#Hair Removal In Manchester

[ddlaserclinic1]

Flawless Skin Awaits: Exploring Laser Hair Removal in Manchester City Centre

In the bustling heart of Manchester City Centre, amidst its vibrant streets and eclectic energy, lies a haven for those seeking smooth, hair-free skin. Laser hair removal has revolutionized the beauty industry, offering a safe, effective, and long-lasting solution to unwanted hair. Join us as we delve into the world of laser hair removal in Manchester City Centre and discover the key benefits, process, and considerations for achieving silky-smooth skin.

The Benefits of Laser Hair Removal: Say goodbye to the endless cycle of shaving, waxing, and plucking, and embrace the freedom of smooth, hair-free skin. Laser hair removal offers a myriad of benefits, including:

Precision: Laser technology targets hair follicles with pinpoint accuracy, leaving surrounding skin unharmed.

Long-lasting Results: Unlike temporary hair removal methods, laser hair removal provides long-lasting results, with many clients experiencing permanent hair reduction over time.

Time-saving: Eliminate the need for daily shaving or monthly waxing appointments, freeing up your time for more enjoyable pursuits.

Reduced Ingrown Hairs: Laser hair removal reduces the occurrence of ingrown hairs, providing relief for those prone to irritation and inflammation.

The Laser Hair Removal Process: Curious about what to expect during a laser hair removal session in Manchester City Centre? Here's an overview of the process:

Consultation: Your journey begins with a consultation with a qualified laser technician. During this appointment, you'll discuss your aesthetic goals, medical history, and any concerns or questions you may have.

Patch Test: Prior to your first treatment session, a patch test may be performed to assess your skin's reaction to the laser and determine the appropriate settings for your skin type and hair color.

Treatment Sessions: Laser hair removal typically requires multiple treatment sessions spaced several weeks apart to target hair in various stages of the growth cycle effectively. The number of sessions needed varies depending on factors such as hair color, skin type, and treatment area.

Post-Treatment Care: Following each session, you may experience mild redness or irritation, which typically resolves within a few hours to days. It's essential to follow post-treatment care instructions provided by your technician to optimize results and minimize the risk of complications.

Considerations for Laser Hair Removal in Manchester City Centre: When choosing a laser hair removal provider in Manchester City Centre, consider the following factors:

Qualifications and Experience: Ensure that the clinic employs qualified and experienced laser technicians who have undergone comprehensive training in laser safety and hair removal techniques.

Technology: Look for clinics that use advanced laser systems designed to deliver safe and effective results for various skin types and hair colors.

Client Reviews and Testimonials: Take the time to read reviews and testimonials from past clients to gauge the clinic's reputation and customer satisfaction levels.

Transform your skincare routine and embrace the freedom of smooth, hair-free skin with laser hair removal in Manchester City Centre. With its precision, long-lasting results, and time-saving benefits, laser hair removal offers a convenient and effective solution for those seeking to say goodbye to unwanted hair for good. Schedule a consultation with a reputable clinic today and take the first step towards achieving flawless skin.

[wileys-russo]

not so wise II a.russo x reader

she looks so cuddly there ^ not so wise II a.russo x reader

"do you want us to come in with you?" lotte offered as she pulled into the dental clinic and found a parking spot. "no it should be fine. i know where to go and they said it shouldn't take much more than twenty minutes before i'm admitted." alessia declined, grabbing her bag and unbuckling herself.

the blonde was due to get her wisdom teeth removed today and yourself and lotte as her closest friends had volunteered to drive her there and look after her post surgery. tooney and mary had both volunteered given the wsl had a two week break but alessia assured them they should spend the time with family and loved ones in manchester instead.

"did they tell you roughly how long you'll be under for?" you questioned, rolling down your window as the taller girl hovered by the car, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "an hour or two maybe? they've got lotte's number and they said they'll call you once i'm in recovery and thats when you come inside." alessia explained as you both nodded.

"once you're all loopy!" you grinned teasingly making the girl roll her eyes. "i still say its something people put on and over act for views, i'm sure i'll be a little out of it but i don't think it'll be half as dramatic as everyone says it is." alessia assured herself as you and lotte only hummed with amused smiles.

"well bye then!" the blonde rolled her eyes again at your obvious disbelief toward her words, though this time more playfully as you both called out good luck and she disappeared inside.

"so...full english?"

~

"got any fives?" you asked, tucking your knees to your chest and peering at lotte over the top of your cards. "how do you win every single time, you're cheating!" the older girl huffed handing over her cards as you grinned.

"you're just terrible at this lots you've always been shit at card games." you chuckled, not willing to reveal you could actually see the poor girls cards in the reflection of the window behind her.

the two of you had gone for breakfast and coffee and had returned to the clinic, now sat in lotte's car trying to pass the time as you waited for her phone to ring.

"harsh. but alright new game, blackjack!" lotte announced, holding out her hands for your cards, though right as she began to shuffle the deck her phone rang. a few words exchanged with the nurses and the two of you had locked the car and headed inside.

"she's in the fourth door on your left girls." the nurse pointed down the hallway after checking you both in, thanking her you headed down there. "is that?" you paused, hearing a familiar voice singing.

"oh my god it is." lotte grinned, the two of you hurrying to the source of the noise, opening the door to find a nurse begging alessia stop moving her mouth, the gauze continually falling out.

"oh look it's my best friends, you came!" alessia gasped with a slur as you and lotte looked on gleefully at her current state of drugged up delusion. "hi lessi, you feeling okay?" you smiled moving to her side and running a hand through her hair.

"i feel....so good." alessia chuckled, grabbing your top and yanking you down closer to her. "we gotta steal some of this stuff it is great." she whispered making you laugh and gently pry her hands off of you as lotte spoke with the nurse.

"okay less you need to stop yelling because the nurse needs to put the gauze back in your mouth to stop the bleeding." lotte explained gently to the taller girl who groaned.

"it feels like im eating marshmallows i don't want it!" she whined, pushing away the nurses hands. "you don't eat it! you just leave it in your mouth." you reminded with a chuckle, alessia finally allowing the nurse to re-insert the gauze.

"this is going to be a long afternoon." lotte mumbled to you with a knowing smile as alessia started to ramble about how she didn't believe they'd taken her teeth out because she could still feel them in her mouth, words hardly understandable with the cotton pads shoved in her cheeks.

"but a funny one." you grinned in response.

~

"-here we gooo! tooney and lessi russo." alessia finished singing for what felt like the one hundredth time as now yours and lottes patience was beginning to slowly thin. "can they put the gauze back in?" lotte sighed dragging her hands down her face.

"they said we can take her home soon." you patted the older girls knee with a smile as alessia commenced the infamous song yet again, taking full advantage of the happy gas she was coming down from.

"oi. get my bag!" alessia stopped and pointed at you. "get your bag?" you hinted with a smile. "please." alessia corrected as you chuckled and passed her the bag. "less i don't think you'll need that it's not very cold out." you laughed as she pulled out a beanie.

"oh god stop it hold on." you shook your head as she tried to yank it on over her hair which was up in a bun. moving to let it out you took the beanie from her and gently tucked it on, patting her head once you were done.

"you're so good to me." the blonde sighed, grabbing your hand and placing a few kisses to the back of your palm as you scrunched up your nose and pushed her head away. "your mouths all bloody." you chuckled, pulling your hand away and wiping it.

"you wiped off my kisses!" alessia gasped before flipping you off. "oh i like doing this." she giggled, turning her middle fingers toward lotte who grinned and took a picture. "oh my god lessi." you hurried to push her hands down as the doctor and nurse entered and the blonde flipped them off too.

"i can assure you i've taken worse." the man chuckled as alessia flipped him off again and you held her hands in yours to stop her. "if you wanted to hold hands you should have just asked babe." alessia grinned, head flopping to the side as you sighed and shook your head.

"the anesthesia should start to wear off in the new few hours so you're both welcome to take her home now. i assume one of you is staying with her overnight to monitor?" he asked as you confirmed that would be you, lotte having dinner plans with tao.

"if she has any abnormally heavy bleeding, or a reaction to anything or the pain worsens beyond a five or six out of ten just give us a call." he gave you a card with the clinic details on it which you stashed in your pocket, quickly grabbing alessia's hand again as her middle finger popped back up.

you thanked him as lotte disappeared with the nurse to sign off on alessia's discharge papers. "do you ever think about if you drop soap on the floor. is the soap dirty or is the floor clean?" alessia pondered as you looked down at her in amusement.

"can't say i have less." you grabbed her bag off her lap, slinging it over your shoulder. "come on, time to head home." you helped her up into a sitting position, encouraging she slowly try to stand. "okay easy!" you grunted as the taller girl stumbled into you.

"you're so tiny. i could just wrap you up and put you in my pocket." alessia sighed, one hand resting on your head as the other slung over your shoulders, your own wrapped around her torso as you helped her walk out of the room.

lotte grabbing her from the other side the walk to the car was much smoother, alessia still rambling away absolutely anything that popped up in her mind, no chance of any sort of filter being active at the moment.

"why am i in the back! i'm the oldest." alessia huffed as you both slid her in and buckled her up. "no you're not you idiot." lotte laughed, slipping into the drivers seat. "yeah i've decided i'm the oldest now. deal with it bruv!" alessia slurred with a shrug.

"oh god her chav era's returning." you teased, alessia scoffing in offence and winding down the window as lotte pulled out of the clinic. "can we get food please? i'm starving!" alessia groaned dramatically.

"you're not allowed to eat for another two hours sorry less." you turned around with an apologetic smile as she groaned louder and sunk down into her seat, frowning like a scolded child. "i'm wasting away here! i'll die of starvation!" alessia moaned kicking the back of your seat as lotte chuckled and you started to film the blonde kicking off.

"they're starving me here send help!" she stuck her head out the window with a yell and gasped as suddenly her beanie went flying off her head, sending you and lotte into hysterics.

"that was my favourite beanie! it's from college." alessia cried out as you wound up her window. "should have kept your head in the car then less, you're not a dog." lotte chuckled as she pulled into alessia's driveway.

the blonde whinging the entire time both you and lotte managed to get her inside and settled on the lounge. "has it been two hours yet?" alessia huffed impatiently as you covered her with a blanket and shook your head causing her to groan.

"here you big sook put this on your jaw where it's sore." lotte returned handing alessia an icepack. "you sure you don't want me to stay?" she checked as you walked with her to the door. "no! you've been looking forward to these plans with tao all week. we'll be fine." you assured, hugging the girl goodbye and closing the door after her.

"what are you doing lessi?" you sighed with a smile as alessia was wrestling with the blanket. "i'm hot. i'm trying to take my pants off!" the blonde huffed in annoyance, words still slightly slurred from the swelling and anesthesia.

"do you want me to get you some shorts and a t-shirt?" you offered, hurrying off to her room and rummaging through her drawers, grabbing what you needed. "here." you threw them to her, laughing as the bundle of clothes hit her in the face.

"who turned the lights out!" she yelled against the material as you rolled your eyes and peeled them off, pulling the blanket off of her and retreating to the kitchen to put your phone on charge as she changed.

"well, all things considered that went quite well." you grinned seeing she had managed to change but had put her shirt on inside out. "what do you want to watch?" you collapsed beside her on the lounge, kicking your feet up onto her coffee table and grabbing the remote.

"something not food related!" alessia moaned in annoyance. "and here i was about to put on the great british bake off!" you teased, encouraging her to put the ice pack back against her mouth. "my arms are tired, you hold it." alessia demanded with a huff tossing it onto your lap.

clicking into she's the man, more so for your own viewing pleasure than hers, you shuffled closer to her and gently pressed the icepack to her cheek.

"can't believe you wiped off my kisses before, those were with love!" alessia glared up at you as you shook your head. "your mouth was all bloody! it was gross." you laughed making her scoff.

"if i kissed you on the lips would you wipe it off?" she challeneged, eyes starting to become a little droopy as the doctor warned she would likely become quite tired the more it wore off.

"why would you kiss me on the lips?" you chuckled with smile. "cause i have a crush on you, sshh." alessia hushed, a finger pressing to your lips as your eyes widened.

"don't tell y/n though." alessia yawned, stretching out as her eyes started to close. you opened your mouth to speak but thought better of it, knowing this would need to be a conversation had tomorrow.

~

"morning." you looked up from your phone as alessia appeared with a yawn, making a beeline right for her coffee machine, holding a mug up as you nodded.

"how do you feel?" you asked, last nights confession still playing on your mind as you locked your phone and rested your chin on your hand. "like i got punched in the mouth? and a bit foggy about most of yesterday afternoon." alessia chuckled with a rasp, morning voice thick as she slumped against the bench.

"all i'll say is you definitely need to retract your statement about people putting it on for views." you smiled causing her to groan and turn back to the coffee machine. "i assume you and lotte have plenty of video evidence." she sighed, moving to lean on the counter across from you, sliding you your coffee and sipping on her own.

"we do. but most of it was harmless," you assured her with a soft smile as her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "most of it?"

"yeah um, there is something you said i sort of want to talk about." you started, putting down your coffee and messing with your fingers as alessia nodded. "you might have kind of...said you have a crush on me?" you winced as the blonde choked on her coffee, spitting it back out and coughing as you hurried to grab her some water.

she croaked out a thank you and took a swig as you sat back down.

"it was just me being drugged up!" she brushed off, clearly embarrassed as her face burnt bright red and she refused to look at you. "less i-" you started as she cut you off, mumbling how she wanted to shower and darting off to the bathroom.

you waited for her to return, settling in on the lounge and flicking on her tv.

around a half an hour later she emerged, silently sitting beside you as neither of you spoke for a few minutes.

"so maybe it wasn't the anesthesia." alessia started, looking down at her hands. "i do kind of have a crush on you, as juvenile as that sounds given the fact we're twenty four." she chuckled awkwardly.

"but i really value our friendship and i don't want to lose that or make you uncomfortable so i'm so sorry if i have."

"you haven't, i promise."

"that was not at all the way i wanted you to find out." alessia sighed burying her face in her hands. "drunk mind sober thoughts hm." you nudged her with a soft smile.

"so are you going to ask me on a date or just sit here feeling sorry for yourself?" you asked nudging her again, alessia's head shooting up, surprise etched into her features. "um. do you want to go and get dinner?" the blonde stumbled over her words as you nodded, finding how flustered she was incredibly cute.

"yeah i do."

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Such a cute shirt {Simon "Ghost" Riley}

Usually after coming back home from deployment, Simon was simply out of it. He would always try to get a hold of himseld during the flight or car ride back home but he just couldn't do it while still in full gear. It was as if his "Ghost" persona couldn't be switched off without removing his mask and uniform.

After moving in with you, he would do it shortly after walking through the front door of your shared apartment; remove his mask and try to come back to his senses during those few steps that would take him to your bedroom.

Most of the times, you would be sleeping but today... you were awake, scrolling through your phone.

"Hey." He mumbles tiredly and immediately starts undressing himself. You can tell his movements are mechanical because of both tiredness and the mentall toll the mission had taken on him.

If you hadn't known each other that long and so well, Simon wouldn't even think of letting you near him after a mission. But you had witnessed enough of his nightmares and mental breakdowns and just the simple act of you getting out of bed just to help him, made the muscles in his body ease a little.

"There's warm water if you want to bathe." You mumbled softly, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. Even after all those missions, you still were more than careful with your words and signs of affection and rightfully so since you never knew what kind of trauma the mission had left on him.

Simon just nodded with a tired smile and quikly disappeared in the bathroom attached to your bedroom. Bathing didn't take him long, in fact it felt more like a quick shower with the amount of time he took to come out.

"What is this?" He asked, his eyes travelling between you and the bag placed on his side of the bed. Still looking at the bag, he put on his grey sweatpants before reaching out to see what was inside. "A shirt?"

"It's not just a shirt." You crawled over to him and took the shirt out, holding it open in front of him. "It's a Manchester City jersey!"

"A signed one..." Simon let out a soft chuckle, pulling you in for a tight hug by wrapping one hand around you while the other one held the shirt. "Thank you, love." He whispered in your hair. But the feeling of your body against his quickly proved to be something he had missed much more than he had originally thought and Simon found himself wrapping both arms tightly around you.

"You can wear it when you watch the matches on tv."

"Right... because you'll be wearing it the rest of the time."

Please send requests for Simon!!!!

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: You Wake Up Together

Warnings: smutty ending but also so much fluff, also profanity (just one word)

A/N: I've had this draft since I wrote the first fic/headcannon for Ghost and I've finally managed to finish it. I promise BTS and SKZ fics are also to come but I'm just in my Ghost phase right now and I really can't help myself

OTHER STORIES MASTERLIST

* * *

"We should get up," you mumbled for the second time but neither of you budged. Your leg hung over Simon's waist, his hand stroking your hair as you lay; bodies entwined like two pieces of puzzle.

Simon groaned and took a deep breath as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He kissed your forehead and temple before he forced himself to sit up, carefully removing his arm from beneath your head. You moaned in discontent, your hand reaching blindly for him as he sat up properly. You opened your eyes that were heavy with sleep.

You sat up as well and wrapped your arms around Simon's bare torso, your warm cheek pressed against his back as you closed your eyes once more. Simon smiled and caressed your hands.

"Come on, love," he spoke softly and pulled your legs into his arms. A smile grew on your face as you wrapped your arms around Simon's neck before he stood up.

Simon gave you a piggyback ride to the kitchen where he sat you down on the counter. He did not let you go before squeezing your thighs reassuringly, making sure you were sat well. Then he put the kettle on as you waited, watching his lazy gestures until he turned around and faced you once more. Simon's warm hands slid up your thighs before he buried his nose in your neck and locked his arms around your waist.

"You okay?" you spoke softly and ran your fingers through the short hair on the back of his head. Simon was never one to say much on his own accord so you often relied on asking him yourself.

"Ne'er better, love," said Simon, his sleepy English accent laced in his words like butter. "You?" he asked in turn as he pulled back a little. His head dropped and tilted ever so slightly to match your height. Simon's gaze flickered between your eyes.

"I'm okay," you reassured with a small smile.

"Yeah?" he asked quietly. "You sleep well?"

"Mhm," you nodded as the kettle began bubbling aggressively yet Simon's arms were wrapped around your waist and his lips moved softly against yours. You smiled into the kiss when the kettle turned itself off and Simon was finally awakened from his thought. He prepared two cups of tea that you always drank in the small balcony of your Manchester flat; overcrowded with plants and cosy armchairs.

But as you curled up in one of the chairs, you noticed Simon disappearing back inside. You caught a glance of him rumbling through a drawer in the living area until you saw a packet of cigarettes in his hands and frowned. When Simon came back outside, an unlit cigarette hung between his lips as he sat back down. Yet just as he was about to light his cigarette, his eyes found yours and he froze on the spot.

"What?" murmured Simon.

"Are you serious?" you asked calmly although the frown would not leave your face.

"Y/N, it's just one cigarette," insisted Simon yet there was a glimpse of guilt floating beneath the surface of his pale blue eyes.

"Fine," you shrugged your shoulders. "Then you can kiss yourself for the rest of the day," you spoke calmly as you picked up your cup of tea and took a sip.

Simon's lips parted and his face went numb as he stared at you motionlessly, contemplating whether you were actually serious. In truth, he looked like a child who was threatened to have his favourite toy taken away from him.

"You choose," you said casually, "Who do you like more - me or the cigarettes?"

Simon slowly took the cigarette from his mouth and flung it over the balcony as if it were worth less than a penny. He leaned his hands of the arms of the chair, staring at you intently. You tried to hide a smirk of triumph as you got up and made his way to him but you could not help but grin against his lips when you kissed him. You cupped his face as you straddled his lap, one leg on each side of his waist. Simon did not reach for you immediately, pretending to be stoic when in truth he was on his knees with love and desire for you. He wrapped his arms tightly around your hips, his fingers digging softly into your skin. You traced the scars across his broad chest absent-mindedly as you deepened every kiss even further. Simon's hands slipped beneath your hips as he squeezed your bum. He stood up, supporting you against him but never breaking the kiss.

"Wait, what about the tea?" you mumbled quickly.

"Fuck the tea," murmured Simon and carried you back to the bedroom.

[sakasinterlude]

passionfruit | ruben dias x fem!reader

its summer vacation and you and ruben share some quality time on a yacht.

nsfw 18+, contains smut, ends with fluff!

a/n: i wrote this a while ago and decided it deserved to be read by someone other than me, so enjoy. definitely not a city fan, but ruben is just so sexy.

“I think this is my favourite place.”

“You love Greece that much?”

“No, I meant in your arms.” You give Ruben a playful shove of the shoulder as the soft bounces of the waves below keep you distracted.

It was another warm afternoon on what felt like a never-ending vacation with your boyfriend Ruben. Everyday consisted of beautiful views, delicious meals, and the warm company of your partner. The mornings blended into nights, as you had lost track of the days you had spent away from home, using blissful orgasms as the only unit of measurements. Twelve, not that you were complaining.

You reach for the fresh fruit cut up in a small bowl to the right. You take a big bite, savouring the sweet juice of the mango, a soft hum leaves your lips.

“Here.” Offering the other half to Ruben whose eyes stay closed lying beside you, still covered by his sunglasses. He absent-mindedly opens his mouth accepting your offering, not without playfully nipping at the tips of your fingers.

“So sweet.” He mummers, pulling your leg closer across his body, drawing random shapes on the hamstring of your leg. You two had been intertwined like this for so long you almost forget where he begins and you start, with your hand wandering from his wet locks to broad strong shoulders to his tan waist.

You prop yourself up on your elbow so now you are on your side facing Ruben, leg still over his waist.

“What will we do when we go home?” You ask into the wind, letting the Mediterranean air roam through your damp hair, lightly stroking his jaw with your free hand.

“What are you talking about? This is home.”

A cheeky smirk adorns his lips as his arms wrap tighter around your waist. You can just barely see the crinkles on the corner of his eyes, assumed by his own joke.

“Don’t stress minha querida, (my dear) I just want to enjoy the last moments of peace we have before everything gets crazy again.” You know all too well the hectic schedule of your shared life back in Manchester. A mixture of stolen kisses in the morning as you depart for work well before he even wakes up, catching up over lunch where your eyes dart between his facetime call and your latest work assignment, to late night baths together where you both are too exhausted to speak, just soft hands running over the others limbs. It was difficult to find any uninterrupted time together back home.

“Your right.” You sigh bringing you bodies impossibly close.

“I am. Now it’s been way too long since I’ve made you cum.” With that his quick fingers are already pulling at your bikini strings, making their way between your legs.

If Ruben was anything as a lover, it was a tease. He loved having you on a string, bringing you oh so close to the edge, just to yank you right back with a devious smirk. And of course, despite all the love making done this trip he still never got sick of this cat and mouse game.

His mouth plays connect the dots, finding all the little nips and love marks he made previously. The sensation gives you chills in the best way, you swear you can feel it in your toes. His hands stay busy not even entering you yet, just playing with the wetness surrounding your lower lips.

“So needy aren’t you? Just dying for my fingers I’m sure.” The feeling is so sweet you can barely speak just letting out the softest yes in reply.

“Here, its your turn for a taste.” His face is so close to yours as he removes his fingers to run them along your bottom lip. With two soft taps your mouth is open, accepting his two fingers covered in a sinful mix of both of your cum, and the fruit from earlier that day.

“You love that shit, huh gato?” (sexy)Ruben was also cocky, very cocky. He knew exactly what buttons to push, using the sweet nickname that was reserved only for the most intimate moments. You close your eyes and hum, relishing in his slender fingers, sliding digit by digit into your mouth.

With little hesitation, Ruben removes his fingers sharply, making their way down under. He curls in his finger, just one at first, before rolling it out slowly, so you can feel every curve, intentionally done to manifest the most pleasure. Again, repeatedly with an additional finger, in and out, sinfully, painfully good. You hid your face within his shoulder.

“C’mon, let me see that face.” He pushes even deeper, how you are not even sure. “Let me hear that sweet voice.”

You let out a loud and long moan into the open air around you. You and Ruben often engage in shameless sex, not caring for the cries and whines created, just the pure pleasure produced. Memories of rushed moments in the bathroom of dinners, handsy uber rides, and banging neighbors in hotel rooms bring a smile to your face. This was probably the most ideal setting for the two of you to be wrapped up with each other, not a soul as far as the eye can see, nothing but endless blue water meeting endless blue skies.

Your high creeps up quickly as all you can think you is “how can he make me feel this good?”. The want and need to finish forces your legs shut, the sensation is just so strong.

Ruben’s strength quickly forces your legs flat and flush with the flimsy mattress below you, spreading your legs wide.

“I’m close, really close.” You barely have the power to say the words. Ruben removes his fingers, not for long as he moves to play with your clit. Your mouth gapes open, looking between his messy fingers at work, and his big smirk. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He places all four fingers over your bud, rubbing back and forth easily thanks to your cum. You grab at his tan veiny forearm, not to stop him, just to feel his sharp movements, wrapping yourself around his arm. You can’t take it anymore, tossing your head back, arching your back, finally cumming.

“Yes, yes, yes!” He chants right up against your ear, his words muffled and merged together into incoherent nonsense. You whine and cry, twist and curl, all while Rubens hands stay overstimulating you completely.

“Good girl, yes gato, your good, so so good.” His hand now out from your legs and  wrapped around your head, pushing your damp hair away from your face, pressing kisses and sweet words into your skin.

You look up at his soft brown eyes, they have a sparkle to them almost, maybe from the sex, maybe from the sun, but regardless you can’t look away, only pulling your face close to his. You bring your nose right up to his, maintaining eye contact, rubbing yours against his, a silent thank you of sorts. You two had many non-verbal forms of communicating, this being one of them. Ruben lets out a sigh, coupled with a dopey smile.

“There is nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.” He says sincerely, looking deep into your eyes. Eyes he’s met before hundreds of times, eyes he could write pages on the exact hues and undertones they possess. You blush deeply, bringing your hand to brush at his beard.

“I feel the same way, amour.” (love) His turn now to mimic your same blushing cheeks. “But please let me put my bottoms back on before the crew comes looking for us.”

He laughs, untangling his arms from around your body. The thought of the outside world not even crossing his mind in this moment of bliss.  

[its-your-mind]

Jon Chester trying to communicate and/or comfort with statements is the cutest and funniest and most in-character shit.

Sam just joined a possibly-evil organization and seems way too interested in gaining knowledge from the stories? Has a history with the Magnus Institute? Well fuck I can’t let him end up back there.

Canaries should stay above ground.

Colin keeps looking too hard into what he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t know enough to stay safe. I have to warm him.

Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed. Scariest movie I have ever seen.

(Brief interlude when Jon finds out that Gerry is alive and has a permanent address which is a big enough ??? and feeling of relief and hope to risk a single email with an address so Sam can go see for him if it really is Gerry, if he’s really alive and if he’s okay (and then he is he’s happy and safe and he paints and goes to art shows and he calls Gertrude GeeGee). Bit of a shame about the name in the email address, though. Who knows, maybe that woman will stop calling him fucking Chester…)

Ahem.

Anyway, Sam won’t let the whole “Magnus Institute” thing go, and now Celia is here? Working here? Recognizing his voice? (Martin had to remind him who Celia was — Jon feels that his lack of remembrance is justified, in this case. Those tunnels blocked off his connection to the Eye! Remember what happened with the camera at Salesa’s? He forgot everything that happened there! Frankly, he’s impressed he even managed to remember meeting Melanie and Georgie down there, let alone the names of their awful annoying cult members. (Jon, be nice. It was the apocalypse). Well, I didn’t see you cozying up with that poet, whatever his name was— (*with sudden disgust* Arun.) *trying to keep a straight face* ah. yes, him.) What is Jon supposed to do about this? Well. Fine. If Sam intends to poke around, Jon can at least make the dangers present there clear.

Statement and Research assessment for artefact CD137. Magnus Institute. … [Transcription ends due to interruption. Statement giver declared dead by paramedics at scene.]

So. They went to the Institute. He knows about all of it, there was a tape recorder there. They were… in the Archives. In the assistants’ area where Tim used to throw the caps of his glitter pens to see how many he could get caught in Sasha’s hair before she noticed. Looking at the decrepit remains of the filing shelves he had been so fucking stressed about organizing. In his office.

Worms tracks on the ground. All paperwork removed or destroyed. And when Sam steps wrong, the tunnels. Oh, Christ. The tunnels. He drops a key down into them as he falls. Alice catches him. They leave. Some…thing takes the key Sam dropped. Unlocks the trapdoor, the one Leitner and Gertrude used to get in and out of the Archives. Here in Manchester, maybe the only way out of the underground passages. The trapdoor opens. Something pulls itself out.

~~~

And now, Alice has been being stalked by drowned corpses. Okay, sure. Yeah, shit uhhh… okay here’s one. Here, look, same kinda thing happened here. That tattoo artist shows up again too! Gotta keep track of reoccurrences. Learn as much as you can — the tip-off about the fire extinguishers saved Jon, Tim, and Martin in the archives. (And Sasha, before that… thing lured her into Artifact Storage.)

It belongs to the deep. I’m going to go get it and I’m going to find it and if they try and stop me I swear the ocean will claim us all. I can taste the salt and spray. It’s waiting in the water.

And now back to Sam. Back to warnings. It’s not just artifacts. The Institute deals with dangerous people, too.

This room, it’s a mess. Printouts, delivery notes, a bunch of rejection letters from some institute he pinned to the wall with a kitchen knife. And it's hot in here, dad. Too hot. Oh god. I can feel it. My throat is swelling. And it itches. I can still hear all the snakes brushing up against the door and... in the walls, I think. Christ, they’re in the walls...

Alice got attacked. He was there, he managed to get a tape on the scene, he heard it all. It was one of the drowned things.

Ink5oul knows something about them. What the hell, right? Michael gave Sasha the tip about the fire extinguishers. Let’s mine another colorful creep for information. Ink5oul dug one of these things up for some reason. Hold on, hold on, he just saw something about them, something about getting some kid to follow them to a graveyard…

We head on through the graves and then they point to one of ‘em and just give me a look. I was no cap shook and then they just said “dig”. I laughed, ‘cause, like, the ‘hell? But they were serious.

And at the same time, Celia keeps waking up on the ground, closer and closer to Oxford each time, like there’s something gently tugging her back towards the world she left. She doesn’t know how to stop it. Jon knows how that feels, the feeling like your own body is just a puppet tangled in invisible strings, at risk of starting a dance you don’t know, to music you can’t hear, at any moment, without any warning.

There isn’t anything that he can really do to help her. But he found it comforting to hear what happened to Gertrude.

I’ve lived Darien’s life for four years now. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think, turns out your world and mine are pretty similar.

CELIA (to computer): Thanks, I guess. Not exactly the same is it?

No. No, it’s not. He knows that there isn’t really any comfort to be found in knowledge when all you learn only points you more and more towards the conclusion that you are alone, and helpless, and powerless against the forces that are dead-set on fucking up your life.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Regret & Rememberance || Grieving!Ghost

Rating: M + DDNE Words: 2.9K~ Pairing: Gravekeeper!Reader x Grieving!Ghost CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., death, child death, mourning/grief, canon 09 ghost backstory, dissociation, cemetery/graveyard, graves/headstones. Tags: you/your pronouns, gn!reader, angst, flower language/symbolism, hurt/comfort, platonic relationship. Summary: A hobby of yours causes you to cross paths with an undead man. a/n: for those who care about flower meanings, like me... ;)

You started volunteering at one of the local cemeteries after putting in a request with the town hall.

It was a simple thing, really. You were just providing extra help to the ground's keepers who did little else but mow the grass, trim the trees and bushes, and blast away leaves and dirt from the headstones and pathways with a hose.

You bought your own supplies with the help of a small voucher the town hall provided you, and then you went and cleaned the headstones at the cemetery.

You quite liked doing it. You always liked cleaning and polishing things until they were squeaky clean. And so, you'd carefully remove moss and overgrowth, and wash the engraved lettering in the old graves, and, sometimes, out of your own dime, you'd use a small paint brush and a little jar of enamel paint to fill in the lettering and make it readable again.

It was a passion project for you; you enjoyed seeing the graves come back to their original (or as close as you could get it) state, and even read up on funeral/cemetery/work/life records at the town hall to find out who was who.

It was peaceful, almost therapeutic. You tended to pick the times when you knew the cemetery would be mostly empty and you'd go row-by-row, eyeing the older graves and seeking out the ones that need caring.

It was during one of those times that you saw him for the first time.

As you meandered about, carrying a small caddie of cleaning supplies in one hand, and pulling the hood of your waterproof parka over your head with the other, you notice him.

It was a very lazy Saturday afternoon. Wintertime, Christmas had been just three days before. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds, giving the cemetery and even darker and gloomier atmosphere, the rain showering down over the entire city of Manchester.

He was tall, so, so tall, and with shoulders so wide and arms so thick, even below the hoodie he's wearing... And yet he looked so small, as he looked on at the graves at his feet...

You knew those graves, you'd memorized the majority. It was the Riley family. A really big tragedy, a recent one, just the year before, on Christmas Eve. The news had said the house burned down because of a faulty heater, and killed everyone, including a little boy.

You settled at a grave not far from him and regarded the man with knitted brows, trying to sneak a glance under his hoodie, maybe catch his eye, and offer him a smile and some courage... But underneath, he might was well have been a void.

The dark clouds and atmosphere only made it that his face was nearly completely shrouded in darkness, and the dark scarf wrapped around his neck and hiked up to cover his nose and mouth certainly didn't help.

You knelt by the grave you were going to clean and began removing the cleaning supplies from your caddie, grabbing a small bench scraper so you could remove the moss growing on the front face of the grave.

But before you began, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at the man again. He must have felt watched, however, because he turned his head toward you and from underneath his hood, all you saw were a few short blonde hairs peeking out.

You tried to do exactly what you intended, offering him a small smile and a nod... And then turned away to properly working, trying to give him space, or respect... You tried. Really. But... something about him... In less than a minute, you looked over again.

And he was gone without a trace. Looking around, you saw no tall, dark figures speed-walking away.

For some reason, a chill went down your spine when you noticed you were alone again... Almost like he had been a ghost, a figure of your imagination...

-

You saw him a lot more times after that. Or, at least, you were pretty sure it was a Him. Or, at least, you were pretty sure it was a Him.

You'd arrive and he'd already be there, almost like he timed it perfectly every time.

Never a word exchanged, though you looked at him from a distance and, sometimes, he looked at you too.

He'd always leave a small flower arrangement between the center two graves. Purple hyacinths, white chrysanthemums, and black dahlias.

And then he'd leave not long after you arrived.

Sometimes you wondered if you being there made him leave... If he wanted to avoid being there when you were, to avoid being stared at. But you couldn't help yourself from staring.

Truth be told, you'd go long weeks without seeing him, but he'd always come back...

And when he did come back, he'd come pay the graves a visit multiple times a week for a few weeks...

Whenever he wasn't there, you dared to venture toward the grave and gaze upon, especially right after he had left... And you'd pay you respects to the family buried there...

-

Sitting in the public library attached to the town hall, you carefully combed through the cemetery records of the last year, with a hot tea beside you.

Riley. There it is.

Obituary notices for five members of the same family, on the same date.

Joanna Riley, née Pearson, aged 57. Thomas Riley, aged 33. Beth Riley, aged 32. Joseph Riley, aged 4. and Simon Riley, aged 37.

Two mothers, and their three sons. An innocent child in the middle of it all. All killed by an accidental fire, with a starting point on a faulty heater, right before an important holiday.

Their obituaries said that Joanna had worked in a textile factory for most of her life, Thomas was a cook at a restaurant, Beth was an esthetician and Simon was a... soldier.

You looked at the pictures attached to the obituary, of each of them... So alive, so... free. Pictures taken from Facebook profiles or school records, in Joseph's case... All of them with big happy smiles...

Joanna had big eye bags, but she had wrinkles in the corners of her blue eyes, and deep smile lines, like she'd spent a lifetime laughing... Her hair was already fully grey, cut into a bob with a fringe.

Thomas was thin, and had prominent cheekbones and a dip in the cheeks themselves, as well as deep eyebags with bulging eyes, but a surprisingly pleasant smile on his face. He was a blonde.

Beth's picture showed that her nose tended to scrunch whenever she smiled, her dirty blonde, nearly brown hair, was hair tied back into a bun and a fringe falling over her blue eyes.

Little Joseph had a toothy grin and was wearing a school uniform, his blonde hair swept to the side by a comb and his blue eyes sparkling... You found your lip trembling at the thought that, perhaps, that was his first day of kindergarten picture...

And, lord, Simon Riley... He was halfway through winking when the picture was taken. He had the warmest brown eyes and the smuggest little smirk on his lips as he held Joseph in his arms, whose face had been partially cropped out of the picture, but clearly was mirroring his uncle, while holding a little teddy bear with a blue bow around its neck.

It made you sad, to see those pictures. Sadder than when you researched all the other graves' you've cleaned. Many of them included children too... But something... something about those kind faces...

-

You couldn't help but wonder who he was.

Maybe a family friend?

A distant cousin?

Maybe someone from Beth's side of the family, since she's a blonde and the stranger is too?

You hadn't dared approach him, striking a conversation but you were so full of questions.

Was it wrong to be so curious about a stranger who's only at the funeral to mourn and pay respects? (Definitely.)

You wanted to ask him everything.

Who is he?

Why does he come visit at the worst times and days, when it's rainy and dark, and empty?

Why does he disappear so often for weeks at a time?

Why does he keep coming back?

Someone had to pay for the funeral arrangements, after all... Maybe it was him. Maybe he's family.

Why else would he casually drop £200 worth of arrangements on the graves every time he comes?

...

Truth be told, you hadn't seen him in nearly two months. It was the longest it'd gone since coming to visit.

Around Christmas of the following year, and he hadn't come to see the graves... and you knew that for certain. Not only did you not cross paths with him, but there were no flowers at the graves.

Could it perhaps be that he's trying to move on?

Or maybe something happened to him?

You hated to think of the possibility that the stranger could've given up, moved away, or died himself.

Worse, it made your heart ache...

So you made a choice. One of those times before you went in to clean another grave, you stopped by the florist around the corner.

Dropping nearly as much money as he usually did in a gigantic arrangement, a couple of candles, you wobbled into the cemetery again.

-

Simon Ghost sat on his bed in the shitty flat he was renting from a nice old lady who didn't ask too many questions.

It was barely a flat, more so a cramped tin of sardines that the council allowed to be called a 'studio' because it had enough space to fit a bed, a counter, fridge and stove, and had an attached bathroom.

He had just gotten clearance from the military hospital to be able to walk around without his crutches and just his cast boot, and good thing too.

Christmas had been days ago and he hadn't gone to visit the graves just yet... he could feel the need to see them scratching in the back of his head, trying to get out, digging into his bowns..

After succeeding in tying the laces on his regular boot, he pushed himself up to his feet, a bit shaky and unsure as he attempted to shift his weight around.

But, after succeeding, he wobbled over to his small wardrobe, grabbing his usual hoodie and scarf combo, pulling them on.

He pondered about opening a window to air out the flat, the scent of hair bleach and chemicals still lingering in the air... But he decided against it.

He left the flat and locked the door, then carefully limped his way to the bus stop beside his block of flats.

...

It was already getting dark when he made it to the cemetery and past the gate, carefully limping his way to the graves.

He looked around the graveyard with narrowed eyes, seeking you out. He wondered if you were around, if you were also looking for him, or if you didn't even notice he had been gone.

Had he still been Simon, he would've already gone up to you, struck up a conversation... and he would now too, joke about how he'd been 'slacking off', mutter some nonsense of 'working hard/hardly working'...

And yet he wasn't Simon.

'Simon' was buried in the grave he was going to now visit and, unlike the rest of the Riley family, he was getting no pity.

Not like mum, Beth, Tommy and Joseph... And yet no one but Ghost was ever there to pity them, to mourn them. And once he was gone, no one would even remember them.

They deserved better than what they got. They didn't what happened to them. They didn't deserve a death that gruesome...

And t was thanks to Simon that they were dead in the first place. He didn't deserve any pity.

Ghost would not mourn Simon. Ever.

...

And yet, as he approached the graves, the large arrangement he always brought with him, tucked under his arm, Ghost stopped in his tracks.

A beautiful light arrangement sat in the same exact spot he usually placed his own... right between Tommy's and mum's headstones. It was light and feminine and... cute. A stark difference to his own, dark and moody.

He crouched in front of the graves, setting aside his own arrangement and, very carefully so, running a trembling hand over the petals of the flowers. Fresh, not just from the recent rain, but from being a recent addition. Maybe only a day or two old.

A mix of pink and white carnations, an overwhelming amount of baby's breath, and some kind of herb stems wrapped around them.

Carefully, Ghost plucked one of the stems of the herb and brought it up to his nose to smell it. The scent of chemicals from his hair bleach didn't make identifying the scent any easier, but, after a moment, he realized it was rosemary.

Rising to his feet and looking around once more, Ghost sought you out again, trying to find the sight of you hunched over, scrubbing away at one headstone or another. No sign of you.

Looking down at the graves again, his eyes got drawn to something out of the corner of his eye. A small statue that had not been bought by him, leaning against Beth and Joseph's shared grave.

A brown ceramic teddy bear... with a baby blue ribbon around his neck.

Just like the one he'd bought in a Poundland when coming back from deployment, in a hurry, after Tommy had called him to let him know Beth had gone into labour... not wanting to show up empty-handed at the hospital.

It had become Joseph's favourite toy, he'd sleep holding it, would drag it along behind him as he learned to walk, and would take it to kindergarten every day.

"Fuck..." Ghost hissed as he fell to his knees in front of the graves, his fingers digging into the wet grass and his eyes closing as his whole form was racked by sobs.

-

You didn't know how long he'd been there. But he was soaking wet, dripping all over, on his hands and knees, hiccuping and crying at the foot of the graves.

You noted the way his leg was in a cast inside a black boot, which helped ease your worries that he hadn't given up on coming, he'd just been unable to for a while.

Swallowing your fear, you bounded up to him, holding your umbrella protectively over the two of you as you stopped by his side.

He looked the smallest you'd ever seen him...

Taking a deep breath, you slowly crouched beside him and placed a hand on his broad shoulder, feeling him shudder, his breath hitching, audible even through the wind and the aggressive pitter-patter of the rain on your umbrella.

"Breathe... It's okay..." You murmured as you looked at him. "Breathe."

The man took a deep, ragged breath, shuddering with each one, his arms, impossibly strong, trembling and struggling to hold him above the grass which was now essentially more mud than grass.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped." You murmured and tilted your head so you could peek below his hoodie, to check on him.

Bad choice on your part, because only then did you notice that his scarf had been loosened by him, to allow him to breathe, revealing his face.

He was deformed, badly so. His cheeks were hollow and cut through by a jagged Glasgow smile, and his skin so red and blemished, you'd think he had been burned alive at one point in his life.

Those were no ordinary scars... from a small injury, or an accident... They were too precise, not random... Those were... inflicted on him.

He didn't reply, nor did he try to cover his face or turn away, he just shuddered more, hiccuping and sniffling amidst his tears.

"I hadn't seen you in a while..." You told him gently. "I was... worried that you'd never come back." You admitted. "So... I figured I should look after them for you."

He gulped, audibly so, deep in his throat. For a while he didn't speak though his lips pushed and pulled like he was chewing on his cheek, looking for how to answer.

"Thank you." He murmured, his voice gruff and raspy, the words sounding like they had been eating away at him, gnawing at his bones.

"Do you... want me to toss it all out?" You asked slowly, watching as he thrashed his head side to side and sniffled again, hissing through clenched teeth.

"N-No..." He replied and took a hulking breath, like it was the most difficult thing he'd ever done.

"Okay..." You added and nodded solemnly. "Want me to help you up... because of your foot?" You offered.

"No... I've got it." He added with a nod and swallowed the lump in his throat as he closed his hands into fists to keep himself from lying on the dirt.

You paused and looked between him and the graves. "I'll leave you be, then..." You replied and turned to collect your cleaning supply caddie from the path beside you...

Only for one of his hands to suddenly catch your bicep and stop you, which caused you to freeze. "Stay..." He pleaded as you slowly turned to face him again.

His face was turned toward you as well. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, his nose had a deviated septum, and his whole face was riddled with scars and blemishes...

And yet those brown eyebrows of his... and those brown eyes... the way they stared at you... Sorrowful, afraid, hurt but... warm... You remembered seeing them, in that fucking obituary notice months ago...

Sure he was a blonde and very deformed but... this was Simon Riley.

You were looking a dead man right in the eyes.

[nicolesainz]

Focus on me (MM 7)

Mason Mount x f!reader

A/n: I have to give credits to my bff willow @landooscar for sending me that Mason gif on the Manchester United chair where his thighs are spread. You will see later on what l mean. For now thank her and I hope you enjoy the story.

Summary: Mason loves to fool around. But isn't really a fan of you giving your attention to other boys. So he decides not to play nice with you and give you a taste of your own medicine.

Warnings: minors dni, 18+, smut content, teasing, thigh riding, praise kink

"Hey babe? Can you come down and help me with something for a moment?”

Mason got no response. He allowed himself to finish preparing dinner for a few minutes, before he called me once again.

“Hello? Y/N? Can you help me down here, love?”

I could practically hear him but in that moment I was too focused on the Tv screen and too pumped to remove my eyes from it.

Footsteps were echoing through the corridor that was close to our bedroom. There was a soft knock on the door, as Mason thought that I was probably sleeping.

“Darling, are you awake?”

He said so softly and calmly. Gosh, how can one not fall in love with this man.

I went up to him and opened the door, trying to hide the grin I had on my face. Mason raised his eyebrows suspiciously, wondering what I may be doing alone.

“Why weren’t you coming downstairs to help me? I need some cooking advice from your mother but she won’t respond my calls”

I blinked. I couldn’t respond. It’s not like I was doing anything weird or unfaithful, but it wasn’t my finest moment. I think all girls have celebrity crushes, even when they have boyfriends. Right?

“I, uh, I was watching F1’s qualifying. It just finished.”

That was partially true.

“Righttt. And who got pole? Can I see?”

He approached the TV and he saw that it had been paused to a very particular moment that the director had filmed.

On the screen, there was Carlos Sainz, slicking through his long black hair, whilst waving at the cameraman. See? I told you. Not my finest moment.

“Babe, that’s Carlos. Why did you pause at that moment?”

Now that was the moment I blinked even more. Unable to respond. How do you exactly tell your boyfriend of three years that recently buzzed his hair, that you were admiring another man’s haircut.

It was kinda weird, but I had no shame. Maybe a little.

Mason scratched his head as he was waiting for my response, when he actually realized why I had paused the livestream. He felt his shirt hair and then looked at Carlos’s lengthy hairstyle.

“It’s the hair innit?”

His face dropped massively. I’m not going to lie, I’m not the biggest fan of buzzcuts but it fit Mason beautifully. I was though an even bigger fan of his prince-like hairstyle. My god, the way my fingers would tangle around, was mesmerizing.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t want me to buzz my hair this short? I would have picked another hairstyle”

“Masey, it’s your hair. I’m not one to judge or say anything. I love every single one of your hairstyles. Nothing changes just because you have shorter or longer hair.”

“But apparently you’re a fan of long hairstyles”

“It’s practically in many ways”

I was hinting at the time we were having sex on the couch and as Mason was about to fall, I pulled him from his hair and pulled his body against mine, still keeping the connection.

“That was very hot babe”

I felt bad that he had to see such a weak moment of mine. I love Mason no matter what. I don’t care about his looks. I only care about the person he is. The hair is the last thing I pay attention too.

“I’m so sorry Mase. This doesn’t mean anything. This is silly, I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t even know why I did.”

He wasn’t responding.

“Do you maybe want me to leave for a few hours and come back? I’ll go to my mom and pick up that recipe you want”

Instead of saying anything, he turned off the Tv, and sat on the bed, with his thighs kneeling in front of my eyes.

Before doing that he removed his shorts and shirt, revealing once again his Greek god like built body, full of beautiful drawn tattoos. My weakness being the champions league one on his rib cage.

“I need you to come close baby”

He said stiffly, in a more manly manner than the one he usually has. His Adam’s apple was sitting on the center of his neck and vile thoughts of me kissing this spot entered my brain.

I approached the bed, only to be dragged by Mason on top of his thighs. In mere seconds I was left shirtless, gifting him what he was asking for. His girlfriend bra-less and in the most vulnerable position ever.

“I’m the only man that’s allowed to make your tits hard. Are we clear about that?”

I simply nodded, as my eyes were wandering around his toned muscles on his shoulders and hardened errection. I didn’t know where to look.

“You’ll do as I say, right princess?”

“Y-es”

I replied weakly

“Ride my thigh. I want you to ride me until I feel your cum running down it. Until your pussy is stretched to its limits but you beg for more”

I was left speechless. I don’t know how we went from him wanting to cook, to making me cum out of nowhere. But I liked it.

I started rubbing myself on his thigh as his hands were holding my ass firmly and his lips had attacked mine, removing the oxygen from my system.

Moving up and down, I was feeling the heat on my pussy and Mason’s thigh trembling and pushing itself upwards, close to my clit. His fingers were sliding from the back of my ass, to under my panties and at first softly caressing my wet folds.

As his lips moved downwards to my neck, leaving endless marks in a certain pattern I couldn’t really understand, my pussy came face to face with his knee that was almost deep inside me. Like his fingers. The pace kept rising and more moans were escaping my lips.

“You’re mine. Solely mine”

“Your neck, your lips, your pussy. All mine”

“You’re the only man you’re allowed to admire. No one else”

I had reached the point were Mason’s thigh was covered in my cum and he moved me to the left one, repeating the same thing but never removing his fingers from my clit.

I let out a squeak as Mason hit my G-spot, earning a soft laugh from him. His lips were now occupied with my nipples and bouncing breasts, whilst mine were kissing his collarbone and nails were dug deep into his back.

“You’re the only one Mase”

“I’m yours. Body and soul”

Mason let out a frustrating moan, before we both orgasmed at the same time.

“You complete me baby. I love you, Y/N”

“I love you too Mase. You’re my boyfriend and the only for me”

Let’s just say that at night we barely did anything but hug and make love to each other.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

It’s fair to assume that Jamie felt tricked and betrayed when he was unceremoniously sent back to Manchester in spite of putting himself out there and taking some steps towards making nice at the exorcism in 1x06 – but I think that we often fail to consider that the team, in turn, may have felt tricked and betrayed by Jamie.

Because at the bonfire, they’re by and large ready to accept his overtures, aren’t they? His hold over them, such as it were, has been broken, but when they see him trying they’re happy enough to give him another chance: a team united, as Rebecca sourly notes. When Ted goes to remove Jamie’s shirt from the dressing room at the end of the episode it’s very much framed as a dismal moment, for the show – and for the team, who are all looking solemn or uncomprehending or unhappy. There’s no relief or celebration (although, to be fair, in some cases it might just be a sense of decorum holding them back).

So, as far as the team is concerned, it’s sad, but at least it ended with them all on somewhat decent terms, yeah? Only, then comes the interview before the City game in 1x10. Note the lack of resentment when Jamie first shows up on the screen: it’s all hey and oh and amigo Jamie. Yes, there’s Colin’s barb about the lack of barbers in Manchester, but ribbing is a thing, yeah, and Colin is a sassy bitch, and furthermore he has a fucking point: the hair is bad. They all aw appreciatively when Jamie states that he would never say a bad word about his old team, and it’s only when he proceeds to say a fair few bad words that they lose their temper. And from their perspective… mustn’t this look like Jamie was the one tricking them earlier? Like he was fooling them into thinking he gave a damn about the team and wanted to be a part of it, only to then turn around and shit all over them? We, as viewers, understand why Jamie’s lashing out at Ted, and at Richmond in general, but the rest of the players saw how upset Ted was over Jamie leaving, and have a harder time squaring their former star tearing into their gaffer, and them, like that.  

To me, this goes some way towards explaining why they’re so resistant his return after being somewhat upset – or at least not happy – that he left. It goes some way towards explaining why they react so strongly and negatively to his apology. I’ve always found that slightly jarring and very interesting, the way they shift from seemingly regretting his leave in 1x06 to being so furious with him in 2x03. Of course, the bit where he actually was a huge prick also plays a part in it, as does the lingering pain of relegation, and the fact that it’s easy and safe and convenient to blame all the old stuff on Jamie since his absence coincides with the team coming together and choosing a better path – but I do think that on some level the team simply daren’t trust that this isn’t just Jamie trying to pull a fast one on them again.

[hocuspocusbabyy]

Two platforms:

“You meet a mysterious woman on the train.”

February 1981

I have a small problem...which I suspect this gathering might find interesting. You are one for the romantics are you not?

Last Thursday I was returning from a book
auction in Hay-on-Wye, when a delay on the Manchester-Edinburgh line, Forced me to make a rapid adjustment to my itinerary,
leaving me just three minutes to change platform and train at Crewe.

Making a dash up from third to sixth just as the rails man stepped out to wave his little flag, I slide between the doors and into the nearest seat. A table over looking the back exit, the cabin was relatively empty minus the woman I had subsequently imposed upon. Usually I’d have preferred to sit alone, though I was wary that my moving now might offended the young woman. I say young—- but rather it was in the sense of beauty, she was striking. Red hair, and a perfectly sloped nose which was unfortunately buried within a book and obstructing my view.

Shaking my head I lent forward to remove my coat, brushing off the dirt of the city before flatting it across my lap, and reaching into my case for a book of my own.

“Ticket from Crewe! Tickets from Crewe!” The conductor called out making their wary way down the bumping train. I looked up with a polite smile and flashed my ticked, knowing what was about to come.

“You're on the wrong train, madam.” He stated no remorse or curiosity as to why I was in fact on the the incorrect train. “This is for Glasgow.” He continued he a scratch of his beard, plucking the ticket from my hand to observe it closer. “The Edinburgh train... It's delayed. You should have waited on platform 3.”

This caught the attention of the other woman it seemed, who’s eyes flickered up briefly, her forefinger docking her page as if not to look nosey but rather intently gazing up the page, she had surly read over a multitude of times already.

“Yes I am well aware.” I sighed shifting in my seat as if to appear taller in comparison to the condescending man looking down at me. “However I found, if i got your train as far
as Edinburgh I ought to be in time to catch
the Edinburgh-Glasgow.” My explanation obviously startling the man as his mouth opened and closed in a similar way to a fish. “The price of this ticket is also £12.40, so I think you’ll find you’ve gained a pound from my change in journey- buy yourself a nice pasty on me.” I stated snatching the ticket back and moving to place it back within my jacket.

The woman across rising the spine of her book as if it would hide her audible laughter at the altercation.

“Ah yes. That should work.” The conductor coughed before moving on up the train “Enjoy your journey.”

Sighing heavily I lent my head back against the seat, closing my eyes briefly to contemplate the day. A slight cough disturbing my peace once again, cracking open my eye slightly to see the woman across now looking directly at me.

“I could have done with you this morning, in Cardiff.” She smirked her red painted fingernails scratching delicately at the cover of ‘The City of Beautiful Nonsense.”

“Straight forward enough, surely?” I teased, shifting forward to view the woman properly. Her jawline was impeccable the kind you could take a protractor to and suddenly become mathematically obsessed with. The golden ratio gone wild. Michelangelo’s work in action. She was truly a dreamscape, light green eyes, high cheek bones and lips you… I could easily…

“The Shrewsbury train was cancelled.” She stated cutting off my trail of thought, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Well in that case you could have…”

“A friend gave me a lift.” She dead panned smirking again at the frown that now rested upon my face. If she wanted to play games, then so would I.

“I see, and was it a pleasant journey?” I asked reaching to unbutton my shirt at the wrist and roll up my sleeves.

“Oh heavens no.” She laughed again, the kind of laugh that you’d chase for hours, doing everything in one’s power to hear it again. It was deep and airy similar to how I’d imagine angels would. “Natasha—- my friend, well she has a motorcycle and let’s just say my hair barely survived the journey.” She joked reaching back to flatten her hair self consciously.

“Your hair looks great.” I complimented with a grin as the exotic woman merely blushed.

“Well thank you.” She smiled gently, a slight accent peaking through— Russian maybe? Or Hungarian? Definitely European I’m sure.

The other woman bit her lips, a hand reaching out to shake mine.

“Wanda.” She introduced

“Y/N” I replied, throughly blindsided by the smooth warmth of her hand in mine. “So E. Temple Thurston? Great choice” I commented sucking my teeth lightly as we both draw back from our introduction. My hand falling to rest beneath the table as to avoid the temptation of reaching out for her again.

“Mm?” Wanda asked her brow cocked and blinking as though my presence suddenly startled her. The woman’s gaze lingering upon the exposed skin from my button up. “Oh yes” Wanda laughed platting both her palms over the book in question, “a personal favourite have you read him?”

“Oh I’ve read plenty” I grinned, her shaky reaction at being caught all the more endearing than creepy. ““Here you have a man, a woman, and a candle destined for the altar of St Joseph, all flung together in an empty church by the playful hand of circumstance and out of so strange a medley comes a fairy story …” I quoted, be it smugly though you couldn’t doubt it was impressive and when would there be a better than to show off such a niche skill than on a random train, to the woman of your dreams. Who you met by pure chance and circumstance and will probably never see again. So what if I show boat.

“Ah” she tutted scrunching her nose slightly, “so you have read it.” Her hand now working its way across the cover drawing unimportant patterns that I couldn’t help but wish were upon my skin instead.

“A few times” I laughed, my gaze fixed upon the talented hands that worked. Her pale skin contrasting perfectly with the light maroon of her shirt.

“And what did you gather from it?”

“An impoverished writer gives his last penny to a girl in a church so she can buy a candle.”

“It’s a love story.” Wanda whispered her gaze flicking up to meet mine.

“It’s fiction” I countered, causing the woman to frown slightly, one in which I’d fear if it weren’t for the grin that followed.

“So you’re saying, you wouldn’t give your last penny to buy your soul mate a simple candle?”

“You think they were soul mates?”

The redhead bit her lip, my question obviously igniting something within her, “how could they not be?”

“They barely knew one another, and he risked all he had. If you ask me it seems pretty reckless”

“Sometimes it pays to be reckless” she smiled quirking her brow at my gently, “they continue to cross paths. Sometimes by chance – or maybe fate – how could you ignore that?”

“I don’t ignore it, I just simply think it was down to chance and geography rather than fate— London really isn’t that big. Even want for that matter John creates situations for them to meet by seeking Jill out.”

“Yes, but there was never any guarantee Jill would show.”

“Of course she would- she wanted to see him too”

“Because of fate” Wanda grinned as if to have won.

“Because of attraction” I countered, causing the other woman to pout slightly. “You really believe that people end up together though mere chance?”

“Well we met, didn’t we?”

“My train was delayed”

“And I got a lift”

I laughed at that, how could I not? This woman was truly magnetic, intoxicatingly beautiful, with an attitude and brain to match.

“Okay, you win people may meet by chance— frequently; but that doesn’t equate to love that’s something that grows with time.”

“Oh so she’s a pessimist” Wanda laughed, bitting her lip, before releasing it with a pop.

“I’d like to think I’m realistic”

“Oh no” she argued, pointed a perfectly sharper nail towards me. “You Y/N are just as bad as me- I know it.”

“And how did you figure that?”

“The way your eyes light up when I said it.”

“My eyes?”

“Mm” the redhead hummed leaning forward slightly, “they have little specks in them that contrast with the brown… your little true tellers”

I was taken aback by that I’ll admit, shuffling to straighten my shoulders and regain my composure. The mix of Wanda being so close that I could see the light brush of lipstick she had chosen, mixed with the intimate conversation rattling my demeanour.

Clearing my throat I made a move to take control of the conversation, “did you know his 1914 novel ‘Driven’ was written about Scotland? Primary around about here.” I said point out the window towards the passing landscapes. Fields upon fields of sheep and flowers.

“Maybe we should get off, take a look around.”
Wanda suggested, a flirtatious undertone present.

“We could have lunch on the waterfront.” I continued - anything to see her smile.

“Maybe mess around, buy a house and grow old together” Wanda joked, my eyes surly widening based on her reaction. “Sorry. I've gone too far. Promise I'll behave better from now on.” She pouted.

I had to laugh, truly this woman was something else entirely.

Wanda cleared her throat, “I've never been to the Highlands before, so suddenly... um...
well finding myself single again, so to speak,
I... I thought I'd like to see them. So I'm going to go up as far as Edinburgh by train and then I'm catching the coach to Inverness
and coming down the other side. What do you think?” She asked curiously, resting her chin upon her hand, her elbow resting upon the table.

“The West Coast is extraordinarily beautiful. You might well fall in love with it.”

“And if I were to fall in love, what then?” She asked watching me intently as a pulled out a map and laid it out in front of her.

“Well instead of a coach to Inverness, you might consider the line back to Aberdeen and changing for Oban. From there you can get
any number of boat trips: Iona, Staffa.” I punctuated each place with a tap of my finger on the map, Wanda’s falling to trace a similar train-line. “It's very romantic.”

“And are you romantic?” Wanda asked, her finger catching mine in something similar to a pinky swear. The two index fingers entangled firmly, suspended slightly as the conductor made his way back down the train to ruin the moment.

“now approaching Edinburgh” he bellowed out barely sparing use a second glance.

“So it is.” I sighed looking out the window to see the train pulling into our station, Wanda’s hand reluctantly leaving mine as we both stood to gather our things and depart.

“It was very nice to meet you.” Wanda stated her hands now occupied with a leather satchel.

“You were an unexpected bonus.” I grinned politely, hoping terribly it would hide my disappointment with our parting.

“Well. Thank you again.” Wanda nodded, before stepping off the train and making her way towards the bus station.

I stood and watched her walk away, unable to shake the feeling that something was inherently wrong with my life now without her in it. What a ridiculous notion to attribute to a woman I had just met, and yet the feeling lingered. Wanda’s figure fleeting into a sea of people and off the platform.

And so you see, I am forced to the unlikely conclusion, that I've fallen in love.

And so as my train to Glasgow pulled into platform 4, I ran. I ran across the platform narrowly missing a dozen sets of luggage and tired commuters. Down the steps of the station and intro on coming traffic, a plethora of car horns and shouting calling out behind me as I raced down to the bus station. Her bus was in two minutes, surly I’d missed it?”

I arrived at the empty bus station, merely seconds after the couch to Inverness’ departure. The back of the bus with an add for stark industries newest toaster, mocking me. I panted, more out of disappointment than exhaustion, slumping down to grip my knees, before a hand against my shoulder suddenly awoke me.

“Well hello there” Wanda grinned, her touch all the more warming and welcome as the knowledge that she hadn’t gotten on the couch registered.

“Good afternoon.” I sighed happily, standing straight to speak to her.

“This is a surprise.” Wanda joked, pointing up at the bus in the distance, “I missed my coach”

“I missed my train” I explained falsely, the grin on my face matching that of the shorter woman’s, I hadn’t realised I was taller until just now.

“What a coincidence.”

“What a surprise”

“It's not entirely coincidence.” I breathed looking down at the redhead. She had made the coach in plenty of time, something had obviously stalled her. Or intrigued her enough to change her mind.

“It's not entirely a surprise.” Wanda joked, her hand reaching up to brush a fallen piece of hair from my face. Before she lay to rest on the back of my neck, soothing the tense muscle there.

“Could I make you dinner?”

[gavisuntiedboot]

Soft glow (Gavi x reader)

28 day writing prompt challenge - prompts are here

Day 1: Taking off your makeup for you

"Amor you'll never believed what happened on the flight back!"

You groaned from where you laid on the couch. Gavi had gone to England to play a league match against Manchester United. You were by no means a clingy person. You valued your space, and tried to develop a relationship with Pablo where you were comfortable not being attached at the hip. But this time you missed him. Everything in your life felt different for the week he was gone. Coffee tasted a little too bitter. The weather was always a little too cold. The sun always set a little too early. You felt weirdly lonely despite constantly being around people. For the first time, you started to count the hours until Gavi came home.

You wanted it to be special. You wanted to greet him with all the love and adoration that made his absence painful. You washed yourself with his favorite scents, taking extra time to enjoy the feeling of the hot water on your skin. You did you hair and makeup, making you more confident, and inviting you to check yourself out in every reflective surface in the house. You slipped into a long black dress and decided to lounge around just being your gorgeous self until he got home.

But nothing good goes unpunished - the world could not let you feel beautiful without consequence, and half an hour before he got home, you started feeling a splitting headache. The pain was in your temples and behind your eyes, sending a wave of nausea through your body. You turned the lights off and laid across the couch, praying that you wouldn't throw up.

Gavi was never one to do anything softly or quietly. Passion and fire were injected into everything he did: from the way he called your name, the way he embraced you after a long day, to his entrance into your shared home after his week away. He could not wait to have you in his arms and bed lol after seeing you only through sporadic facetime calls. But as he entered the dark living room and saw you splayed across the couch, a chill went through his body. Throwing his bags to the ground, he kneeled by your body and shook your shoulder.

"Are you okay? What happened? Why are you sitting in the dark?"

You groaned and rolled over. It still felt like you were being stabbed in the skull, and you were still ready to throw up the dinner you had not eaten. "I'm ok Pablito. I have a really terrible headache right now, so I'm pretty sensitive to light... and loud noises." You added. He quickly removed his arm from your shoulder. All of his features softened, and his honey eyes widened.

“Ay, perdón bébé. I had no idea.”

His voice was now just above a whisper. He looked over your form, taking in how you looked draped over the couch. The dress you wore hugged every curve of your body. The one lamp still on draped you in an ethereal light.

“You look gorgeous. You got dressed up for me?”

You lifted your head, nodding slowly with sleepy eyes.

“Come with me bébé. Let’s go to bed.”

You groaned, not wanting to move and make your headache worse. You felt Gavi slip his hand under your back and legs, and suddenly you were off the couch. He lifted you bridal style and carried you to your chafed bedroom, placing you softly on the bed. He caresses your back softly, reaching for the zipper of your dress.

“What’re you doing Pablo?”

“Helping you get ready for bed.”

“It’s ok, I’ll do it in a second. I have to take my makeup off anyways.”

“I can do that for you.”

Before you could reply, you heard Pablo’s footsteps rush off to the bathroom. He emerged once again with micellar water and cotton.

“How did you-“

“We’ve been living together for 7 months. I noticed what you use to take your makeup off.”

You let out a breathy laugh as he soaked the cotton and began gently wiping your face, starting with your eyes and then moving around. Once he had gotten all the makeup off, he helped you slip out of your dress. He rummaged through the drawers before finding a large band t-shirt you often wore to bed, helping you slip it on.

You opened your eye slightly to watch Pablo as he walked to the other side of the room to get changed. He peeled off the shirt and sweats he wore on the plane.

“You’re so sweet Pablo. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Bébé, if I’m not going to take care of you, then who on the world am I going to care for? I love you.”

He joined you in bed, a pair of pajama pants hanging low on his waist and his chest bare. Gavi kissed your forehead and brought you close to his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.

“Get some sleep so you feel better.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: basing this off of my own headache today. Thanks for reading day 1 of @hayleysprompts ‘s 30 day writing prompts!! (Post linked at the top). Hope y’all enjoy and can’t wait to write tomorrow’s as well.

Edit: I forgot to put a title on it the first time 😭 who let me write smh

[w33zyw00zy0]

How Charming ~ Simon Riley x Fem Reader

Summary: She meets the 141 in a local pub for celebration after their last mission, but after her late arrival and most members drunk, she finds herself stuck with Ghost and his bratty attitude.

Warnings: Hardcore Smut, M Oral, Spit play, A little bit of degrading, Force, Semi-public, Rough yet Consensual Sex.

You looked up at the tatty, worn sign that swung with a creak at every breeze that filled the air- ‘The Woolpack Inn.’

The strong, sharp italic writing, worn and scratched with the ever-changing British weather. The brick was covered in a historic look, sad attempts of removing graffiti affecting the appearance.

Yet other than the nationalistic, out of place feel of the pub - it was definitely less dodgy than half of the other bars Soap had recommended in the past.

The pub door opened with a ‘DING!’, quickly alerting the staff that chatted to the locals of the small town. The strong scent of whiskey, beer and a mix of ‘masculine’ cologne created quite the welcome.

The grey-haired man that was tending the bar gave a small nod as a welcome before leaning back on the counter to continue his chat with the bearded, classic British men that took up his barstools, beers in hand, cheering at the ‘footie.’

It was a Friday evening and surprisingly busy as the sound of multiple, overlapping conversations lingered and soaked into the brick walls. The strong sound of cheering and screaming coming from the tv that hung shabbily from the corner, the Football match playing, like expected.

“You made it!” A strong accented voice spoke up, louder than everyone else.

Your eyes darted to the booth situated opposite the tv - obviously. The team crowded into the seating, shoulders touching. It caused a small, and extremely amused huff to leave your lips at the view.

Soap beckoned you over with a quick sway of his hand, patting the space that he had saved between himself and the infamous ‘Ghost’.

You walked over sitting myself where requested.

Groaning slightly, Ghost lifted his hips forward, sprawling himself and spreading as much as possible, his knees carelessly knocking into yours. His arms barged into yours, creating an awkward and uncomfortable tension.

“I’m glad you made it!” Soap spoke, every syllable looking like a struggle for the man, as a delayed strong whiff of alcohol hit your nose. But nonetheless you replied with a polite smile and a pat on the shoulder at his kind gesture.

You quickly turned your head as, the burly, Manchester-Accent of Ghost screamed directly down your ear due to the pixilated red card that appeared on the telly.

You scoffed at the inconsiderate action, a look of disgust and judgement splayed on your features.

A conversation quickly started. With most of the 141 on their 3rd beer and clearly a little tipsy, it wasn’t hard. Soap slightly slurred his words, mispronouncing vowels every now and then. Yelling to Gaz about something he was passionate about and Gaz yelling back due to the mix of bad hearing and football fans hollers.

Price had left the booth after giving you a quick pat on the shoulder to go smoke his cigar outside.

However, Ghost continued to ground his knee into the flesh of your thigh.

You shot him a snarl, watching as his eyes removed themselves from the tv screen, carelessly glancing down. He scoffed at your useless response, rolling his eyes and re-placing his attention back to the TV-Screen, taking a sip of his beer.

“Asshole” You spat, my words hidden by the loud cheering as the digitalised man approached the goal, ball dribbling effortlessly between his legs. But still removing a little chuckle from the man, himself at your childish reply.

You stood from your seat, shimmying yourself past Ghost, purposefully making it a struggle as you blocked the TV-Screen with a small smirk and a mouthed ‘sorry’.

“Fuck off newbie.” And a strong grasp on your hips was enough for you to oblige as he pushed you out the way.

You yawned slightly, approaching the bar and tapping the polished wood material with my finger as you waited for the attention of the Barista.

This wasn’t the night you had planned, everyone was either practically drunk already, disappearing into a world of their own imagination or tired from the past mission that you were supposed to be celebrating.

Guess not.

You watched as the Barista finally wiped a glass with his grey rag before threading it back through his belt and approaching your stool from behind the counter.

“Evening.” He spoke simply, his harsh Norfolk accent showing through his words, “What can I get for ya’?”

“Just a pint, please.”

You smiled gratefully as he nodded, turning to fill my request.

You sat on the tatty little bar stools that lined the wooden counters, the surface slightly sticky and filled with an old smell of ale. The cracked material that lined the barstools underneath you making a uncomfortable sensation on your thighs as you tried your best to wriggle into a comfortable position.

“Make that two.” A gravelled voice shouted over the noise of the crowd, assuming the stool beside you.

After a few minutes of silence, he glanced over his shoulder, catching your attention from the corner of your eye. His pupils scaled your body taking in every curve and crevice, before returning his eyes to yours.

His eyes physically widened at the sight of you staring back at him, causing his head to turn to the TV as a smirk pulled on the corners of your lips.

“What was that?” You chuckled slightly, finally making notice of Ghost who had decided to join you at the bar.

“What was what?” He blinked slowly, not taking his eyes off the match for a second.

“I just watched you undress me with you eyes.” You laughed once more , a small red blush becoming apparent under his mask as you questioned his behaviour.

“You wish rookie.”

You scoffed slightly at his reply, it was obvious. You had caught him.

“Two pints?” The barista slid them across, the smell of alcohol causing Ghost’s eyes to rip from the tv and admire the beverage in-front of him.

“You like footie?” His Manchester accent became more apparent as the beer tainted his voice even more than the 3 before that.

“Eh,” you shrugged your shoulders, quietly pleased at the sad attempt of a conversation. It wasn’t hard to tell he wasn’t the conversation type, “I don’t really get the point, what’s so fascinating about a ball being kicked by sweaty, rich men.”

A small chuckle came from beside you before the sound was muffled by Ghost lifting up the end of his mask and scrunching it past his nose; just enough to make out the blonde stubble that grew carelessly on his cheeks, his sharp jawline, and the end of his slightly crooked nose covered in the ever so faint freckles.

Your eyes lingered on his plump, peach coloured lips that slightly cracked at the edges as he took a sip on the liquid, licking the foam from around them.

“‘Course you’d say that.” He grumbled, another round of cheers following afterwards as the score raised to 2-1.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Confused pricked at your skin at the eerie reply.

“Well your a girl, aren’t you?” He responded easily, his words never faltering at the shocking reply.

“What.” You spat out, you had your fair share of misogyny from your experience in the army. It was expected. But this, for some reason, completely burned every piece of restraint you normally had.

“Girls don’t do football. Not proper football.”

Anger bubbled underneath your skin at that response. You swigged the beer, downing it, before slamming it back down onto the table and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You know what. I’ve had enough of you.” You spat, watching as his eye lids raise as the response.

Attention caught.

His neck slowly craned around, a look of disbelief plastered on his face at the sudden snap.

“Never thought you of all people would be the misogynistic, hateful type,” You mumbled through your teeth, “guess mummy didn’t teach you right.”

You had taken it too far. You knew you had. But it had obviously hit a nerve as the look of surprise turned into a look of slow-rising anger. His eyebrows furrowing and his jaw clenching under the mask. So it worked.

“What? Did I press the wrong button?” You spat, slamming a ten-pound note on the counter before jumping off the stool, rushing out of the pub. However, you couldn’t help the smirk that was slowly taking over your face at the mix of anger and adrenaline. You hadn’t talked back to anyone since you had joined the army. The rebellion had lit a small fire in your belly.

You laughed a little, gasping as the adrenaline drew your lungs into an uneasy breathing pattern. The look he gave of pure rage and anger sent butterflies to re-arrange your guts as a warmth built between your thighs. Had you just yelled at Ghost? Simon Ghost Riley? Of all people.

The cold air pricked at your skin as you walked further away from the pub, silently gloating to yourself at the dominance, letting out small giggles.

Your legs carried an echoed sound to bounce off the dingy surroundings of the dark street the pub was built on. Your hair blew ever so slightly in the cold rush of air, causing hairs to stick up on both of your arms. A satisfied sigh leaving your mouth as you gleefully took in the sky.

DING!

The sound automatically changed your emotion.

You remembered it.

It created a uneasy sensation as the sound filled the silence that once assumed the night sky, echoing down the worn streets, reminding you over and over before filling your bumped flesh.

The rapid sound of heavy approaching footsteps following after the echoed ‘ding’ made you bite down on your tongue.

Shit.

Ghost.

“Keep walking.” He spat in your ear, a small tingle assuming your back and trailing your spine as his cold hand placed itself on your lower back, guiding you forward. You tripped and stumbled slightly at his doubled steps that you tried to keep up with.

Your eyes wandered up to his, his pupils kept straight ahead, dilated and lidded.

Fuck.

A small opening finally came into shot, a little alleyway crammed in between the silent streets. The opening was small and completely pitch black, however, surprisingly clean. Small windows hung open from the houses either side, their bins lining the opening from outside.

Ghost finally slowed from his determined stride, pushing you by the lower back into the opening.

“Ghost. What the fuck are yo-“ A hand quickly covered your mouth, the cloth material cutting off your breathing.

“Shut your bratty little mouth,” He spat, crouching slightly to become face to face with you. His hot breath mingled out of the mask and onto your flush face.

“I’ve had enough of your little attitude.” He scoffed, his eyes never leaving your.

“Whatever-“ you mumbled, rolling your eyes, shuffling under his gaze as you tried desperately to break eye contact.

A sharp slap met your left cheek as his hand grabbed your jaw harshly, forcing you into eye contact. His eyes now more narrow and deadly - if even possible.

“How ‘bout you shut the fuck up? Yeah?” He mumbled, a growl nearly replacing his normal tone. It lingered in his throat, small growls becoming more apparent the more he talked, “Can’t stand your voice..”

You nodded slowly at the tone of his voice, submission filling every limb, the stinging of your cheek creating a uncomfortable mix of pain and pleasure. The way he talked to you sending a pool straight in between your legs as he pronounced every word with exaggeration, speaking to you like a dumb little slut.

“You humiliated me,” He tutted slightly, his tone now lower and sounded with more tease, “In front of everyone.”

“I’m so-“ Another slap landed on your cheek, creating a whimper to bubble up from your throat and mewl out of your lips.

“How are you gonna re-pay me?” His tone dropped slightly, his eyes slightly clouding the anger with a another emotion. Lust.

His hands released themselves from my jaw, pushing me against the brick. The rough texture piercing into my back creating a groan to fall from your lips, the cold sensation filling my back.

“Hm?”

“I-I don’t know…”

“Not good enough,” He groaned through his teeth, keeping direct eye contact as your pupils scanned his face in search of the answer, “Where’s all that bratty attitude gone?” A small scoff emerging.

His eyes finally left yours, watching his hands as they scaled the sides of your body. The scratchy cloth of the gloves still attached to his skin pricking a new sensation. A gasp falling from your mouth as you followed his movements with lidded eyes.

His fingers reached your neck, each one taking your neck in a hold. His eyes looked back into your own, a small sense neediness plastered in every shine as he placed a little force into his grip, sending you to my knees in-front of him.

Your knees hit the cold floor, the hard concrete sending pain to shoot through your nerves as he grabbed my jaw positioning your eyes to glance up at his.

“I have an idea~”

A small hum fell from your lips at the sight of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley looking down at you on your knees with such clouded neediness.

“I think you know what I want, brat…” You gave a small nod at the comment, your hands running up his thighs, towards the zipper.

The atmosphere was silent, peaceful almost other than the heavy breathing that came from the Masked Man as your fingers lingered on the zipper, pulling it down and undoing the button with a ‘pop’.

His dick was already hard, his boxers stained with pre-cum slightly at the control he had. It clearly poked through the thin material, the cloth making it look easily 6 inches.

You drew him from his boxers, the sudden cold air causing a hiss to fall from his lips. His tip was slick with juices, a few prominent veins covering the length.

You took two fingers, spreading the juices further down the tip. He flung his head back letting a strangled ‘Fuck’ linger in the air mixed with laboured breaths. His hands flew to steady himself against the brick wall as you moved your hand down to the base. His head now forward and hanging loosely.

“Stop fuckin’ teasin’,” His Manchester accent becoming more prominent with every pump, “Put it in ya mouth already.”

“Are you fucking serious ?” You scoffed out, his attitude making anger bubble and twirl with the pleasure building.

“Yeah, yeah.” His hands flung to the back of the head, eagerly pushing his cock past your lips and into your mouth.

A groan emerged as he stuffed himself down your throat. Your eyes watering at the forceful ram, your hands clenching onto his thighs to steady the sudden dizziness. A whimper followed quickly from his lips as you laid your tongue flat to fit the full length, slightly teasing the tip as your tongue brushed past.

His fingers tangled in your hair, grabbing a fist and pulling it tight as he guided your throat around him. Looking down on you with lidded eyes and a open, heaving mouth, he pushed roughly against your head, setting a pace that cause spit to gather in your mouth and mix with the liquids seeping from his tip.

You rolled my eyes at the eagerness and lack of care, earning a scoff, “S-so bratty, even with my… fuck- cock in your mouth.”

Ghost pulled his cock out fully from your mouth, watching as the mixed spit rolled down your own chin before slamming himself back into your throat, earning a loud gag that turned his drooling mouth into a smirk.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell…”

The muffled words falling from his mouth mixed with the constant slick sounds of wet skin from your puffy lips built an even bigger warmth in-between your legs. The stimulation became almost unbearable as he sped up, his mouth once again drooling and his eyes rolling back.

You rubbed your thighs together, desperate to keep the wetness that soaked through your panties under control. But it soon became too much, your thighs began to move, grinding yourself against the cold pavement, the sensation of the temperature against your covered clit sending you into overdrive.

My mouth began to babble incoherently around his cock at the mixed feelings of pleasure, the vibration of your lips sent him over the edge as he kept a strong grip on your hair, using your mouth as a toy. In and out. His cock going in slicked and coming out soaked in all sorts of lewd liquids.

You bunched your hands tighter around his trousers, steadying your limp head that was being quickly bobbed back and forth. The stimulation and neediness causing yourself to grind harder against the pavement, your moans and gasps sending Ghost into pure pleasure.

“Fuck… Fuck… Fuck.” He chanted it religiously, the warmth of his breath mixing with the cold air and coming out in puffs of steam as he sped up, the grip becoming tighter as he shot cum down your throat, babbling incoherent insults throughout his high.

He finally released himself from your mouth, hissing at the cold temperature.

A chuckle came from his mouth as you collapse against the brick wall, cum dripping from your mouth, a patch left on the pavement from your own pleasure.

“You can’t be cock drunk already,” He leaned down, swiping the cum off your chin with his finger before stuffing it in my throat, earning a gag.

“Swallow.” He spat, watching as your throat bobbed the white liquid disappearing down, your tongue slipping round and in between his digits until they were clean. Removing them with a ‘pop’.

“I’m not done with you.” He teased lifting your limp body off the floor by your neck, placing yourself against the brick wall, using the flat side of his hand to smush your face into the cold brick. Placing your legs around his waist, he pulled your soaked panties to the side, pushing himself into yours with a harmony of moans.

“I-I can’t- mmm~.. I can’t… I can’tIcan’t… ahh~” You mumbled, his head resting against my shoulder as he watched your body move up with every thrust. Non-stop whimpers falling from your lips at the overstimulation.

“Y-yes.. you can,” He rasped into your ear, pushing into you once more, raising your body up the wall.

“Nonononooo…” You mumbled out, your head becoming limp and falling into the crook of his neck as he continued to push your own figure up the wall by just his cock. His thrusts were slow but hard, his tip managing to slowly pull out, forcing pre-cum to dribble down my shaking inner thighs before slamming itself back into you. A squelch emitting and reverberating off the walls.

He forced himself in once more, your legs finally giving up and dropping from his waist. Your mind dizzy and your eyes permanently rolled back. He groaned slightly at the sight, before hoisting one of your legs back onto his hip, angling you just perfectly to hit that spot that made your stomach unravel and my moans become screams.

“S…sshhhh. quiet. Quietquiet.” He whimpered, his jaw biting down on your shoulder to keep out all the festering noise that threatened to spill. Your eyes pricked with tears, every thrust making your jaw drop, and caused drool to spill out.

The spit ran down your cheeks before dripping off your chin and pooling on your tits. Lewd noises fell out of your mouth, loud and uncontrollable.

His mouth quickly latched onto your tits, his tongue licking a long stripe across the pool of drool, nipping slightly. You threw your head back, the overstimulation of not only his cock but the amount of liquid that ran over your body, the absolute mess, it was fucking hot.

His pace picked up, his thrusts becoming sloppier yet still deep as his breathing quickened.

Your body finally gave up, the ever-building orgasm snapping and every limb becoming weak and paralysed as he continued his fast pace through it. Your mind was officially blank, your sight complete and utter darkness and your jaw slacked open permanently, incoherent noises and chocked out breaths falling from your puffy lips.

“shutupshutupshutup…” He mumbled out, two fingers flying into your mouth causing you to shut your lips around them. Your tongue swirled around the two digits, dragging your tongue along every inch and forcing it in between the two fingers.

Your third orgasm began building when the spit began building around his fingers, seeping from your lips and over his palm as he thrusted them into your mouth, keeping pace with his cock that was absolutely destroying your poor slit.

The whimpers and moans falling from himself were no longer unholy but a step further. His voice becoming drawn out and high pitched as he breathed heavily, overwhelmed by the two entirely different sensations.

But yet his fingers did nothing, it didn’t mute the lewd noises the slightest. It encouraged them, the vibrations of my confusing word play stimulating his cock more.

“F..fucking h…ell. Youdontshutup.” He gasped out, removing his fingers from your mouth with a pop. Trailing the slicked fingers down every curve before meeting your clit. Beginning small circling patterns around the puffy, cock-drunk sensitive spot. His pace involuntarily quick, as the cum from your past orgasm pooled out, causing his pace to quicken from the sloppiness.

His mask rose up his face from the pure force he was now putting into every movement, your body rocking hardly against the wall, your head still thrown back, slamming into the brick with every thrust.

His lips latched onto yours, his tongue wrapping around your own. The sound of your lips was easily masked by the wet slapping of his thrusts, but it was still audible.

After a few seconds, his mouth left yours, a long strand of spit connecting the puffy peach lips that had been devouring your own. Your eyes widened at the sight, his eyelids drooping ever so slightly as his eyes rolled back, attaching his lips back onto yours.

Everything became faster. The sounds. The moans. The pleasure. Everything.

“closecloseclose…” You gasped out, the word making his lips rip from your own. A thin layer of sweat taking over both your bodies at the pure pleasure. His fingers sped up. His thrusts sped up, his spare hand wrapping around your hips as you moved in sync.

“fuckfuckfuck… let them.. let them.. h-hear yo-you.” He gasped out as your walls clenched, causing an even tighter fuck toy, “w-want them toknowhow much… you l-Iove m…m-ah~ cock..”

A harmony of complete and utter smutty sounds left both of your mouths, mixing.

He chocked out a few silent whimpers before his thrusts slowed, his voice a lot more high-pitched and out of breath as he drew his cock out once more before thrusting it in.

He gasped once more before his tip releasing a stream of cum to fill the completely battered slit, his head flying back and his eyes rolling into his skull at the sensation.

That view alone caused your stomach to snap once more, your cum mixing with his as he rode through his own orgasm. The alleyway now finally quiet other than a few breaths.

He finally removed his cock, earning a hiss at the sudden emptiness and sudden pain of over-stimulation. Your body fell to the floor, every limb, limp and tired, your head falling forward as cum failed to keep itself in between your cunt and instead leaked out, coating your skin and the floor beneath you.

“Fuck.”

That was the first full word that had managed to fall from your vocal cords since entering the alleyway, and you weren’t completely mad about it either.

You raised the back of your hand, wiping the last drips that covered your lips and chin. Your breathing was heavy and almost uncontrollable as you tried your best to soothe the violent shaking in your thighs with the other hand.

A sudden sound of a ‘ZIP’ caused your head to turn and look at the tall figure who now had his pants pulled up, his zip done and his button secured.

He quickly pulled the mask down from his nose to his chin, giving you a quick glance in your position before crouching by your side.

“You tell anyone about this, your dead.” He spat through his teeth, your mind almost immediately missing the soft, whimpering side that was replaced by the more threatening side.

Your eyes dropped a little, sadness filling the corners. Ghost’s eyelids rose slightly at this, a smirk pulling at the sides of his lips as he scoffed.

“What? You really thought we were gonna be all lovey dovey?” He chuckled once more. But not one of pure happiness, but one of spite, “You tell anyone and I’ll tear your tongue out.”

He pulled his mask up slightly, pecking your cheek with a small kiss before checking himself once more and leaving.

Leaving you on the cold floor.

In a mess.

How charming.

[worseforwords]

Exposed (Ona Batlle x Reader)

Thanks to @footygirl114 for the title idea! Buckle up everyone, this is a long one.

“Heads up!” Ona’s voice called from behind you and you felt her leap onto your back a moment later. Today was a good day. United had just beaten City 2-0 in a home game and you had even managed to score one of the goals. Your girlfriend waved at the supporters as you strolled past the stands, but your gaze drifted towards an unusual figure sitting some way down the row. With black hair tipped in blue, striking make-up, dark and frayed clothes, and a plaited choker around her neck, she seemed out of place in a football crowd. You were intrigued, something about her felt familiar, though she was too far away to say exactly what it was. As you caught yourself staring at her for a little too long, you noticed she was staring right back at you, and as you drew closer, she gave you a wave. You suddenly recognised her, and your smile faded. She must’ve noticed your sudden revelation, as she sent you a quick wink. 

Your stomach dropped and panic set in as you considered what to do. Ona still sat on your back, basking in the glory of victory. You knew you had to go say hi to the girl who was now smiling broadly at you from the stands, but you wanted to do so discreetly, without any teammates, especially Ona, joining in on the conversation, or any cameras for that matter. You let Ona down on her feet, to which she send a quick pout your way, before turning her face back towards the fans to continue the walk around the field. Waiting until everyone was distracted, you hastened to the railing to greet the mysterious girl. 

“Hi” you said, quiet as a whisper. “Hey Y/N, long time no see.” she replied, leaning over the barrier to pull you in for a hug. You smiled uncomfortably, scanning your surroundings before reciprocating her hug. As she pulled away, she chuckled, “So, soccer, huh?” “We call it football here.” you answered, trying to match her laugh.

The conversation was short-lived as Ona wandered over, curious as to who you were speaking to. “Hey, who’s this?” she asked, her attention fully on you. “This is Nia, erm- an old friend.” you answered quickly, avoiding eye contact. “Nia, this is Ona.” Ona looked at you confused for a second, probably expecting some sort of label in your introduction, before she brushed it off and quickly shook Nia’s hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” “Likewise.”

The small interaction sent shivers down your spine. Until now, you had managed to keep your past safely hidden. You had traveled a lot when you were younger, which had allowed you to leave certain things behind, and it had never caught up to you until this moment. It hadn't been hard, as you just omitted certain parts of your youth, namely the two years you spent in LA as a teenager.

Nia broke the silence, turning to you. “So,” she said, “you do remember my name. I was afraid you’d forgotten about us for a second there, Picky.” You froze. Picky. You hadn’t heard that nickname in ages. You avoided Ona’s questioning expression as you tried to laugh it off. “Of course I remember you. It just took me a second, what with your hair and make-up.” you said, pointing at said attributes. “Fair enough,” Nia giggled, “I’ve probably changed my hair about 40 times since we last met. I’m not the only one who’s changed though.” she continued, eyeing your bright red Manchester United shirt. You laughed, “Yeah, I suppose I have.” “Do you still have the tattoo at least?” Nia asked, causing Ona to look up with surprise.

The tattoo. It was the one and only thing you had left from your previous life, a permanent mark etched onto your skin. You had planned to get it removed at some point, but the laser removal was quite expensive, and since the tattoo wasn’t often visible to others, you never bothered to actually get it done. When you started dating Ona however, you knew she was bound to notice it at some point. When she did, you had momentarily forgotten about it when she started pulling down your underwear (really who could blame you for your mind being elsewhere), and you were taken aback by her immediate questioning about the small violet on your hip with the words “can’t take back the bullet” scribbled underneath it. Luckily you were still quick on your feet and you made something up along the lines of it being a reminder to not let your emotions get the better of you and Ona let it slide after that because she too had other things on her mind.

“Yeah, I still have it.” you said with a shy smile, still avoiding Ona’s gaze. “Good, me too.” Nia said, making Ona turn to her sharply. “By the way, Picky,” she started, changing the subject, “you still owe Casey some money, remember?” This was the final straw for you.  Too much had already been said, and you needed to get away as fast as possible. You took advantage of a group of fans who called out your names to excuse yourself, pulling Ona with you towards them. After signing a few shirts and taking selfies, you hurried inside.

“What was that all about?” Ona asked as she caught up with you. “What was what about?” You stalled, trying to come up with an excuse for your strange behaviour. “Why are you being weird?” she asked directly. “I’m not, just tired from the game, that's all.” you said, unable to come up with anything better as you headed towards the changing room, avoiding eye contact, gaze straight ahead. “Shit,” you muttered as you sat down, “forgot my coat, be right back.” 

As you walked back onto the pitch, you couldn’t resist checking if Nia was still there. To your dismay, you saw her talking to Millie. “Mills!” you yelled, running towards them. “Come with me, now.” You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the conversation. “Woah, Y/N, calm down, what’s going on?” she asked, shocked by your sudden intervention. “It’s just that,” you paused to think as your eyes scanned the stands, quickly finding just what you needed. “I saw some little girls over there who want your autograph, and I think they’re about to leave without it,” you said, pointing towards a group of young girls holding up a sign with Millie’s name on it. “Oh, thanks. Maybe next time, don’t be so intense about it?” she chuckled. “Noted.” you said, walking with her towards the excited children. “So, erm, what were you talking about with that girl?” you asked carefully. “Nothing really. I just told her I liked her style, and then you pulled me away. Why?” You scanned her face, trying to see if she was telling the truth. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smirk in the corner of her mouth, but you decided not to dwell on it as it would only arouse suspicion. “Nothing, never mind.”

Ella’s voice resounded through the changing room like a joyful bell. “Woooo, party at mine ladies!” she exclaimed. As she settled beside you, she turned to address you. “You coming, Y/N?” she asked, a friendly grin etched onto her features. “Sure, but I have to pop home for a quick shower, forgot my towel,” you replied, hastily pulling on your joggers and coat. Ona began to offer her towel, but before she could finish her sentence, you had already bolted out of the door. 

As you plopped down on your bed, trying to recover from the events of the day, your mind raced with thoughts and questions. You tried to make up reasons for your strange behaviour earlier, but nothing seemed to make sense. You knew that no one could know about what happened. It would change how they see you, and you couldn’t bear that. Those two years in LA were supposed to stay in LA, and thus far, no one had a single clue about it. Nia suddenly showing up made you terrified that someone would find out, so when she messaged you asking if you wanted to hang out, you ignored her. You couldn’t risk anyone finding out your secret.

You went to the party, hoping to take your mind off things. However, things only got worse. Ona made quick work of pulling you aside to interrogate you about earlier, asking a series of questions that made your heart race. “Can we talk?” she said. “Who is she? Why did she call you Picky? Why do you have matching tattoos? Why were you acting so weird? And who is Casey, and why do you owe them money?” 

You knew that you couldn’t tell her the truth, so you made up some stuff on the spot, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy her curiosity. You told her that Nia was just an old friend from LA that you hadn’t seen in years. You added that she was always a bit of a weirdo and that you weren’t that close. You explained that the matching tattoos were just a silly thing that you and Nia did when you were young and naive and the money thing was just some inside joke. You hoped that Ona would buy your story, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still suspicious.

When Ona finally left you be, you quickly checked your phone, which had been buzzing in your pocket a lot. You’d received a series of messages from Nia, the last one of which being: 

“We need to talk. Where are you??”

As you felt increasingly anxious about Nia’s persistent messages, you decided to leave the party early to meet up with her. You quickly came up with an excuse to your teammates, telling them that you suddenly felt unwell and needed to go home to rest, and you texted Nia your address.

Shortly after arriving home, a knock resounded from your door. Hastily, you answered it and welcomed Nia into your apartment. “You’ve got a lovely place here, very grown-up, Picky,” she remarked as she stepped inside. “Please don’t call me that.” you muttered in response as you finally snapped. “Why not?” Nia asked, looking with a confused expression. Mentally debating how to deliver your message, you began, “I’m not the same person anymore.” “Obviously.” She mumbled. “When I got my chance to make it in the football world, I left my old life in LA behind. The person you knew back then is gone, I am no longer her.” you explained. “I don't believe that,” Nia responded, “you can't simply leave and become a completely different person.” “Well, I did,” you answered coldly, “and I’d like to keep it that way. So, please, don’t talk to my teammates again.” Nia remained silent for a moment as her eyes widened.

“They don’t know about us, do they?” she asked, her voice growing louder. “No, they don’t.” You replied quietly. “Woah, are you ashamed of us?” Nia practically yelled. “Of course I am!” you answered a bit too quickly before immediately regretting it. “Sorry, I mean- I didn’t mean it like that, I-” you stumbled over your words, but Nia continued to stare at you with disbelief. “Alright, got it.” she said as she turned back towards the front door. “No, Nia, please, I’m sorry, I-” “Good luck with your new life, I guess, Y/N,” she said, purposefully emphasising your name, walking away before you could finish your apology. Despite feeling guilty, you didn’t make an effort to chase after her. You convinced yourself it was better this way.

“What was that all about?” a voice called from beside you, making you jump. “Ona, hey, what are you doing here?” you asked. “You left the party so suddenly, and I came to check on you,” she explained, “but I suppose you had company.” “How long have you been standing there?” you inquired, curious about what she may have overheard. “Not long, why? Are you afraid I heard something?” Ona asked suspiciously. “No, I just- it’s chilly out here. You should come inside.” you said, holding the door open as she walked inside.

As Ona stepped into your home, she immediately turned to you with a look of frustration etched on her face. “Y/N, what happened with Nia?” she demanded, her voice tinged with anger. “You’ve been so secretive lately, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve been lying to me.” Despite her annoyance, there was a note of confusion in her tone, as if she couldn’t quite understand why you were behaving this way. Once again, you brushed off Ona's concerns, insisting that there was nothing to worry about and that Nia had just wanted to chat. However, Ona was insistent and demanded to know why she had seemed so upset when leaving your apartment. 

You found it hard to articulate your thoughts, feeling caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. “Please, Ona, can you just trust me on this. Please just let it go.” you pleaded, hoping to avoid any further conflict. Eventually, she relented and let the issue slide, but an air of concern still hung around her. The two of you went to bed in a tense silence, the events of the day lingering in your thoughts.

Two days later, as you were getting ready for training in the changing room, Millie approached you. “Hey, do you know that cute girl with the dyed hair from Sunday?” she asked. “You mean Nia?” you clarified. “Yeah, that’s the one! Ona told me you knew her. Can I get her number? I want to ask her out.” Millie explained. You hesitated before responding. “Sorry, Millie. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Nia’s bad news.” Millie looked confused. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?” “I can’t really explain, but trust me, she’s not someone you want to get involved with.” you insisted. Millie looked rather disappointed. “Okay, I guess. Do you have her number though?” “No, I don’t.” you replied, putting an end to the conversation as you quickly finished up getting ready.

As you entered the changing room after training, you noticed Millie with a smile on her face, gazing at her phone. Ella also spotted her and inquired her about it. “Who’s got you grinning like that, Mills?” “No-one.” Millie quickly replied, and attempted to hide her phone. However, Ella had already caught sight of it and snatched it from her hand. “Who’s Nia?” Ella asked, looking at the screen. You felt a pang in your stomach as you worried about what she could find out. “Millie, what did I tell you?” you asked, annoyed that she had contacted Nia despite your warning. “How did you even contact her?” “I slid into her DMs. Y/N, did you know sh-” Millie began to say, but you cut her off, worried she might reveal too much information. Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her out of the room to talk in private.

You pulled Millie into an empty room as she struggled to free her wrist and kept asking what was going on. “Y/N, what's the big deal? Why can’t I talk to her?” she asked. “Millie, I need you to stop contacting Nia. She’s bad news, and I don’t want you getting involved.” you explained firmly. “But Y/N, she seems so cool.” Millie protested. “Please, Mills, just trust me on this.” you pleaded. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly agreed. “Okay, I guess.” she said with a sigh.

You returned to the changing room and took a seat next to Ona. “I suppose that was nothing too?” She remarked sarcastically. You simply sighed in response, feeling unsure of what to say. You gathered your belongings and shot a final stern look at Millie before making your way out and heading home.

During training the next day, you warmed up with Millie, passing the ball back and forth, when suddenly you heard her hum a familiar tune. The sound of her humming that melody made your heart race faster. “What’s that you’re humming Mills?” You tried to stay calm as you asked Millie about the song whilst continuing to pass the ball to each other. However, your clenched jaw gave away your anxiety. Millie stopped humming and looked at you, seeming caught off-guard. “Oops." she said, looking down at the grass. You repeated the question, trying to sound composed, even though your anger was simmering inside you. She looked up with a slight smirk on her face. “It's a nice tune, innit?” You cursed under your breath. “Fuck.” 

You gave millie a pleading look as you took the ball in your hands and walked over to her so you could whisper. “Mills, please, I don’t know what you know, but please don’t tell anyone, I beg you.” you said quietly. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?” she asked innocently, but you didn’t buy it. Before you could answer however, Marc called for all of you to gather together to start the first exercise. You desperately tried to compose yourself as the team gathered, your mind racing with thoughts of what Millie might know. Throughout training, you couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia that someone might find out your secret. Every time Millie came near you, you were on edge, wondering if she was going to reveal what she knew.

That evening you were sitting on the couch in your living room, lazily flipping through the channels on TV when the doorbell rang. You weren’t expecting anyone, but when you got to the door and opened it, you found a package sitting on your doorstep with no return address. Your curiosity piqued as you eagerly brought it inside and began to open it up. As you lifted the lid, you found an old, tattered photograph of yourself with a group of people, all dressed in black. You couldn't believe your eyes as you stared at the photo, realising that it was taken during the time you lived in LA.

You started to feel a sense of unease as you examined the photo more closely, trying to remember the people in the picture. You could recognise a few faces, but most of them were unfamiliar to you. You began to wonder if this was somehow related to Nia, who had recently reappeared in your life. You had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to let go of your earlier outburst, which made her getting closer with Millie even scarier.

As you sat on the couch, staring at the old photo, the sound of the door opening made you jump. Ona walked in, surprised to see you home so early from training. You quickly tried to hide the package, but fumbled with it and ended up dropping it on the floor. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough and she caught sight of the old photo. “Who are these people? And why are you all dressed like that?” Ona asked, pointing to the group of figures in black, their clothes torn and frayed. You tried to play it off, “Oh, that's just me and some old friends in our Halloween costumes. We used to go all out, you know?” Ona laughed at the idea, but then noticed the date on the back of the photo. “But it says April on here, that’s not Halloween.” she pointed out, looking at you suspiciously.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to come up with another excuse. “Oh, right, that must have been some other dress-up party we went to. I can’t really remember.” you said, hoping she would buy it. Ona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You could feel the weight of the secret bearing down on you more and more with each thing that happened.

That night, as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, the fear and anxiety that had been brewing within you all day finally caught up. Your mind raced as you tossed and turned, and soon the nightmares began. In one particularly vivid dream, you found yourself playing in a huge match, the stadium packed to the rafters with cheering fans. You were playing well, confident and in control, until suddenly the crowd began to chant a name - a name that you hadn’t heard in years, a name that made your blood run cold. “Picky, Picky, Picky,” they chanted, and you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

As the chanting grew louder and more insistent, you tried to block it out, to focus on the game, but it was no use. You were Picky, the name you’d tried so hard to leave behind, the name that had haunted you for years. And now, in this nightmare, it was back, threatening to undo everything you’d worked so hard for. 

You jolted awake, your heart racing and your body slick with sweat. For a moment, you lay there in the dark, trying to steady your breathing and make sense of what had just happened. “Are you okay?” Ona asked, clearly awakened by your midnight antics. “Yeah, just had a nightmare. Go back to sleep Ona.”

The next morning, as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, you noticed Millie’s recent close friends story. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you saw a picture of her and Nia together, smiling at the camera. You knew that if Millie didn’t know your secret before, she definitely did now. You frantically searched for any clues in the photo, trying to see if there was anything that could give away your past. The fear of losing everything you had worked for began to consume you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that your world was about to come crashing down.

You quickly called Millie, hoping to get some answers about the previous night. When she answered, you could hear the sound of a bustling coffee shop in the background. Millie sounded chipper, but her cheeriness quickly evaporated when you brought up Nia. You explained that you had seen her in the Instagram story and asked what happened. Millie hesitated before finally admitting that she had met up with Nia last night. As you listened to Millie defend Nia, insisting that she wasn't a bad person, you felt your frustration growing. It was clear that Millie was taking Nia’s side, and you couldn't believe it. How could she not see what Nia was trying to do? You tried to explain your side of the story, but Millie wasn’t hearing it. “Well how would you feel if someone called you an embarrassment, Y/N?”

You felt your stomach twist with guilt as Millie’s words hung in the air. She was right, you shouldn’t have said those things to Nia. You knew that now. “I’m sorry, Millie,” you said quietly, feeling ashamed. Millie took note of your silence and sighed. “Look, let’s meet up and talk about it, okay? You don’t have to apologise to me, but you should probably make it right with Nia,” she said, her voice softening. You agreed to meet up, feeling grateful for Millie’s kindness and for the opportunity to set things right. As you hung up the phone, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. How were you going to face Nia and explain yourself?

That night, you met up with Nia and Millie at a bar to try and make amends. You felt nervous as you sat down with them, but you knew you needed to do this. You told her you were sorry for hurting her and acting the way you did. She seemed to take it well at first, but then she asked, “So have you told anyone about us?” “No, Nia, I haven’t.” You said quietly, which seemed to frustrate her. “Well, well, well, there it is. So nothing has changed, you are still just as embarrassed. Is your apology supposed to mean anything to me?” 

Luckily, Millie stepped in and suggested some drinks to lighten the mood. You all took some shots and Millie brought up some lighter subjects as the alcohol was starting to kick in. Before you knew it, you were singing karaoke with Nia, belting out some tunes you hadn’t heard in years. It felt liberating and for a moment, you forgot about the tension between the two of you. The music brought back so many memories, making you realise your embarrassment had overshadowed all the good memories from your time in LA. You wrapped an arm around Nia as you yelled, “I really am sorry Nia, I will make it up to you, promise.”

The next morning you woke up with a raging hangover, but a small smile grew on your face as you recalled the events of last night. You strolled towards the living room to be met with Ona, who had clearly been waiting for you. “Where were you last night?” She asked coldly. “I was out,” you said, “do you know where the paracetamol is?” “Out? Where? Who with?” Ona quickly followed up, voice stil frigid. “Millie, and also Nia.” You mumbled. “Mia? I thought you weren't that close with her.” 

You stumbled towards the kitchen, wincing at the pounding in your head. “Nia, not Mia. And it was just a night out with Millie, nothing more.” you say, searching through the medicine cabinet for paracetamol. Ona followed you, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Y/N, you’ve been acting strange lately. Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion. You swallowed the pills with a glass of water and turned to face her. “No, everything’s fine. I just needed a night out with friends.” Ona gave you a long, hard look, once again clearly not convinced.

“I can’t keep pretending I believe these lies you tell me. I think I might need some space, Y/N.” You felt a pit in your stomach. You knew she was right. Your recent behaviour had been mysterious, and you hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. You took a deep breath and tried to explain, “You’re right, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I promise I’ll tell you everything soon, I just need some time to figure things out, okay?” Ona looked at you, her eyes softening slightly. “You can’t keep pushing me away like this, Y/N. I need to know what’s going on.” You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “I know, and I will tell you, but I need a little more time to figure out how to say it.” Ona nodded, and you felt the weight of your recent actions settling in.

The inevitability of revealing the secret had finally caught up with you. You had kept it buried deep within yourself for far too long. As you recovered from your hangover, a plan began to form in your mind. You reached out to Millie, knowing that she likely knew everything at this point, and asked for her help in bringing the truth to light. 

The next day, with the help of Millie and some staff members, you gathered the whole team in a conference room before training. Everyone sat down and as you stood in front of them, a big screen behind you, they all sent you confused glares, especially Ona, whom you told very little about your plan for this morning. Millie hushed everyone, and your nerves began to take hold. “Greetings, everyone,” you began, “for a long time I have kept my past a secret to all of you, but today that changes. What you’re about to witness might be shocking at first, but rest assured, that stuff is in the past, I am no longer involved in such practices, and I am not the person I was back then.” 

You took a deep breath as you moved away from the screen, giving Millie a small nod, who then hit play. You sat down on the front row, not wanting to face any of your teammates reactions. A video started playing, showing a bunch of alternative looking teenagers in a car. “We are on our way to Vegaaas.” One of them said. You cringed as you waited for the realisation to dawn behind you. “OH MY GOD,” Ella shouted suddenly, “Y/N, is that you with the pink hair?” You buried your face in your hands as a song began playing in the background.

You kept your face hidden in your hands as the video kept playing, showing you during the most embarrassing period of your life, singing and dancing with the members of the poppunk band you used to be a part of. The laughter and screaming of your teammates rang loud in your ears as you endured the three-minute video, each embarrassing detail pointed out feeling like an eternity. When the last chorus ended, which everyone had sang along too, Millie yanked you by the wrist, pulling you out of hiding and into the spotlight. Your heart pounded as you stood before the team, their eyes fixed on you, most of them still recovering from the laughter. “It’s time for some questions.” Millie declared, a sly grin spreading across her face.

“Alright, go on then, ask away.” You said, knowing an intense interrogation would be inevitable at this point, to which several hands shot up immediately. “You, pink shirt.” Millie said, pointing at Ella, pretending to be hosting a press conference. “Oh my god, where to start,” Ella began, “just- what was that?” You sighed. “When I was a teenager I lived in LA for two years. During that time I joined a band, this was them.” you answered. “What instrument did you play?” Alessia inquired. “Bass, next!” “Were you famous?” Leah asked, to which you chuckled. “We had one minor hit, but not really. They did have somewhat of a breakthrough after I left though.” Some people audibly gasped at that. 

“Do you still talk to them?” Maya asked. “Not really. When I left I kind of dove into my football career, never looking back. Although recently I have been getting in touch with one of them again.” You answered. “Do you have any regrets?” Millie, momentarily losing her role as moderator, caught you off guard with her question. You pondered the question for a while before stating, “No. I don’t.” A small smile growing on your face.

As the interrogation about your past came to an end, the staff interrupted, signalling that it was time for training. The teasing followed you into the changing room where your teammates continued to poke fun at your previous life, singing the song and scouring the internet for embarrassing photos. Despite their laughter, you couldn’t help but notice the quietness of your girlfriend. She remained silent throughout the morning, refusing to participate in the banter, and you knew something was wrong. Trying to be discreet, you quietly approached her as you laced up your shoes, “Ona, can we talk after training?” She nodded, but the unease lingered in the air. Training couldn't end soon enough, as the jokes persisted, and Ona seemed to avoid you at all costs.

When training was finally over, you and Ona hastily left to your apartment. As you sat with Ona on the couch, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about the way you had been acting lately. You knew why she had been quiet all day. You had hurt her by making her think that the secret from your past was something far more sinister than it actually was.

“I’m sorry, Ona,” you began, turning towards her. “I should have told you about the band from the start, instead of acting all suspicious and making you think it was something terrible. I know I hurt you and I feel terrible about it.” Ona remained quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on her lap. Finally, she looked up at you and spoke in a soft voice. “I was just scared, you know? I thought you had done something really bad, something that would change the way I saw you. But now that I know the truth, I just feel silly.”

You took her hand in yours and squeezed it gently. “You have nothing to feel silly about, Ona. I understand why you were scared, and I should have been more open with you from the start. I promise to be more honest with you in the future.” you said genuinely. “You made me think you were secretly married, or something, or a murderer!” she chuckled, playfully smacking your leg with her hand. “Wait, you really thought that?” you gasped. “Well not really, but I just got confused and my mind went places!” she said, looking a bit embarrassed at her confession. “I’m really sorry Ona.” you said once more.

“So bass, huh?”, Ona said, changing the subject. “Can you still play?” “I do still have my old bass hidden away in the back of my closet, but I haven’t practiced in a long time. Though I guess playing an instrument should be like riding a bike right?”

It wasn’t. You opened the old hardcase to reveal your beige fender precision bass, covered in old stickers you had picked up whilst touring and attending concerts back in the US. “Wow, you were such a loser.” Ona teased. “See, this is why I didn’t want anyone to know!” you replied, sending her a pout. “I’m kidding, I love it. Now play something for me!”

After tuning your bass for what felt like minutes (it was so out of tune you were afraid a string might snap), you tested your muscle memory by attempting to play one of your old songs. You cringed at the sound of the first few notes and quickly stopped playing. Your fingers fumbled over the frets, struggling to find the right notes. The song that used to come so naturally to you now felt like a foreign language. It was like trying to reconnect with a version of yourself that no longer existed. 

“Hey, keep going!” Ona encouraged as she noticed your defeat. “What, you didn’t think that was terrible?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow. She laughed, “Oh, your playing was definitely terrible, but the bass looks good on you.” she said, sending you a wink.

With Ona's encouragement, you kept playing for a bit longer, trying to remember the bass lines. Gradually, it started to come back to you, and the song began to sound more familiar. Ona watched you intently, her smile growing wider as you got better. “You know, I like getting to know about your past,” she said, still smiling at you. “Even if it's embarrassing to you.”

You felt a little pang of guilt wash over you again, but you were grateful for Ona's understanding. You decided to take the opportunity to show her more about your past, and pulled out some old photos from your teenage years. As you scrolled through them together, you told her about your experiences touring with the band, the crazy things you did on the road, and the friends you made along the way. Ona listened attentively, asking questions and laughing at your stories. It felt good to finally share this part of yourself with someone, and you were glad it was with her.

“So this Nia girl, are you guys good? Things seemed so intense with you two.” Ona inquired. “Yeah, I may have hurt her in my embarrassment.” You answered, looking down at your feet. “I know just what to do to make things right.” Ona said as she shot up to grab her phone.

That evening, you sat in a bar, taking a sip of your beer whilst nervously wiggling your feet. You couldn’t believe you had agreed to this, but your girlfriend had convinced you it was the right thing to do. “You didn’t tell me the whole team was coming.” you said, frowning at Ona. She grinned back at you. “Don’t be nervous, querida. You’ve played to bigger crowds before.” You couldn’t help but feel like this was some sort of payback for your recent behaviour, which you definitely deserved. “They’re here!” Ona exclaimed, making you turn around to find Millie and Nia walking into the bar, Nia’s eyes widening when she saw you. 

You made your way to the small podium opposite the bar. You grabbed a microphone and signalled to the sound guy that you were ready. “Hello everyone,” you said into the microphone, taking a deep breath. “Could I have your attention please?” You grabbed your bass from behind the curtain, causing several gasps from your teammates and, of course, Nia. “I have an apology to make to an old friend of mine who’s here tonight. Nia, I'm truly sorry for the way I acted. If you can forgive me, please join in with me.”

As you began to play the bass line from one of your old songs, you could feel the weight of everyone’s attention on you. You were nervous at first, but as you played, you started to feel more confident. After a few bars, Nia hesitantly joined in, her voice blending perfectly with your playing. You shared a smile, both of you finally letting go of the tension that had been building between you. As the song progressed, you could see the your teammates tapping their feet and nodding their heads along to the beat. By the end of the song, the whole bar was cheering and clapping, and you felt a sense of pride and relief wash over you.

As the song came to an end, the bar erupted into applause. You looked out into the crowd and saw your friends, including Ona, with wide grins on their faces. But it was Nia who surprised you the most. She walked up to you and hugged you tightly, whispering in your ear, “I forgive you, Y/N.” “It’s Picky.” You smiled.

As you walked Nia towards the bar to order her a drink, you casually asked, “By the way, that photo was yours, wasn’t it?” Her face broke into a sly smile. “Photo? I have no idea what you are talking about.” she retorted. You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her denial. “Really? So it was just some random stranger leaving that package on my doorstep?” you inquired, your tone laced with sarcasm. Nia’s grin widened. “I guess so. Perhaps they got a little mad after being called an embarrassment and were hoping to remind you of some positive memories.” she suggested. You playfully nudged her elbow. “Some insightful stranger they were.”

After your performance, the evening blossomed into an unforgettable night out with your team. The occasional teasing towards your past, fuelled by Nia’s humorous anecdotes, only added to the lively atmosphere. Everyone hit it off with Nia, and you were relieved that she decided to forgive you. The night was filled with music, and your teammates kept requesting your old songs to the DJ, who was gradually becoming visibly annoyed. It was heartwarming to witness everyone having such a great time, and it felt freeing to let your hair down and revel in the moment with your friends. As the night came to an end, you walked out of the bar with your arm around Ona, feeling grateful for the amazing people in your life.

[babyblue711]

Redemption

Will (Salad Days) x Reader - Part 4 Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Summary: You and Will take a weekend getaway to Manchester and enjoy some time away from home. You reconnect once more, deepening your bond after the hardships you've been through together. Words: 6.0K

Warnings: NSFW, smut, language, sexual content (18+), anal fingering, alcohol, brief mention of divorce A/N: Alas, the final chapter. When I set out to write this fic, I only intended it as a one-shot and never expected it to turn into 4 chapters! After the trauma that I've made you all endure for the last 3 parts, enjoy something a little more light-hearted. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU ALL for loving this fic as much as I do. I sincerely appreciate it so much. My beta's are incredible: @megatardisbaby and @arcielee. And thank you to @assortedseaglass for letting me pick your brain and for encouraging me to tell this story from day one. Dividers by @firefly-graphic

The lighting in your hotel bathroom casts a warm glow as you focus on your reflection in the mirror, pleased with the way your hair cascades into perfect curls, framing your face elegantly. You'd spent a bit of extra time getting ready for tonight and the effort showed. As you apply the final touches of mascara, the door creaks open and Will peeks in, checking to see if you are close to being ready yet.

A soft smile plays on your lips as you see him standing there. You can’t help but appreciate how handsome he looks in his dark green button up shirt with long sleeves and black trousers; his tousled hair added a hint of casual charm to his otherwise polished appearance. It was the last night of your short weekend getaway to Manchester and you were splurging by going to a nice restaurant; you made sure he packed the proper clothes so he could dress the part. 

He leans against the doorframe and admires you in the mirror, eyes drinking in your appearance. 

“Like what you see?” you tease playfully. As you look at him in the mirror, you swear his blue eyes turn a shade or two darker, lust pooling in his pupils. 

“I definitely do,” his voice is a little huskier than usual as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to place a kiss on your neck, sending a delightful shiver up your spine. 

You move your head to the side to allow him better access to your neck; you’re still wearing your towel from your shower since you prefer to do your hair and makeup first and get dressed last. He trails kisses down your neck and along your shoulder as he reaches for your towel, opening it and finding nothing on underneath. 

“Is this how you’re going to dinner? Naked wrapped in a towel?” he asks cheekily, his lips still on your neck as his hands start to slide over your hips and up your sides. 

Your breath catches in your chest as the heat from his hands running across your ribs seems to radiate right to your core and you make an effort to remember your dinner reservations; you need to focus on getting ready so you wouldn’t be late. But his touch is addictive, the best drug you’ve ever had. 

He knows exactly what he’s doing to you too as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and reaches for your slit, his chin now resting on your shoulder; you both watch in the mirror as he runs his fingers through your wet folds, slowly, sensually. Your heavily lidded eyes flick up to meet his gaze as you let out a soft moan. 

“How ‘bout a quickie before dinner?” he murmurs in your ear, playing with your bud as his other hand removes your towel completely and starts to caress your breasts.

Your head falls back on his shoulder as you watch him touch you and you sigh softly. “Yes, but we gotta make it fast.”

“Can do,” he says before spinning you around and lifting you easily onto the bathroom counter. You worry briefly about his clothes since he’s already dressed for dinner and you don’t want to ruin them as he pulls his thick cock out, which is already standing proudly, veins popping, head weeping. He pulls his pants to his thighs and you lift his shirt to keep it out of the way. 

You sit at the edge and spread your legs for him, leaning back towards your elbows, the marble of the countertop cold on your ass. It’s not the most comfortable position, but it’ll have to do as Will takes the head of his cock and lines it up with your entrance, sheathing it inside of you in one fluid thrust. 

You both groan in unison; you as his thick cock stretches your wet, velvet walls, almost to the point of pain, and Will, as your tight, warm pussy squeezes around him, enveloping him completely. He stills for a moment and his lips move to your breasts, alternating between each nipple as he takes them into his mouth and sucks lightly, while his other hand slides down to play with your pearl. You run your fingers through his hair as his tongue tantalizes your nipples. 

He bites down and sucks gently on the skin of your breast causing you to arch further into his face. Your head falls back and hits the mirror; a dull gong sound filling the small bathroom space and you press your lips together to keep from chuckling. Will seems oblivious as he starts to rock his hips into you and sets a steady pace. From your propped-up position on the counter, you can see his long, thick cock gliding in and out of you, glistening with your juices. Fascinated, you sit up a little more to get a better view.

“Like what you see?” Will echoes your earlier question gruffly as he notices you watching.

“Hmm,” you half purr, half moan in response and decide to give him a little squeeze with your pussy, purposefully clenching your walls around his cock as hard as you can; his thrusts stutter a bit as his eyes flick up to yours and you smirk at him.  

“Fuckin’ hell woman,” he growls, voice deep and low and picks up his pace, snapping his hips into yours, the sound of skin slapping together and squelching noises from your wet core fill the bathroom. 

You mewl and lean back again, the pleasure building deep from within as Will continues his brutal pace, his thumb moving to circle your pearl furiously. You close your eyes and get lost in the sensation of him moving deep inside of you, filling you up, his cock grinding consistently against your g-spot with every thrust; you concentrate to bring your pleasure forth, knowing you have limited time to reach your peak. Your breathing starts to pick up as your orgasm approaches; Will hears the difference in your breath and begins encouraging you, knowing that you’re close. 

“You have the most beautiful little cunt I’ve ever seen,” he growls through gritted teeth as he feels your walls start to pulse around him, “Taking me so well. C’mon, Y/N, cum for me,” he grunts as he pistons his hips into yours.

His relentless thrusts tip you over the edge and you cry aloud with his name on your lips as pleasure rips through your core; your legs tremble from the force of your orgasm and your arms shake from holding yourself in this position. A visible ripple moves in the muscles of your lower belly as your pussy clenches around his cock; Will watches in fascination how your body shakes and quivers under him as you come undone. 

He continues to pound into you, extending your pleasure with every deep thrust against your sensitive walls. When you finally stop shaking and lay limp, he pulls out and paints your belly with his spend.

You both are breathing heavily as he gets the wet washcloth from the shower to clean you up. You watch him wipe you clean as you try to catch your breath, admiring the way he always takes care of you afterwards. Focused on his task, he doesn’t seem to notice your gaze. Once you’re clean, he leans down and kisses your clit, the gesture making you jump as little as his lips brush against your sensitive core.

He then leans up to give you a light kiss on the lips. “I love it when you scream my name,” he mumbles against your mouth and you can’t help but smile into his kiss. 

“How much time do we have left, Will?” you ask as he picks you up off the counter and sets you back on the floor. 

He checks his watch. “About 10 minutes,” he says with a grin, knowing you need at least double that to finish getting ready.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath as you hurry out of the bathroom to get dressed, leaving Will to tuck himself back into his pants and straighten his own clothes.

You sit across from Will at dinner, feeling pride that you managed to make your reservation on time and reminisce about your trip together. The soft candlelight casts a warm glow around you, creating an intimate setting for your meal; it was certainly the nicest restaurant you had been to in some time. 

Will seems a little out of his element, but he seems to be taking it in stride. You smile a little to yourself as you watch him as he looks over the menu, knowing he’d prefer a simple meal of fish and chips or a hamburger compared to anything written there. You sigh in contentment; you were right to think that a trip would have done you both good. Getting away from home and work was refreshing, a break that was long overdue for you both. 

Although touristy, you both had enjoyed taking a boat trip along the city’s historic canals and exploring the Northern Quarter, known for its architecture, street art, unique boutiques and quirky cafes. You loved being able to explore the city together with Will and you were pleased that the two of you traveled well together; he was the relaxed, easy-going one, ready to do anything on a whim, whereas you were the one with the checklist to make sure you saw all the things that you wanted to see and ensuring you had the proper reservations and arrival time…unless sex took precedence, of course. 

You order with the waiter and sip your glass of wine while you and Will discuss memories from the last few days. He looks so handsome in the low light and you were thankful you managed not to ruin his button down shirt since he had only brought one with him, the glint of his silver necklace is just visible around his collar. His hair is a little ruffled from when you ran your fingers through it during your quickie, but the look suits him well. You reach under the table and rub your high heeled foot up and down his leg; his eyes immediately snap to yours and you smirk as you take another sip of wine, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re insatiable,” he growls lowly so the other diners can’t hear, his eyes dancing in amusement. 

“Oh…you have no idea,” you promise seductively and raise your foot to brush his inner thigh, thankful that the floor length white tablecloth hid what you were doing to him under the table. He shifts a little in his seat as your foot brushes along the sensitive part of his thigh and he grabs hold of your ankle to stop your movements further, giving you a “behave or else” type of look, his eyes glinting with amused malice. You grin in satisfaction at your small victory and remove your foot from his thigh.

Perhaps it was the distance from all the pain and trauma that came from being home in Nottingham, but you and Will had gotten back on track with your sex life during your trip, acting like ravenous, horny teenagers from the amount of times you had coupled in the last few days. You were well satisfied but, with him, it would never be enough.

After dinner, you walk hand in hand back towards the hotel. As you pass by, the vibrance of Canal St. catches your attention and you can’t help but pull Will along behind you, wanting to explore. The pedestrian street is crowded as you stroll by sophisticated cocktail lounges and lively dance clubs pulsating with music. The atmosphere thrums with energy and excitement and you can’t help but feel caught up in it all, helped along with the bottle of wine you and Will had consumed at dinner. Although neither of you were really “nightlife” or “club-going” people anymore, you spot a cute and cozy pub as you make your way toward Richmond St and you convince Will to stop in for one last drink before heading back into the hotel for the night.

Stepping into the bar, you find yourself instantly captivated by its charm. The soft, warm glow of dim lighting casts a welcoming ambiance over the wooden interior, giving it an inviting and intimate feel. The clinking of glasses and lively conversations of the other patrons create a soft hum in the background. You and Will approach the bar and order a drink and you notice a live band is setting up, getting ready to play for the evening. Once you have your drinks in hand, you find a comfy corner to snuggle into where you can observe the band and people-watch easily.

Sipping your drinks, you both enjoy the live band as you watch couples engage in animated conversations and groups of friends laughing and toasting. Not long after your arrival, a commotion comes through the door, slightly disrupting the relaxed atmosphere of the bar. 

A loud and excitable hen-do party bustles into the cozy pub and makes their way to the bar. The bride is dressed in white while her bridesmaids were all in pink dresses with sashes, marking them as part of the bridal party. They obviously had come from nearby Canal St. which is normally the more popular area for hen-dos. They must have been bar-hopping for some time before stopping into this particular pub, as the volume of their voices, stumbling feet, and constant laughter was an obvious giveaway that they were all quite drunk.

Once they’ve been served, they choose to sit down not far from you and Will, but they seem a little more reserved once they’ve been sat with their drinks, talking cheerily amongst themselves. After the next song, you get up to use the restroom, passing by the group of girls on your way. 

When you head back to your seat, you notice the table where the girls were sitting is empty except for the bride and one other bridesmaid, and, as you look over in your corner that you had shared with Will, you don’t see him there either. Concerned, your eyes scan the room and quickly find him standing at the bar, surrounded by three of the bridesmaids from the group. 

You figure he must have just gotten up to get you both another drink, but you hesitate for a moment, watching him surrounded by these girls. Drunk and rowdy, they have long since stopped worrying about other people’s personal space as one of them is quite literally hanging off his left arm, looking up at him with big doe-eyes, another is standing directly behind him, almost as if she’s trying to box him in, and a third is on his right side, pressing her back up against the tall bar and arching her voluptuous tits right into his face. 

You’re momentarily stunned to see these girls hanging all over your man. Ordinarily, you weren’t the jealous type, but in this moment, you couldn’t help but think, What the fuck? Why wasn’t Will telling them to get off him?

You continue to watch him, debating whether you need to step in or not, as you see him smile and speak to the girl hanging on his arm as she swings her long, chocolate brown hair over her shoulder, and your heartbeat picks up a little. His body language is a little stiff at their proximity, but he certainly isn’t telling them to move.

You decide to go back to your corner and watch him from afar as you resume your seat and cross your arms, glaring in his direction. They are all talking to him animatedly and you see his head nodding and moving, indicating he is interacting back. Suddenly, the girl with the big tits reaches for his collar, pulling his silver necklace from underneath his shirt and holding it in her palm. Your eyes widen as you gape at her audacity of the intimate gesture, and you almost get up to give her a piece of your mind. Before you can move, Will pulls away from her, gently taking his pendant from her grasp and putting it back in his shirt as he shakes his head a little, just as the bartender sets two drinks down in front of him. 

The girl on the left seems to notice the two drinks and you see her lips move as she asks him something and he nods back in your direction, briefly making eye contact with you. You see all three girls turn to look at you and you return their look with an icy glare of your own. Their faces fall noticeably as Will finally manages to shrug them off and heads back to your corner with the drinks.

He seems oblivious to the tension rolling off of you in waves as he sets your drink down in front of you. A small smile plays on his lips and he seems lost in thought, pleased about something. He takes his seat and glances up at you, finally taking in your expression and the stiff way you have your arms folded across your chest. 

“Enjoying the attention?” you say in a dangerous tone, eyes full of fire; although you do secretly acknowledge that the alcohol you had consumed that night might be fueling your ire a little more than usual, given the situation. 

“Wha’?” he seems confused and instantly you feel a prick of annoyance at having to explain the obvious. 

You lean in close so he can hear you over the boom of the band as they start up another song. “Those girls were practically hanging off of you,” you yell into his ear. “And you let them…and what’s up with that one with the big tits grabbing your necklace?!” you say all annoyed, glaring at him reproachfully.

“One had big tits?” Will asks genuinely, looking at you with clueless big eyes. You give him a stern look, how could he not have noticed? 

“They’re just drunk and having fun. It didn’t mean anything...I didn’t want to be rude,” he shrugs like nothing happened.

“Oh really? What did they say to you?” you ask because you’re nosy and you want to know more. 

He shifts in his seat, a tad uncomfortable now. “Well…they didn’t know I was with you obviously, but they came up to me and weren’t shy about wanting me to go back to their place for the night,” he refuses to meet your gaze for a moment as he sips his drink. 

You glare daggers at him and he finally looks over at you and smirks, his demeanor smug. He leans back over to shout into your ear over the sound of the music.

“C’mon, love, you’re better than this. Don’t be jealous over a bunch of drunk girls,” he says into your ear, his hand coming up to cup your face sweetly, “If anything, they are jealous of you, since you’re the one I’ll be fucking later tonight.” 

Although still slightly perturbed at their boldness, you feel your icy glare melt under his warm gaze as you absorb his words. You relent, smirking a little as you look back over to their table. They’ve moved on to another group of guys at the bar who seem way more eager to have their attention than Will did a few minutes ago. You take a deep breath and realize you made it more serious than it actually was, although you were also still a little annoyed at the pleased look that Will had worn from their attention.

You turn back to him and look up into his eyes. He leans in and gives you a kiss, soft but firm, that you return eagerly, enjoying his rare display of PDA. “Finish your drink and we’ll go,” he says, “I didn’t mean to upset you,” his gaze is apologetic.  

You sigh, “It’s okay, Will,” you lean in for another quick kiss. 

Perhaps you were spurred on by the alcohol you had consumed that night, or maybe you just wanted to antagonize the bridal party that kept looking back at you in the corner. But after he breaks the kiss, he takes a sip of beer and you use the opportunity to lean into him, your lips on his neck, just below his ear, hand reaching in between his thighs and rubbing his crotch provocatively. In the low light, you figured it would be difficult to see exactly what you were doing to him anyway, but you didn’t care. He almost chokes on his beer at your unexpected touch, immediately grabbing your hand, holding it safely in his grasp.

“Well, you better hurry because I’m already wet,” you say seductively into his ear, knowing which buttons to push to drive him wild. You lean away, watching your touch and your words take the intended effect on Will almost immediately.  

His gaze burns into yours, his eyes darkening as he watches you take two large gulps of your cocktail, rushing on purpose and giving him a look that simply says hurry up.

Not needing any more encouragement than that, he chugs his beer and finishes the same time you polish off your drink. You get up, barely able to keep your hands off of each other. You don’t even glance at the bridal party as you leave with him, hand in hand. What did they matter after all?  

Stumbling through the door of your hotel room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp welcomes you back warmly from your night out on the town. You can't help but smile as you continue your passionate embrace with Will, the electric energy between you both is palpable. The earlier touches and kisses in the elevator were just a prelude to what you knew was coming next. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the intoxicating pleasure of being with each other. 

Your lips meet again, hungry and eager, as your tongues battle for dominance against the other. You can taste the beer on his breath and the cigarette he had on the way back to the hotel. He takes your face in both of his hands and pushes you up against the wall, his body leans into yours, trapping you. Your hands reach down to pull out his shirt that’s tucked into his pants, reaching for his belt, impatient as always. 

He suddenly removes his hands from your face and reaches to clasp yours that are now working to undo the top button of his pants. He takes your wrists in each hand and pulls them above your head, pressing his body into you further, grinding his pelvis into you. You already feel how hard and ready he is, the slick forming between your thighs as you grind back against him. You moan into his mouth, his tongue sliding over yours, tasting the sweet taste of your cocktail on your lips.

He grasps both of your wrists easily with one hand, still held above your head, and his other hand travels down your body, pulling up your dress until his fingers find your damp center.

You moan into his touch and spread your legs a little as he moves your panties to the side, his fingers sliding over your wet folds. He suddenly inserts a finger inside of you, sending electric sparks up your spine as he languidly moves his finger in and out of you, watching your face with heavily hooded eyes. Your breathing picks up as he adds a second finger, reaching deep inside for that special spot, crooking his fingers as he easily finds your g-spot and rubs it repeatedly. 

You pant into his mouth and your knees buckle as the pleasure of his touch courses through you; the only thing truly holding you up is his grip on your wrists and his body pressing you into the wall. He grunts into your kiss as you bite down on his bottom lip, continuing to work his fingers inside of you, lewd noises from your soaked pussy filling the room. You love it when his fingers are deep inside of you, his only goal being to focus on your pleasure. Your orgasm starts to build and your knees buckle further, your legs have become jelly as your pending release coils low in your belly. 

“Please, Will,” you beg into his mouth, he knows you won’t be able to stand by yourself if your orgasm hits you while being trapped against this accursed wall. He relents, removing his offending fingers from your pussy, still holding you against the wall with one hand as he brings his fingers covered in your slick up to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Hmm,” he groans, low in his throat, “you always taste so fucking delicious.” Your breath catches in your throat and more slick forms between your thighs as you watch him savoring your taste on his fingers. 

Once he lets go of your wrists, you immediately kick off your shoes; your heels are making your feet hurt. You walk over to the bed, pulling your hair to the side.

“Unzip me,” you say softly as Will has now kicked off his own shoes, coming to stand behind you. He undoes the little cinch and slowly slides the zipper down; the dress falls to the floor by your feet and you kick it off to the side.

His fingers effortlessly undo the clasp of your bra and you pull your panties off while he takes off his shirt and you turn to help him out of his trousers. He still has his boxers on while you’re completely naked. 

He turns you back around to face the bed, still standing. His warm body presses into your back and he slides his hands up your hips and over your ribs, caressing your breasts with both hands as his lips find your neck and shoulder. You moan and lean back into him, arching your chest up into his hands as he alternates between rolling your nipples between his fingers and kneading your breasts. 

Impatient with lust singing in your veins, you climb onto the bed, turning back around to face Will and laying on your belly on the bed facing him. You are eye-level with his cock as you pull down his boxers and take him in hand. 

You hear his breath hitch as your small hand pumps him a few times, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head. You suckle at his cock eagerly, licking and coating it in saliva before taking him completely in your wet, hot mouth. Will grunts in pleasure as you swirl your tongue over the tip, you try taking him as far as you can. He lets out a groan and suddenly thrusts into you until the head hits the back of your throat. You choke a little and give him an admonishing look. 

He smirks down at you. “Is there something you’d like to say?” he whispers darkly as he thrusts into your mouth once more, gentler this time; he’s antagonizing you, knowing you can’t answer with your mouth full of him. He tangles his fingers into your hair, “I know you can take this cock,” he says as he continues fucking your mouth. 

Well two can play this game, you think wickedly to yourself and a muffled chuckle escapes your lips despite your full mouth. You moan around his length, pulling him out of your mouth until only the sensitive tip is left. Very gently, you brush your teeth against the tip and shaft as you work your way back down. 

You hear his breath catch at the sensation of your teeth on his cock and you look up at him innocently, giving him a I’m the one that has you by the balls type of look; you reach and cup his balls just for emphasis, massaging gently. 

He grunts and backs away from you, pulling his cock out of your mouth. His gaze is dark as you sit up on the bed, but before you can move, he’s sweeping you to the middle of the bed, pushing your face into the fluffy, white comforter and bringing your ass in the air.

You smile into the sheets; you knew this was a small punishment of sorts for assuming control of him for a moment, but you didn’t care; you would take all that he gave you and still want more. Plus, doggy was one of your favorite positions. Will is kneeling behind you and you spread your legs apart and arch your back, waiting for his large cock to fill you up.

Instead, you feel a stinging slap to your rear end and you yelp in surprise, your head coming up off the bed. He pushes you back down as he rubs his palm over the sore spot, soothing it. 

“That,” Will pants, “is punishment for what you just did with your teeth.” All you can manage is a moan in response. You feel his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside, shallowly thrusting until he buries himself to the hilt, immersing himself completely inside your tight, wet cunt. 

You whimper pitifully, the angle of this position causing him to rub against your g-spot almost immediately as you relish the feeling of him deep inside of you, filling you up, two puzzle pieces becoming one again.  

He stills for a moment before landing another blow on your behind, harder this time, and you yelp again, sucking in a sharp breath. 

“And that is for being jealous over nothing,” he growls, grabbing you by the back of the hair, dragging your body up so you’re flush against his body, your neck pulled back, held by your hair.

“You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re gonna love every second of it,” he purrs into your ear as he starts thrusting harshly into you, pumping in and out of you. You mewl pathetically, lost in the sensation of his hold on your hair, the feeling of his thick cock moving deep inside you; your mind becomes hazy with lust and desire and you love it when he takes control. 

His hips snap into yours harshly for a few moments and then he unexpectedly slows, letting go of your hair; you fall back onto your elbows as you feel him pull apart your ass cheeks, bringing his cock almost all the way out to the tip and then driving back into you slowly. You know he’s watching himself slide in and out of your tight, wet hole and you’re a little envious that he’s the only one that gets to enjoy the view. You groan in pleasure at the thought. 

“I love watching your pussy take this dick.” He’s extra talkative tonight, alcohol loosening his tongue more than usual as he continues his slow deep thrusts, driving you crazy since you normally crave a faster pace with more friction. Suddenly, you feel pressure on your rim, an area you and Will haven’t explored yet. You jerk at the unexpected sensation and look back, where he smirks confidently at you. 

“I think you can take a finger,” he says and you watch him spit directly onto your asshole, his thumb massaging around it. 

“Will, I swear to god, you have to go slow,” you finally find your voice; you’re down to try anything but that wasn’t what you were expecting for tonight. You reach down and start playing with your clit, Will still moving his cock slowly in and out of you, his thumb pressing down on your rim.

He takes your warning seriously, “If it hurts, tell me and I’ll stop,” he says softly, a break in his dominant facade. You nod, knowing Will would never hurt you.

Between the pleasure of your stimulated clit and Will rocking consistently against your g-spot, you don’t notice any pain as he ever so slowly inserts his thumb into your puckered hole. He adds more spit as he presses in until he’s knuckle deep.

“How’s that?” he asks, checking in.

It’s certainly an odd sensation but you feel pleasantly full, having felt no pain. You find it erotic, feeling Will’s thick cock stretching your pussy and his thumb pressed into your ass; you love the way Will consumes every part of you, body and soul.

You moan, desire coursing through you, “Oh my god, Will, that’s so good.” He picks up the pace with his thrusts again as you circle your clit furiously, pleasure building deep within. 

Hips snapping into yours, your orgasm builds low in your belly and you moan loudly with each thrust as his cock rubs along your g-spot. 

“So. Fucking. Tight,” Will grunts with each thrust, sending you closer to the edge. “Why would I want any other pussy when I have yours?” he says almost to himself. 

You groan louder, “Harder, Will, I need more,” you beg him pathetically. 

He responds by pounding into you so hard he pushes you up the bed. You anchor your elbows down as he drives relentlessly into you, wiggling his thumb a little within your tight, puckered hole, his other hand on your hip in a bruising grip to keep you still. 

You both are panting harshly as he fucks you, hard, just like you asked. Your breathing turns ragged as the coil finally snaps and your orgasm breaks over you like a tsunami wave, pleasure crashing through you, completely consumed by the intensity as it infiltrates every particle of your body. Your pussy clenches down on his cock and you cry aloud, wailing as he continues to thrust into you. 

Will rides out your pleasure until you stop shaking and mewling underneath him, pulling out and spilling his seed directly onto your asshole. Panting heavily, he spreads your cheeks apart and admires the sight of your throbbing, well-fucked pussy and his cum on your ass.

“Took me like a champ,” he says under his breath, squeezing your ass cheeks one final time before finally letting you go as you collapse onto the bed. He collapses next to you and you both spend a few minutes panting and catching your breath, before he gets up to get a towel. 

You hear the water turn on in the sink and decide to follow him to the bathroom, not caring if his cum leaks out of your ass along the way.

He’s washing his hands when you come in and glances up, surprise reflected in his expression in the mirror. Without saying anything, you stand behind him and wrap your arms around his middle from behind, hugging him, both of you still completely naked as you press your cheek against his warm back.

He finishes washing and drying his hands and rubs your arms that are clasped around his stomach.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Everything okay?”

He turns in your arms so that you’re face to face and he embraces you back as you look up and meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” you say simply, you can’t really convey what you’re feeling at the moment, but all you know is how grateful and lucky you are to have someone like him. You never expected to ever find anyone suitable again after your divorce and reconnecting with him was truly such a blessing.

He looks down into your face and your serious expression. “For what?” he asks.

“For loving me,” you say quietly into his chest as you press your cheek against his cross pendant. 

He snorts softly in disbelief. “It’s me that should be thanking you for loving me,” he says sincerely as he rests his chin on top of your head and hugs you closer.

You swallow thickly, you don’t want to cry in this moment, but he just means so much to you. 

“Always,” you mumble into his chest hair and he kisses the top of your head.  

You didn’t know what the universe had in store for you and Will. But as you stood there in that bathroom, you knew that you were right where you were meant to be.

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @multyfangirl @aemondsscar @pandemonium105 @cyeco13 @chainsawsangel @sylas-the-grim @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep @myfandomprompts

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Your Harry, Your Winner.

a/n: in honour of the manchester city winning the champions league last night, (which for fictional purposes, harry plays for manchester city and is a die hard fan.) here’s a cute lil concept i came up with, enjoy my huns.🫶 🫶

masterlist || ask me anything <3

likes and re-blogs are very much appreciated!!

word count - 7k

in which, you’ve been there since day one when it comes to the love of your life’s football journey, ten years on and your husband harry finally has the chance to play in a me of the biggest games of his career, with your support, he can take on anything, you’ll always be his number one girl.

It was a bright sunny day in July, the sun was shining down against your body as your sunglasses rested on the bridge of your nose, you hair tied up in a high ponytail as you sat on the bench in the park where you were waiting for your boyfriend, Harry.

You were both eighteen when the two of you met, and your relationship had definitely been a whirl wind, it was when you were in the gym, you had just come out of college and wanted to go and get in a quick work out before heading home, he had helped you do the weights when he could see that you needed a bit of help.

Harry was the most perfect boyfriend, he was sports crazy. He loved to play football and it was his lifelong dream to play with Manchester City one day, it would make him the happiest man on earth if that ever happened. He had invited you to the games he played with his local team, and you were always there wearing a shirt with his name on the back of it, cheering him on along with his Mother, Sister and Step-father.

"(Y/N)!" A voice shouted as he approached you, making you remove the sunglasses you were wearing to see who it was.

Your eyes settled on your boyfriend, who was running towards you with wide eyes. "You won't believe what just happened!"

"What? What happened?" You asked, standing up and approaching him, what can you say, your curiosity had piqued.

"I just got scouted by Manchester City!"

He was barely able to contain his excitement as he showed you the piece of paper that he was holding in his hands.

Your eyes widened in surprise, chancing a look down at the letter and letting your eyes skim over it briefly before looking back at him. "What? Are you serious?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I went to this football camp yesterday, and one of the coaches was from Man City. He saw me play, and he said he was impressed with my skills and wanted me to try out for their academy."

His dream was finally coming true.

This was all he had wanted since you had known him, and now he had finally got it, you couldn't be any more prouder than you were right now.

You felt proud of Harry's achievement and leaned forward to hug him tightly. "That's amazing, H! I always knew you had it in you."

He grinned widely. "Thanks, babe! I couldn't have done it without your support."

You didn't think that you played a massive part in his journey, you hadn't known him when his football journey started, you had only come into his life recently so really, the ones supporting him where his family.

"I promise to come watch you play," You enthused, smiling at your boyfriend. "I'll be cheering you on from the side lines."

That was a promise.

Harry smiled back at you, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "Thank you, (Y/N). You're the best girlfriend ever."

As you opened your eyes on the Tenth of June, 2023, a sense of warmth encased your body, as you turned on your side and slid your arm around your fiancé's waist, snuggling in closer to him like you did every morning.

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, as you lifted your head up slightly to see that your fiancé was fast asleep, eyes closed and face relaxed, breathing steady.

Today was the day, today was the day of the Champions League Final, and your fiancé, Harry was playing in it.

The final was taking place in Istanbul, Turkey and you had flown out to support him seeing as you absolutely wouldn’t miss it for the world. This was his day and his day only.

You knew for a fact how nervous he was feeling, it was one of the biggest games of his career and he had been explaining to you all along that he couldn't mess today up, too many people were relying on him to perform well.

Knowing that he had to get up soon, you gently shook his shoulder and run another hand through his curls (that desperately needed a trim) so that he would flutter his eyes open. "Wake up, sleepy head."

You watched as the man you loved groaned slightly before opening his eyes up and letting his green orbs land on your figure that was resting next to him. He ran a hand through his own hair before sitting up in the bed and entwining your fingers together liked you usually did in the mornings.

"Morning," His raspy voice murmured, as he pressed a kiss to your lips, not caring about the morning breath you both had. "Today's the day...I can't believe it."

You sat up a tiny bit more, and offered him a reassuring smile. "Stop thinking what I know your thinking and just listen to me for a second, your going to do great, you always do, stop worrying and just think positive."

Thinking back to ten years ago when Harry surprised you with the news that he had been scouted by his boy hood team, you knew that he would be going places one day, and he had.

Over the course of his ten year career, he had scored important goals, but not once had he played in a Champions League Final, the last time Manchester City were in the final back in 2021, (where they were beaten by Chelsea.) your fiancé was injured with an ACL injury and couldn't play. It was agonising seeing him in so much pain.

You found him sat on the sofa, head in his hands, as his leg was outstretched on the coffee table, crutches resting next to him, the tv was playing in the background, but you could only focus on him.

Harry had recently torn his ACL in the last game he played, the game right before the 2021 Champions League Final, he had been looking forward to the game all season and now, he had nothing to look forward to.

He was devastated that he wouldn't be able to play for at least nine months.

"H," you gained his attention, taking a seat next to him and placing a hand on his thigh. "Talk to me, what's going on inside that head of yours?"

"I just can't believe that this happened," He spoke, voice laced with emotion. "I've been working so hard for this, and now it's all for nothing."

You were in the crowd when you saw him get tackled by a Liverpool player. He went straight down onto the floor, holding his knee, and soon had to be stretchered off the pitch by the medics, your heart broke in half for him.

He had to be rushed straight to the hospital for a surgery and that was when the doctors confirmed that he would be out for the rest of the season and would just be back in time for the world cup.

"I know, sweet boy," You nodded your head, resting your head on his shoulder and inhaling his familiar scent. "But you have to remember that they're will be other games, you'll have plenty of opportunities to score in the FA cup final, I've got faith in you, we all do."

"But this was the Champions League Final," He lifted his head and let out a small sniffle as he wiped at his under eyes. "It's like the biggest game of the season...I wanted to be out there with my team."

"I know you did," You sympathised. "And everyone on that team knows just how hard you have been working, you've been working harder then anyone else, but you have to understand that they'll want you to take care of yourself, that's all they'll want."

He then leaned his head slightly against your shoulder and heard him let out a small sigh, another tear falling down his cheeks." I just hate feeling like I let everyone down."

"H, listen to me, you did not let a single person down," You informed him firmly, making him smile slightly at your tone of voice, despite the ache his leg was currently feeling. "You got hurt, and that is no ones fault except that pricky Liverpool player, your still an important part of the team even if your not out there with them in the dug out."

He looked up at you with red rimmed eyes. "Thank you."

You kissed his forehead. "Anytime, baby, anytime."

“Today is the day,” You nodded, placing a reassuring smile, “— are you feeling okay?”

You knew for a fact that he would be feeling a multitude of emotions today, every time he played in an important game, he always got too caught up in his thoughts and feelings.

“I just can’t seem to shake my nerves,” He let out a deep breath, turning to look at your face with solace as he confessed what was going on in his head. “The pressure is just so overwhelming sometimes, all I can think about is what if I make a mistake? What if I let the team down?”

“Listen to me for a second, sweet boy,” You slid closer to him, wrapping an arm even tighter around his waist, trying to ground him for a moment. “You are talented, dedicated and even stronger than you think you are. You’ve been training for this moment for as long as I can remember.”

You heard him take in a small breath as you continued to speak. “Trust in yourself, believe in your ability just like I do, just like all your fans do.”

His gaze appeared to soften as he took in your words, finding comfort in what you had to say.

“It’s such a significant game,”Your fiancé began to explain, voice small. “— sometimes I can’t help but feel this immense pressure, I want to give my all to the team and our supporters.”

You nodded understandingly and sat up in the bed so that you were the same level, the hotel duvet pooling your waists, his bare torso on display whilst you had on an oversized shirt of his and a pair of his boxer shorts.

You rested your head on his shoulder, not before pressing a kiss to it. “You’ve come so far my love, remember the strength and resilience that you have shown time and time again, no matter the challenges that you have faced, remember that this is your time to shine.”

“Your right,” He spoke, the lines of worry that were etched on his face slowly disappearing as he seemed to acknowledge what you were saying to him. “— I’ve worked so hard to be here, nothings going to be holding me back out here on the pitch.”

A soft sound broke out through the Turkish hotel room, a gentle stirring if you must erupting from the foot of the bed you and your husband were currently resting in.

That indicated that your two year old was awake.

“Mama…dada…” Your little one cried out, voice filled to the brim with innocence and affection upon setting his sights on the two of us.

A smile appeared on your face and Harry’s eyes filled with delight.

“He’s awake.” You murmured as you stood up from the bed and made your way towards the crib that your son was standing up in.

Hunter Robin Styles.

Born four weeks after the 2021 champions league final, the perfect addition to your lives.

He was his father’s replica, brown curls settled onto his head, green eyes that resembled the colour of emeralds and dimples indented in his cheeks.

As you scooped him up into your arms, he rested his head against your shoulder, thumb instinctively entering his mouth.

The two of you returned back to bed to join your husband, Hunter scurrying over to his father like the total daddies boy he is and you moved closer to cuddle into Harry, wanting to feel his warmth once again.

The conversation shifted now that your son was on the bed, weaving in and out of words exchanged between the two of you and the laughter of little Hunter. It was a symphony of love, a reminder of the family that anchored your husband's heart amidst the chaos of the final. As a family, you spoke of dreams and hopes, fears and aspirations, all while your little one basked in the warmth of Harry’s embrace.

The conversation once again drifted, this time the past made its way into our thoughts as Harry’s voice began to tremble ever so slightly as he spoke.

“I couldn’t play last time due to my injury,” He spoke in a voice so soft that you almost didn’t hear it. “— it’s been haunting me since forever, but now this opportunity is presented to me again, I’m going to make every second count, there’s no doubt about it.”

“You’ve already won battles no one ever thought you could overcome.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly, reminding him of his bravery and resilience, as Hunter played with the cross necklace dangling around his neck. “— you need to remember that your worth is not defined by an injury, your an incredible footballer and I’m not just saying that because I’m entitled to, me and Hunter love you, we’re insanely proud of you, we always will be.”

Little Hunter looked between the two of you with sparkling eyes filled with admiration, and that when was Harry realised the he had a family that loved him unconditionally.

The hotel restaurant emanated an atmosphere you could only describe as tranquil as you sat at a table eating lunch with Hunter, Anne and Gemma.

Other family members from the team were also in the restaurant, when you were entering you had waved to Jack Grealish’s mum and dad, had a small conversation with Erling Haaland girlfriend and ruffled Phil Foden’s son's hair.

Little Hunter sat comfortable in his stroller after he refused to sit in a high chair, he was staring at his surroundings with curiosity filled eyes.

As your eyes glanced down at the menu, the three of us women engaged in a delightful conversation, halfway through, you spotted your son reaching towards the table where the basket of bread was located.

“Are you getting hungry, sweet boy?” You asked, leaning forward in your seat slightly so that you could meet his gaze. “— our food is going to be here soon, don’t worry, angel baby.”

Hunter’s face scrunched up slightly and he threw his head back with a small whine, his toddler babble mixed with his gestures, making it clear that he wanted to be part of the dining experience.

Harry’s sister, Gemma, chuckled, her eyes showing clear signs of amusement. “He seems to be quite the food enthusiast, takes after H.”

“Oh one hundred percent,” Anne, Harry’s mother, agreed, letting out a small chuckle. “He’s certainly inherited his fathers love for good food.”

Understanding your son's eagerness to join the table, you unfastened the stroller straps and carefully lifted him out. He squirmed with excitement, his chubby legs kicking in anticipation as he settled into a high chair beside you.

"Now you can see all the delicious dishes, just like us!" You exclaimed, placing a colourful bib around your son's neck. "You're officially part of the lunchtime feast."

Our son's face lit up with glee, his wide eyes scanning the table, eagerly awaiting the culinary delights. He pointed at the plates, naming the different foods as best he could, his baby gibberish filling the air.

As your meals arrived, a symphony of mouth watering aromas filled the air, and your taste buds tingled with anticipation. The three of you savoured each bite, sharing anecdotes and laughter, while Hunter observed intently, his eyes fixed on the delectable dishes.

"I think he wants to try everything," Anne said, chuckling as she noticed her grandson's animated gestures.

Gemma reached over and playfully offered a spoonful of mashed potatoes to her nephew.

"Here you go, little food critic," she said, grinning. "Tell us what you think."

Hunter’s eyes widened, and he eagerly accepted the spoon, tasting the creamy potatoes. His face lit up with delight, and he clapped his hands, a clear sign of his approval.

"He definitely has his father's discerning palate," You mused, exchanging knowing glances with the two women you called family.

As you continued your feast, your son became an active participant in the lunchtime conversation. His babbling intermingled with your dialogue, adding an innocent charm to the atmosphere.

Gemma once again leaned closer to your son, her voice filled with affection. "Tell us, little one, what do you think of this restaurant? Is it worthy of a future family gathering?"

Hunter responded with an enthusiastic nod, his face beaming with joy. His tiny hands clapped, as if applauding the notion of future family celebrations in this very place.

“So how’s Harry feeling about the final tonight?” Anne asked, regarding her son as she leaned forward ever so slightly.

A small smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you contemplated her question and thought about an answer. “— he’s definitely feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement.”

“He’s been training diligently for this moment his whole life,” Gemma added, a touch of pride evident in the way she spoke about her younger brother. “It’s such a significant match for him, for the whole team even.”

“He’s eager to get on the pitch and give it his all,” You nodded in agreement, your heart swelling with admiration. “But the weight of the final definitely comes with its fair share of pressure.”

“Tell him that we’re going to be in the crowd and supporting him.” Anne told you.

You knew for a fact when you had a chance to tell this to Harry he would feel a lot better then he would be, knowing his mother and sister were backing him was all he really wanted.

“Of course,” A warm smile spread across your face, you were touched by her words. “I'll definitely tell him his biggest fans are rooting for him.”

Leaning down to look at your son who was sitting in his high chair with mashed up avocado lingering on his hands, you spoke to him, wanting to involve him in the conversation. “—Daddy has a very important football match tonight, he’s going to make us all proud, isn't he?”

Elijah’s face lit up with a radiant smile, his tiny hands clapping together in excitement.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with adoration for the father he idolised.

Anne chuckled warmly, her eyes gleaming with affection. "He knows, doesn't he? Even at his young age, he understands the significance."

You nodded, a sense of pride swelling within your chest. "Children have an incredible intuition, They can sense the love and anticipation that surrounds them."

As the early evening settled in Turkey, you led Hunter to the en-suite bathroom located in your hotel room, his hand holding onto yours as he held his light blue baby blanket in his hand.

His blanket was a present that Anne had knitted him when he was first born and he still to this day went everywhere with it.

Bath time was definitely one of Hunter’s favourite times of the day. He liked it even more when Harry would be the one bathing him, but he was often at training so he never really got the chance to.

The bath was already filled up, bubbles resting on the top of it and a few rubber duckies and other bath toys floating in the water.

"Are you ready for a fun bath, angel baby?" You asked, lifting him into the tub filled with warm, bubbly water. "We need to get all squeaky clean before the game!"

Your son giggled, splashing the water with delight, his tiny hands reaching out for his favourite bath toys. As you gently washed him, the two of you engaged in playful banter, his infectious laughter filling the room.

His laugh sounded so much like his fathers.

“Mama,” Hunter gained your attention. “— quack, quack!”

You nodded in encouragement as he presented you with the rubber duck he was holding. “Yeah a ducky does go quack quack, you're such a clever little boy.”

About thirty seconds later, the two year old seemed to get bored of the duck he was playing with and threw it back down in the water, and that was when you got the perfect opportunity to put some bath wash on a sponge and clean over his petite body.

Hunter squirmed a little bit and tried to wiggle away from you but you were quicker and knew his movements like the back of your hand and held him softly in place.

Once he was out of the bath and dried off, you decided to take him into the main area of the hotel room where you grabbed a miniature sized jersey out of his suitcase.

“Alright, arms up, angel baby.” You held the shirt in your hands and slipped the shirt over his head smoothly.

Once the shirt was situated on his body, you smoothed down his brown curls that had become slightly dishevelled due to the friction of the shirt.

He was clad in a Manchester City shirt with the shirts, socks and toddler football boots.

Instead of having his name on the back, he had ‘𝙳𝙰𝙳𝙳𝚈’ and number ‘𝟷𝟽’ on the back of it.

Once you had gotten Hunter ready, you decided to take a shower yourself, the two year old followed you into the bathroom.

As the warm water cascaded over your body, you took a moment to relax, the sound of rushing water creating a serene backdrop. Your son, perched on the bathroom floor, watched with curiosity as you applied a gentle face cleanser and let the steam envelop you.

With the shower complete, you stepped out onto the bath mat, a towel wrapped around your body. Your son clapped his hands in approval, appreciating the simplicity of the post-shower routine.

"Now it's time for mommy to get ready," You explained, brushing your damp hair and reaching for your makeup bag. "We want to look our best when we cheer for Daddy!"

Hunter observed attentively, his big eyes studying your every move.

"What's that, Mommy?" he asked, pointing to the makeup brushes.

You chuckled softly, giving him a gentle explanation.

"This is called makeup, sweetheart. It helps enhance our natural beauty," You replied, dabbing a bit of foundation onto your skin.

As you continued applying makeup, your son's curiosity grew. He mimicked your actions, using his fingers to pretend to apply his own makeup, a charming sight that filled your heart with warmth.

After finishing your makeup, you turned to your suitcase, selecting a Manchester City shirt of your own with ‘𝚂𝚃𝚈𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝟷𝟽’ on the back of its.

Tour son toddled over, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"We’re matching, Mommy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with innocence and adoration.

You scooped him up into your arms, holding him close.

"Thank you, my love. Now we're both ready to cheer for Daddy," you replied, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

As you sat in the stands of the Atatürk Olympic Stadium, surrounded by fellow Manchester City supporters and in a box with the family members for the team members, your heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Harry was about to showcase his skills on the grand stage.

Beside you were his mother, Anne, and his sister, Gemma, both filled with anticipation and pride.

Your two-year-old son was perched on your lap, his wide eyes filled with wonder as he took in the electric atmosphere. The noise from the roaring crowd seemed to mesmerise him, but as the game kicked off, it wasn't long before the excitement overwhelmed his little body. Hunter's eyelids grew heavy, and he soon succumbed to the exhaustion of the day, drifting into a peaceful slumber.

"He's out like a light," Anne chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "It's quite a spectacle, isn't it? I can hardly believe our Harry is here, playing in the final."

Gemma nodded, her eyes shining with pride. "He's worked so hard for this moment. It's incredible to see him on this stage. I'm so proud of him."

The match unfolded with breathtaking speed and intensity.

Manchester City displayed their trademark attacking prowess, weaving intricate passes and creating scoring opportunities. The crowd's excitement was infectious, and the chants of "City! City!" reverberated throughout the stadium.

Anne leaned closer, her voice filled with excitement. "Do you remember when Daniel used to kick a ball around in the backyard? He always dreamed of playing on a big stage like this. And now, here he is!"

That was true, when you first met Harry, he used to invite you to the park all the time and you would always be kicking a ball about with him, now he got to teach his son the same things he taught you.

A roar erupted from the crowd as Manchester City came close to scoring.

Gemma jumped to her feet, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "Come on! Score that goal!"

As the game progressed, the tension mounted. The opposing team proved to be a formidable adversary, putting up a strong defence and launching swift counterattacks.

The match seemed like a true battle of titans, with both teams leaving everything on the field.

"He's playing brilliantly, isn't he?" You whispered to Anne, nodding toward your fiancé , who was skillfully manoeuvring through defenders.

Anne beamed, her eyes shimmering with pride. "He's always had that talent, that special something. It's as if he was born to play football. Look at him out there, giving it his all."

Suddenly, the referee blew the whistle for halftime. As the players retreated to the dressing room, you gently shifted Hunter's weight on your lap, careful not to wake him.

The buzz of excitement filled the air as we joined the other Manchester City family members near the tunnel, eager to offer our support and encouragement.

You watched as the man you loved emerged, sweat dripping down his face, but a determined glint in his eyes.

He approached were the four of you were standing, pressing a short kiss to your lips and mustering how much he loved you, you and him exchanged brief words of encouragement, his gratitude shining through.

He kissed Hunter's forehead gently, whispering, "Daddy's going to bring that trophy home for you, little man."

Back in your seats, the second half kicked off with renewed intensity.

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as Manchester City pushed forward, relentlessly seeking that winning goal. The opposition fought back, with bone-crunching tackles and acrobatic saves from their goalkeeper.

With each near-miss and near-goal, your emotions soared and plummeted. You all held your breath with every shot, every corner, and every daring run. The tension was palpable, but you remained hopeful.

Suddenly, a collective gasp swept through the crowd as Manchester City was awarded a penalty.

Gemma grabbed your arm, her voice trembling with excitement. "This is it! H, can do this!"

There was no doubt within the squad that your Harry was the designated penalty taker for the team, he was a forward and The Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola had given Harry the responsibility for them.

This was his moment.

This was his time to shine.

The stadium fell into a hushed silence as Harry stepped up to take the penalty. His focus was unwavering as he placed the ball on the spot, the weight of the entire season resting on his shoulders. The opposing goalkeeper eyed him intently, trying to psych him out.

"Come on, Haz! You've got this!" You whispered, your voice filled with hope.

Gemma and Anne joined in, their voices merging with your own. "You've trained for this moment, Harry ! Show them what you're made of!"

You watched with bated breath as Harry took a deep breath, blocking out the noise around him.

He began his run-up, his strides purposeful and determined. The moment his foot made contact with the ball, it soared towards the goal, driven by the sheer force of his will.

Time seemed to slow down as you watched the ball sail through the air, evading the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper. The net rippled as the ball found its rightful place, and the stadium erupted into a chorus of cheers, applause, and chants of victory.

"He did it! He scored!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with elation. Hunter stirred in my arms, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing the surge of joy around him.

Anne wiped away tears of joy, her voice trembling with pride. "That's our boy! He's done it!"

Gemma wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace, joining in the celebration. "I knew he had it in him. What a moment!"

Manchester City we’re one nil up.

Not only that, but your Harry had scored.

He had scored in a final.

After all the heartbreak that he endured in the last final back in 2021, he had scored and put his team one point ahead.

You were beyond proud of him.

As the game continued, Manchester City pressed on with newfound confidence. The energy of Harry’s goal had ignited the team, fueling their determination to secure the trophy.

They fought fiercely, defending against the opposing team's attacks and launching their own relentless assault.

With every minute that ticked by, your anticipation grew. The final whistle drew nearer, and the realisation that victory was within reach became palpable.

The stadium buzzed with excitement, as if the crowd could taste the impending triumph.

And then, as the final whistle pierced the air, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. Manchester City had emerged as the victors of the Champions League final. Ecstasy washed over you as you witnessed Harry and his teammates embrace, their joy overflowing.

Hunter clapped his tiny hands, mirroring the celebration around him.

“Yay, Daddy!" he squealed, his eyes filled with innocent delight.

The three of you joined Hunter's applause, your voices joining the chorus of cheers reverberating throughout the stadium.

Tears of joy streamed down your faces as you reveled in this extraordinary moment, a memory etched in our hearts forever.

You Harry had won the Champions League for his team.

With tears of elation streaming down your face, the three of you including little Hunter joined the chorus of chants, shouting, "City! City!"

Your eyes never left the pitch once as you anxiously waited for the moment when your lover and his teammates would lift the trophy high above their heads.

You all watched as the opposing team collected there runners up medals before it was time for the winners.

On the field, the players formed a jubilant huddle, their faces beaming with triumph. Moments later, they made their way towards the presentation stage.

You and the family quickly descended the stairs, Hunter clinging onto your hip with his thumb in his mouth, eager to get as close as possible to the historic moment that was about to unfold.

The crowd surged forward, a sea of blue and white, as you found a spot near the front. Beside you, other family members and friends of the Manchester City players beamed with anticipation, their voices filled with excitement.

Anne squeezed my hand tightly. "This is it, dear. We're about to witness something incredible."

Gemma nodded with a wide grin. "I can't believe it's happening! Our brother, lifting the Champions League trophy!"

The roar of the crowd grew deafening as the players ascended the stage one by one.

Finally, Harry stepped forward, his face radiant with a mixture of pride and disbelief. The trophy glistened in the spotlight, a symbol of their hard-fought victory.

A hush fell over the stadium as the captain of Manchester City, wearing the armband proudly, lifted the trophy high into the air.

A surge of emotions coursed through your body, and you let out a cheer that blended with the cheers of thousands of fans around.

Anne leaned in, her voice filled with admiration. "Look at him, my boy, holding that trophy. It's a moment I'll cherish forever."

Gemma wiped away tears of joy, her voice filled with pride. "He did it! Haz did it! I couldn't be prouder!"

As the players celebrated, their triumphant shouts and laughter filled the air.

Harry turned towards the direction you were sitting in, his eyes finding yours in the sea of cheering faces.

A smile spread across his face, and you could see the overwhelming happiness in his eyes. With a wave, he acknowledged his family's presence, and your heart swelled with love for this incredible man.

"He did it, Mum! Harry did it!" You exclaimed, your voice choked with emotion.

Anne pulled you into a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, he did, dear. My son is a champion!"

Gemma joined our embrace, forming a circle of love and pride. "We always believed in him, didn't we? This is just the beginning of his greatness."

Carefully making your way through the jubilant crowd, you reached the edge of the field, where security personnel guided you towards a designated area for family members. Anne and Gemma were already there, their smiles as bright as the stadium lights.

Harry spotted the four of you from a distance, his eyes lighting up with delight.

Covered in sweat and mud, he hurried towards you, a mix of exhaustion and elation on his face. You gently put Hunter down, allowing him to take his first steps on the hallowed ground of the pitch.

"Daddy!" Hunter exclaimed, his little arms outstretched, his voice filled with excitement.

Harry scooped him up, holding him close. "There's my little champion! Daddy did it!"

Anne embraced you, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Look at them, dear. Our son and grandson, basking in this incredible moment."

Gemma joined in the embrace, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so proud of him, sis. He's worked so hard for this."

As the celebrations continued around you, Harry held Hunter high in the air, their joyous laughter blending with the cheers of the crowd. The energy of the stadium seemed to infuse their bond, a testament to the incredible journey they had embarked on together.

"He's so proud of you, Harry," you whispered, your voice filled with love and admiration.

Harry nodded, his eyes shimmering with tears of happiness. "I couldn't have done it without you and Hunter by my side. You're my biggest supporters, my inspiration."

Hunter reached out, his tiny fingers brushing against his fathers cheek. "Daddy strong!"

Harry kissed Hunter's forehead, his voice filled with tenderness. "Yes, my little champion, Daddy is strong because of you."

At that moment, time seemed to stand still.

You were surrounded by a sea of jubilant supporters, but it felt as though it was just the five of you, locked in an embrace of love and pride. The Champions League trophy glimmered in the distance, a symbol of their collective victory.

As the team gathered for a celebratory photo, Harry held Hunter on his hip, their smiles mirroring one another.

You captured the moment with your phone, knowing that it would forever be etched in the family's history.

Lying in bed, the weight of the day finally beginning to lift from your tired bodies, your fiancé and you basked in the quiet afterglow of his triumphant victory in the Champions League. The room was dimly lit, and a soft sense of contentment enveloped us.

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and elation.

"What a game, love," he whispered, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief.

What a game indeed.

You reached out, gently brushing your fingers through his hair. "You were incredible, Harry. I'm so proud of you."

Proud was an understatement.

A small smile graced his lips as he turned to face you in the hotel bed. "I couldn't have done it without you and Hunter. You're my rocks, my biggest supporters."

You shifted closer, resting your head against his chest. "We'll always be here for you, Harry. You worked so hard for this moment."

He sighed, his fingers tracing patterns on your lower back. "You know, love, after the final whistle, I wanted to celebrate with just you and Hunter. It's moments like these that I cherish the most."

So that explains why he decided not to celebrate with his team mates.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love. "I understand, Harry. It's about those intimate moments, the ones that remind you of what truly matters."

His gaze softened, his voice filled with vulnerability. "That penalty... I was so nervous, love. It felt like everything was riding on that one moment. But when the ball hit the back of the net, it was pure relief and joy."

You placed a gentle kiss on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your lips. "You did it, Harry. You seized the opportunity and made it count. It was a testament to your skill, your determination, and your unwavering belief in yourself."

He wrapped his arms around your body, drawing you closer. "Thank you, love. Your belief in me has always meant the world. You and Hunter are my greatest motivation.”

You snuggled in closer, finding comfort in his embrace. "We'll always be there, Harry. Through the highs and the lows, celebrating every victory and lifting you up in moments of doubt. You're our champion, on and off the pitch."

His voice grew softer as he spoke, his words carrying a sense of gratitude and reflection. "You know, love, throughout the game, when I looked up into the stands, seeing you and Hunter, your faces filled with love and support, it gave me an extra boost. It reminded me why I play this beautiful game, why I give it my all. It's for you and our little boy."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Harry's heartfelt words. "We'll always be your biggest fans, Harry. Seeing you out there, chasing your dreams, it fills our hearts with pride and joy."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much, my beautiful fiancé . And our little Hunter, he's growing up surrounded by so much love and inspiration."

You nestled deeper into his embrace, feeling a surge of warmth and love envelop the two of you. "We're creating memories, Harry. Memories that Hunter will carry with him throughout his life. He'll look back on this moment, knowing that his dad is a champion, a man who followed his dreams and achieved greatness."

Harry's voice grew soft, his tone filled with a sense of wonder. "I never want to forget this feeling, lying here with you, relishing in our love and celebrating a victory. It's a moment frozen in time, one that I'll cherish forever."

You intertwined your fingers with his, savouring the connection you seemed to share. "We'll always have these moments, Harry.”

You shifted slightly, careful not to disturb the little bundle of joy nestled between you and your lover,. Hunter had fallen asleep during the celebration, his small body curled up against Harry's side.

Such a daddies boy.

Harry's eyes softened as he looked down at your sleeping son. "Look at him, love. Our little champion, exhausted from all the excitement."

You smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from Hunter's forehead. "He's been cheering for you the whole game. I think he used up all his energy celebrating your victory."

Harry chuckled softly, his hand gently stroking Hunter's back. "I'm glad he got to witness this. One day, he'll look back and know that he was here, part of this unforgettable moment."

You nodded, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside of your chest. "He's so lucky to have you as his role model, Harry. You're showing him what it means to work hard, to chase your dreams, and to never give up."

Harry's gaze met your own, his eyes filled with love and gratitude. "And you, love, you're the anchor that keeps us grounded. Your unwavering support and belief in me, in us, it means everything."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, enveloped in the warmth of your shared love. The room was filled with a sense of peacefulness and fulfillment, a testament to the journey you had traveled together.

As Hunter stirred in his sleep, Harry's voice broke the stillness. "You know, love, scoring that penalty... It was like a release of all the pressure, all the hard work coming to fruition. But what mattered most in that moment was knowing I had my family by my side."

You kissed Hunter's forehead, then leaned over to place a tender kiss on Harry's lips. "We'll always be by your side, Harry, through every triumph and every challenge. You make us proud every single day."

Harry's arms tightened around you and Hunter, pulling you into an embrace that felt like home. "I love you both more than words can express. Thank you for being my everything."

The room filled with a sense of love and gratitude, as the three of you lay there, a family united in celebration, reflection, and profound connection.

In that quiet moment, the two of you knew that this victory was not just Harry's, but your families as well, and together, you would continue to write the pages of your story, one filled with love, resilience, and the shared joy of chasing dreams and achieving greatness, as a family united on and off the pitch.

As you drifted off into a blissful slumber one thought lingered in your brain.

The love of your life was a Champions League Winner.

Your Harry, Your Winner.