while you had been going on and on, he had been looking down at you, a newfound admiration on his face. You couldn't say when exactly the change had been made, but you realized now that he was looking at you in a way that he had never once before, and you began to feel the butterflies in your stomach.

"I did say okay," he stated plainly, placing a hand on the top of your head, making light of the fact that he towered over you.

You were speechless and could do nothing but stare back at him in confusion.

"After all this time, did you want me to say no again?" he asked, when almost a whole minute passed without a response from you.

"NO, no not at all," you said finally, accepting that he wasn't just messing with you and actually meant it, "it just caught me off guard."

The boy removed his hand from your head and smiled once again, less smug this time.

"Okay, so now I'm expecting you to show up to all our games at nationals and be the supportive girlfriend cheering me on constantly."

"Girlfriend already?" you retorted, once again taking his non-injured hand in yours, the difference being that now he held it as well, the feelings no longer one sided, "What happened to taking a girl out on a few dates before claiming that title?"

"Did you really ask me out all those times just to not even want to be called my girlfriend?" he asked back, eyes narrowing in disbelief at the comment that you just made.

"Nevermind, girlfriend it is."

Bonus:

A week had passed since the volleyball team had won the game against Shiratorizawa. The boys had been busy following the win, so you finally had a moment to treat both your friends to a congratulatory dinner. The three of you walked in the direction of the restaurant on a Sunday, with you standing in between your two friends. You passed a hideous poster, identical to the one that the three of you had previously joked about.

"Now that we've mastered volleyball, I think it's time for you two to take up dancing seriously," Yamaguchi smiled, recalling the previous joke that you had made over the poster.

"I wholeheartedly agree," you said back, "this time we even meet the couple criteria."

Yamaguchi stopped walking, turning to look at the two of you. You innocently looped your arm into Tsukki's, though your boyfriend stood still, no reaction evident on his face or through his body language.

A few seconds passed before Yamaguchi unfroze and continued walking, a smile now plastered on his face.

"Congratulations," was all he said at first, before he finished his train of thought, "but it was really about time."

#tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #tsukki x reader #tsukki x you #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #togeppys

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yeyinde · 1 day

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I’m begging for your opinions on regency era nasty Simon😭😭

i promised myself this wasn't going to become an anthology but here i am. anthologising.

he's from the absolute bottom of the social circle. his dad was the town drunk, and Simon made a lot of enemies. Price's shady dealings put him and Simon together. i want him to have gone to jail—possibly for murder—and it really shaped who he was as a person. made worse, naturally, when his whole family is killed as soon as he gets out. Simon is blamed, but there's no evidence. rumours start about how a rival gang tried to bury him alive when he was in jail, but he dug his way out. they say he died. he's a monster. a pariah.

he's probably a butcher by day but takes care of Price's dirty work by night. helps run the racket. is an enforcer. just a mean, broken man. spent his formative years in jail surrounded by horrible men.

and you!!! ahhh, Mrs Price's NOSY niece. she goes missing and you come down, sniffing around because this isn't right. why would your aunt run off when she's been raised properly? this isn't like her. it all seems so suspicious. and Price's accusations have tarnished your family's reputation - saying that she ran away with a lowly barkeep in the middle of the night. a decades-long affair, stole money from him. all sorts of nasty business that ruin your family. so, you come to stick your nose into things and ask the questions no one else will.

Price doesn't want you anywhere near his almost wife/servant girl, so he sics the biggest, meanest dog he has on you. only. instead of killing you, Simon takes a disgusting interest in the prim socialite who somehow manages to talk down to him even as he towers over you. it breeds an obsession. unravels all these awful thoughts he's had about the upper class. and his boss giving him the go-ahead to ruin this pretty little bird that always seemed so untouchable? well. sure.

he's keenly aware of how your circle works, and uses that tongue advantage. mocks you when you snap at him to keep his filthy hands off of you, and tells you that you should have stayed in your ivory cage, little bird. gets a sick, twisted pleasure dragging you down the social ladder just by lying his dirty fingers on you. from gold cuffs to a pair of rusting, iron shackles. he loves ruining you. gets off when you call him all sorts of nasty names, trying to act all prim and haughty still, even with his cum drying on your face.

you call him a monster and he pinches your face between his thumb and forefinger, cruelly asking you if he's a monster, then what does that make you? the little fool carrying his monstrous brood. who in your little circle is gonna want you now? knowing that a beast like him put his hands all over you and his babe inside of you? probs whistles to himself as he gets to work on "disappearing" your aunt for good while your whole world crashes down around you lmao

Price is miffed that you're not just as missing as your aunt, but. whatever. Simon's content. you're taken care of. and he gets to pretend to be a good man with his pretty little servant girl tucked into his side. everyone wins.

#i love love love the idea of Simon taking out his ire on you idk why like the idea of someone loathing you so much #that all the anger/disgust/hatred in itself turns into a form of obsessive devotion?#well i'll talk about that all day #simon riley x reader #regency era

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easy-there-leftovers · 2 days

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Magnum Opus (Ch. 1)

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding her potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how her paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes.

(Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 2k words

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

While Aaron Hotchner remained vigilant as he drove the black SUV, the constant flipping of Spencer’s case files seemed to be louder than the car’s air conditioning.

He had directed Morgan and JJ to touch base at the MPDC, and had Rossi and Prentiss survey the crime scene of Jonathan Edwards; the identity of the previously unknown man in the vacant apartment.

This left him with Reid in the passenger seat to conduct an investigation on their only lead so far.

From the update Garicia had given them, Y/n L/n was a prodigy a year younger than their very own. Having graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology a year ago, she moved to Capitol Park Plaza and Twins Apartments in Washington D.C., and is currently unemployed. Occasionally selling her paintings out of her unit under an anagram of her name.

But something bothered him.

And it seems like Reid has picked up on it too.

“Do you think Dr. L/n is the unsub?” The unit chief asks.

Spencer hums before answering.

“While we can’t rule it out just yet, the possibility of her being the unsub is totally unlikely. The thing that’s throwing me off is that everything is too convenient. I mean, why would the unsub use something so publicly personal to them as part of their signature? It’s as if she’s overtly incriminating herself.”

Spencer checks back onto the pictures of the victims, then lifts his head up to look at Hotch to continue.

“Based on the way the victims are modeled, an immense amount of care was put into them. All for the purpose of making them look like the subjects in their paintings. Actually, the fixation on changing the bodies’ posture and keeping them clean is typically done out of remorse. But the added elements, like the placement of the paintings, creates an image of an unsub more on the narcissistic side. By creating two 'artworks,' they're prompting the viewer to decide which version of it they prefer. Mocking the original artist in the process.”

“So the paintings were done before the murder?”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

His unit chief sighs and pulls over to the curb. “Well, we’re about to test that belief.” Spencer hurries to take off his seatbelt as Hotch closes the car door with a thud.

—------

Hotchner nods at Reid as they find themselves in front of the written address Garcia gave them. He lifts his hand to knock firmly on your door, and waits for a response.

A thud from the other side causes both of them to assess each other before Hotch tells Spencer to stay behind him. Gun in hand until something, or someone, comes running at them.

But instead a muffled, “sorry” is heard right after, which causes him to lower his gun.

The door finally opens a crack to reveal a very tired twenty-something woman, some dark pigment or makeup smudged on their lower eye lines as they rubbed at it. She immediately fixed her posture however at the sight of the unexpected visitors. Eyes wide with concern.

“Dr. L/n, I’m Aaron Hotchner with Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI.” He highlights his statement by showing his badge. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Oh, um,” The woman blinks rapidly and shakes their head before immediately saying, “Of course,” with a nod and opening the door wide to let them in.

A quirk that does not go unnoticed by Spencer, who observes how different she looks to her more formal ID photos.

—-----

You let the FBI agents into your apartment, but are now suddenly aware of the state of disarray you left it in last night. Not to mention the state you were in.

You had just woken up and your brain wasn’t quite all there yet. If you had known you’d have guests over, you would have at least put some of your books and papers back onto their shelves rather than on your floor.

“My, uh—” You start, “Apologies! For the room and the um,”

You inhale deeply and gesture to yourself as you try to find the words before settling on an exasperated, “me.”

“No worries, miss. We don’t really call in advance.” You nod at the older man’s explanation vacantly before coming up with a response.

“Would you like anything to drink ?” You move to your fridge to get water to wake you up, and decide that it would be rude not to offer. The two decline, with the younger more busy observing your living room bookcase than the older one that sat on your couch.

You notice that something must have interested him as he lingers on certain shelves. That section in particular had prints of dissertations you had been meaning to read, or have already read, in clear folders.

You wonder if he found his work there or something before returning with water for yourself.

“So what can I help you with?”

“Dr. L/n, are you aware of the current string of murders that have been happening as of this year?”

You blink rapidly again. The question catches you off guard, but you shake your head.

“I know it’s a bad habit, and that I should, but I don’t really listen to the news.” Feeling your eyebrows quirk, you rub your hands together slowly. Making direct eye contact with Hotch, before looking at the younger man as he takes out a few papers from the folder he was holding.

“Are you familiar with these paintings then?”

Now that piques your interest.

Dr. Spencer Reid, who sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes when it meets his own, presents various pictures of your artworks in what seems to be dimly lit areas. They’re a little dirty, but otherwise you would recognize them as your own.

The thought instantly made something in your stomach turn.

“I–” You start, but shake your head subtly again. Unsure of what to say and how to say it next as you stare at the images. “am.” You turn your head to look back up at Spencer who nods thoughtfully.

“Recently, your paintings have been showing up at crime scenes in the D.C. area. Specifically, victims of an organized unsub that seems to be targeting people who accurately resemble the subjects in your work.” If your eyes weren’t wide enough, that bit of information had certainly opened them wider than ever before as you stared up at him.

“That, combined with the concentrated traces of 5-durastalene found in the pigments of the paint used, have led us to suspect your involvement in these murders, Dr. L/n.” You heavily feel the blink of your eyelids and rest your fingers on them to keep them closed before looking back at the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” you smile incredulously. “So you’re telling me that not only has Lunacite been identified on the paintings you’ve found, but that people who look like the personas in my private works actually exist and have since been–” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Murdered?”

“Well that shouldn’t come as a surprise, they were your muses, weren’t they? You were commissioned?” Hotch is the one who asks and you shake your head with wide eyes.

“I didn’t even know these people existed. They were just– faces I came up with mentally with the visual library I’ve amassed over the years. I don’t really make it a habit to paint from reference. Like I said, they were private.”

“And the chemical?” You thought for a moment before your lips thinned into a line.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Agent Hotchner, but I haven’t touched anything regarding that compound in over a year. I’ve only ever worked on it in my lab on university grounds, and I don’t make a habit of bringing work home.” You scratch the hairs near the base of your hairline.

“More importantly, hundreds of students and lecturers have access to my work, my research, and my lab space. Not to mention the people who might have heard my work through academic conferences.”

You move away from your position near the living room coffee table Spencer placed the pictures on, but picked up one before you did and shook your head.

“Besides, these paintings? No one should know about them, let alone have them. I didn't sell these.” That made Spencer’s brows furrow as he looked at the other photos still on the table.

“Do you have proof?” You stay silent, but then motion for them to follow you to the door of your room.

“Well, for one, I’m sure you’d understand that most people don’t make copies of their artwork traditionally, right? Expenditure of time, work materials, effort, human error, and many other variables. It just isn’t practical nor convenient.” You ramble and look back at them to continue.

“I also don’t make the majority of my art known online. Only a good 30% makes its way to my portfolio, and the others are never to be seen by anyone else.”

“They're studies. They’re made with cheap paints, they’re subjectively not appropriate for commercial use and-–I just wouldn’t be comfortable charging anyone for them.”

They follow you across the room, and make themselves apparent behind you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“So if my ‘commissioned paintings’ are currently on D.C. crime scenes, and possibly in MPDC evidence,” You open the door to reveal your studio to the two agents.

Various paint tubes, books, and brushes littered the floor, table, and boxes. A lone easel was situated near your apartment window, with an unfinished painting on it. And various canvasses, not displayed, but instead kept on tall shelves. Only the differently colored edges indicated that they were ever used.

What surprised them both however, were the same paintings in the pictures staring back at them.

Some on the walls, some on the floor, but what was most important was that they were in this room, they were clean, and there were more of them.

You turn to look back at them with shaky eyes. “So why are they still here?”

—----

Hotch and Reid stood outside of your apartment door as you cleaned yourself up. Hotch made the call to bring you to the precinct for further investigation and for your own safety, but allowed you to freshen up before leaving with them. Not that he told you about the safety part.

You were hard to read, given your erratic reactions. It unnerved him, but he supposes it comes with the territory of being gifted. You also offered to bring in your paintings and a few other materials for forensics to test, to which while he was suspicious of, was not ungrateful for.

He made a quick call to Garcia to check attendants of any academic conferences you’ve spoken at and if anyone had been more interested than the others. When he was finished, he looked to Reid who was crossing his arms and staring at the carpeted hallway before looking back at him.

“She’s uncomfortable.” He stated plainly.

“Reid, most people would be if they just found out their hobby had been getting people killed.” Hotch said as he kept looking at his phone for anything new from the others.

“There’s certainly that, but I meant her title. ‘Doctor.’” He said in quotes, and Hotch raises his eyebrow at that but allows him to continue anyway with a curt nod.

“I mean, every time we’ve addressed her with her title, she blinks faster. Did you know it’s a common attribute that’s directly related to an increase in heart rate, which is why they’re usually correlated with lying? Initially, you would think that she faked her experience to get those credentials, but given her educational background, she must have not been given an opportunity to be referred to as such for a long time. Also, the gap year she took could’ve only exacerbated any insecurities she might have about her intellectual achievements. Plus, the lack of organization in her own home, while not wildly uncommon amongst people her age, could suggest the sincerity of her belief about compartmentalizing her work and her private life.”

“And what does that tell you?”

As Spencer was supposed to answer, a thud much like the one they heard before they entered earlier was heard again, followed by a similarly muffled, ‘sorry.’

He turns to look back at Hotch again with a small, victorious smile.

“That she doesn’t fit the profile.”

——-

taglist: @littlewolfieposts

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid

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ventique18 · 2 days

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The Diasomnia gang doing pullups for fun, because they're all Lilia's boys and are proud of it.

⚔️: "I know you don't need it, but good luck anyway Lord Malleus."

🐊: "UOGH! A DEMONSTRATION FROM THE VERY BEST..!"

🐉: "Well, well. I mustn't disappoint my juniors, must I?"

🌸: "Wait wait, take off your shirt!"

🐉: "Why?"

🌸: "Because I want to see-- I mean, Silver and Sebek did it. Why not?"

🦇, laughing through his tea: "Yes, why not? It might be better for your ventilation since you get hot easily."

🌸: "What he says."

🐉, removing his shirt: "Very well then."

🌸: "Ooooh"

🐊: "UOOOOOH!!!"

⚔️: "If you have time later, would it be possible for you to share pointers on how to better target certain muscle groups? You've inspired me to work harder."

It was not a body that people are used to seeing on models. He did not have those deeply-lined abs you'd expect from protein whey posters, but one glance and you'd understand the definition of someone at optimal strength and bursting with health. It was a body not sculpted to please, but specifically molded to kill.

He was General Lilia's protege, after all.

🌸: "Wait wait wait! Remove the pants too."

Silence. And then a collective shock.

🐊: "HOW DARE YOU--"

🐉: "Though I don't particularly mind indulging you, but why?"

🌸: "Because I want to see-- I mean you need to shed all the weight you can if you want to do well, right? You're carrying your own weight and all'at."

⚔️: "I don't think an additional few grams would bother him... Nor would a few kilograms."

🌸: "I mean, you're essentially competing against Silver and Sebek, right? Wouldn't you want to give it your all against them? Do everything in your power to beat them as an act that you respect them as opponents no matter the outcome?"

🐉: "Hm. You make a fair point."

🐉, taking off his pants: "If this will help improve my chances of winning, then..."

🦇: "YEAH! You could say you won strategically because you took off your pants and Silver and Sebek didn't!"

Lilia laughed HARD. He doesn't even know if he's laughed this much in his life. Gods and demons, as much of an undefeatable beast his protege was, he really was nothing against this little human.

#twisted wonderland #diasomnia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twst silver #malleus x reader #ventique rambles

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pitchsidestories · 2 days

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can't stop this feeling (2) II Alessia Russo x Reader

part 1 I masterlist I word count: 1869

a/n: hi, yes, we're still obsessed with the Alessia picture above and hope you'll enjoy part 2 as much as the one before, can be read before part 1. 💕

When the final whistle blew, the sound reverberated across the football field. You sighed in defeat. Arsenal had lost their game. It was stupid and unnecessary but it had happened.

You tried to shake the loss off as quickly as possible, the next game would come soon. From across the field, Alessia caught your attention.

She stood in front in front of the Arsenal fans, her head hung low and applauded them. She looked sad and embarrassed like she wanted to be anywhere else at this moment. Your heart ached for her.

You walked over, slipping a hand on her shoulder: “Heads up, Lessi.“

“Yeah… wasn’t a great game…“, she admitted, her voice was thin and hoarse.

“We all have those games.“, you tried to encouraging.

When Alessia finally turned to her, you realized that her eyes were rimmed red. “Feels like I constantly have them.“

“That’s not true. It’s your first season here, it’s normal that it takes time. Plus, you already showed your potential.“, you shook your head.

Alessia was taller than you but she looked so small standing right in front of you. “I just feel like people expect more from me…“

You smiled at her: “Yeah, because you’re the star girl.“

“Not at the moment.“

“To me, you’re.“, you assured her.

The corners of her mouth slightly quirked up: “You’re the sweetest. I love you.“

You blinked at her for a moment. It’s been weeks since your talk, weeks since you started dating. A lot of things were still new to Alessia so you were taken aback by the fact that she said it so casually.

“I love you too.“, you finally replied after a few heartbeats.

“You always make me smile.“ The striker pulled you into a quick hug.

“It was the first time you said it out loud…“

She looked at you just as surprised: “Was it?“

“Yes…“

“I didn’t even realize.“

For a moment you both only stood there, astonished by the situation. A slow warm sensation spread through your body, the exhilaration of hearing these three words for the first time pushed aside the defeat.

You could feel yourself grinning as you took Alessias hand: “Come on, we’ve team dinner tonight.“

“Yeah, can’t wait. That’s always fun.“, she nodded and followed you towards the changing room.

“I’m sure Kyra’s already up to some mischief again.“

“She always is.“, the striker laughed.

“Let’s go, love.“

You watched Alessias cheeks turn pink as you left the pitch and the bad game behind.

Alessia loved camps with the England national team, the Mediterranean location in which they their staying at spoke to her sunny soul.

After the training she and Lucy immediately jumped into the ice tub to cool themselves down. The Blonde loved chatting with the older woman who was in a relationship with one of her closer friends:” I know that Ona is very happy with you Lucy, when we actually find time to phone call each other, she won’t stop talking about you.”

“Ugh, can’t believe you still talk.”, the defender groaned playfully.

“Excuse me? Friendship never ends.”, Alessia snorted.

“I know you two gossip about me.”, she replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“All the time and about y/n.”, the forward laughed light-heartedly.

“I knew it!”, the dark-haired woman grinned.

“I mean it’s always fun to gossip about each other’s girlfriends.”, the younger woman shrugged nonchalantly.

Immediately the chattiness between all the players who were soaking up the sunshine came to a halt and stared shocked at the two players standing in the ice tub.

“Girlfriends?”, Lucy repeated stunned.

“Yes, y/n is my girlfriend.”, Alessia told her proudly smiling as she tried hard to o ignore the quietness around them.

“I didn’t know you were into girls.”, the defender muttered. It was a rare occasion to see her this surprised about something.

“Me neither, y/n was the first woman to make me question things.”, the half-Italian answered in an honest tone.

“That’s how we all started.”, Fran explained, the smaller player who was sitting closest to them was coming to her to pad her shoulder encouraginlx.

“Very true.”, Millie added smirking.

“Who would have thought.”, Lucy shook her head in amusement.

“Not me.”, Jess admitted truthfully.

“But I knew!”, Beth tuned into the conversation with a triumphantly smile on her lips.

“And I was the first whom Lessi told that she kissed a girl!”, Ella yelled excitedly, hugging her best friend after she and the Barcelona player left the ice tub.

“Guys!”, Alessia nervously tucked a loose string of her hair behind her ear. This was too much attention on her coming out for her liking.

“Don’t worry, baby gay, we’re here for you.”, Lucy winked at the red-faced forward.

“Oh my god.”, slightly embarrassed the younger woman hid her face in her hands.

“It’s okay to be gay, you’re in good company.”, Beth reassured the fellow Blonde cheerfully.

“I know it’s. I just don’t won’t to be babied.”, Alessia clarified while sticking her tongue out into the direction of the Barcelona defender.

“Lucy won’t do it again. I’ll take care of it.“, Beth promised, raising an eyebrow in the direction of your older teammate.

Unimpressed by Beths threat, Lucy smirked at her: “What are you going to do about it?“

“I’ve my tools for that.“, the winger replied, elbowing the defender hard in the side.

Alessia had to suppress a laugh. Yes, it was still awkward to talk about it but she could always count on her teammates to provide a safe space.

Right after the international break, you had a few free days. And you had something planned for Alessia.

Cluelessly, the blonde striker followed you through the streets of London. You had told her to dress up and that you would go out but you never said where you would take care.

You felt a bit nervous, hoping that she would like the idea as you came to a stop.

Alessia looked at you, then at the sign of the gay bar. You could see her thoughts racing behind her eyes.

You smiled at her encouragingly: “Let’s get inside. Millie and Ona are already waiting, Lessi.“

“Okay…“, she said plainly.

“No need to be nervous. Trust me.“, you promised her and gently took her head. You led her inside the bar where Ona Battle and Millie Turner already sat at a table, waving at the two of you.

“Hi, girls.“, you smiled.

“Hey!“, Ona greeted you and Alessia with a hug. You could feel Alessia relax beside you.

“Hi, great to see you two again.“, she beamed at her former Manchester United teammates.

“Miss you at Manchester, girl.“, Millie laughed.

You pulled Alessia closer to you: “Sorry, she plays for Arsenal now!“

“What about me?“, Ona complained loudly.

“Oni, I miss you the most. Your hair is so good for braiding!“, Millie grinned, running a hair through the Spaniards ponytail.

“Oh my god! You’ve a favourite!“, Alessia yelled, sitting down at the table with them. Being with her friends seemed to help her nervousness. You watched with a smile on your lips.

Ona pulled her hair out of Millies grip: “We’re not here to braid hair!“

“No, first round of drinks is on me.“, Alessia said confidently.

The Spanish defender shook her head determinedly: “No, it’s on us!“

“What? Why?“, Alessia asked, looking at her former teammates in confusion.

“Because it’s your first time here.“

Alessia looked at you from across the table: “It has been many firsts at the moment but I love them all.“

Your heart filled with so much love at the sight of her beaming with happiness.

“That’s normal in your first queer relationship.”, the Manchester United admitted.

“True.”, Ona agreed with a warm smile on her lips.

“I really appreciate how supportive everyone is. Makes me feel less stupid.”, your girlfriend confessed.

After a short pause she lifted her drink:” Cheers everyone.”

“Cheers.”, you all clinked your glasses against each other. The fun part of the evening officially started. It turned out to be a very happy reunion, a lot of memories were made together.

Later in the tube, Alessia whispered into your ear:” I want to do it tonight.”

The sentence sends a shiver down your spine.

“Are you sure?”, you asked her, while you couldn’t hide how thrilled you were at the prospect of it.

“Yes.”, the blonde confirmed seriously. Her light blue eyes turned darker with desire as the tube was rushing through the London Underground system. Filling you with thrill and excitement about what was to come.

“Alright.”, you smiled at her.

“Please. I can’t wait.”, Alessia answered passionately, running her free hand who wasn’t on the handle impatiently through your open hair.

“Okay, babe. We’ll be doing it.”, you replied, before kissing her, much to your surprise the blonde answered this kiss even hungrier. Both of you forgot where you were in this moment, the only thing that mattered right now were you two.

“Shit, we need to get out.”, you realized, when the tube stopped at your station.

“Oh shit.”, your girlfriend cursed.

You let out a relieved laugh, once you left it, the sound of closing doors behind you: ” Thank god, we made it out of there right in time.”

“We’re home.”, you announced. Alessia and you were both a little nervous. Expectation hung in the air.

“Finally.”, the forward responded, letting her handbag fall to the ground, so she was able to cup your face with her hands before giving you fervent kisses enlighten a fire inside of you.

Turned out the wait has been worth it, the first sex with her was perfect.

A few months have passed since that day, you felt proudness when your girlfriend asked you to go as her date to an award ceremony. Both of you had fun planning your outfits together.

In the evening you walked hand in hand on the red carpet.

“Miss Russo, it’s cute that your teammate is accompanying you tonight, how are you feeling tonight?”, the journalist addressed the question to Alessia.

“Really good. I’m very excited that my girlfriend can be here with me.”, she beamed at him.

“Girlfriend?”, the man raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”, the blonde confidently raised her chin.

“What are you two wearing?”, the journalist swiftly changed the topic.

“It’s cute, right?”, Alessia swirled around to show off her dress.

“Tooney, hi.”, you waved at the familiar face. The walk on the red carpet was over for you both.

“Hi.”, she greeted you two.

“You’re looking great.”, your girlfriend complimented her best friend.

“Thanks so do you.”, Ella winked.

“I had the best personal stylist at my side.”, Alessia said while looking at you.

“Oh, please.”, you felt your cheeks turn hot.

“It’s true.”, she pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I thought you were just trying to experiment, but you look so much happier now.”, Ella told your girlfriend happily.

“I am, Tooney.”, the Arsenal forward’s face lit up.

“That’s the most important part.”, Ella answered, before pulling you both into a hug.

Alessia couldn’t stop the feelings she had for you and the football player wouldn’t have it any other way.

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated. <3

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freedomfireflies · 4 hours

Text

One Day*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you still hate Harry, but turns out, you might be having his baby.

Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, spanking, brief choking, slight angst (happy ending), mentions of pregnancy and babies! *Please be so gentle with yourself and only continue if you feel comfortable! 💞*

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

You huff. “I’m late,” you repeat, gesturing frantically toward your hips. “A week late. Which I know can happen, but…not really to me, so…I’m late. And I think we’re fucked.”

Harry blinks. Looks down at your stomach. Looks up at your face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You rear back. “That’s all you have to say for yourself is oh?”

He lifts his left shoulder in nonchalant shrug before flopping down onto your sofa. “I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

“I…I don’t know,” you huff. “I kind of thought you’d…yell. Or freak out or something. Or ask me if I’m keeping it.”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“Well…no. Not really.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t even…I’m not even sure if I am yet or not.”

“Okay.” He nudges his glasses up before crossing his arms. “Well did you get a test?”

You glance toward the pharmacy bag still sitting on your kitchen counter. It’s been mocking you ever since you picked it up. Staring you down, sticking out its tongue. One, tiny little box that’ll determine the next chapter of your life. It’s almost infuriating.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I, um…got one on the way home from work.”

“Okay. Have you taken it yet?”

“Not…exactly.”

His brow raises. “Do you…need help or something?”

You scowl. “It’s peeing on a stick, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, well, knowing you, you’d find a way to fuck it up.” He smirks. “Sure hope our baby gets my brains instead of yours.”

You grab the pillow beside him and give him a firm whack. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs as he winces. “Good. I wasn’t being funny.”

“Then, stop it. And stop being so calm.”

“You just said you preferred calm—”

“Well…it’s scaring me now. So what gives?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t really feel the need to waste a reaction on something we don’t even know is happening yet. Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like.”

“You say that like someone that’s had a lot of pregnancy scares.”

He snorts. “No, I say that like someone who knows freaking out won’t exactly help you right now. So just take the goddamn test, Tinkerbell. And we’ll go from there.”

Unamused, but somehow slightly comforted, you oblige and snatch the box from the table before retreating to the bathroom.

Once the timer has been set, you slowly make your way back to him.

He’s still sitting on the sofa. Calm. Unaffected. Watching you without a care in the world. Like his whole life isn’t about to change.

It drives you nuts.

“Five minutes,” you tell him.

He nods.

Warily, you sit in the chair to his left, staring holes through your shoes as your heart races inside your chest. You’re not sure how you got here. Not sure where you could possibly go. You aren’t ready for a baby. Not…yet. Especially not one with…him.

“Hey,” he calls, pulling your attention up. “S’the matter with you?”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell do you think?”

Another casual shrug that makes your teeth grit. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” You lean back. “Why on Earth would I be happy about getting stuck with your DNA for the rest of my life?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just seem like the type of girl to want a lot of babies.”

You scoff. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am not.” You don’t think.

“Really? Is that why you begged me to breed you?”

“I didn’t actually mean it. That’s just what you say in a moment like that.”

His eyebrow raises.

You hesitate. “Did…did you mean it?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I mean, yeah, maybe I didn’t mean right this second, but…I don’t hate the idea.”

“You actually want to be a father?” You snort. “Bullshit. You hate kids. I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just don’t care about them when they aren’t mine.” He throws his arm over the back of the chair and smirks. “I like my nieces, though. They’re chill.”

You blink. “You…you have nieces? Wait, you have siblings?”

“Yeah. One brother. He’s got two kids and they’re cute as shit.”

“Oh.” Your head starts to pound. “See? We can’t have a baby when I don’t even know anything about you.”

He chuckles to himself before nodding his chin at you. “All right, fine. Go ahead. Ask me whatever.”

“What?”

“Ask me what you wanna know.”

You think. “Okay. How often do you see your family?”

“Often enough. They live in California, and they work a lot. But we call every couple of weeks.”

“Oh. That’s…surprisingly nice. Uh…do you have a history of disease in your family?”

He grins. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” You motion at him. “Answer.”

“This isn’t an interview—”

“Answer.”

“No,” he says. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Great. Do you plan to be a deadbeat father?”

His eyes roll. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“So, yes? You do? Oh, great—”

“No, because that’s not a fair fucking question—”

“It is a fair question. If I have to raise this baby alone, I want to know—”

“Of course you wouldn’t fucking be alone. Do you really think so little of me—”

“I don’t think about you at all. How am I supposed to know what you’ll do—”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he nearly snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself before adding, “Even if it wasn’t my baby, I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Your lashes flutter and you can feel your heart lodging in your throat. “Fine. Last question.”

He waits.

“Did you ever want kids…before? With…her?”

He doesn’t have to think for very long, but the mention of her makes him smile. “Nah. We talked about it, but we weren’t ready. We liked it being just us, you know? We had a bunch of shit we wanted to do. We were a long way from babies and a white picket fence.”

You try to blink back the tears swimming their way to your eye. You can still see that beautiful picture of her in his room. An entire future of love and life and adventures that he lost. Now…he’s stuck with you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You swipe your knuckle along your cheek. “So, you probably still aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Harry, come on. You aren’t ready for a baby. I’m not ready for a baby. We…we don’t know each other, we don’t like each other…we can’t do this. You know that.”

“Do I?” He leans forward. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. I think we can handle it.”

“Well, I don’t. You don’t even like me. You can’t have a baby with me.”

“Why not? People do it all the time.”

“But not us.” You give him a firm stare. “Harry, we love our jobs. We want careers, not kids. So having a baby kind of gets in the way of that. There’s…there’s diaper changes, and teething, and potty training—”

“So?”

“So. We don’t work together well. In fact, it’s a rather well-known fact that we don’t get along. We can’t possibly raise a kid. We’d ruin it.” You study him for a beat, unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you actually want this to be real?”

Another shrug and you nearly lunge at him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, resting his elbows on his knees while he glances at the floor. “I’m older now. Maybe it’s time to…think about settling down.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He laughs. “Look, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but…maybe it could be a good thing.”

You stand from your chair and pace the length of your small living room. “This is crazy. This is crazy. I can’t have a baby, I’m…I’m not ready. I’m too young, I…I don’t even know what I’d do with one. Or if I even have a maternal instinct.”

“Probably not,” Harry offers, smirking when you glare. “You won’t really know until you have one.”

“Oh, great.”

“Listen, if you feel like you aren’t ready…we can find another alternative,” he says, softening his voice. “Okay? There are plenty of other options and we’ll find one you feel comfortable with.”

A tad wary of his sympathetic answer, you eye him closely. “Yeah? And what if we disagree?”

“We won’t,” he says calmly. “Your body, your decision.”

“Right,” you snort. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t be the one having to carry it.” He nods as though to reassure you. “Honestly, Tink. This would be your decision, one hundred percent. It’s not mine to make. Just to support.”

The tears rush a little faster as you sniffle and step closer. “You say that now, but what if I decide something you don’t like?”

“I will like it. I promise,” he murmurs, standing up in order to move toward you. “If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, great.”

“I…I…” You suck in a deep breath, unable to slow the wild racing in your chest. “Fuck, I can’t…I don’t know—”

“Hey, okay, easy. Easy, Princess,” he says, quickly reaching out to take you in his arms and ease you against his chest. “Relax. Okay? Just breathe. Breathe for me.”

“I…I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can. You are.” His lips press to the top of your head while his hand runs up and down your back soothingly. “I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here. You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

You squeeze your arms together and hold on with everything you have. Right now, he feels like your only anchor in the world. The only person strong enough to carry you both through to the other side. And for the first time since you met him…you feel glad that he’s here.

The two of you stand in the middle of the room for a long while before he finally murmurs, “I think it’s been five minutes.”

Your eyes close and you grip his shirt in your first. “I’m…I’m not ready to look.”

“Okay.” You can hear the smile in his response. “Okay, we can wait.”

So, you do as the truth starts to build in your chest. Inescapable, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down.

Finally, you can’t help but whisper, “You know what scares me the most?”

“Hm?”

“…that maybe I’m hoping it’s real.”

The apartment falls silent again. He doesn’t push you to elaborate, but you can feel his heart beating just a little faster inside his chest.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I don’t…I really don’t think I’m ready, but…but what if I should be? What if…what if we met and we started this because…because we were supposed to do this?”

He considers this. “Like fate.”

“Yeah.” You roll your lips into your mouth. “Because I still hate you. I do. I just…I’m starting to get this picture in my head of us. Being a family. Having a big house in a good school district. Tucking them into bed at night and reading them stories. Which is…dumb.”

“No,” he mumbles. “No, it’s not dumb. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because I meant what I said, I’d love to get you pregnant. You’d look really fucking hot.”

You chuckle. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh…okay?”

He smirks. “I never had a breeding kink until I met you.”

You lean back and swat your hand across his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“What? I’m being serious.” He grins and those dimples pop free. God, you hope your kids have his dimples—

No. Nope. You aren’t going there.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. “Whatever. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.” His gentle gaze sweeps across your face. “If you wanna do this…we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll have this baby, and we’ll raise it to be really smart, and funny, and to not take shit from anybody.”

You laugh, brushing away a few more tears. “Maybe we can teach it to write code.”

“Oh, fucking obviously.”

The two of you smile before the excitement seems to fizzle and Harry’s brows pull together.

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I know that’s our thing, and I know you said it earlier, but…I don’t actually hate you. This baby wouldn’t grow up with two parents that don’t like each other.”

“Oh…I…I know.”

“Good. Because I don’t want that to be one of the reasons you think we can’t do it. I’d fucking love that baby. And I’d love you for carrying it.”

Instantly, you both seem to still. The four-letter word sounds so loud inside such a small room.

I’d love you.

He clears his throat, shifting a bit as he glances toward the kitchen. “I mean, I’d…I’d appreciate you for carrying it—”

“No, yeah, I know,” you stammer. “I know what you mean.”

“Good. Yeah.”

The two of you fall quiet again before you softly admit, “I think I’m ready to look.”

“Okay.” He squeezes your hip. “I’m right here.”

You take in a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of his arms. You already miss his warmth and the way he felt like home and your stomach turns as you slip into the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you reach for the stick that sits on the edge of your sink. And in those three seconds, an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes.

The good, the bad, and the everything in-between. You see a house and a dog and a big backyard. You see two little kids rolling in the grass and jumping into the pool. You hear them begging for a bedtime story and crying when they scrape their knee.

You see a dozen birthdays and holidays and visits to the zoo. You see their heartbreaks and triumphs, their successes and letdowns. You see a million goodnight kisses and cuddles on the couch.

And then…you see Harry.

In every picture, every moment. Taking them to their first baseball game and picking them up from their first dance. Sneaking them into R-rated movies even after you explicitly said no and feeding them far too much candy and popcorn.

You see him teach your son how to tie a tie and dance with your daughter as she stands on his feet. You see him cooking breakfast in the kitchen, flour all over his face. You see him curled up in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. You hear him tell you how happy he is. How glad that he found you.

It’s a beautiful life. Even if it’s not the one you imagined for yourself. And in that moment, you decide that it doesn’t matter what the test says. If that’s your future, so be it.

As long as you get to live it with him.

“So?” Harry calls from the hall.

You swallow thickly and slowly glance down.

Negative.

No baby. No pregnancy. No white-picket fence.

You stare at the test for at least a full minute. You aren’t sure how you feel. Relieved. Disappointed. Upset. Thankful. Confused.

“Tink?”

You turn around. “Uh…it’s negative,” you report, handing it to him. “False alarm. I guess I’m just late.”

He glances over the stick with a rather blank expression before looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. This is definitely the better outcome. I’m just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing it back. “I know.”

You throw the test away. “Sorry for making you come all the way over here for that.”

“Hey, whoa—” He strides into the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’d be here.”

“I just…I wasted your time. I should have taken it before I called you—”

“Tink,” he sighs, taking your cheeks in his hands. “Stop. You can always call me for shit like this.” He looks at you, then amends, “You can always me. For anything. You know that.”

A tear slips from your eye without warning, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. This is what I wanted—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. It’s hard.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup. “But this is good, right? This is better?”

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply stares at you with a rather sympathetic expression. Or maybe it’s forlorn. Maybe he’s disappointed. Upset that you aren’t giving him what he wants.

Then, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “This is good,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “We would have figured it out. And you would have been a wonderful mom. But I know you. And I know you aren’t ready. Not yet.”

You close your eyes and melt into the feel of his palms against your skin. Into the way he reassures you and protects you all in the same breath. You never thought you’d feel so safe in the serenity of his touch, but here you are. Wishing for him to hold you forever.

“And when we are ready, we’ll do it on our terms,” he says. “Okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “This is good,” you repeat to yourself. “It is. Really. Things are going great at work, I’m finally secure financially, and even you and I are…kind of getting along.”

He smirks.

“This is good. This is better.” You repeat the mantra until you really believe it. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been a very good pregnant woman anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’d be really cranky. Or needy. My ankles would get all swollen and I’d be hot all the time and nauseous and miserable. I’d probably try to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d definitely try to kill me. You try to kill me even when you aren’t pregnant.”

You gasp. “Rude.”

“What?” He chuckles again before his eyes slowly start to rake down your frame. “But I don’t know. I think it’ll be better than you think.”

You swat him again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to picture it.”

“Why? I told you, you’d look fucking hot.”

“Yeah…no.”

However, he only nods, moving in to subtly brush his lips against yours. “You would. Be so fucking beautiful carrying our baby. With your tits all swollen and your belly getting bigger every day.”

Truthfully, the image almost makes you grimace, but there’s something about the way he says it. The way he talks about you so reverently. A soft, sultry murmur that goes straight to your cunt. Because you know he’s not just saying it to say it. He means it. Believes it. Would do anything for it.

He tilts your head back, thumb brushing along your jaw. “And I think you like it,” he exhales. “I think you like the idea of holding me inside you. Having a part of me. Knowing that I did it to you. No one else.”

You suck in a soft breath, knees going just a bit weak. “Harry…”

“What, baby?” His mouth ghosts along your neck. “Are you thinking about it? Thinking about how pretty your tummy would look with me inside it?”

He’s evil. Absolutely evil, and you clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain control of yourself. “Do you…have a pregnancy kink I don’t know about?”

His lips quirk up. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” Your lashes flutter and the urge to kiss him grows stronger. “You know…some women get really horny when they’re pregnant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no?”

You shake your head. “I mean, do you really think you could keep up? Going for hours and hours on end? Trying to keep me satiated with your poor, limp little dick?”

He makes another noise, and you tsk.

“I mean, you can barely satisfy me now as it is. But if I was pregnant? Pfft. Forget it.”

Instantly, he’s snatching hold of your hips and yanking you against his chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Princess,” he nearly growls. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” you retort. “You’ve gone soft on me. Rubbing my back, kissing my hair. You wanna take care of me and honestly? It’s a little pathetic.”

His head cocks rather deviously and your pulse begins to skip. He could split you in half if he wanted to and you both know it.

But that’s what you need right now. You don’t want to be coddled or looked after. You wanna be fucked. Tortured and teased until you’re begging for release.

You want an escape.

And in that moment, Harry decides to give you one.

He picks you up and carries you out of the bathroom while your legs quickly work to hook to his hips for stability and your arms snake around his neck.

He ignores your squeals and teasing huffs of annoyance, instead dropping you onto your mattress with a soft thud.

You glare and push up onto your elbows. “You know, you don’t have to manhandle me—”

“Shut up.”

He surges forward, lips gliding against yours as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. And kissing is easy with him. As easy breathing, like you’ve done it all your life. You know exactly what he likes, what he wants. And you give it him.

His glasses are cold against your face, keeping him from getting as close as he’d like, and after a moment, he huffs, and rips them off before tossing them aside. And even though you adore when he wears them, you happen to adore being near him even more.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging on his curls, scratching down his neck. He has the added advantage of being on top, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from turning to putty in your hands. Clay for you to mold to your liking.

No matter how dominant he tries to be, he’s simply a man that needs to be told what to do. Taken care of. Shown.

And you happen to like showing him.

You feel him tug on the hem of your shirt. “Off,” he breathes between carnal nips to your throat. “I want this off, Tink.”

Happy to oblige, you push him back so you can lift yourself up before you peel the fabric from your chest. You take your time with the bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms oh so slowly. You don’t rush to reveal yourself to him, instead letting him anticipate you. Until his heart is racing and his eyes are darkening and he’s resisting the urge to do it himself.

But once he can finally see you, he nearly groans. “Oh, good fucking girl.”

He resumes his work. More kisses are left to the warm, tender skin, and he happily sucks bruises into each swell and curve of your breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue. His hands are greedy—ravenous. Pulling at your flesh, clawing his way along your frame.

When he reaches your thighs, you whimper. You’ve missed the way he touches you. The way he pries your legs apart and makes a home between.

In a rush, he snaps your panties off into his fist and you toss him a punishing glare.

He smiles.

You rid each other of your remaining clothes in a frantic fashion until they’re nothing more than a dirty pile on the floor. Messy and familiar. Fated.

He drops down onto the bed back first, effortlessly swapping positions as you’re placed in a straddle over his waist.

“Good girl, let me see you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You reach down and take his hardening cock in your hand, running it along your cunt before teasing yourself with the tip.

“Didn’t stretch you,” he mumbles, leaving a few stray kisses to your collarbone. “S’might hurt, so—”

You push him in, simultaneously sinking down in an effort to feel a more prominent burn., and you both make a rather lewd noise as the grip on your chin tightens.

“Tink,” he hisses with a punishing look of his own. “Careful—”

You drop yourself further, muscles tensing around the thickness until your thighs begin to shake.

“Hey—” He forces your eyes on his. “Enough. Be gentle, m’not gonna hurt you—”

“I want you to,” you pant. “Please. I need it. I…fuck, Har, I need it. Please…please.”

He’s still frowning but his expression softens. “Baby…not like this. Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better—"

“No,” you whimper. Desperate. Fraught. “Harry, please, don’t stop. Don’t make me stop—”

“Hey, easy, easy.” He pulls your forehead to his. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You try to obey. Try to suck in a strangled gasp of air but it’s useless. He’s gonna take himself from you. He’s gonna leave, and you’ll be empty, and alone, and maybe he won’t ever touch you again—

He places his palm on your chest, right over your heart. “Breathe,” he says again. Soft. Quiet. “In then out. Good girl, just like that.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Mimic his inhales and exhales until the two of you fall into a synchronized rhythm.

“Good,” he says again, rubbing his other hand along your back. “There you go. You’re all right, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Weakly, you nod. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I—”

“Shh.” He kisses your nose. “You’re okay, Tink. I know.”

A long moment passes before you finally feel in control of your own heart again and once you blink the fog from your eye, you see him. Delicate and strong at the same time.

He sweeps his thumb along your lip. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “Really, I just…I needed to feel you. And I wanted to…move on, I guess. Think about something else. Lose myself for a bit.”

He sighs but nods his understanding. “You could have told me that.”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to sharing things with you.”

“I know,” he echoes with a small grin. “But we’ll learn, yeah?”

Your gaze grows suspicious. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” he says simply. “If we’re gonna make a bunch of hot, smart babies one day, we’re gonna have to communicate.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while.”

“Fine. Just gives us more time to practice.”

Your eyes narrow. “You really have gone soft on me, haven’t you? All because you thought I was pregnant."

He laughs, fingers slipping around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. “I’d argue I’m actually quite hard right now.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I can hate you and like you at the same time, right?” he teases. “Because I think that’s my sweet spot. Wanting to kill you and fuck you all at once.”

“Agreed. You’re insufferable but you’re also one of my favorite people. Which only makes you more insufferable.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think we earned a little civility, no?”

You nod and take his lip between your teeth. “And I think we should celebrate with an orgasm.”

He laughs again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

You dance your kisses down his chest, enjoying the way his head drops back while he sighs at the feel of your tongue. He’s so beautiful and so good and if you’re going to lose yourself, you want to lose yourself in him.

Leaning back, brace your hands behind you on his knees, and start to bounce yourself on his cock. Over and over, faster and faster, until he’s grabbing onto your hips and giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze to help you along.

Your tits bounce right in his face, and he takes advantage of his front row seat, allowing his hands to trace and tease your nipples as you whine. He sucks them into his mouth and pulls them with his teeth. It sends chills along your spine and goosebumps along your arms and when he notices, he smirks.

Not even a minute later, he’s pulling you down so your chest meets his. His hands land on your ass with a firm grip and he drags you along his cock. Slow and sensual until your eyes flutter shut, and you disappear into the building pleasure.

You feel his kisses on your ribcage as he begins to thrust up into you. Returning to the pace you previously set until you’re both chasing that familiar high.

“There you go,” he praises through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that—”

“Harry,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shit, please—”

“I know.” He leaves another kiss to the inside of your arm before he smacks your left ass cheek. “I got you, Princess. S’okay. Keep going.”

You grind yourself over his lap, knees hugging his waist as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Needy. Anxious. You match each other’s rhythm and it’s a dance. An effortless fluidity that brings you closer than ever before.

Then, he sucks two fingers into your mouth, and moves them between your cheeks. He grazes them over your tighter hole, gently teasing them over the other entrance before dropping them down to where his cock is fucking into your cunt. He plays with you a bit, pushing you just a bit closer while you wail—depraved—and beg for more.

“My good girl,” he praises. He spanks you again. “Fuck—that’s it, baby.”

Your staccato whimpers are consistent now. One for every thrust and you can almost taste his desperation as he turns his head in order to kiss your cheek. The sound of skin against skin is crude and delicious. The way your body slides against his. Like butter on a hot day, melting together.

He goes faster, pulls you harder. Fingers digging into your skin so hard it almost hurts. But in the best possible way. In turn, you brace yourself with a palm on his throat. Squeezing it tight as you start to get closer.

“Yeah,” he groans. “Shit…harder—”

You obey, pinching the sides of his neck until his eyes roll back.

You can feel his heart racing against yours. You’re both warm. Hot. Shaking. A tangled mess of limps and depraved grinding like animals in heat.

“M’almost…m’almost there,” you whisper.

He nods, looking down your body to watch the way your ass bounces in his hands. “Go. S’okay, go. Let me feel you.”

He leaves more kisses to your side and the tender way his lips feel against your skin makes your brain go fuzzy.

You grip his throat a bit tighter and just like that…it’s over.

The two of you cum together, the room filling with moans and gasps and promises. He settles beneath you while you ride out the rest of your high but he makes sure to keep his arm around you through every second.

Once you finally catch your breath, he hums. “God-fucking-damn.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He turns to see you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

You roll your eyes with a swat to his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you still like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I’m your favorite person.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“Right.” He helps you ease him out before he’s flipping you around and moving himself between your legs.

You blink. “What the hell are you doing?”

He lifts two fingers and eases them along your swollen pussy. Collecting the white, sticky substance already leaking out before easily pushing it back in.

“Harry,” you scold. “I think we’ve had enough breeding for one day.”

He smirks. “Relax, Tink, m’not breeding you. I just…like to see it drip out.”

Your heart leaps. “…oh.”

“Yeah.” He rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh in order to watch. “S’always so fucking pretty.”

You reach down and card your fingers through his sweaty curls. Happy and content for the first time in days.

He looks up. “One day,” he promises, even though it sounds more like a question.

But somehow, in this moment, it makes everything else worth it.

You grin.

“One day.”

AAA I can’t believe we finally did it!! I’m not gonna lie them being soft with each other is gross 😭 BUT ALSO CUTE!! YAY PROGRESS!!

Thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice!! 🥹💞💞 and of course thank you for the amazing idea hehe

Also, if you see any mistakes……no you don’t 🫶

~ Full 404 Masterlist

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aestherin · 1 day

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KEEP MY HEART

goal 25: wear mine

NOTES: guys my first year of college is finally officially done !! ^^ update with a bit of narration :>

"Hey Venti," you nudged the one on your right. As the games have ended, the whole stadium has become chaotic with people wanting to go to the field to take photos with the players, while the others scrambling to get to the exit first.

"What?"

"Can you do me a favor just this once please? I'll buy you your choice of wine some other day in return I promise!" At the mention of his one and only vice, Venti's eyes became more alive. "Really, [Name]?! Go ahead and tell me your favor then, hurry!"

"I have to go somewhere else, and I'm sure Kazuha and Xiao would go looking for me immediately once they realize I'm gone," you sighed. "Can you cover up for me?"

Venti's brows furrowed. "What am I gonna tell them though?"

"Just whatever," you whispered impatiently. "As long as it works! I'll keep contact with you later!" You quietly exclaimed as you sneaked off while Xiao and Kazuha were dealing with the fans approaching them.

With your mind set on getting to a specific location as quickly as possible, you failed to pay attention to your surroundings, not noticing that a pair of golden eyes have discreetly followed your trail.

"Ugh. Finally."

You crossed your arms as Scaramouche made his way to welcome you. "Why do we always meet at parking lots?"

"Where else could we meet privately, idiot?" He flicked your forehead lightly. "Do you want to be bombarded by several people?"

"Okay no thanks, Mr. Famous."

"Don't call me that."

You smiled as you looked at him. Although he has already washed himself after the match, severe exhaustion was still visible in his form. His limbs limp, his expression weary — though he's trying desperately to mask it.

Perhaps to look his best in front of you.

"So, how do you feel?"

"Good, of course. We won, didn't we?"

"Idiot. I didn't mean that."

You only sighed at his confused expression. Perhaps, so used to this routine, he already unconsciously ignores his own feelings. There was nothing you could do about that for now.

You mustered a sincere smile, reaching out to pat his hair lightly. The curve of your lips widened even more when he subconsciously bent his head down for you. "You did well."

"Hmp."

As Scaramouche turned his face away from you (definitely not to hide the redness of his face), a gush of cold wind welcomed him, which immediately reminded him of why he called you here in the first place. He opened his car door, seemingly getting something from inside.

"Here."

"Oh?" You grinned as he handed you his gray hoodie. "I thought you were going to give me your varsity jacket," you teased.

"As if I'd give you anything dirty."

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

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not-freyja · 3 days

Text

New Zelda Game!

Okay cool, cool cool cool cool, I am calm, I am so fucking calm. Looks like Nintendo is staying true to their word that Wild is not getting another game, so now the questions are, what Link is this, where are we in the Timeline, and what information about the game itself can we pick out of these crumbs?

Whose Zelda is it anyway?

So two options:

New boy.

Legend. It’s fucking Legend again sucks to suck bro

Case for new Link and Zelda:

Less messy for the Lore

That’s it, that is the only argument

Case for Leggy boy and Fable:

LA animation style! While it can be fun to bring back older styles of animation for nostalgia/artistic reasons, that seems like a poor choice for *LOZ* games, which are always on the edge of what a game can do. Moving “backwards,” so to speak, in any aspect, would be a disservice to the franchise. However, doing it to maintain consistency for a particular character, and to use the animation style to make sure the audience knows this is the same character from LA is a very simple but effective tactic.

The map! So that shot was so BOTW and so fun, but the view we got wasn’t just recognizable as “Hyrule,” is was, down to the relative heights on the mountain cliffs against each other, the map from ALTTP/ALBW. Nintendo has never repeated a map without it being the same Link. So! Checkmate motherfuckers.

The character designs. That… that was just Legend and Fable, come on. Look at the dress. Every Zelda has a slightly different costume design, and that was hers. Look at Link. Baby boy!

I want this. Let me have it.

Timeline positioning

Okay so if we assume that this is in fact Legend, the next question becomes, “When is it?” Leggy boy currently has 5 games that are canonically his. (Triforce Heroes could be a random other Link, so while we like to say 6 we can’t *prove it.*) So. Let’s break it down.

ALTTP: canonically his first game, can’t be before this one.

Oracles: canonically happen after ALTTP, and he is very much still a child in here.

LA: the game this one is artistically modeled after. Narratively this fits nicely right after Oracles, and in the canon timeline, fits between Oracles and ALBW, so I think a whole new game being crowbarred prior to this one would be… not great for the narrative.

ALBW: This is trickier. No canon time between LA and ALBW is given, it could be a week, it could be years. It is entirely possible that Echoes of Wisdom occurs prior to ALBW, which would make it a direct sequel to LA, which makes the art style make even more sense. It could also be after?

…hang on a fucking minute, lets get the fucking map.

Left, ALTTP. Right, ALBW

Basically the same map! Duh, it’s the same Hyrule. But. BUT. Bottom right, in the lake. Do you see that?!

ALTTP: no log bridge. ALBW: Log bridge. Now, let’s look at the pretty picture from the EOW trailer.

NO FUCKING LOG BRIDGE!

This is before ALBW. Therefore, the game order for The Hero of Legend is

ALTTP, OOS, OOA, LA, EOW, ALBW, TH(maybe)

*cue manic laughter*

Lore Implications

Ganon.

There being a Ganon at all actually has me pointing my finger at the Oracle games and screaming. The TL;DR in those is that there was a plot to resurrect Ganon, each game Twinrova gets closer, but Link stops them. Now, there were also supposed to be three of those games, which means that it is entirely possible that the third unseen Oracle plot—please Nintendo let Link and Farore hang out, I am on my knees barking like a dog—could have resulted in his resurrection. This is the only explanation I have that doesn’t break the Lore or involve Time Shenanigans.

Also, Link does KO the bitch in that opening scene in the trailer. His presence is either just that—a set-up plot point—or him and Link are currently duking it out in the hole. Fun!

Link and Zelda

Now this game is going to put their relationship in the front in the “I have to save them because I love them” way that we usually see from Link’s POV.

Getting it from Zelda’s POV is going to be very interesting. We might be getting a look into her head, into her feelings and thoughts about the whole ordeal of the Legend itself. I hope so. But also, this isn’t just Link and Zelda, this is *Fable and Legend* specifically. The two that were meant to be be siblings but the dialogue that established them as such was cut from the final version of ALTTP. So. This game has the possibility to do three things

Canonize the Prince Legend thing, like they were going to do in the nineties.

Not address the topic at all, leave it nebulous.

Zelink.

None of these are bad choices, but option two is definitely the safest. Both options one and three will cause an uproar from part of the fan base. I can already see the ship wars. Please don’t do this people. Please.

The Holes 🕳️

What are they? Where did they come from? Ganon’s Trident Where do they go? No actually, where do they go? The Dark World (doesn’t make sense in the Lore)? Lorule (that would be a choice)? The Twilight Realm (I am convinced that Lorule and the Twilight Realm are the same place actually and you cannot change my mind)? Some new never seen before parallel dimension? A non-place, like a gap between realities (sexiest option)? I have no idea!

Fun!

That fucking “Fairy”

Tri? Don’t trust it. Will not trust it. Never trust that a companion in a LOZ game is what they first appear to be. Who does Nintendo take me for? A fucking amateur?!

Anyway, I am about 40% convinced that’s Link. I have evidence, but it is circumstantial.

I AM HANDLING THIS NORMALLY.

#loz #legend of zelda #loz eow #echoes of wisdom #loz meta #i am calm #so calm

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penny-for-thots · 2 days

Text

hayato suo + dub-con; aged up 18+

as much as i love him, there is a great possibility that suo is very much the type of man to practically (or straight up) coerce you to get between your legs. or gaslight or guilt trip, anything. like- he's sweet talking you all nice, rubbing your thighs, whispering in your ear, pushing his body towards yours.

despite your skepticism and hesistance, he'll purr in your ear. he's laying it on—thick. there's nothing but sweet praises leaving his lips. his tone may deviate a bit, to give you that ever-so-slight feeling of intimidation. his words, his actions, his tone, they all poke in the right direction to let him have you. including that stupid little pouty face that seems to get you every time.

"awh~! just a little fun? i feel hurt! pushing me off as if your cunt isn't throbbing for me right now."

"i promise it'll feel good."

"why are you saying no?" :( "but i want it��look at me, you said you'd handle any of my ... problems."

"just the tip? please? afterwards, i'll stop."

he's so mean and manipulative. and he knows how you work. what little buttons to press, what to say, how to say something ... if need be he could and very well would use it against you if need be.

suo is the personification of unpredictable, and when he finally gets his way (which he always does) he smiles at you sweetly, rubbing his hand so tenderly along you. his thumb is stroking your cheek, or he's holding you tight in a bathtub with a "see? that wasn't so bad was it?"

note. had some nasty thoughts about suo today, for some reason it formed as dark content (might expand on this type of suo). tbh, this is the tame version of what i had in my head soooo... feel free to ignore and shit, but y'know! (yandere!suo is 100% otw btw)

#⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ thirsts.#⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ dead dove.#wind breaker x reader #hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #hayato suo #wind breaker (satoru nii)

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minisugakoobies · 20 hours

Text

Whipped | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (no agab)

Genre: fluff, idiots to lovers, slightly crack-ish, non-idol!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: Mingyu's a stubborn idiot, but he's also the softest human alive, Minghao's kind of a jerk tbh, use of they/them pronouns for reader, this is honestly just fluffy nonsense meant to give you warm fuzzies

Word Count: 3.9k

Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: No matter what his friends say, Mingyu is definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent not whipped for you.

A/N: Yep, another Mingyu fic. I can't help it. 🤷‍♀️

Unbeta’d as usual. If you liked this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

Kim Mingyu is not whipped.

This is what he forcefully reminds himself when you walk into Minghao’s party, looking sweeter than a spring day, a phrase which if he’s being honest is maybe a little more poetic than he’d normally use. That’s okay. He can be a little dramatic if he wants. Why not? Seokmin does it all the time and no one bats an eye.

In any case. Mingyu is not whipped.

That’s why he turns his head, pretending he doesn’t see you dazzle everyone around you with your beautiful smile. While he’s pretending, he also acts like he can’t feel his own lips tug upwards at the soft chime of your laughter, a Pavlovian response to your happiness. No, his smile is unrelated to whatever you’re doing. He’s just in a good mood, one that didn’t suddenly ascend to the heavens when you entered the room.

Mingyu’s not whipped.

He sinks further into the couch where he’s sitting, a little off to the side of where Minghao, Jeonghan, and Seokmin are talking. Theoretically, he’s part of the conversation, adding the occasional hum or laugh, but he’s really not contributing much of anything. He’s too busy thinking about you. Not like that.

(But not not like that, either.)

In any case, Mingyu remains firmly unwhipped - solid, unshaken, definitely not falling apart over you. He’ll be absolutely fine, as long as you stay on the other side of the room, where your charms can’t reach him. Except that he can’t stop watching you, and now you’re looking at him, and even though he averts his eyes, it’s too late. He can sense you walking towards him, his heartbeat increasing with every step you take.

Not. Whipped.

“Hey there, stranger.”

Instinctively, at the sound of your voice, he glances up at you, like a flower tilting its face towards your light. He nods at your greeting, mumbling a hello of his own. The others sitting around him all greet you as well, but you merely nod in reply, your full attention on Mingyu.

“Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

If Mingyu had a list of things he loved about you, which he does not, being straightforward would be near the top. Of this totally fictional list that does not exist. He admires it, actually, the way you have no patience for dishonesty or deception.

Even though your question is blunt, your smile remains soft as you wait for his response, and Mingyu rethinks his ranking. Item number one on that imaginary list - the way you smile, at him, specifically. It’s so warm, like being hugged by the rays of the sun itself. It makes him happier than he ever thought possible. He wants to curl up like a cat and bask in the feeling. If he’s not careful, he might start purring right now.

He’s totally super normal about you.

“Me?” he asks, stalling for time, praying that a somewhat reasonable explanation falls into his lap in the meantime. He’s only a fair-to-moderate bullshitter, so his hopes are low. He can feel the others staring at the two of you, very obviously listening, because no one in your friend group seems to respect boundaries. It’s not helping. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you chirp back, and he does, he knows exactly what you mean, just like you know exactly what he’s doing. “You’ve been ignoring my texts. What’s going on?”

What’s going on is that Mingyu is not whipped, even if it feels like his insides are turning to melty goo beneath your inquisitive gaze.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’ve just been busy,” he shoots, aiming for breezy and landing just shy of nonchalant.

“Busy doing what?”

“You know. Stuff.” Oh god, he really sucks at this. “And things.” Jesus Christ.

You fold your arms, and Mingyu thinks it’s cute the way you’re squinting at him, one eye closed as you assess his response. Unbearably cute, actually, and getting worse the longer it goes on.

“Yeahhhh, that’s not good enough,” you inform him, and with one hand on his arm (Mingyu ignores the electric current that lights up his nervous system when you touch him. It’s just static and definitely not anything else), you pull him to his feet and lead him out of Minghao’s apartment and into the empty hallway. He follows, not because he’d follow you anywhere, but because he’s curious.

Once the door is closed behind you, you turn to him, a serious expression on your face. “Gyu. Be honest with me.” Always, he thinks reflexively. “This is about what those guys said the other night, isn’t it?”

Of course you know exactly what it is that has his head spinning right now. The two of you have been friends for ages, but Mingyu still can’t get over how easily you always seem to read him.

A few nights ago, Mingyu and you had been out to dinner with a few others, and it had been like any other time you were hanging out with your friends, lots of laughing and teasing and just being happy dumbasses together. Only on this particular evening, the food had taken a very long time to arrive, but the drinks kept coming in the meanwhile, and you’d gotten a little drunker than usual, and a little clingier, sticking to Mingyu like a magnet.

Not that Mingyu minded having you hanging on his side all night. Nor did he mind keeping a close eye on you, making sure you were drinking your water and eating to help soak up some of the alcohol. None of that bothered him at all - you were his best friend; why wouldn’t he take care of you? Especially when you smiled at him and thanked him for being so sweet, so good to you, over and over.

(He can’t even begin to explain how that made him feel.)

The others noticed. And commented. Mingyu tried to ignore them, but they just wouldn’t shut up. By the time they joked that Mingyu was your trained puppy, suggesting you buy him a pretty collar and a leash to go with it, he’d had enough.

And when he tried to express that, Minghao had shut him down with a scoff, a wave of his hand, and one word.

“Whipped.”

Mingyu admits that he’s a lot of things, but he’s not a whipped man. He’s not. He’s not, no matter what the others say. No matter how you’re looking at him right now, concern etched all over your lovely face, lip tucked between your teeth as you wait for his answer. He’s strong. And proud.

(And maybe a stubborn idiot, but that’s neither here nor there.)

He considers just not responding at all, but he knows how persistent you are, so he settles for a half-shrug. You sigh, leaning back against the wall, arms crossing in front of you.

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that?” you say softly, shaking your head. “They were joking. They said so! And you know I didn’t take it seriously for a second.”

“You didn’t hear everything they said!” he protests, crossing his own arms. You’d missed most of the barbs flying his way that night, too busy enjoying yourself. Which weirdly made him happy. He hated the thought of those guys ruining your night. “They said I was your pet!”

“So? Jeonghan always tells Seokmin he’s got the zoomies when he gets hyper. He knows he’s not actually a dog! It’s just stupid jokes! Our friends are dumb!” you laugh, throwing up your hands. “That’s what we like about them!”

Mingyu can’t help it, he starts to laugh with you, but then he catches himself, shaking his head. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.”

How can he help you understand, when he’s not entirely sure he understands it himself, this storm inside him, clouding his mind?

“I…” He glances wildly around the hallway, but there’s nothing out here to help him. He can hear the bass from whatever song is playing inside the party, a low, steady thrumming that contrasts the erratic thumping of his heart. “I don’t like being called weak.”

You tilt your head. “Is that what they said?”

“Yeah. Or I guess… they implied it. When they said I was whipped for you.” He lets out a frustrated sigh, knowing he’s pouting and it doesn’t help his defense, but it’s just his default setting. “But I’m not.”

Because he’s staring into your eyes as he speaks, he catches it - the quick expression of sorrow that pinches your brow at his explanation - but it’s fleeting, gone in an instant. If he weren’t watching your face so intently, he would’ve missed it.

“Gyu,” you sigh, the corners of your mouth lifting in what is clearly meant to be a smile, except it doesn’t reach your eyes, and for a moment, the confusing tide of emotions inside him still, and he feels only sadness. That’s not how you smile. “Can you please let it go? Everyone was being an idiot. That’s nothing new! Besides…” You trail off, staring at the floor.

He waits a beat. “Besides what?”

You huff and shrug. “It’s nothing, forget it.”

The uncertainty in your tone unnerves Mingyu even more than your fake smile. Where’s that directness of yours?

“No, tell me. Besides what?”

With a deep breath, you look him straight in the eye. “Besides, I’m not delusional. I know you don’t like me like that. I’m not your type.”

Your voice grows quieter at the end of your sentence, just as the music coming from the other side of the door fades out, and to Mingyu, the silence only amplifies your words, leaving them ringing loudly in his ears like a sonic boom. You’re not his type?

He blinks rapidly, as if that will somehow help.

“You - you’re not - “ He pauses, searching fruitlessly for the end of his sentence, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Right. I’m not.”

The laugh you let out sounds so fake that he winces, and a terrible realization hits him. You’ve taken his stammering to be a complete thought - a confirmation of what you’d said, that you aren’t someone he’d like like that. Curling in on yourself, arms wrapping around your stomach, you shrink away from him, only a few inches but the distance feels so vast.

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

Mingyu’s speechless. As his silence grows, so does the space between the two of you, until you’re standing by the door, hand on the knob. He feels like he should be doing something right now, snapping into action of some sort, but his brain is still stuck on your declaration.

“Okay,” he finally croaks, because it’s clear that you’re waiting for him to speak, and he doesn’t know what else to do but agree with you, because you’re usually right and he usually agrees with you.

“Right,” you say again, but you look slightly unsure, and it rattles Mingyu, making him feel even more unsettled than before. “Okay.” And then you open the door and slip back inside Minghao’s apartment.

Alone in the hallway, Mingyu slumps against the wall. Well. That was a spectacular failure. He’d tried to explain how their comments upset him and all he’d done was upset you. The shift in your demeanor was so obvious to him, a flashing neon sign basically screaming “you fucked up!” in blazing red light.

He gives himself a minute to try to pull himself together, then he returns to the party. As soon as he’s inside, he scans the room, until he finds you standing in the corner, hanging out with another friend, Chan, talking and laughing like everything is fine. Which, as Mingyu feels deep in the pit of his stomach, he knows it is not.

His previously vacated spot on the couch remains open, so he slips back into it, ignoring the curious looks of his friends. He doesn’t want to answer any stupid questions right now, doesn’t want to deal with any of their crap while he tries to wrap his head around what just happened in the hallway.

Naturally, his friends immediately start nosing into his business.

“What was that all about?” Minghao asks, turning to face Mingyu. Seokmin and Jeonghan both twist towards him, eager to hear his answer.

“What was what about?” Mingyu replies, eyes flitting to you again. Chan must be bringing his A game with his jokes tonight, because you’re giggling Mingyu’s favorite giggle, the one that makes your nose twitch like a little bunny’s. It always makes him swell with pride when he coaxes it out of you with one of his dumb jokes, so seeing it right now and knowing he’s not the cause of it, well, it’s not exactly helping improve his mood.

“What was that dramatic exit?” Minghao gestures towards the door.

“It was nothing. We were just talking.” Again he looks at you. And again, your attention is focused solely on the man beside you. Mingyu doesn’t understand. Can’t you feel him looking at you?

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jeonghan drawls, miming the crack of a whip with his hand. Seokmin and Minghao crack up beside Mingyu, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy trying to catch your eye. He wants to see you smile at him. Just one smile. That’s all he needs to make him feel better.

His friends lose interest in teasing him when he doesn’t respond, and the conversation moves on. As does the evening. Mingyu bonds with the couch, not leaving except to grab refills of his drink, but otherwise he’s a fixed point in this party, unlike you, who are constantly moving, floating from friend to friend, spreading joy across the room.

Spreading joy to everyone except him, that is. No matter how much he watches you, your light never shines on him again, not like it did earlier. He knows what this is. You’re the one doing the avoiding now. And oh my god does he hate it. He feels cold and lonely, withering away, dying for your attention. For your affection. Because he needs it to thrive.

Oh.

Oh wow, he’s stupid. The others are right.

Kim Mingyu is whipped.

For you, and you only.

Like it has been every few minutes since he returned from the hallway, his gaze is drawn back to you, and this time, it’s different. Because the mask you’ve been wearing all night finally slips, and Mingyu sees the wrinkle of your brow, and the slight downturn of your mouth, and he understands. You’re just as miserable as he is.

That absolutely will not do. He needs to fix this right now.

Mingyu rises to his feet again, not even waiting for Minghao to finish the story he’s been telling, not that he’s been listening anyway, and starts walking towards you. When he’s a mere arm’s length away, it occurs to him that he doesn’t have any plan, just an urgent need to make you look happy again. And also pay attention to him, because he needs your attention just like he needs you, so he panics, and grabs your hand.

You look at him in surprise as his fingers slip between yours.

“Come with me. Please,” he adds, a bit hasty in his anxiousness, already tugging you out of the room and into the hallway. A pair of voices follow you both out, as Minghao and Jeonghan both jeer loudly at the sight of Mingyu dragging you away, but thankfully the door drowns them out, letting only the beat of the music through. Which would be a good thing, except that now it’s just Mingyu and a very quiet you. With your hand still in his.

“Is everything o-”

“You are my type.”

You start speaking at the same time he does, but he’s louder, blurting his entire sentence out before you can finish yours. Your mouth freezes in an ‘o,’ and oh, Mingyu can’t believe what a dumbass he’s been for so long. How did everyone else see it but him?

“I just. Wanted you to know. That you are the type of person. That I like.” Why can’t. He complete. A whole sentence? “Smart, funny, gorgeous….”

You glance away from him, suddenly shy at that last word, and it just reinforces Mingyu’s point.

Unfortunately, it does not make it any easier for him to say what he’s trying to say.

“But you’re not just my type? You’re the person I like. Hao’s right. They’re all right. I am whipped for you.” He frowns. “Damn it, I hate it when Hao’s right.”

That makes you laugh, a quick “ha!” that makes your eyes light up, and Mingyu finds himself feeling stronger, so he doubles down. Might as well own it.

“But he did, he got this one right. I’m down bad.” He brings your entwined hands up, clutching them in front of him, maybe pressing his luck a little, maybe laying it on thick, but it’s barely an exaggerated version of the truth if it’s not pure simple fact.

“‘Gyu,” you groan, rolling your eyes, but there’s a twitch in the corner of your mouth that won’t cease, and it makes his heart sing. “Knock it off. I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think you do.” He takes a deep breath and steps forward, backing you into the wall behind you. Your hands are caught between you, and he presses the palm of yours against his chest, wondering if you feel the spike in his heartbeat when you inhale sharply.

“Maybe you should tell me,” you say, eyes wide but voice calm, and again, he marvels at how you strike straight at the heart of the matter, and he decides he can do the same.

“I’m telling you that I like you.”

The next few seconds are the longest in Mingyu’s life. Nothing has ever lasted this long in the history of time. Entire civilizations are built and fall within the blink of your eyelashes. You keep looking back and forth between his eyes, and he hopes that you see whatever it is you need to believe him, and tries his best to convey clearly what he feels. Even if he’s having trouble speaking his thoughts, at least his gaze can express it.

“You like me…”

He nods. “A lot.” Now that he’s said it out loud, it’s hitting him just how much.

“You like me…” you start again slowly, frowning slightly, “but you don’t like it when others point that out?”

“I just - “ Mingyu breaks off, a sharp puff of breath exploding out in frustration. How to explain it? “I didn’t like them saying it the way they did. It… it made me feel like they were calling me weak or something.” Your frown deepens and he stumbles on. “But - but that’s stupid, and I know it’s stupid. And I - I don’t care anymore.”

He clings to your hands, a lifeboat in a sea of turmoil, the warmth of your fingers locked between his giving him hope that this isn’t going completely downhill, this sudden confession of his. It’d be just like him to ruin this with his impatience. He’s always too eager.

“So what do you care about?” you ask, gaze burning into his.

And then there’s you. Always so calm and direct. God, he adores you.

“You. How you feel.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, you lower your eyes, in the briefest of glances at his mouth, and Mingyu feels that electric shock again, tingling all the way to his fingertips. He barely breathes as he waits for you to speak.

“If you really are whipped for me,” you finally say, “you should go tell them that.” You jerk your chin in the direction of the door.

If that’s what you want, then that’s what he’ll do. Without a second’s hesitation, Mingyu spins, his hand gripping yours to pull you back into the apartment with him.

Seokmin gawks openly as Mingyu stomps across the room. Minghao and Jeonghan exchange a glance that last night would’ve set Mingyu spiraling, but now rolls off him like water. Mingyu comes to a stop directly in front of his friends, squaring his shoulders, trying frantically to corral his thoughts into something coherent.

But before he can open his mouth, Minghao leans forward, placing his chin in his hand. “Shhh, guys, I think the puppy’s going to speak!”

“Hao, shut the fuck up.”

Minghao bristles when Mingyu snaps at him. Jeonghan and Seokmin both cackle, but then Mingyu glares at the two of them, and they fall silent. He takes a deep breath.

“I just wanted you to know that I don’t care what you guys say about me anymore, because I like YN.”

The words spill out of him so easily, not even the tiniest nudge needed. He glances at you to find you wearing a delighted expression and his heart goes buoyant again. He decides to ride the wave.

“They’re amazing. I’d do anything to make them smile, so if that makes me whipped, then I guess I’m fucking whipped.”

He’s facing you now, not caring if the others can see the obvious lovestruck look in his eye as he keeps talking, not to them, but to you. Aware that they’re probably all smirking at one another, because they figured it out before he did, but he doesn’t give a single goddamn.

“I can’t get enough of their smile. And the way they laugh. I like how sweet they are. How honest.” Mingyu can’t stop talking at this point. It’s all gotta come out. “But never mean about it. Even when it’s something you don’t want to hear. Especially when it’s something you need to hear.”

Your hand twitches in his with every sentence he states. He squeezes back gently as his statements get louder.

“I’m not kidding when I say I’d do anything to make them smile. I’d walk the ocean floor for them. Climb a volcano and surf the lava down barefoot. Capture a star fr-”

“Oh my god, we get it, you like them!” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Enough with the bad poetry.”

“Also? We know.” Minghao snorts. “No need for the dramatic announcement, it’s not news.”

Mingyu barely hears him, too lost in the way you’re smiling at him now. Forget his earlier rankings. This smile beats all the others. Shoots directly to the top of the list, which, now that he thinks about it, he kinda wants to write down and give to you, maybe framed. Or maybe he’ll stick it on his fridge - with a heavy magnet, of course, because it’s such a long list.

He completely loses all interest in the rest of the room, even though he’s pretty sure most of the party is staring at the two of you. Instead, he finds himself hanging anxiously on the breath you take, hoping for you to say something, to give him an indication of where things stand between you now. Because he knows you’ll be straightforward and get right to the point, whatever’s on your mind.

You step closer, close enough for him to feel your soft laugh on his lips as you give him a look that sends his pulse rocketing. You’ve never looked at him like this before.

Forget a list. He’s gonna write a whole book.

“Come on, whipped boy. Take me home.”

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #mingyu #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #mingyu fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #fic: whipped

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ladyymiisa · 2 days

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MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!

summary: your loving boyfriend who spoils you rotten!

tags: hawks x fem!reader, barista!reader, fem pronouns used for reader, fluff

author’s note: hi sexies!!! i literally can’t stop thinking about hawks spoiling his gf god i want him so bad

it’s no secret that hawks is rich. being a hero has not only given him popularity but also a paycheque that would make anyone’s eyes pop out if they saw the numbers on it. like, this man’s credit card is black. that’s how rich he is. and you’d think he’d try to display it, right? maybe by driving a really expensive car, like a ferrari or something, or by only wearing designer clothes.

haha, wrong.

for as wealthy as he is, hawks rarely spoils himself. perhaps he feels selfish to have all of this, despite how hard he’s worked for it. he tells himself that it’s because he’s too busy to actually relish in everything that he owns, that he has more important matters to focus on, but a part of him knows that they’re just excuses to make up for how hung up he is on the past.

the past of his criminal, alcoholic father and emotionally distant mother, the past of his abuse and how neglected he was. because of it, he can’t bring himself to actually enjoy the things others would kill for.

at least until he meets you.

he meets you and suddenly he finds a new purpose for his money, other than keeping it in his bank account to collect dust.

to spoil you, of course!

to me, hawks is more of a giver rather than a receiver and i will die on this hill. he loves to pamper you, shower you in the most expensive gifts known to man and take you on the fanciest dates. from designer shoes to jewellery that would cost you three years worth of rent, this man makes it his life mission to ensure that you only get the best of the best.

and at first, it all seems like too much. you’re just an ordinary civilian working as a barista, nothing special. you don’t consider yourself someone worthy of being hawks’ object of affection, but hawks, sorry, keigo makes sure to put a stop to those silly thoughts immediately. besides the expensive gifts, he also shows you daily just how much you mean to him, which is more precious than any pair of diamond earrings he could ever gift you.

for as busy as he is, keigo never leaves you hanging, no matter how busy he is.

showing up on your balcony late at night with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand if he isn’t able to visit you during your day shift, or washing the dishes for you if you’re too tired are some of the ways in which he shows his love.

and you grow greedy because of it. everything be damned, you slowly turn into a spoiled princess and it’s all his fault.

do you feel guilty about it? maybe just a little. but only because you no longer shy away from asking keigo to buy you stuff.

oh, look! a perfume you’ve been eyeing for a while just became available online? all you have to do is bat your eyelashes prettily at him and next thing you know you have a small package waiting by your doorstep the following day.

your favourite makeup brand dropped a new collection? surely he won’t mind if you get every product available.

hm? you’re still working at that coffee shop? well, not anymore! keigo can’t possibly have his pretty baby working herself to death when he’s right there to ensure that you’re living as comfortably as possible. after all, there’s no need for you to work! your rent is taken care of by him and his credit card is basically yours, so don’t worry your pretty head about such silly things! he’s got you covered.

but in the end, it’s not those gifts that make you fall asleep with a smile on your face at night. it’s his love that has your heart fluttering inside your chest whenever he gives you that boyish grin of his, it’s his love that leaves your cheeks feeling sore after he says such a horrible joke that you can’t help but laugh at. and keigo makes sure to shower you in his love every single day. he is a pretty generous man after all.

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sluttywonwoo · 2 days

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thinking bout trainer jihoon and all the possibilities

“am i doing this right?”

your trainer jolts, startled by your question. he had been lost in thought, distracted by all of the effort it was taking to remain professional during the session. he didn’t usually have this problem. you’re the only client that… does this to him. he even has to wear thicker pants on days when you’re at the gym— just in case.

jihoon clears his throat as he evaluates your position. he has you squatting with weight (just the dumbbell bar since you’re a beginner) so form and technique are even more important than usual. if you squat wrong with weight above your head, you could hurt your back— or any number of other body parts if you drop the weight from the incorrect stance.

“almost,” he says and takes a cautious step closer to you so he can show you. “like this.” he demonstrates briefly, holding an imaginary weight above his head as he bends his knees and mimics the movement.

“like… this?”

you try to copy him but you wobble a little on the way down. still, it’s an improvement and jihoon praises you for it.

“you want to keep your back straight,” he advises. “yes, good. just like that. and if you got a little lower your form would be perfect.”

“i-i don’t think i can get lower,” you admit.

“you can, i know you can. i’ll spot you just in case but you’ve got it. we’ll only do it once and then you can be done for the day,” he promises as takes his position in front of you.

jihoon grits his teeth in preparation as you start to sink into your squat. helping with the weight is the least of his problems, it’s just that this particular position is reminiscent of other things he’d like to do to you. he imagines you’d be approximately the same height if you were on your knees for him… you’d probably have your hair pulled back like that too, or maybe he’d hold it back for you… god, it’s a good thing he wore the extra thick joggers or else his dick would likely be poking you in the eye right now.

focus! getting distracted while spotting someone is literally the last thing a trainer should be doing. you’re trusting jihoon with your safety and your health. the least he can do is keep it in his pants for the duration of your session.

once you’re finished, he helps you set the bar back on the rack and replaces the standard plates on each end while you sanitize it for the next patron to use.

“great job,” he compliments. “see i told you that you could do it.”

you shoot him a playful glare. “it was hard.”

so is he.

“that’s the point. my job is to push you to do the hard stuff, you know.”

you scoff at him. “you get paid to torture people.”

“you’re one of the people that pays me,” he reminds you.

“and i regret it every day.”

jihoon frowns. “you don’t mean that.”

“no, i don’t,” you agree, sighing. “you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

you have no idea.

#answered #anon #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi smut #lee woozi smut #jihoon smut #lee jihoon smut

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jsprnt · 2 days

Text

Americano PT. 13 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: took me so so long, but I think the wait was worth it. 😭 let me know what you think, love u!😉

W/C: 4.072

part twelve

"Okay, is there anything left for me to do?"

I raise my head, looking up at my dad from my phone. The stack of papers on the dining table immediately giving me a headache.

"Are you asking me, dad? Or are you talking to yourself?" I ask, getting up from my position on the couch to see what his mid-life crisis is about.

"Myself.." He replies, bringing the ugly ceramic mug I’d decorated at the age of five up to his mouth.

The blue cursed-looking unicorn, with the biggest red eyes staring back at me, makes me clear my throat.

I mean, even I would have thrown that thing away after my child forgot about it.

"What are you doing?" I ask, leaning forward to flip through the stacks of paper.

Poor trees...

"Stop messing with them, y/n. They are important documents for work.."

I hum in understanding, holding my hands up in surrender.

"You're really killing off nature with these.." I add, scratching my itchy nose.

"Will you please go and do something useful, sweetheart?"

I sigh, instead of walking away, I sit down next to him. Turning to him with a smile on my face.

"Give me something useful I can do.." I ask, giving him a sickly sweet smile.

I hear him chuckle, his hand coming to rub my shoulder, before he points to the stack of papers on his left.

"The other documents I’d rather not have you go through.."

He reaches for the papers, placing them in front of me.

"Can you sort these in chronological order? It's images of camera footage, date and time are on the top right."

"Sure, dad.." I agree, flipping through the black-and-white printed images. Curiosity raised at what I'm seeing.

An individual, with more of a masculine frame standing outside of a huge, luxurious house.

Dressed in- from what I can make out to be, a black t-shirt, along with the ugliest pair of jorts I have ever seen.

"Where is this from? New case?"

"Bellingham's case." He replies curtly, writing something down on his notepad.

It was astonishing how anyone could read his handwriting.

Were lawyers second in 'the most unreadable handwriting' competition, next to doctors?

I raise my brows at his answer, interest peaked suddenly. I look around the house, as if Jude would pop up like some ‘Bloody Mary’ game if called out for three times- but I remember he is out tonight, enjoying his break from training at fuck-knows-where.

"Footage from the break-in?"

"Yes, honey- any more questions?" He glances at me for a moment, raising a single brow in question.

"No, not really..." I say, eyes flying to the date and time.

I only recognize the date as the first match we played in the Champions League this season, back in September at Bernabéu.

The dates do match up, and when I continue flipping through the images. Seeing more and more images of different dates, with more damage done to the home, makes me gasp.

How did Jude and his mom even live here for many more months after the first incident?

I feel goosebumps rise up on my skin at the thought of feeling unsafe in my own home. Had I known how terrifying the things that happened to Jude were, I wouldn’t have been such an asshole when he first arrived.

My stupid mouth and I...

I shake my head as if to remove my thoughts, taking a deep breath before quickly sorting and stacking the images correctly.

If I had known sooner, maybe I could have been more civil towards my unwanted roommate..

"Girl, turn the lights on. I literally cannot see a single thing." Amira complains, smacking her bubblegum in the loudest way possible.

"I hate winter. Seriously, why does it get dark so early?.." I complain, hurrying over to switch the light on in my bedroom.

"Stop complaining and do a twirl for me.." She says, placing her phone against something stable, so she can see me properly.

"Oh, sure your majesty.." I mock, chuckling at her, before doing a 360.

"You look so damn good. I swear, if you don't take a man home-"

"It's a party- or event , full of my colleagues. I can't be a hoe tomorrow night.."

"If you wanted, you would.." I watch her smirk, before she runs a hand down her dark locs.

"We can do that when you're visiting next time.."

"Can't- I have a man." I hear her chuckle, and definitely don't miss the sound of another, deeper laugh in the background.

"Oh, great thanks for reminding me. Hey Trent, stop listening in on us.." I say sternly, leaning in towards the screen.

"He's not listening in. He is on the phone with Jude.."

Oh, fuck, great.

I turn towards my door, praying Jude or Trent wouldn't be too loud on the phone.

At this point, I was surprised that the jig wasn't up yet.

Amira already knew about it, of course. I just hoped Trent didn't.

I mean, it would be foolish to think that Jude and I could keep our secret to ourselves. But for once, I trusted he would keep his mouth shut about us living together.

Everyone knows that men gossip more than women. They could know the most intricate details of the juiciest drama you'll ever come across, and never utter a single word about it until you ask about it directly.

"Trent's gone, now speak. Why do you look like you're sweating buckets?"

"I feel sick, like- my stomach hurts.." I begin, struggling to take my dress off.

"Maybe you got your period?" She suggests, using the screen to watch herself dot the pinkest liquid blush on her cheekbones.

"No, my Clue app says I'm getting my period in six days.." I reply, hanging my dress back into the closet. Then, I grab my pajama set, pulling the comfy clothes on quickly.

"You're probably nervous about tomorrow.." She mumbles, fidgeting with the lamp next to her, before blending the blush seamlessly into her foundation.

"What could I possibly be nervous about? I've been going for like two years, since I became eighteen.." I flop onto my bed, cuddling my soft pillow against my body.

My thoughts wander for a moment, something close to déjà vu washing over me.

"It's the butterflies.."

I snap my head back towards my phone, pulling a confused face.

"For?.."

"For Jude- You have butterflies in your stomach for Jude!" She screams unnecessarily loudly, making me drop my phone onto my bed.

I gasp, retrieving my phone from the mattress, looking back at her with wide eyes.

"Are you crazy?! Dude, he's literally across the hallway!" I exclaim, burying my head into my pillows.

"He probably heard you!" I cry out, giving her a middle finger.

"Exactly my intentions! I swear, everybody in the fucking world knows he wants you at this point. I've never seen two people in this much denial before."

"I literally don't know what to do with myself, thanks for emphasizing that.."

"How long is it going to take for you to be honest with yourself? Another six months, yeah? You like him, come on. You like him.."

"I haven't liked anyone since high school.."

"Let's not bring high school love into this. You were sixteen, should’ve been worried about GCSE's instead..."

"Okay, let me do a little magazine quiz for you.." I watch her spray her fixing spray onto her face.

She dries her face with a small fan, before leaning in and looking at me with a serious expression.

"Go ahead.." I groan, sitting up properly.

"What do you think of when you see him?"

"I don't know? 'There he is again'?" I answer stupidly, looking at her. I watch her cover her mouth, probably disappointed with my reply.

"Okay- let's try this. Imagine, tomorrow, you see him in a suit, tie all of that- dresssed up nicely, with his hair freshly cut. He smells like the sexiest cologne you have ever smelled. No 'Doir, Sauvage' shit- think 'Tom Ford, Oud Wood'.."

The rest of whatever the fuck she says doesn't register in my brain, but the heat slowly pooling into my body, down my stomach and thighs, tells me enough.

It tells me too much.

I’m fucked, done for.

A lost cause.

I need an exorcism..

"I'm ready!" I shout, taking one quick look in the mirror, before grabbing my handbag off my bed.

I stuff a powderpuff, some lip products, and my phone into my bag and rush down the stairs.

"Come on, honey. It's one thing to be late- another thing for me to be late to the event I'm co-hosting.." My dad says, already standing at the front door, navy blue suit making him look handsome.

"Ready! What do you think?" I ask him, pointing to my dress and heels.

"You look very beautiful. I did not think you'd wear such a daring colour.."

I know what he wants to say. ‘You look just like your mother’, but ignore those thoughts.

I shrug at him, glancing in the mirror again. The scarlet-red dress clinging to my skin is just the right amount of sexy and chic.

Of course, I had to go for a mini dress, ignoring my dad's wishes, because I could and I'm an adult.

I adjust my silver necklace, watching it glisten in the overhead light.

"Come on, y/n. Enough admiring.."

I nod, quickly walking behind him into the car.

I buckle my seatbelt, the mix of my dad's cologne and my perfume overwhelming me for a second.

"Wait? Where's Jude? Is he not attending?" I look at my dad, watching him pull out of the driveway.

"He will attend, but he said he would arrive with his teammates. He didn’t want to inconvenience us."

Inconvenience?

What did he mean with that?

I mean, we had not spoken properly for days- but inconvenience?

Am I overthinking things?

"Come and grab a drink with me.." Lina says, grabbing my wirst to pull me towards the cocktail- or in this case, mocktail bar.

Due to the discouragement of the players drinking alcohol, mid-season- it was the upmost important for this party to only offer non-alcoholic drinks.

And considering what had happened last time I was drunk- I wasn't complaining, at all..

The party had started two hours ago, though a little formal. We made the most out of it, while dancing along with the beautiful live music. The clock would strike twelve in a little, indicating the beginning of a new year.

Something about New Year’s Eve made me incredibly emotional at times. Maybe, it was the realization of life going faster than I thought- or maybe, it was some resentment I held against the negative things that happened in the year.

Even so, I tried to make the most of this party every year. Dancing wholeheartedly, tasting the food the chefs had worked so hard on, drinking the delicious drinks made by the bartenders.

"I'm going to get a Negroni- How about you?" Lina asks, wrapping her arm around mine as we walk towards the bar.

"I don't know- maybe I’ll just ask for a recommendation.." I speak, looking over at her. Her black dress hugging her figure as our high heels click against the floor.

"Oh, look who's here too.." She says, motioning ahead with her eyes and chin.

I follow her gaze, furrowing my brows in confusion. My eyes land on a couple of the football team players, all looking happy as they order their drinks one by one.

"Oh.." I mouth, lips pulling back into a straight line as I spot Jude next to them.

And of course, just like my dear best friend had described last night. He is dressed in a sleek, black suit matched with a crispy white shirt.

I watch him interact with his teammates, unconsciously staring at him as we near the bar.

His pearly white teeth show as the corners of his eyes crinkle, probably laughing at something funny one of the guys said.

I almost gasp out loud when he turns around, my eyes moving down to see the deep red handkerchief, placed neatly in the pocket of his suit.

Why in heaven's name- did we match?

I lean against the bar by instinct, drawing my attention back to the bartender who's standing in front of me. Eyes darting to the menu, of course- to only see non-alcoholic options.

Maybe, I did need a different type of drink.

'I'll have a Negroni, please.." I hear Lina say, and look at her for a moment before turning back to the bartender. Trying to ignore the fact that I can feel a pair of eyes burning holes into the back of my head.

What was that called again?

Scopaesthesia?

Whatever it's called, there should be a name for someone's warmth too- because Jude probably could feel the heat radiating off my body at this point, even if he isn’t standing that close to me..

"And what would this beauty like?”

I stand up straight at the words, looking at the smiling bartender.

I give him a soft, appreciative smile back, enjoying his non-creepy way of delivering a compliment, and quickly ask for a recommendation.

As y/n speaks to the bartender, he laughs back, leaning in to whisper something into her ear. It earns a chuckle from her, making her lean against the bar again.

Unaware of his own body language, Jude tightens his grip on his glass. His jaw twitches, and he turns away from the scene, scoffing to himself before taking a gulp of his drink.

His body tensing up does not go unnoticed by his friends slash teammates. He gets a pat on the shoulder from Dani, making him relax for a moment.

"Loosen up, brother. Have some fun.." Eduardo speaks, giving him his signature smile while clinking his full glass with Jude's.

Jude nods, walking closer towards the crowd of his teammates, trying his absolute best to remove his brown eyes from the girl.

The girl his brain has not stopped thinking about, ever since that drunken night..

From the way she looked, spoke, dressed- he was infatuated with her.

And tonight?

The sexy red dress, hugging her body- showing skin-

He is fucked, absolutely fucked, especially when he realizes how clammy his hands are.

The normally confident and playful Jude vanishes for a moment. He's acting like a lovesick teenage boy, too nervous to ask his crush out for prom.

The hour passes painfully slow, with the both of them sneaking glances at each other every other minute. Their friends notice, of course, smirks on their faces as they realize how clueless they are.

Young love shouldn't be this complicated, they think, wanting to push them towards each other already. Tired of the back and forth they were a part of these past months. The patience they had was running low, even though it wasn't anything harming or hurting them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!" A sharp, ear-piercing sound echos from the microphone, booming out of the speakers.

The speaker is none other than a Real Madrid executive, standing next to the chic, wealthy woman, is y/n’s father.

The entire venue’s attention turns to the two individuals, conversations and laughter cut off immediately.

"Just like every year since our successful partnership with Mr. l/n. We thank you for being here at our annual New Year's event!"

The room answers with happy and loud cheers, some clapping along in agreement. An interesting mix of almost all the athletes signed to Real Madrid, their hardworking staff, and not to forget, esteemed lawyers from the law firm.

"We will enter the new year in ten minutes! Please enjoy the rest of your night!"

As if on cue, the room goes back to their own conversation. And the restless, nervous wreck y/n immediately turns around to visit the bar again, asking the bartender for another one of the drinks he'd made for her earlier.

She didn't even remember what it was called. All she tasted and saw were strawberries- which meant that the bright pink, iced drink was good enough.

She grabs the drink off the counter, thanking the bartender, before turning around to return to her friends.

She looks down to watch her step, high heels starting to hurt her feet, as she tries to walk without tripping, making her forget to watch where she’s going.

Before the girl is aware of it, her body collides with a harder one. Glass in her han, tipping over, the pink drink splashing all over a white, crispy shirt.

y/n gasps, eyes widening in horror. Looking up from the disaster, she makes eye contact with a shell-shocked Jude. His own, brown eyes widening impossibly wider than hers.

Covering her mouth, she places the glass on a small, round bar table next to her, turning to him wordlessly.

"Oh- I, umh.." She stutters, sweat practically visible on her temples at this point.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She thinks, multiple thoughts running through her head like Usain-fucking-Bolt..

With only one brain-cell working in between them, and their hearts beating like crazy. She grabs his hand, pulling him off the dance floor- into a small closet, behind the stage. Away from the peering eyes and cameras at the event.

She turns away from him, closing the door, before locking it. Ensuring no one would walk into this disaster of a sight.

"Take it off.." She begins, speaking without thought. Reaching for a roll of paper towels, ripping off a stack of them before starting to dab away the moisture from his now pink-stained-shirt.

Her eyes dart up, lips parting slightly as Jude shrugs off his jacket, throwing it to the side.

The dim light flickers in the small, suffocating room. She halts the hurried dabbing, making eye contact with an equally entranced Jude.

"Sorry.." y/n whispers, breath hitting his plump lips. Her hand moves up again, rolling some more of the paper towel around her hand, before wiping off the excess moisture again.

Jude's body stiffens, particularly his abdomen. He takes a sharp breath, looking down at the flustered girl.

For some reason, a sudden switch flips inside of him. He sighs, eyes roaming up and down her form, a warm, but burning feeling settling in his stomach.

He decides to move for a moment, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. It causes y/n to freeze up this time, her body going rigid as she watches him expose his arms.

Even in the dim light, his muscles protrude, along with the bulging veins running down his forearms.

"Fucking hell.." He says in a low voice, unbuttoning the top buttons of his ruined shirt, making the girl’s eyes widen again.

"What- What are you doing?" She asks, heart almost exploding due to the pace it’s beating at.

"I'm burning up in this room.." He replies, making direct eye contact with her, as he fidgets with the white buttons.

Revealing more, and more skin..

It's like he's dropped the nervousness within seconds. Looking into her eyes while fixing the collar of his shirt.

Even though it takes him approximately ten seconds, to the girl in front of him- the moment is dragged out horribly long and in slow motion.

Her breath hitches at the delicious sight, and she gulps while looking up at him.

Deeply entranced in the tension filled- sensual moment, she drops the wet, used paper towels mindlessly onto the floor.

The lights flicker once again, making her eyes squint as she takes him in.

No doubt, the image will be burned into her infatuated mind from now on. Gnawing at her sanity and logical thinking.

Of course, he smells good. So damn good, the perfect mix of musk and powdery cologne.

Not only is the sight delicious, but the smell is too.

The loud music outside of the small enclosed space continues, the crowd singing along to the chorus of a well-known song.

She looks down for a second, trying to collect her thoughts before she says something completely unhinged.

"Jude.." She whispers, heart beating erratically in his chest. y/n can feel her hands shake, her legs trembling in her high heels.

Their breaths mingle as they look into each other's eyes. A silence settling in between them after she says his name.

Jude's veins practically burst at the sound of his name leaving her lips. His eyes dart to the perfectly glossed lips that say his name so sweetly, so softly..

His mind goes dizzy at the sound. Wanting to hear it over, and over again. Loving the sound most ardently..

A soft groan leaves his mouth, and he traces her beautiful features with his eyes, until he makes eye contact with her, again.

"We should leave this place. The countdown is about to begin.." She whispers the only words she can think of saying, breath shaky and faint.

Jude does not answer with words, but his eyes do dart towards the door. Ears perking up as he hears the familiar countdown begin.

"Twenty!" The crowd exclaims, happiness and excitement buzzing throughout the venue- except in the small room they are in.

"Jude!" She says again, voice a little more stable than before. She raises her left hand, pulling on the hem of his now- untucked shirt.

He snaps his head back at her, watching the soft skin in between her brows pinch together in frustration.

"y/n.." He whispers back, head leaning closer against hers. Making her grip on his shirt grow tighter. Skin on her knuckles tightening from the strength she's using.

"What?" She asks, voice fiery sharp, and impatient. Emotions making her eyes glisten, along with the jewelry adorning her neck and ears in the light.

Though, the tension is high and suffocating- Jude grins suddenly, plump lips stretching as he leans in closer. His own eyes, now with a hint of playfulness in them, roaming around her face.

"Ten!" They hear the crowd exclaim, continuing to cheer and laugh together.

"What?" She says again, lifting her chin up to look him in the eyes. Her breath hitches at the playful expression on his face, like he's an imminent danger to her heart and lungs.

"You're the most annoying fucking person I have ever met.." He speaks, with no real malice in his tone. A chuckle leaves his mouth, soft breaths hitting her lips.

y/n's heart stutters at his words, and the change of emotion in her eyes makes him go absolutely crazy.

"Fuck, and I love that. I love you, y/n.." He breathes, his hand cupping her jaw.

He watches her face intently, watching her blink multiple times, before her hand travels from the hem of his shirt to his unbuttoned collar.

She wraps her hand around the fabric, pulling him closer with a small jank. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she speaks again.

"Then fucking kiss me, you annoying douche bag.."

The words leave her mouth in a fluid, rehearsed way, and she loses herself in his deep eyes.

"Three!"

"Fucking gladly.." He mutters, both of their eyes fluttering shut as his hand moves over to the small of her back impatiently.

"Happy New Year!"

Their lips brush against each other, her hands gripping onto his shirt with a vice-like grip.

Her breath hitches at first, making him chuckle cockily against her lips. His hand supporting her jaw in the most tender way possible, as his thumb rubs against the softness of her cheek.

The soft press of their lips touching make their hearts flutter.

Realizing there is no point of return from this, the feathery touches turn into heated, greedy ones.

The rush of adrenaline makes them lose their self-control, an unstoppable, alluring feeling injected into their veins as they continue soaking in the moment, until they part for air.

Their ragged pants brush against each other's faces, a small smile pulling at her lips. Eyes finding each other again, as their hearts beat in unison.

Jude stares into her eyes, thumb running down her jaw, as he smiles back at her.

"Beautiful. You're beautiful.."

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #jude #jude bellingham x reader #bellingham x reader #bellingham #football fanfic #football imagines #football #footballer x reader #real madrid fc #real madrid #england #england nt #football blurb #football imagine

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thatbadadvice · 3 days

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I (15f) am slightly worried that I led on some guys I did not mean to lead on.

There are two guys that I've hung out with over longer spans of time or regularly.

1. Hung out with him for several hours non-stop cause he was fun to hang out with, and we took a walk in the forest aswell, he got (slightly) touchy but not that much.

2. Works in a shop in my small city and I go there almost weekly just to hang out but always buy something, he sometimes offers me drinks for free (twice by now) or reduces the price.

They both got my insta too

However, the problem is that a) I'm not looking for a relationship and, more importantly, b) they are both in their 20s.

I took care to mention that I am only 15 to both of them but idk if that changed anything. Any advice? I also don't want to confront them directly cause I might have just interpreted it like this.

Hello, anonymous!

Thank you for writing in. I am delighted to inform you that you have excellent judgment for wondering what the hell is going on here, and for questioning these guys' behavior toward you.

Grown-ass men — and that is what dudes in their 20s are — bear the burden of not being weird to, for, or about young women of your age. It is the grown-ass men of the world who are obligated not to make you, or young women like you, feel weird about literally anything. In fact, grown-ass men should go out of their way, on purpose and with gusto, NEVER to get even within ten million football fields' worth of "(slightly) touchy" with a gal of your age. So that's my read on Mr. Walk In The Woods. I have less to say definitively about Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks, but I trust your judgment: if you feel like Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks is sending some ~ signals ~, you're right about it.

It sounds like both of these Grown-Ass Men are trying to make pretty creepo moves, so let me be clear: nothing you could ever do could even possibly in the most remote sense amount to "leading them on," because you are not responsible for the behavior of Grown-Ass Men.

I think you know this, or you wouldn't be asking the Bad Advisor this question. You know they're being weird. You know you haven't done anything beyond exist in these dudes' general sphere, which you are entitled to do! You are allowed to exist in the world without having to swat off the advances of older guys! It really sucks that girls and women can just be living our regular-ass lives and have dudes be at us like this. But you're not responsible for their decisions — whether it's a decision to offer you free/cheap drinks (with strings attached, implied) or to get (slightly) handsy during a walk in the woods.

The fact that you told both of these Grown-Ass Men explicitly that you are 15 years old should have sent both of them spinning back into the sun with shame and embarrassment, not that they probably needed it spelled out, but GOOD ON YOU for making it so clear. That is actually terribly brave of you, and they should have fallen all over themselves to not fall all over you subsequently. They should be mortified about their behavior.

You did not misinterpret their actions; and if you did, who cares? Some dudes who weren't hitting on a 15-year-old will continue to not hit on a 15-year-old? Girl, your self-preservation instinct is INTACT and WORKING. It's on them not to be creepos. Any Grown-Ass Man who is on the level and not a weirdo would 1000000000000% never need to be told "Hey dude, I'm 15" in the first place. You have good judgment. You are reading these men correctly.

So what do you do about your good judgment? Well, first — no more walks in the woods. Suddenly you have an urgent appointment that precludes all walks in woods! The benefit-of-the-doubt ship has sailed. Dude got handsy and you dislike it. Dunzo. You are unavailable for future walks in woods (or anywhere). You've got a test to study for, a practice to go to, some buddies to hang out with elsewhere. So sorry, no-can. Dude can find a 20-to-90-something-year-old woman to paw up under the canopy if that's his jam. There are scores of women his age and older who'd be glad (i guess?) to get felt up while some dude shoves them ~ romantically ~ against the bark of a moldy Hackberry.

As for Mr. Free/Cheap Drinks — look, I appreciate the appeal of a discount beverage — but I think you gotta be prepared to aggressively (politely) pay for your drinks. Dude says "This one is on the house" and you DGAF, because you've got $5 cash and you're laying it on the counter with a smile and saying "I really appreciate it, but I'd like to pay for my drink — you get it!"

It's the "you get it!" that's really the key here. It's polite, but clear. It demands that these Grown-Ass Dudes do the work of not getting it and saying so if they're gonna be that dippy about it. You can use it on Mr. Handsy In The Woods, too. You can't do X, Y, Z because Reasons -- "Gotta get back to piano practice, it would be weird if I stayed here, since we're just friends! You get it!"

You shouldn't have to do the work of offering these dippos the "you get it" out, but it's a safe and reliable way of making it clear that they better the fuck get it. Like, they better the fuck understand that you are 15 and they are being weird about this whole deal.

Practice:

"Oh, I'd like to chill but doing another big long hang alone together would make it seem like we're going out or something, and that would be weird -- you get it."

"I appreciate the discount, but if I keep taking these drinks, it'll seem like you LIKE me or something. That's weird, right? You get it!"

If either of these Grown-Ass Men gets sketchy about these very polite brush-offs, that shit is on them and will only confirm what you know: you have great judgment. These dudes are weird. If they're going to be weird, you can be so polite that they have to explain why, specifically, they are being weird and don't understand what you are politely saying, which is that their interest in you is weird.

You have not led these Grown-Ass Men on by existing in their universe. You have not led them on by being polite to them and tolerating their inappropriate advances to preserve your own safety. The concept of "leading on" is bullshit, fucked up, heteronormative dipshittery that puts the burden on women, mostly, to account for the crappy behavior of men who can, do, and should know better. I assure you these men know better, and they think you don't. That's why older guys pursue younger and teen women in the first place — they think they get to be the big men in charge, because they're afraid they can't manipulate women their own age.

Here's what, though: they can't manipulate you, either. You are clever, self-possessed and a great self-advocate. They're being weird. You're being smart. Make sure they know it.

#advice #good advice interlude #older guys #creeps #creepos #this fucking guy

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