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#how will YOU know if it's ever time to run?
tojisun · 2 days
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the way you wrote simon “my cock is too big it won’t fit” riley was jaw dropping, eye-rolling, and heavenly!!!
I’m imagining Simon who finally puts it in and is even more desperate than reader (cue male whimpering audio)
awww thank u so much!! i had such intense need that i bonked my head n went, “yup. this is the horny thought for the day” <333
oh but he was always soooooo desperate, even more so than the reader!! especially before they finally fucked!!!
thinking about the way he fucks his fist every night after your date ends :((
while you were at your home, stuffing your hole with your fingers (and toys, really—your eyes having devoured the chub underneath simon’s pants every time you two would sit close together, snuggled as you watched a movie, before rushing home and putting in on an order for toys because god do you need one. or four…), simon was locked in his room, messily fisting his cock.
there is too much lube, and it is staining his boxers and his pants because he was too horny to even strip properly. he bites down his moans, hesitant to let them out even when he is alone at his safe house, his eyes pressed close as he imagines the way he'll take you: on your knees while he pinches your nipples, flicking the buds with the blunt ends of his nails, or on your back with your legs folded to your chest because there is no way in hell that simon's not going to breed you.
it's that thought that always makes him cum, rumbled groans pouring out like rippling water.
“jesus,” he murmurs as he stares at his cum-stained palm, mind running at the way you clenched-and-unclenched your legs during dinner—something, he notes, was happening more often. “this is torture.”
(simon has always known how you look good in your own desperation, ragged in the way you stare up at him with furrowed eyes and lips jutted into a pout, but there was something different then. it was charged. primal. and simon realized how the ache must have peaked for you.
good, simon thought. i need you just as much.)
he slid two fingers in your twitching hole, relishing in your stuttered moans at the ease of their plunge. the wet squelch made his cock jump, thumping against his thigh, but he wasn’t done.
it wasn’t enough.
(simon has had countless partners before you, just like you had others before him.
you told him of the dissatisfaction, how cocks only ever breached your walls for the pleasure of the body it was attached to and never for your own. you told him of your elation that bubbled into sputtering disappointment because they never knew how to coax an orgasm from you with just their cock. you told him of the accidental orgasms, those that they cannot recreate because it wasn’t intended. sure, you told him of their wonderful fingers or mouths, of their robust laps you were grinding on during those days when sex is more foreplay than the penetration, but it wasn’t what you ached for.
you told him all of this, in return, simon told you the others who could never really fit him. the others who tried but they were never really interested in the preparation. the others who could only take half of his length, hissing when an inch slides in even when it shouldn’t.
“impatient,” simon murmured when you asked why his ex-partners couldn’t fit him.
“and they don’t have that…” he trailed off, tongue heavy in his mouth.
“they don’t have what?” you prodded, blinking at him all so darlingly, your blood buzzed with alcohol.
“they don’t have that masochistic streak,” simon replied, voice gentle. testing.
your only reaction was a quiet gasp, heavy eyes widening a fraction as the words settled in. he watched as you began fidgeting, throat bobbing at your dry swallow.
that was all simon needed to know you are made for him—soul and body.)
the moment your greedy hole managed to gobble all of his four fingers was when simon knew you were ready. he flicked his eyes away from your dripping slit and watched as you laid on the bed twitching, your eyes red from your tears, your skin dotted with sweat.
you looked like a beautiful, hot mess and simon was ready to engulf you whole.
simon slots himself between your legs, fist warm around his flushed cock. your glazed eyes focus on him, watching with open-mouthed gasps, and simon coos, unable to stop himself.
“ready f’r me, pup?” he asks, tapping the head of his cock against your sensitive sex.
it makes you keen, hips squirming, mussing up the already soiled sheets. simon chuckles, heat filling his cheeks, and taps it once, twice, three more times before finally lining the leaking head of his cock against your twitching hole.
the slow press in makes you two moan, bodies locking at the explosion of ecstasy that fills up your senses. overwhelming pleasure quickly razes through him, overtaking his sanity as the wet squeeze of your walls grips him deliciously.
he buckles, muscles liquifying, and the dizzying euphoria makes him stumble. he slips, his cock sliding in deeper, breaching further—
simon whimpers, unable to stop himself as unadulterated bliss grips him. he couldn’t help it: he sinks all of himself in you, your walls not even protesting as they swallowed him in, hungry in the way you are all filled up by him.
“si-!” he hears your delirious squeal, the rumble of your voice scratching into a ragged echo, and simon—
simon gurgles a response.
his mind has been zapped by the peaking high, rendering him unable to string coherent thoughts as all of his synapses sing nothing but the enveloping pleasure, running him on overdrive.
simon feels like he is being devoured. like he is stripped into nothing but his sensitive spots.
“t-too good,” he mewls. “pup, s’too good–”
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the sorta part two @impeccablefanfics @whoislucas @heliumshorns
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boyfhee · 1 day
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박성훈 、PRETTY FACE
all the trouble sunghoon gets himself in lands him in your arms.
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featuring ⋆ rich boy! sunghoon x fem reader
contents ⋆ kissing, mentions of cuts, injuries and blood, just a whole lot of fluff i miss writing cute stuff, insecurities perhaps ( 1370 )
notes ⋆ rich boy sunghoon....save me from him. also this was not meant to be above a thousand words and was supposed to be funny. and this one's for saint @hoonvrs hi bae
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one thing you’ve learnt while dating sunghoon, it’s always an adventure. so unforeseen, like when he showed up at your balcony, again, last night with a few bruises and cuts on his face. you had let him in and he avoids your attempt at cupping his face just as swiftly. and dating sunghoon is exhilarating, with the way you let him stay for the night, again, knowing your parents are home.
“good morning,” you smile and brush your thumb over the cut on the corner of his lips. it’s red, his lips are dry, and yet they’re soft when you lean down for a quick peck. 
“morning, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “how creepy of you to watch me sleep,”
“guess i’ll be a creep if it means i get to look at your handsome face,” you hum, fighting back a smile.
“is that a compliment i hear?” and he’s almost turning away to sleep, but your words catch him off, and he smirks drowsily with a soft and sleepy gaze adorning you. “what’s the occasion?”
“i’m serious, hoon. you’re handsome,” you insist with a frown, cupping his face again, thumb brushing over his cheeks as you lean in and whisper ever so tenderly. “so handsome, it’s crazy,”
“well, aren’t you sweet, my love,” and he can’t help but wrap his arms around you, pulling you on top of him. it’s quiet, you lay with your head on his chest. it’s barely six, you look out through the huge glass window panes installed in your room by your request to fit the aesthetic, but now it’s how sunghoon climbs up your room every other night. 
it’s not usual for him to get compliments. usually, you’re trying to play it cool, as if his words don’t affect you as much as he thinks they do. on other days, you’re busy rolling your eyes every time he flirts. you make him work for compliments, it’s funny, and he enjoys it. a little bit of challenge in his way too easy lifestyle keeps him going. but today— as you’re quietly listening to his heartbeat while he’s caressing your back— you want to stay like this. 
he brushes his fingers through your hair, planting soft kisses on your head every few seconds. it’s rare for you two to be this quiet. with sunghoon, every minute spent on bed leads to something else, most of the time. but this time it’s silent, it’s risky, he’s in your room and as much as he jokes about it, the idea of being caught by your parents isn’t something either of you fancy.
“i think i should get up and leave before your—” it lands upon you to worry about keeping everything a secret, today it’s his job to make sure the secret is safe.
“it stings, doesn’t it?” you cut him off immediately, pinning him down as he tries to get up. he can see the concern in your eyes, worries trickling through your finger tips and seeping through his skin when you lace your fingers over his scratches. 
“i told you, they’re not that bad,” he shrugs, too careless, carefree. he doesn’t know why you worry yourself over something so minor. “they don’t even hurt,” 
“it hurts me to see you like this,” and his thoughts are put to halt when the words leave your mouth. 
it was half past one when sunghoon knocked at the glass doors of your balcony. you were getting ready for bed after movies, and he was avoiding your gaze as you were running your eyes over his state— messy, hurt, and so were you.  
‘did you get into another fight with heeseung?’ you had asked and he avoided, again, dodging all your questions and attempts to check on him. you let him in, and he goes straight to your bathroom. his gaze doesn’t meet your eyes, he avoids all the eye contact and conversation. he turns away to take off his shirt covered in dirt. it’s worse this time. ‘come here,’ 
you grabbed his arm to pull him towards you, but he refused to face you. he’s ashamed, like every time he is when you see him like this. the pretty face you’ve always been so fond of no longer fits the definition. you tried to make him look at you, but he grabbed your hands, kissing your palms and pulled you to bed. 
“is that a new way of telling me to not get into fights?” he asks, feigning a yawn, a faint chuckle following by. you’re still on top of him, pinning him down, and if he didn’t know any better, you would’ve ended up under him already. 
“is it working?”
“a bit,” he mumbles quietly and pulls you closer by your waist, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck. he keeps planting tender kisses on your cheeks, and then down on your neck, as if telling you to let go of all the concerns that plague your mind. “you worry too much,”
“i know, i will continue to do that,” you pull back again, much to his disappointment. nothing could compare to the feeling of having you in his arms. “if not for your dad and for the sake of your reputation then at least for me, you need to stop,”
sunghoon knows.
if not for anything— it isn’t for anything else. not for his mother’s million dollars fashion brand, not for his sister’s business ventures, nor his father’s political career. it’s for you, every scratch, every nip and every cut, every drop of blood that had trickled down the corner of his lips when heeseung landed a punch on his face. how could he not? sunghoon can stand anything but people talking down on you as if they know you. it makes him fight for you and funnily enough, he’s happy to bleed to death for you.
“you always ruin the mood, bringing that old man up,” he’s deflecting— just as you had expected and you’re not backing down. one leg swinging to the other side, arms by his head. he’s down, caged, a position where he can’t avoid you. it’s about time you two had this conversation.
“i’m serious,” you’re trying your best to keep up the stern face, eyes locked into his. 
“i love it when you get all serious, angel,” he grins suggestively, arms around your waist again. he’s slipping them under your top, you slap it away and it only makes him laugh in amusement. “i suppose it is a bit too early for that,”
you don’t say anything, just looking at his pretty face. you stroke softly over the cut on his cheekbone and he flinches ever so slightly. it’s new, it stings, adorned by a bit of dried up blood just like the one on his lips. there’s one near his jaw from a while ago, it’s healing. each and every part an ugly reminder of how much trouble he gets in.
“you’re such a pretty face,” you whisper quietly and lean down to kiss him, trying to be so gentle to not hurt him even more. you take your sweet time, tracing your lips over those wounds, new or old, and then speaking with a voice impossibly loving. “even with these,”
“i love it when you call me that,” he takes your hand, kissing your palms. it’s not everyday that he’s spoiled like this.
and you pull your hand back, speaking with frown as if giving him a warning. “i won’t anymore if you get into another fight,”
“guess we’re making truce with heeseung,” he chuckles quietly, shaking his head, pretending to be annoyed. he finally pulls you down next to him and wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead. “things i do for my girl,”
you let out a muffled laughter while your face is buried in his chest before looking up at him with love pouring out of your eyes. “for me?”
“for you,” you hand rests on his cheeks as he leans down for a kiss, and his hands wrap over them gently, holding them in place. when you kiss him so deeply yet delicately, like it’s a stellar reunion, he pulls away just for a brief second, whispering against your lips. “everything,”
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sporadicbeans82 · 3 days
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Reader’s dad has really high standards for her like impossibly high for just a 16 year old, and she overworks herself to the point she passes out and all the girls are really concerned and she’s just like no i have to keep going i have to be better i have to be enough and then they all press her for more info and then when she eventually tells them about how she’s feeling they all comfort her and tell her playing pro soccer at that young is amazing and that she’s enough]” Barcelona Femini (mainly Alexia Putellas) or Arsenal WFC
You 100% do not need to write this just would love to see your talented writing skills give this a shot🫶
Enough || Barcelona Femení x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of death, toxic family relationships, lack of self care from reader, Swearing (probably?)
Word count: 4.3k words
A/N: I lied, this was next. Feel free to make more requests. I hope that this is alright, anon! I kind of strayed from the plot.
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“You should have scored more, you didn’t try hard enough,” Your father’s voice was flat, the comments made offhandedly as if he were talking about what you were having for dinner. As if he weren’t stabbing you in the back with his words, the comment digging deeper and deeper and cracking your heart open. “That header was yours, you disappointed your team by letting that one go.” 
Growing up, you’d always dreamed of playing professional soccer, and so your parents had supported your dreams. They drove you to each of your games and training, and helped pay for you to go to an academy. They helped you get to your national camps, made and packed nutritious food for you, and supported you in each and every way that they could.
You stuck to your dreams and overcame so many challenges to get to where you were. You’d learned from the best, had run into injuries, had laughed with friends and had lost those friends as they’d given up the dreams that all of you had had. You’d thought about giving up, too, especially when your mother had been diagnosed with cancer.
She’d fought tooth and nail to stay alive, working hard to still help you become the best player that you could. She continued to support you with your father, up until the point where she was far too weak to continue doing so. She’d gone to every single one of your games, even when she felt sick or like she didn’t have the energy, and for that you were determined to make it worth it for her. Little did you know that watching you was your mother’s greatest pride, and she would not allow her sickness to keep her from supporting you.
And so you stuck to the sport, even when your friends did not, and it had all paid off in the end. In the summer, you’d signed for Barcelona Femení, the day after your sixteenth birthday. Your mother was there for your signing, beside your father. That day, she promised you that she would watch your first game with Barcelona no matter what.
She hadn’t made it that long, dying only a few days later. You’d taken the loss hard, but it was your father who had taken it the hardest. Your father had hardened in ways that you hadn’t anticipated, becoming cruel and harsh. He seemed to have given up hope, the bags beneath his eyes dark and puffy. 
He was a shell on the man that he’d once been, and it showed in the way he now treated you. After the loss of your mother, he’d drawn into himself and away from you, and you found yourself so much lonelier than you had ever been.
The team had been there for you, allowing you to take time off and letting you know that they had psychologists and people to talk to if you had needed it. It took you a week to return.
When you were finally mentally ready to move on and begin participating in training sessions, it was now your captain, Alexia Putellas, who drove you to practices. 
Your father no longer attended your matches, no longer worked hard to ensure that you got all the support that you deserved. Instead, he sat at home and mourned the loss of your mother. The truth was, you were both hurting, but you had to be strong in hopes that your father would soon bounce back.
He never did.
You hadn’t told any of your teammates, but the stress of the situation was getting to you. It showed in your performance and the way you trained in all of the worst ways. You were exhausted, emotionally and also physically as you had troubles sleeping at night. You wanted a hug from your mom, wished that she was there to tell you that everything would be alright.
But she wasn’t there, which was the entire problem, and she would never be able to do that again. 
And so things continued as they were for several months. The pressure grew onto you, far too much for your young shoulders to carry on their own, but you forced yourself to remain strong. You worked harder than you ever had in your life, attempting to be enough for your father and to try to make your mother proud as you’d promised her. 
Foolishly, you dreamed at night that you could bring your father out of the deep pit of depression he’d fallen into. Maybe, if you tried hard enough, he’d realize that you really were good at soccer. Maybe he’d wake up and realize that you needed him still, but the truth was that a part of him had died when your mother had, and you would never be getting him back. 
You’d basically forced him to come to your match, begging him for weeks on end to come to at least one. Ironically, it was the first time you were being trusted to start for your team as well. It was supposed to be a special match, commemorating everything that you and your parents had ever worked for.
You’d hoped that he would come out of his shell if he returned to a little bit of his old life. You’d been wrong, as the second you’d stepped into his car, he was throwing insults and critiques at you. 
He was nothing of the man you’d grown up with, and it hurt you like no other pain you’d felt in your life. Even breaking two bones in your leg at thirteen didn’t compare to the pain in your chest, hollowed out by month after month of loneliness and pain. You felt like your heart, once full of love, had been scraped empty of any positive emotion that it had once felt, and your father held the scalpel. 
You tried arduously to tune your father out, trying to focus on the positives of the match as your father drove. 
You’d won the game!
“You relied on the other defenders far too much to cover for your careless mistakes.”
You’d made an amazing tackle on a player who had skirted past Ingrid Engen! It had earned you a shower of applause from the watching fans and a proud peck to your forehead from Ingrid herself!
“You were too slow, you need to be faster, like Batlle.”
Alexia had told you that she was proud of you!
“You aren’t good enough for this team, God knows why they chose you.”
You weren’t aware of the tears which fell down your cheeks, and your father ignored them. You didn’t know why he was so intent on breaking you down after years spent building you up. You missed how life was before.
You missed your mom.
As your father pulled into the driveway of your childhood home, you hopped out. Before a sob could break free of your quivering lips, you were bounding up the steps to your room and closing the door behind you. You flopped down on the bed, all of the emotions which had bubbled beneath the surface coming out in ugly, whiny gasps and cries. 
Your heart burned, as if scorched. You had never felt so empty, so dark, and so lonely. You wanted someone to hold you, and you didn’t know who to turn to anymore. You cried yourself to sleep, although you only managed to get a few meager hours of sleep before you were awoken by some recurring nightmare.
-----
You barely managed to drag yourself to training, exhausted. The dark bags beneath your eyes stood out starkly against your pale skin. You were dressed in a jumper and sweatpants, both of which used to be an appropriate size but which now hung off of your tired frame. 
As Alexia picked you up, she noted your exhaustion with a small frown. 
“Hola, chiqui. Estás bien?” Her voice held a certain concern which was almost enough to break down your walls. You yearned so badly for a sense of comfort, and the which Alexia looked seemed to offer that.
You forced yourself to turn towards the window, not wanting to break down in front of your captain. Your father’s words from the past few months wore heavy on your mind. You were a disappointment and a burden, and you didn’t want Alexia to tell Jona that the team didn’t need you and decide to release you. You wanted to be enough, and you had promised yourself every night that you would be better, you just needed a little bit more time. 
Alexia frowned harsher, nearly locking the car and forcing you to talk to her, but deciding against it. She didn’t want to push you, but she’d noticed that you weren’t okay for a while. 
She’d taken note of the way you always did extra laps and repetitions of each of their workouts. She watched you participate in extra opportunities to practice penalties and how you stood behind after each training for at least an hour to do more work. She knew you were exhausting yourself, could see it in the way you could barely stand. 
She didn’t understand why you pushed yourself so hard, given how good you were. She tried to give you advice, to compliment you whenever she could and saw how you absolutely beamed under any sort of praise or compliment, as though you didn’t get it enough. 
Over the last few months, she’d taken on almost a mentoring role to you. You looked up to her, and she could see how you held each of your teammates in such high regard. For whatever reason, however, it just didn’t seem to stick in your mind that you were of the same caliber as each excellent athlete within the team. 
As she watched you turn away from her, she realized she would need to confront you soon. It was obvious that you weren’t taking care of yourself, but she didn’t want to do it now, not when you were blocking her out as hard as you could. She would need backup, probably from the other captains of the team, and made a promise to herself that she would do it later that day.
Instead of confronting you like she yearned to do, she stayed quiet and allowed you your peace. She watched as, ever so slowly, your shoulders sagged and your body untensed. You’d fallen asleep, and Alexia turned the music down a little bit to try to make the atmosphere easy to sleep in. 
Alexia noticed how the harsh lines in your face relaxed as you slept. You looked more peaceful than she’d ever seen you. She hated that she had to wake you up as the two of you arrived at the training center. 
She parked as gently as she could before reaching over and gently shaking you awake. You groaned as she did so, almost turning away in such a careless, teenage way that Alexia had never seen you do. You always seemed so much more grown up than you were supposed to be, even more so than Claudia or Pina or Vicky, all of whom were older than you. 
“‘M not ready yet, Mom.” You rumbled, and Alexia froze, the frown on her face deepening. She’d tried to be there for you, having lost her own parental figure in her father. She knew the pain that you felt all too well.
 So not to be mistaken for the woman who you’d just lost, Alexia spoke up this time as she shook at you again.
“Despiértate, nena. We are here.” You startled awake, the barriers which had dropped as you slept appearing once more as your face tightened again, a frown set upon your face which mirrored Alexia’s.
You thanked her quietly before climbing out of the car, purposefully walking ahead of Alexia so that she couldn’t ask you any questions about your slip up.
You entered the locker room near-silently, the hood of your jumper up to cover the vast majority of your face. You ignored the looks you got from each of your teammates in favor of quickly getting dressed for training.
As you went to tie your shoes, you realized you were, yet again, crying.
You’re too emotional. Words of your fathers’. Your teammates wouldn’t like you if you showed emotion in front of them. You pushed the fabric of your sleeve against your cheeks, leaving red marks behind with how harshly you rubbed at the salty tears. 
Then, to try to remain inconspicuous, you bent over to tug your shoes on to your feet. You thought you were successful, but hadn’t anticipated how much you’d struggle with your laces. Your exhaustion mixed with your lack of breakfast had caused your hands to shake.
Each time you’d try to make a loop, your quaking fingers would pull too hard or drop the lace altogether. 
All of your teammates noticed your struggle, but it was Paños who stepped in. The older woman knelt down at your feet, hands wrapping around your own and holding them for just a second. Her eyes looked up into yours, noting the tear stains on your cheeks and giving you a comforting smile. 
Then, she refocused on your shoes and began to tie them for you. The rest of your teammates watched on anxiously, although they continued to prepare for training and tried not to stare. The truth was, everyone could see that something was going on with you and that you weren’t okay, but they were scared to upset you by saying anything. You already seemed too tiny and isolated and they walked on eggshells around you.
Each of your teammates yearned to be there for you, but they didn’t know you well enough to know how to be there for you. 
Paños finished with your shoes before standing, holding both of her hands out for you to take. She tugged you to your feet easily, one arm wrapping around you in almost a motherly manner.
The woman was usually seen joking with the younger kids, but with you she had taken a different role, like Ale. 
“Listos, nena?” The goalkeeper asked you, voice soft and comforting. Like Alexia, her voice nearly caused you to break down. You felt your shoulders shake beneath the weight of Sandra’s arm and resisted the urge to turn and hug her like you would have your mother.
You wanted comfort, but your father had convinced you time and time again that you didn’t need it and that you’d be a burden if you sought it out, and so you nodded and pulled away.
You walked out onto the field and began to stretch. You kept your head down, suddenly more numb than you’d felt in months. You ignored the way your stomach clenched with hunger and the way your head had begun to ache and sting from your lack of sleep, proper nutrition, and all of your crying. 
You didn’t look up, even as more of your teammates filtered out to join you. Claudia and Patri stretched next to you, trying to provide jokes for you to laugh at. They didn’t stop even as you didn’t react, continuing to try to cheer you up in the only way they knew how at the moment.
When a whistle sounded to signal the beginning of warmups, you stood instantly. Too fast, however, as your world tilted and spun around you. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever tried alcohol on your fifteenth birthday. 
An arm wrapped around your waist and you regained your balance against the firm body of one of your teammates.
“You okay?” You heard someone ask. Looking up, you caught the concerned glance of Ingrid Engen, who had also taken you under her wing when you’d joined the team. You nodded, pulling away from her, too.
So many people had touched you in the past hour, more than you’d had since your mother had passed away. You almost didn’t know how to react to all the comforting touches and glances, having not received them in so long. 
Ingrid watched on sadly as you walked away from her, the concern which swirled within herself increasing as she watched you wobble away. Ingrid had noticed how out of it you were, how tiny you had been in the clothes which had fit you a month ago. You were pale, more than normal, and the way you’d nearly passed out showed Ingrid that you were not fit to practice. 
The Norwegian caught Alexia’s gaze from across the yard, shaking her head at the Spanish captain to try to convey that you shouldn’t be training.
Sensing that something was wrong, Alexia began to make her way over to you. As she did so, however, your legs finally seemed to cave in from underneath you.
None of your teammates would ever be able to get the image of your crumpled figure on the turf as Alexia and Ingrid both ran to you. The rest of your teammates watched on as the medics were called over.
You were turned on your back by Alexia, one of her fingers touching at your throat as they attempted to find a pulse. It was thready and uneven, but there, and Alexia wanted to cry. She cursed herself for not confronting you sooner, more worried than she remembered ever being as the medical staff pushed her back to give your crumpled form more room.
Alexia had been the one to recommend you to the team, having attended one of your matches for Spain’s U17 match. You’d played up and had still outclassed so many of your teammates, a solid wall in the backline which your teammates depended upon. She’d seen the glimmer of excitement and determination in your eyes, one that you’d lost since the passing of your mother.
She felt like this was all her fault. If she had just spoken to you sooner and had investigated what was going on with you… then, maybe, you would have been okay. She felt as though she had failed you and her responsibilities as a captain to ensure your safety.
You’d become a skeleton of the incredible human that you’d once been, and had watched all the life drain from you while being unable to do anything about it. As you were placed upon a cart to be carried off the field, however, Alexia promised that she would be there for you.
You were wasting your life away, and Alexia was determined to figure out why.
-----
You awoke in a dimly illuminated room, your throat dry and your eyes feeling like they’d been doused with sand. You groaned, attempting to lift your hand as you slowly game through to try and brush at your forehead. You felt cold and sticky all at once– you didn’t feel well at all.
Your hand was caught on something, and you attempted to bat at it only to have your hand caught by something else. As the room slowly began to swim into your vision, you caught the familiar brown eyes of your captain. 
“Hola, capi.” You rasped, and Alexia’s concerned face brightened ever so slightly, a small smile gently pulling her lips upward.
“Hola, chiqui. Como estás?” Alexia inquired, her voice far gentler than you’d ever felt.
“Not very good,” You whispered honestly, feeling like shit. You were tired of fighting, tired of feeling like you weren’t enough. You were ready to be honest about how you felt, no matter if the people around you would stop loving you as your dad promised that they would. “What happened?”
“You passed out.” This voice was different, coming from your left. Slowly, your head fell sideways and you caught the glance of Ingrid. The girl looked more worried than you ever had seen her, and you felt truly terrible for worrying the older woman. 
“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say to that. You knew that you hadn’t been feeling very well for a long time, but you’d been too scared to mention it to anybody but your father. The man who was supposed to keep you safe had failed you in all ways possible, but you didn’t see it that way.
You felt like you weren’t enough and that it was you who had failed, and that you didn’t deserve comfort or love because of it.
Alexia sat up, the motion causing your gaze to come back to her.
“Do you want to tell me why you haven’t been taking care of yourself?” Alexia speaking English took you by surprise. You supposed that it shouldn’t have been that surprising, but you knew that the girl seemed to almost avoid speaking the language. Her voice was still low, comforting, and still worked at lowering your barriers ever more.
You had to resist the urge to throw yourself in her arms and blubber like a baby. You reminded yourself that they would remove you from the team, that they wouldn't accept you, that they would see you as weak.
However, the way Alexia held your hand, her grip comforting and sure, made you think that… maybe… your dad was wrong. Maybe they did care. 
“I…” you hesitated, and felt someone put a hand on your shoulder. Glancing over, you realized that Paños was there, too. You caught her concerned gaze, the small smile on her face, and heard her tell you that it was okay. 
It was then that you realized, all of the adults that you trusted most in the world, that made you feel better when you were at your worst, were there for you. They were here for you when you were lower than your lowest, and if they hadn’t left when you’d fallen on your face on the field, then they wouldn’t leave now. 
That thought gave you the courage to tell the truth, and so you did. 
The girls listened throughout your story. You told them how low you felt, how scared you were. You told them that you missed your mom, but so did your dad. You told them that he’d become a shell of the man he’d once been, that he’d become cruel and harsh– everything that your dad was not. The girls’ faces were stormy, but still they worked to comfort and reassure you in every way that they could.
By the end of your retelling, you were crying, but so were they. 
You were utterly exhausted as a yawn broke through, revealing your exhaustion to the other girls. It was Alexia who spoke first, frowning at you.
“We are here for you, no matter what. We will fix this.” Her words were hard, but not harsh. They were a promise, one that you trusted. “Sleep, we will be here when you wake up.”
“I’m okay.” You retorted. Truthfully, you were terrified. You were scared that they would leave after trusting them with the information and words that had burdened you for months, just as your father had promised you.
Sensing your nervousness, Alexia gently slid up and onto the bed, taking her time and giving you plenty of room. 
As soon as the older woman had sat herself up, careful of the IV in your hand, you moved. You buried yourself against her, an arm wrapping around her back as your face buried itself in her shoulder. Alexia, ever so carefully, wrapped her arms around you in return. 
She pressed a warm, careful kiss against your forehead, and allowed you to cry into her shirt. She did not care about the way your tears wet the material, reassuring you in a spattering of both English and Spanish words. Ingrid and Sandra stepped out to give the two of you privacy, although they would be back for you. They would never leave your side, not now that they knew what you’d been going through.
Alexia continued to hold and comfort you in the ways that you’d yearned for months, her touch gentle. 
That was how you fell asleep, and how you woke up hours later. Despite the amount of time you’d spent in the spare room of the training center, Alexia had stayed. She had not allowed anybody to wake you up, having come to the conclusion that she would never allow your father to speak to you ever again. 
That night, she took you to her home, which she shared with her girlfriend, Olga. There, they cared for you.
Alexia made sure that you spoke to a therapist, and that you never saw your father again. She supported you in the ways that you deserved, and in the ways that you'd lacked since your mother had passed away.
Slowly but surely, Alexia saw you return to the kid that you’d once been: determined, carefree, and stronger than you’d ever been. 
Freed from the confines of your father’s sorrow, you were able to soar. You rose to levels of success that you’d only ever been able to dream of, and you stayed true to your promise.
You made your mother proud.
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meiieiri · 2 days
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𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 [toji fushiguro]
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synopsis: in which toji hears the words “happy birthday” for the first time.
pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | song inspo: cliché | visuals: keychain | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist
warnings: brief mentions of physical and emotional abuse (toji’s painful past, really, i just wanna give him a big hug). inspired by the works of @/ddub1618 on twt!
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He could get in trouble for this, now, normally, he doesn’t sneak out of training but Toji’s curiosity got the better of him this time. Being one of the taller kids, he stays close to the ground so his hair doesn’t stick up from the bushes. He holds his wooden katana close, peeking when he hears delighted laughter coming from the engawa of the estate, a sound that’s a little rare here in the Zenin estate.
“Happy birthday!”
Toji’s breath hitches in his throat when he hears the happy giggles of one of his younger cousins, and he stealthily sneaks over to a tree that’s just a few feet from one of the estate’s buildings, hiding behind the trunk, peeking from time to time to see what’s going on. He watches with a glittery look in his eyes when his aunt presents his third or fourth cousin, Toji doesn’t really know at this point, with a gift box, happily urging the little one to open it.
A thousand thoughts were running through his head as he inquisitively watched the toddler open their presents and have some of the sweet colorful mochi his parents must have requested from the estate kitchens for this special day. The sweet smell of osekihan lingered in the air, and Toji’s stomach growls at the decadent aroma of the slow-cooked red bean rice. He doesn’t get to have sweets often, so he is left wondering if his parents would allow such a thing for him on his own birthday.
“Toji, what are you doing here?”
Toji stiffens at the sound of his older brother’s voice. “Shh, I’m trying to watch.” He says, pressing an index finger to his lips, making a shushing sound. “Look there.”
Jinichi momentarily places his hands over his hips, indulging his younger brother. “It’s just a birthday. What’s so special about it?”
The younger Zenin huffs at the arid response. “I’ve never had one of those before.”
Toji looks down at the broken fingernails on his hands, worn out from the grueling training regimen today, he imagines what it would be like to hold a present and not sharp edged rocks for once. He can only imagine the excitement he’d feel as he slowly pulls the green gift wrapper off the box, being extra careful with it because it looked too pretty and expensive to haphazardly tear apart. As for the tooth-rotting mochi he’ll be receiving, he’ll do his best to only eat tiny pieces of it at a time, making sure to leave some of the sweet treat for later because who knows when he’ll ever get to eat such a luxury again?
“Say, why don’t I get a birthday? It’s always just you getting one every year.”
Jinichi rolls his eyes. “Everyone has a birthday, dimwit. But not everyone celebrates their birthday.” Toji scowls in displeasure at that, his bottom lip curling up in a pout. At his brother’s petulant silence, Jinichi taps out of the conversation, turning on his heel to go back to the training grounds. “I’m heading back, I’m not about to catch another beating because I went to go look for you.”
“Go do whatever you want. I’m staying.”
And with that, Toji turns his attention back to the joyous occasion, looking longingly as the little birthday celebrant receives a loving peck on the cheek from his mother. He doesn’t even notice the familiar ache in his heart that accompanied how his fingers touched his cheek longing for the day his own mother does that for him.
In a perfect world, all children are wanted; they’d have warm beds to snuggle in at night in place of a rundown storehouse’s cold hardwood floor, their cheeks would be showered with kisses and not harsh slaps, they’d be lulled to sleep by warm lullabies and not the sound of their parents arguing why their child turned out this way like they’re some factory defect, they’d be given toys and not weapons that they need to master.
In a perfect world, Toji would have spent his sixth birthday with a plate of nerikiri in front of him and not some random rocks he found in the garden and lined up in a neat row to make it resemble the white bean dessert. He’d be surrounded by the people he so painfully loves and not the sympathetic ants that crawled on the grass in a tucked away corner of the Zenin estate’s compound on the day he was born into this world.
In a perfect world, Toji wouldn’t have to sing himself a ‘happy birthday’ because no one else ever cared to do it for him.
“Happy birthday, Toji…”
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“Toji!”
He must have been zoning out. You told him to meet you outside Shinjuku station today for your date and he doesn’t really know how long he’s been sitting in the waiting area, but it must have been long enough for his mind to wander to the agonizing recollections of his childhood. Toji looks up to see you hurrying to tap your train card on the turnstile with a tired smile that’s pretty hard to miss.
Toji stands up to meet you halfway and you giggle, launching yourself in his arms. Toji loves it when you do that, it shows how you trust him completely that in any and every given second, he’ll always catch you. Burying his face in your hair, he inhales the floral smell of your shampoo, the haze in his mind dissipating ever so slightly.
He frowns when you’re the first to pull away and he opens his mouth to whine about it, but he instantly drops it when he sees you holding up a little gift-wrapped box in front of him. Toji blinks. “This for me?” He almost couldn’t believe it. “You actually remembered?”
You’ve been casually pretending this entire week that you didn’t know what was coming up because you’ve been trying to keep your little surprise low-key until today. Nodding, you kiss the scar on his lips.
“Of course I did! That’s why I was late, I was looking for some…uh…well, never mind! Just open it!” You tap your toe against the floor shyly as his fingers nimbly and painstakingly unwrap the present.
As if he had stepped into a time machine, Toji pictures himself back in the Zenin estate, his knees pulled to his chest as he celebrates his birthday alone, a solitary tear streaming down his face. Except something’s different like the time-space continuum hit a snag or something. The difference being a miniature version of you, smiling adoringly at him, as you plop down next to him on the dirt ground, not caring if your little dress got soiled. In his hands, in this version of events gone by, is a half-opened present wrapped in a beautiful blue gift paper.
Oh, how it would have been nice had that been the case all those years ago when your gentle hands would cup both his cheeks, your thumbs gently rubbing his bruised cheeks. How you would have brightened his days with your warm sunshine.
After what seems like an eternity of gazing into your orbs, seeing his modified past play like a montage from the light reflecting off your eyes, Toji opens the gift and he picks up a crocheted keychain, his index finger flicking the metal hook.
“A frog.”
You chortle as he points out the obvious. “It was the easiest thing to crochet,” you said defensively. “I was late today because I was looking for these,” you point to the black beads serving as the little frog’s cute eyes.
“There’s a…” Toji trails off, his voice wavering. You know what he’s talking about, so you take his bigger hand in your delicate ones. The two of you gazing at your little masterpiece.
“Sorry, I kinda ripped it when I pulled the yarn a little too hard. Guess I was getting sleepy.” You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. “Then, I kinda ran out of green yarn to fix it, so, I had to improvise. I’m sorry if it seems a little offensive—“
Toji cuts you off with an abrupt kiss, not caring if the two of you were attracting a crowd of commuters as the two of you kiss in the middle of a crowded train station. “It’s not half-bad, squirt. Don’t worry.” He ruffles your hair, eagerly suppressing his smile as he looks at the frog keychain that’s meant to resemble him with the tiny pink scar you knit on the corner of the frog’s smiley lips.
Your heart practically leaps out of your chest and you nudge him gently as he continues to stare at the keychain. “Don’t lose it now.”
“You kidding? I’m putting this in a damn safe.”
The two of you share a laugh at that, your fingers interlacing with one another as your lips brush against each other once more.
“Happy birthday, Toji.”
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moonstruckme · 2 days
Note
Hi! I absolutely love your writing and saw that your requests were open so I thought I’d shoot this over. If you don’t vibe with it don’t worry about skipping it. I was wondering if I could request a James x reader where they are living together and definitely love each other but they’ve kind of slipped into a roommate phase. Like they’re just living around each other and reader starts feeling insecure and scared and doesn’t know how to get back into normalcy. Maybe a little angsty with some fluff at the end
Thanks lovely!
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.4k words
When James comes in the front door, his shoes squelch. You look him up and down, dripping wet and mud caked up to his knees. You wince. 
“Rough practice?” 
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” James says, dropping his bag by the door and heading for the kitchen. 
There’s an exhausted slump to his shoulders, and his shoes leave a muddy trail of footprints, and you hate to do it, but—
“Would you mind taking off your shoes?” 
“Oh.” James looks down. You see him follow the trail with his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.” 
“It’s fine.” 
You hate yourself as soon as it’s out of your mouth, because that’s exactly the sort of thing you’d say if it wasn’t fine. And yeah, you’re a bit peeved that he’d track mud inside after you’d mopped the floors just yesterday, but you know he wasn’t thinking about it and you’d promised yourself just this morning that you were going to be nicer to him and now he’s sitting on the floor looking like his day is getting worse instead of better. 
You try again. 
“Um, I made dinner.” You step over him awkwardly, setting a hand on his head to help yourself. James doesn’t shrink from the touch, but he doesn’t lean into it like you could swear he used to either. The stove turns off like it’s relieved to do it, having idled for close to a half hour while you waited for James to get home. You wanted to try and eat together tonight; you used to do it all the time, but lately you’ve been having too many couch dinners by your lonesome. “Macaroni and cheese, is that alright?” 
“Yeah, thanks.” You jolt a little at James’ hand on your back as he reaches around you for a bowl, and he looks at you, lips quirking like you’re funny. 
You find yourself smiling back by muscle memory, a reflex almost forgotten. It lifts your heart. 
“So, how was practice?” 
James glances up at you, then goes back to filling his bowl. “I’ve already told you,” he says. “Rough.” 
“Oh, right.” You huff out a little laugh. He passes you the spoon, and you take it without really looking at him. “Sorry.” 
His answering smile is weaker this time. More a press of his lips than anything. 
“Don’t be.” He kisses you on the cheek, then goes, pulling out his chair at the table. 
You take your seat, too. A lot of these base routines have begun to feel empty lately. They used to be an assurance for you, like if you always wore your same paths into the carpet you’d become so entrenched in this house, in James’ house, that neither he nor it could ever let you leave. You loved knowing that if he was back from his run when you woke up in the morning, there’d be a glass of orange juice waiting for you on the counter. That when the flowers on your kitchen table started to wilt you’d come home to a fresh bunch, and that if you called and told him you were having a bad day lunch from your favorite sandwich shop would miraculously show up at your work. Those things used to make your heart feel full to bursting, because they meant he was thinking of you. 
Now you’re not sure what they mean. They seem like things James does because he’s supposed to, like part of a script, a routine. Chores. 
As soon as he’s sat down, he’s digging into his dinner. James eats like a boy. Wolfing, like someone’s going to take it away from him. You hope it means he likes it. 
“What’d you do tonight, m’love?” he asks through a mouthful.
And see, he says things like that. Calls you his love, asks about your day. It’s all started to fall flat. You know he’ll take whatever answer you give him, because you’ve begun to suspect he doesn’t really care. 
“Nothing crazy,” you answer honestly. “Shayna’s baby came early, so I’m taking on a bit more at work until they can find someone to fill in for her. So that’s a bit stressful, but it’s not awful.” 
“Mm.” James nods, but doesn’t offer more than that. His mouth seems to be perpetually full. 
You fork a macaroni noodle, pretending you have more appetite than you do. Truthfully, you’ve felt weird and off and vaguely nauseous all day. 
Last night had been a bit of a breaking point for you. It came on rather suddenly. You’d gone to bed long after James, but you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from him, the way the moonlight snuck in through the slats in your blinds to fall across his sleeping face. He was so beautiful, and you loved him so much you didn’t know what to do with it all, and then you were crying. 
You’d wept silently, wishing James would wake up, but you were unwilling to rouse him and he wasn’t going to do it himself. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep with your pillowcase damp and cold under your cheek and woke to find James’ side of the bed empty as usual. Orange juice on the counter. 
“I was wondering if you might want to watch a film tonight,” you say lightly. “I saw they’ve put that sci-fi one you like back on Netflix.” 
“Ah, have they really?” James swallows, forks another bite. “Wish I could, but I’m supposed to meet everyone at Spoons in a few minutes here.” 
Oh. The realization hits you like a dull thud, smack in the center of your chest. He’s not eating quickly because he likes your food; it’s because he wants to leave. 
“Can’t you stay here?” Your voice is small. James looks at you like he’s not sure what to make of it. 
“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He offers you a smile. His fork clinks in the bottom of an empty bowl, and his chair screeches as it’s pushed back. James brushes his lips across your cheek as he goes by. “We’ll have to do it this weekend, though, definitely.” 
You know by now these sorts of promises aren’t meant to keep. They come written in disappearing ink.
He heads upstairs to change, and desperation grips you. It forgets he’ll be home later and puts you hot on his heels, your own dinner left on the table barely touched. 
“Jamie, wait.” He pauses with his shirt half off, looking over at you in the doorway. “Don’t you feel like we’ve not had much time together lately?” you ask. 
The plea is naked in your tone, and James’ eyes soften. He tugs his shirt off, straightens his glasses. “I haven’t had time for much of anything lately,” he says, shrugging good-naturedly. 
It’s true. He’s been busy. His new coach seems to think the team has nothing but time, and as captain James is expected to commit even more than most. When he’s not at training, he’s keeping fit on his own or running errands for his mum or sleeping it all off in your bed. 
“But you should come tonight,” James goes on brightly. “Dorcas and Marlene will be there, it’ll be fun.” 
He tosses his clothes in the laundry bin and makes his way over to the dresser. You cross your arms, then uncross them. Parse your words. “I don’t…I just feel like you hung out with your friends last night, you know?” 
“You could’ve come then, too,” he says, stepping into a pair of jeans. “They all love you, you know that.” 
“I don’t want to hang out with your friends.” It comes out sharper than you intend, though not less sharp than the look James gives you. He’s finished getting dressed but doesn’t make to leave. “That’s not what I mean. I like your friends, but it’s not…the same as spending time with you. It doesn’t count, for me.” Your voice softens on the last two words, knowing that for James, it might very well count. 
For him, you’ve gathered, social time is social time. So long as you’re there, he’ll feel just as connected to you as if you were curled up on the couch together having a private conversation. You wish your brain worked the same way, but it doesn’t. 
He’s looking at you with something like trepidation now, so you state it plainly. 
“I really miss you, Jamie.” A blockage rises in your throat. You swallow it back down. “I feel like…I don’t know what’s going on with us lately.” 
“We’re the same as we have been.” He looks confused, worse when your face pinches painfully. 
“And that’s all?” You try to blink them away, but tears burn in your eyes. “This is just what we do now?” 
“No.” James looks appalled, but you catch the quick glance he gives to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s only for now, just until the season’s over and Coach mellows out. Where’s this coming from?” 
You blink hard, angling your head away from him. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just being emotional.” Your breath scrapes on the way in. You pretend it doesn’t. “It’s okay if you have to go.” 
He shakes his head, and when you start back towards the stairs anyway, he says, “No, come on.” In a few long strides, he’s got your elbow. He tugs you gently back into the room. “Let’s sit down, okay? What’s going on?” 
“Sorry.” Your voice is pitchy and tight. You think you hear James inhale softly before he’s drawing you into a hug. It doesn’t feel quite like it used to, but it’s still warm, still nice. 
He sits you both down on the edge of your bed, arms still wrapped loosely around you. “What are you sorry for, baby?” 
“I was going to try not to make your life harder today,” you laugh wetly, pulling back from him to swipe under your eyes. 
“You don’t make my life harder,” James says, somewhere near to dismayed as he slides his hand to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t.” 
You give him a look meant to say, Oh, come on, but you’re not sure how it comes off with your face blotchy and snot starting to run from your nose. You take in a big breath, trying to calm yourself. 
“I think I’ve made it harder more than I’ve made it easier lately,” you admit, looking at your bedcover and also at nothing at all. “I didn’t even really realize until recently, but I’ve just felt so…disconnected from you lately. It’s like even when you’re here, I’m just around you and not with you, and—” Your voice catches, and you inhale again. “And I know you’re really busy, but I’m just trying to find ways to fix it.” 
James’ hand drops from your shoulder, into his lap, and you lift your gaze. He looks crestfallen. “What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly, his own voice starting to sound raw. “I can’t control these things. And we live together, I see you all the time. It doesn’t seem fair to ask me not to see my mates.” 
“I’m not asking you to do that.” You’re horrified. “But that’s just it, Jamie, it’s like we only live together anymore. Saying hi when you come in, waving when you go back out, those don’t count as quality time for me. And I wish I could get the same feelings from being in a big group that you do, but I can’t.” 
James looks at you helplessly. You shrug, just as powerless. 
“I know it’s not your fault,” you tell him, and a tear drips off your chin. “I don’t know what to do, either. I just want you to know that I’m trying, okay?” 
James nods for a minute. Thoughtful, heartbroken. He lets out a big breath. Your arms come around each other at almost the same time, so in sync you can’t be sure who reaches for the other first. You’re trying not to get snot on his fresh shirt, but he palms the back of your head, pressing your face to his shoulder. 
“Okay,” he says quietly. “You’re right, we should both be trying more. I think I’ve let myself get so overwhelmed that I’m not…almost not even thinking throughout the day, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this by yourself.” 
“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, and a little laugh rumbles through James’ chest. He hugs you tighter. 
“It is a little bit, though, isn’t it? I haven’t been paying attention. But okay, let’s make a plan for now.” His hand splays out between your shoulder blades, and you clutch at the material of his shirt, both of you wordlessly trying to get closer as if you can make up for lost time. “Come with me tonight, please.” You go still, but James goes on, “I know it’s not a solution, but I can’t back out and I’d really feel so much better if you were there. Please, angel. And tomorrow, we’ll stay in and watch something. Not a film only I like,” he gives your back a teasing little squeeze, “but something we can both get into. Or we can just talk, or play a game, I don’t care. Tomorrow is our night, yeah?” 
“Yeah,” you sniff, nodding and pulling away slightly so you can wipe your face. James joins in, pinching your nose clean for you and wiping the snot on his jeans carelessly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to clear my busy schedule.” 
He smiles. It’s like the sun beaming through clouds. “I’d appreciate that. Really hard to get ahold of you these days.” You let out a little laugh, and his grin spreads. “Good, so that’s for now, and at training on Friday I’m going to talk to Coach about cutting down on our hours.” 
You feel your eyebrows pinch. ���Jamie, you don’t have to—” 
“I do,” he says. “I’ve been a wuss about it, but everyone on the team is miffed and it’s really my job to handle it. He doesn’t know everything yet, so I can at least give him some advice about how we operate best.” 
James palms the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and meeting you halfway. His forehead presses against yours. 
“I’m really glad you said something. Thanks for being the smart one, as usual.” Your smile is small at first, but James nudges his nose against yours until it blooms in full. “We’re gonna make it better, okay?” 
You swallow thickly. “Okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 
“Don’t thank me.” His voice takes on a tender quality, and you push your forehead into his. He palms your cheeks in response, stamping his lips to your forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.” 
“I love you, too.” 
That was never up for debate. 
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archiverstappen · 3 hours
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appendix touch ✧ max verstappen
max verstappen x ferrari! fem! reader
masterlist
the beloved ferrari heiress just had her appendix removed, and now the whole world is convinced that she's going to start an epidemic
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yn_ferrari
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yn_ferrari I understand that, without my agreement, my father has put out an instagram story this afternoon that makes it seem like I’m dying. This is true, I do feel like I’m dying. I’m having my appendix removed.
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maxverstappen1 Will get that win for you 💙
↳ yn_ferrari no, thanks ❤️
↳ papaferrari Please let Carlos/Charles win for Y/N’s faster recovery 😊
username SHE’S SO UNSERIOUS 😭
oscarpiastri 🤨
↳ yn_ferrari poet of the century
alex_albon Been there, done that
↳ yn_ferrari teach me your ways, master
username THANK GOD IT’S JUST AN APPENDIX
username get well soon mother
carlossainz55 Get well soon, mi hermana 😂
↳ yn_ferrari soy lago
↳ landonorris stop copying me 😒
charles_leclerc Fake 🤭
↳ yn_ferrari i’ll pinch your appendix with my bare hands so you’d know how it feels
↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😨
↳ yn_ferrari look away, my love 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩
scuderiaferrari Get well soon, Boss ❤️
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scuderiaferrari
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scuderiaferrari Patient 0, Patient 1, and Charles 😄 The gang is finally back in a land down under 🦘
tagged yn_ferrari, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc
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username Y/N YOU BETTER STAY AWAY FROM CHARLES 😭
papaferrari My children 🧒🧒🧒
username favorite trio ever
username the fact that we won't be seeing them together again next year 😞
yn_ferrari admin... what's with the caption? 🙂
↳ scuderiaferrari Hi boss, please don't fire me
charles_leclerc I'm a survivor ❤️‍🩹
↳ yn_ferrari you're next 👹
↳ papaferrari Don't say that kind of thing, I can't have all of my children go through the same surgery three weeks in a row
↳ charles_leclerc 🤪🤪🤪 yn_ferrari
↳ carlossainz55 We'll try again next time yn_ferrari
username she's got that appendix touch, because every appendix that she touches starts to burst 🤷‍♀️
↳ yn_ferrari HELP 💀
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yn_ferrari
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yn_ferrari beyond proud of what you guys achieved today, words can't describe how i feel! and no, contrary to popular belief i had nothing to do with max's dnf 😮‍💨
ps. someone said i've got the appendix touch, soo... if you're interested just hit me up
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maxverstappen1 🙍‍♂️
maxverstappen1 Enjoy it while it lasts, Schat 😑
↳ yn_ferrari I will 😽
redbullracing You're temporarily banned from our garage🙏
↳ yn_ferrari I DIDNT DO ANYTHING?!
↳ redbullracing A source spotted you touching the rear wing of Max's car 💔
↳ yn_ferrari THAT'S A LIE.... scuderiaferrari STEP UP?
↳ scuderiaferrari Sorry, we're too focused on celebrating P1 and P2
↳ mercedesamgf1 Wow, can't relate scuderiaferrari
username why is there a video of you running down the pitlane after race, pls explain 😭
↳ yn_ferrari i was watching the race with max at red bull’s hospitality 🏃‍♀️💨
carlossainz55 Us 1 - Appendicitis 0 🍾
↳ yn_ferrari yes sir 🫡
charles_leclerc Can I have my appendix removed too? papaferrari
↳ papaferrari No
landonorris Do mine next, I need to win
alex_albon Can I have my appendix removed again?
↳ yn_ferrari control your man lilymhe 😭
↳ lilymhe bffr 🤬
username FORZA FERRARI SIEMPRE
↳ yn_ferrari rrrAAAGHHHH 🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎
scuderiaferrari We're so happy, our appendix literally burst 🥹
↳ username new merch idea?
↳ scuderiaferrari Noted 📝
papaferrari Dinner on me tonight 😎 carlossainz55 charles_leclerc
↳ charles_leclerc Finally
↳ carlossainz55 On my way!
↳ maxverstappen1 Can I come too?
↳ papaferrari I guess so, Y/N would be mad if I didn't invite you
↳ charles_leclerc Max got a pity invite 🤭
↳ yn_ferrari KEEP MY BOYFRIEND'S NAME OUT OF YOUR F-ING MOUTH
↳ lewishamilton Can i come? 🤔
↳ carlossainz55 My wound is still fresh...
↳ yn_ferrari LET HIM HAVE THIS ONE, SIR. WE'LL SEE YOU NEXT YEAR 🤗
--
pictures (c) to pinterest and instagram
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suguann · 2 days
Text
tags. fem!reader, the overused 'i know we're supposed to be fwb but i fell in love with you anyway' trope, confessions, gojo mentally spiraling during sex over how much he's in love with you because that's a very him thing to do [18+ only]
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Gojo can’t tear his eyes off you as you move above him—riding his cock like this would be the last time you’d ever feel it inside you. That thought twists his insides, his fingers digging into your hips as if you might float away before he ever really had a chance to voice the words he’s been too scared to say.
But he couldn’t really stop you if you wanted to leave—that’s how the groundwork of uncomplicated arrangements like these work, at least in the beginning. He likes to think that a lot has changed since that night in your living room between two drunk, lonely people with nothing to lose aside from your torn underwear in his haste to get them down your soft legs and an old condom tucked away in his wallet.
The feeling sneaks up on him without his knowing, a throbbing in his chest that festers and grows over time until he can’t ignore it anymore or contain it in the proverbial cup of his hands no matter how hard he tries.
It doesn’t dampen how much he wants to mold the shape of his cock inside your tight little cunt, to ruin you for anyone else who thought they even had a chance, to have his name be the first thing you think of when you cum. He wants to make every part of you his, and he only hopes you want the same thing, too.
He groans at the thought, gripping you tight to slam his hips up into you. “Tell me who’s fucking you so good. Tell me who’s the only one that gets to make you cum.”
“You, Toru!” you sob, holding onto his biceps to keep yourself from falling against his chest. It has his balls drawing up tight, and he sucks in a breath to stop this from being over too soon.
“That’s right, pretty girl,” he grunts. “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. I’m the only one who gets to feel this sweet princess cunt.” He leans up to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, groaning when he feels you clench down around him.
“I-I’m gonna cum,” you choke out.
“Yeah?” His fingers circle over your clit as he shoves his cock deeper inside of you to take you there faster, nipping at the swell of your breast. “Fuck, give it to me, baby. Lemme feel it.”
His name is soft and sweet on your tongue as you cum, squeezing around him until his eyes roll back from how good it feels. It has him following after you, grinding his cock as far as it can go while he pulses and fills you to the brim. There’s so much that he feels it leak out of your little hole and drip down his balls to pool in an uncomfortable wet puddle forming beneath him.
He rolls away from the mess when you both catch your breath, his softening cock still tucked away between your wet thighs. You stroke his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp, and he buries his face into your chest, words weighing heavy in his chest.
Maybe he should cut the bullshit already, say what he wants to say, and get let down easy while he still has a chance to recover from rejection—
“Sleep with me?” he asks, voice muffled and a shade of red high on his cheeks.
You giggle, lightly tugging on his hair. “I probably need at least—”
“No,” he cuts you off nervously, heat rising to his ears. “No sex. Just to sleep…here. With me?”
When you don’t say anything right away, he wonders if there’s any way he can take back his words and whether you’d believe him if he told you it was all a joke. But then you tug the blanket over both of you, tucking the corners in so the air from the ceiling fan doesn’t reach your cooling skin, and continue running your fingers through his hair.
There’s a warmth in his chest, which he thinks might be what love feels like.
After a moment, you say, “If you steal the blankets, I’m kicking you off the bed.”
Gojo snorts, smiling against your breast. “But it’s my bed.”
You hum. “Yes, and I’ll do it anyway.”
“Just so we’re clear, I’m still going to fuck you later.”
“Go to sleep, Satoru.” He can’t see it but knows you’re smiling, too.
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Masterlist
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hor3nee · 1 day
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• Fatherhood •
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What kind of dads are the JJK men ?
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CW/TW: GN! Reader, Mentions of crappy parenting, BREIF mention of pregnancy in Geto's, (Lmk if I should add anything else!)
Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji x Reader
AN: Almost cried writing this the baby fever is going HARD rn dude. Headcanons !
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• Gojo •
Menace of a father, but in the good way! Gojo spends his years raising his kids as if he's their best friend, truly and genuinely treats his kids as equals and in a sweet way, allows his children to have complete trust in him. Because Gojo is quite childish himself, he loves playing with his kids, making a fool of himself, and indulging with them.
Has a bit of a bad side to this though, his lack of traditional discipline or making himself the 'adult' in the situation leads the kids to both be very spoiled and not really ever listen to him.
"Sweetheart, darling, my perfect angel, can you please go to bed?? pretty please! Help your old man here, please??"
"Nuh uh!" And with that bout of defiance, he's back to running up to you, like HE'S the child, begging for your help. Because it seems you're the only one who can get the kids in line, and you do.
Plays pranks and teases the hell out of his kids as they get older, always in a loving way of course, but nonetheless loves getting them flustered over his stupidity. Type of dad to do dumbass dances in the middle of a Walmart to embarrass his kids.
• Geto •
Geto is optimum of what it means to be a gentle parent. Cannot, for the life of him, bring it in himself to yell at his kids. He's so soft-spoken, never so much as raising his voice against his children. Geto has children who respond to his voice alone, because it's so lulling, he's familiarized them with it and made them feel safe with it.
Doesn't mean he can't discipline them, of course he can, and he does so extremely gracefully. Whenever you're on your last straw with the kids, fighting the urge to start scolding them and yell, he steps in, smoothly taking over and the kids instantly listen to him.
"We're your parents, honey, c'mon that's not very nice to say, is it? They carried you for 9 months you know. Say sorry." Like magic the kids shut up and come over to you apologizing while Geto stands back, calmly having fixed the situation with ease.
With everything Geto does, has done, experienced etc, he can sometimes feel conflicted. Geto knows what he is capable of, and what he has done, he's extremely self-aware even if he justifies it, and he can struggle to balance the weight of all of it while also remaining a dutiful father.
Despite it, he does wonders keeping it separate from what his children have to see or experience, teaches them respect and kindness and hopes they hold true to it.
• Nanami •
Not a single man on this list fathers as hard as Nanami fathers. He's built for it like no other. Nanami treats fatherhood with his all, he puts his all into it and makes damn certain he does right by it. Stern when necessary, sweet when needed, provides for his kids and refuses to miss any important milestone of theirs.
Nanami is a calm man but the second work starts piling potentially making him miss his kids school play or something he's arguing with his supervisors and ready to throw hands.
He keeps the drawings his kids make on his desk, alongside a photo of you and your kids. Literally just stares at it while working smiling, unable to wait till he's home with the kids. They are his pride and joy genuinely.
No matter how over-worked Nanami may be though, when he comes home you are basically on vacation. Insists you rest and he takes over literally everything involving the kids.
"Darling, darling no, I got this covered. You take rest. You know I love spending time with my kids." He says with an earnest smile, both kids in his beefy arms just dangling around and playing with their father. He's definitely exhausted from work, but that never stops him.
• Sukuna •
The King of the Curses, as cruel and terrifying as he is, taking pleasure in all sorts of sickness and treating love as pointless, legitimately likes his kid.
He doesn't care about fatherhood, or the responsibilities that being a parent entails, but it's nice having a mini version of himself around. That he likes. An extension of himself and you, it's nice to have around he doesn't mind it. He may act aloof about it, not outwardly showing affection like hugs or kisses, but he clearly enjoys it.
He gets a massive ego trip when his kids cause chaos and disturbances. Points at them laughing with his belly "See that? That's mine."
Sukuna never minces his words though, and his kids have to get used to his bluntness. Again, he doesn't care for the concept of 'parenting', and will in their face call the kid some extreme insults and weak and they have to learn to take it.
On the flip side, Sukuna also never minces his praise, and Sukuna has an abundance to give his kids. Every accomplishment or show of strength that they show he'll let them know he's proud. A good ol' fashioned fatherly slap to their shoulder while he praises them.
He treasures his children, and even if he doesn't put much effort into parenting them, you taking over most of it, he's definitely a present figure in their lives.
• Toji •
Went to get milk, hasn't been seen since.
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babyleostuff · 3 days
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fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!seungcheol x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 613
. . . just cheol being cheol (aka him freaking out because of your fever)
natalia’s note: very much self indulgent, i came home with a fever all of a sudden like a week ago, and ever since im in desperate need of choi seungcheol
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“i’m not dying, you know?” 
“i know,” cheol huffed, and threw what had to be the tenth blanket over you. 
“then why are you acting like i’m about to pass away?” you laughed, seeing your boyfriend’s focused expression. according to his logic, if the blankets weren’t all sprawled out properly, you’d freeze to death, and his furrowed dark eyebrows alongside the crease between them showed how serious he was about it. 
you could hear him mutter something under his breath. he was always like that when you were sick - too worried, and too overprotective. that’s why sometimes you didn’t even bother telling him you were ill, especially with his busy schedules - you didn’t want to burden him even more (he’d probably strangle you if he heard you calling yourself a burden). 
to be honest, you didn’t even have to be sick - the second cheol would notice you acting differently than usual he’d be all over you asking what’s wrong. but while usually you were very grateful for his caring nature, now was not the time. “i’m sorry for being worried about my girlfriend coming home with a fever,” he said, looking offended. 
“cheol, baby. it’s just a fever,” you quickly grabbed the pills from his hand to get his attention back on you. “i’m sure it’s not even a proper fever, i’m just feeling a bit under the weather, that’s all. there is no need for you to be worried.” 
your “illness” was nothing that a long session of cuddles with him and kkuma couldn’t solve, but it seemed like your boyfriend didn’t share your optimism. “fine, do whatever you want,” he grumbled, his pout on full display, and left the room, leaving you too stunned to speak. 
with a loud sigh, you fell back against the stack of pillows cheol fluffed up before forcing you to lay down. of course you didn’t mean to make him think you didn't want his help, you loved how big of a caregiver he was (especially when it came to you), it’s just that unlike him - for you, being sick wasn't the end of the world, and you didn't need him to babysit you. 
not wanting to argue, you stood up from the bed with a soft groan, throwing off all the blankets cheol covered you with. you knew it wouldn't be hard to appease him, he wasn't really angry, more disappointed that you were rejecting his help.
you entered the kitchen and immediately saw him cutting up some food, probably preparing dinner. “cheollie,” you said quietly, hoping he would look at you. unfortunately, he stubbornly continued to cut the vegetables. "baby, please, i didn't mean to upset you." you walked around the kitchen island and hugged him from the side, burying your head in his neck.
you saw his pout out of the corner of your eye, so your suspicions that he wasn't actually angry were correct. “i was just worried about you," he finally said after a while, and put the knife down. "there's nothing fun about seeing your girlfriend come home all burning up with fever."
“i know love, i know,” you mumbled, and kissed his bicep, running your hand gently over his tummy. “i really appreciate everything you do, but i’d rather cuddle with you and kkuma. we could watch something, and you’d get to hold me, hm?” you smiled, seeing the corners of his mouth turning up a little. if there was one thing cheol could never decline, it’d be a cuddle session with his girls. 
“you’ll take the medicine, though,” he said sternly, kissing your hot forehead. “now get your ass back to bed, i’ll be right back” he added.
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taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings
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jennifer-jeong · 3 days
Text
[Fluff + Comfort] [JJK Men x Reader] How They Comfort You
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CONTENT
Fluff, comfort, gender neutral reader, comforting you after having a bad few days, reader having mental health troubles, yes this was self indulgent shit's been hard LMAO
Word Count: 490
You were ranting to your lovely boyfriend after he asked you “what’s wrong baby?” and you immediately started bawling. All your pent up stress and emotion finally flowing out with your tears. You’ve been holed up in your room for a few days either working or sleeping, unable to even find the time or energy to shower. As you finish telling him about your troubles, your insecurities, etc. with a stuffy nose and puffy eyes you tell him “I don’t know what to do. I’m so tired…” His heart aches for you, and he responds with what feels right.
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OKKOTSU YUTA, Yoshino Junpei
Cups your face with his hands to look into your eyes and say “I love you, no matter what, I love you. No matter if you think you’re doing a bad job, no matter if you hate yourself, I love you. I always will.” He spends the rest of the night helping you clean up and plan out your week all while giving lots of kisses.
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NANAMI KENTO, ITADORI YUJI, MUTA KOKICHI
Holds you close with a hug and rubs your back, speaking quietly “let it out baby, you’ve been doing so amazing. You’re here, alive, taking care of yourself and your body. That’s all you ever needed to do.” He runs both of you a bath to help you relax and you talk about how you’ll tackle the next few days of work/school.
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FUSHIGURO MEGUMI, GETO SUGURU, KAMO CHOSO, KAMO NORITOSHI
Gives you your water bottle to take a sip, hands you tissues, and caresses your cheek. Tells you “you’re doing amazing despite everything you have going on baby. I love you, let’s rest tonight and I’ll help you with anything you need to get done tomorrow. We can sit together and do work.” You agree with his plan and after cleaning up, you cuddle until you fall asleep.
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GOJO SATORU, TOGE INUMAKI (but he uses sign language/text)
Pulls out his phone and orders you your favorite order from your favorite fast food place, not even having to ask you what it is. “I love you, and you need to eat. You work so hard, relax tonight and we’ll get back to it tomorrow. Let’s shower while we wait for the food, I’ll wash your back for you.” He reassures you with his hands in the air “no funny business.”
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RYOMEN SUKUNA, FUSHIGURO TOJI, Aoi Todo
Holds you and kisses your forehead, you breathe in his scent and he says “let it out.” His warmth and familiar smell make you ugly cry into his shoulder. He holds you for as long as you need and tells you he loves you while occasionally kissing you. He helps you schedule your week before bed and makes you breakfast the next morning.
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Thank you for reading!
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|| MASTERLIST<3 ||
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shapard · 3 days
Text
Sun and Moon 🌙
Lucifer x bunny!sinner!reader
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No one dares to harm his little bunny
When I pre-read the chapter I accidentally read Sailor Moon instead of "Sun and Moon." Got me confused for a second💀
Soft Lucifer, Violence
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You didn’t know how lucky you got when you started to date Lucifer. 
His outgoing nature was so attractive to you. He was a complete contrast to your personality. He is an extrovert, and you are a complete introvert.
He liked meeting new people while you enjoy staying in his garden. He planted your favorite plants in this garden.
You cured his depression with every smile you gifted him. Sometimes Lucifer even spends time with you in the garden. Either on a picnic date or doing gardening.
Even though Lucifer could easily get gardeners to do that job, he couldn't resist how much fun you actually had. When a new flower started to grow you pulled him towards the little sprout.
You're so cute and innocent. How did you even get into hell?
You two loved the peace when you’re alone, no words need to be spoken. Just you two under the red galaxy in pentagram city. 
In the winter Lucifer holds you close to his body as his wings cover the areas his body can’t hold.
Lucifer was madly in love with you.
How soft you spoken and how shy you were in other presence. Meanwhile in his presence you were hyperactive.
You showed him all kinds of things you drew and painted for him. Lucifer was so proud of you. 
Ever since he found you in some bush, completely hurt and bruises scattered all over your body. 
Your little bunny ears dropped in fear when you saw Lucifer approaching you. Your little tail twitched when you saw the juicy red apple in his hand.
You wanted to run off, but the apple smelled so divine and good.
You quickly snatched the Apple out of his hand and ate it in silent, your eyes never left his figure. The juice of the apple is melting on your tastebuds, and you sigh in pleasure. 
This Apple taste amazing. 
Lucifer chuckled at your antics. A blush creeped on your cheek and your ears covered your face.
How embarrassing the moment was for you, for Lucifer it was the cutest thing alife.
 
You sat down on his couch and hissed when the alcohol pad touched your open cuts. “Why were you in the bush anyways?” Lucifer giggled at the flashbacks how you sat there in the mud.
“There were some shark guys. They didn’t stop following me and I was so scared… I don’t even know where I am nor why I’m here.” Your ears sunk a bit and Lucifer regrets bringing such a sensitive topic up. 
You've changed so much and grown fond of him. And that’s where everything begins. 
Lucifer started to make a little bunny that looked just like you. A quick reminder of his cute little bunny girlfriend that awaits him after work.
He lets you stay in his estate to protect you at every cost. You were too adorable to not care about you.
He just loved how your tail wagged when he showed you some of his newer ducks that were inspired by your art.
The walls in his empty and cold mansion started to fill with your paintings. The old pictures of him and Lilith were slowly replaced by your art.
But one day changed everything about your relationship.
Your blood dripped down on the cold surface. The laughs from the shark guys were terrifying. You were scared out of your mind. 
Your phone dropped in front of you, Lucifer contacts are complete on display. “Call your little lover boy.” You shook your head desperately. 'No.'
Lucifer was always helping you out no matter what. You don’t want to be a burden for him, but you found yourself always in trouble. You wanted to cry and disappear.
Meanwhile in the Morningstar estate Lucifer was going crazy.
He was having a phenomenal day with his daughter and when he came back. 
You were gone. 
All that was left was a fur ball of your h/c hair and a little note. The note burned down in his palm as he read through it.
The sharks kidnapped his precious little bunny. His wings sprung free and glides through the air like a knife through butter. 
He couldn’t keep himself from punching into the shark men till they were a puddle of bloody meat. 
He threw your numb body over his shoulder and flew outside, leaving the burning building behind him.
After that event your social anxiety only grew. Lucifer encouraged you to be more social, but it cost more pain than relief.
So instead he gifted you a high quality camera for a new hobby you wanted to explore a long time ago.
Photography.
How couldn't he give in when you looked so excited talking about stuff you wanted.
He left the whole pentagram knowing that no one would lay a finger on them.
No one dares to touch his precious bunny.
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A/n: I couldn't help myself not to share this.
💫
@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete
Taglist
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rebelfell · 2 days
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A li’l self-indulgent bestfriend!eddie fluff. Reader w/ boobies.
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Eddie’s not a total pig, okay?
He can control himself just fine when necessary. He’s fully capable of maintaining a conversation without his brain short circuiting at the sight of something that makes all the tiny Eddie’s in his head run around like chickens with their heads cut off. That is…except for right now.
Because right now there are boobs in front of his face. And not just any boobs. Your boobs.
“Eddie!” You huff loudly and drop your shirt. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
He blinks a few times, reluctantly coming out of his daze to look up at you and the appalled frown on your face. His cheeks burn with his humiliation and his mouth falls open as he stammers through his attempt to recall what you just said.
You roll your eyes, sighing all heavy and petulant as you climb off his bed.
“Hey!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up to really sell the ruse of being offended. “You’re the one whipping out your bits all willy nilly. Can’t exactly expect me to concentrate.”
Over your shoulder you fix him with a glare and snatched up one of his Hellfire figurines to chuck it at him. The freshly painted figure ricocheted off his elbow as he threw his arms up in front of him, fighting back giggles as you scolded him.
“I came to you for advice, not to be ogled!”
Well, that was your first mistake, Eddie thought to himself. Because when it came to you there was no scenario that didn’t involve ogling.
“I’m sorry. Okay? I…I got distracted. But that’s what you’re going for, right? Weren’t you asking if they look good?”
“It’s not about whether they look good, I just…I need to know if they look even.”
Even? Even, how? Even more fucking incredible than normal? Even more mouth-watering? Even better than what Eddie’s been imagining more and more over the last few years.
“Even, how?” he asks.
“Like…normal.” You groan. “He says one of them is way bigger and I thought maybe this one would minimize the problem.”
“Problem?” Eddie snorted. “There’s not a single fucking problem with them.”
You roll your eyes at him again, but it’s not quick enough to hide the smile that started to blossom on your lips when he says that. Eddie’s bed frame squeaks in protest as he hops off the bed and comes to stand in front of you, solemn and serious in a way he almost never is.
“Sweetheart…they’re perfect.”
You’re perfect, he wants to say.
A little pride creeps into your voice as you tilt your head gently and glance briefly down at your own chest before looking back at him.
“Really?”
“Really, really. Literally, maybe, definitely, the greatest ones I’ll ever see in my life.”
A laugh bubbles out of his chest and you honestly feel like you’re going to melt into the carpet under your feet. And suddenly you can’t remember for the life of you why you even bothered with this other guy in the first place.
Because the guy you bought this stupid fancy bra for has never called them, or anything on you for that matter, perfect. And he’s never looked at you the way Eddie is looking at you.
You bit down gently on your bottom lip, absently walking your fingers along the edge of Eddie’s dresser, scratching at the chipped paint.
“Do you, um…do you think you got a good enough look?”
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rafescurtainbangz · 2 days
Text
Frat Prez - Rafe Cameron Blurb +18
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Minor DNI
Frat!Rafe x female reader
1k
Play fighting, roughish sex, unprotected p in v, spanking, choking, swearing, pet names.
"RAFE STOP. JESUS," you shout, pushing him off as he smiles at you wickedly.
"What? Thought you liked when I played with your tiddies," he asks as he wraps his arms around your waist, squeezing you tightly, only to let his hands creep higher, doing it again. You throw back your elbow, jabbing him in his stomach, his abs making your act of aggression laughable.
"I'm trying to study, Rafe. C'mon," you whine as he wraps you up a little tighter in his arms?”
”At a frat house?” He asks through a teasing laugh. “Lookin’ this fine?”
"Leave me alone, or l'm gonna kick your ass."
"Woah... Wait, doll. We scrappin'?" He chuckles through a gravelly laugh. "You're gonna kick my ass?" He asks as he points to himself, with a taunting smile.
"Yeah... And, l'd win too," you sass, knowing there's no way he's gonna let this go, playing into his game. You stand up from your chair chest-to-chest with Rafe, looking up at him. "So, are you gonna do anything, Cameron? Or, are you just gonna stand there like a bitch-" He cuts you off, lifting you over his shoulder, walking with you up the stairs as you put up a fight.
“What’s up your ass today, princess?” He chuckles before reaching up, cracking your skin with the palm of his large hand, leaving behind a sharp sting. “Not me. Not yet at least,” he snickers.
”You wouldn’t get it, Rafe. You don't give a shit about school,” you sigh.
“Well, that’s just not true. You’re talkin’ to the Frat Prez, pretty. ‘Course I care.” He kicks his bedroom door shut, slamming the lock with a smirk before flicking his backward cap to the side.
“I said school, Rafe. Not the frat.” You mumble as he lays down on his fluffy area rug, beckoning you to straddle his lap. You sit on top of him, resting your hands on the chest of his crisp white t-shirt.
"Kick my ass, baby doll. I'll even give you a headstart."
"How are you already hard?" You tease as you circle your hips on his rock-hard bulge through his gray sweats.
"I got hard when you elbowed me," he answers with a boyish smile, making you roll your eyes as a blush creeps across your cheeks. "So, are you gonna do anything, ma, or are you just gonna sit there like a bi-" You cut off his words with a decent slap to the cheek, making his mouth fall open in disgust.
"That hurt," he spits.
"And, your spanks feel great," you retort, delivering another slap, causing him to gasp playfully.
"Didn't think you had it in you, kid," he taunts. Reaching around, smacking your ass rougher than ever, making you scream. Your hands bind around his thick throat, squeezing tightly, making him return a crooked smile.
He quickly rolls you to your back, your hands still firmly wrapped. The veins in his neck protruded, that same smile still slicked on his lips. He grabs your wrists, pinning them against the carpet with a bruising grip.
Rafe releases his hold, sitting on top of you, giving you his full weight as you wriggle and protest. "Damn, baby. You're kind of a pussy," he rasps as he moves his hands up your body slowly, landing on your neck, taking his turn choking you.
You release a choked moan as he starts to grind himself into you, nudging your clit with each roll of his hips. His hands trail back down your body, rising slightly on his knees as he plays with the band of your shorts.
"Where are you goin'? Huh?" Rafe shouts, giving you just enough room to flee. You crawl away, only for Rafe to grab for you, pulling you back as well as your shorts off your body. He smacks your bare ass, holding you in place as he yanks his sweatpants down.
"Rafe!" You squeal, fighting away from him with minimal effort this time, hoping for this outcome all along.
"What?" He snickers. "I won. Just claiming my prize." He groans as he clutches his hard cock in his fist, running the tip through your soaked folds.
"Prizes? Don't remember talkin' about that - RAFE!" You scream as he slams his long, thick dick deep."
"Well you're gettin' this cock, baby. Maybe you're the winner. Hmm?" He snickers at his own stupid joke as he throws his hips into you rapidly.
"Too much, Rafe," you whimper.
"You tappin' out, princess?" He grunts. "We just got started. We gotta toughen you up a lil bit." Rafe throws you to your back, quickly ripping off his shirt. Your eyes follow the indentations of his abs to his deep v-lines, so distracted by his body that you gasp again when he ruts himself in again. "Fuck. You're so tight, y/n," he moans, lowly.
You can feel him stretching you out; a sharp pressure between your thighs. He continues pounding you into the floor, breasts bouncing with each thrust. He lifts your t-shirt exposing your tits before giving one a slap.
"Ouch, Rafe!"
"Please-" he chuckles as he sees the want in your eyes.
Rafe moves his hands under your neck, propping your head up so you can see. "Bet my lil slut wants to watch. Don'tcha?" He teases, but he's right. You watch as your soaked cunt swallows up his dick, hitting the right spot each time. "Fuck, y/n. Look at you taking me so well," he burns, his slick bangs and forehead pressed against yours.
"Can't take me in a fight but you can take my cock like a champ," he bullies, running his tongue along his plump bottom lip.
A familiar heat builds inside you. You close your walls around him, gripping him harder. Rafe’s brows knit tight.
"Mmm... I love when you do that," he moans. His lips crash into yours, messy kisses as the two of you fight for air.
"You know if you cum before me, Rafe, I win," you pant against his lips, feeling him smile along yours.
"And, when has that ever happened, sweetheart?" He breathes as his fingers meet your clit making your thighs tremble uncontrollably.
"You're gonna cum. Aren't you?" He groans. "I can tell."
"M'not"
"You're not?" He teases as he moves his fingers quicker.
"Fuck, Rafe," you moan, arching your back as your orgasm washes over your body. Rafe pushes even deeper, flooding you with his climax. His fingers dig into your hips, mucles clenching as he fucks out the last bit of his pleasure and yours.
"Fuck, baby," he groans. "I won."
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yaymiyas · 2 days
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THE TALK
warning: yandere!isekai!crown prince, he is very mean in this, female reader
a/n: this is TECHNICALLY not a part two to the introduction but it sort of is….. it jumps from the conversation to the breakfast……..enjoy! ALSO ALSO ALSOOOOOOOO technically its female reader bc you got reincarnated blah blah
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looking at the fragments of bacon he didnt want to eat, he let his fingers drum against the edge of the white plate. the fact that you, the daughter of a whore, lover to none, and nuisance to all, was right beside him made his food hard to swallow. the two of you sat in the dining room, and while he sat at the very end of the table with his back facing the door to the kitchen, your usual spot would be that of the opposite side. right across from him, back facing the entering door, but it seems after the poison didn’t hit quite deep enough in your veins, it did affect your brain because, for some reason, you thought it was brilliant to sit directly next to him. you weren’t as talkative as he would have thought of you, ever since you have learned of the activities he had decided to partake in, you started to demand his attention. at first, it didnt bother him much, since he himself started to believe that he was focusing solely on gracie that your suspicions were bound to grow, and grow they did.
for weeks, months, up until the poisoning you were all up on him. he was certain that you were attempting to skin him alive and wear him as a coat it was all mildly unpleasant but more irritating. saer never had a taste for you; rather, he actually hated you. to no one’s fault but his own fathers, he was forced to marry you out of pregnant promises. your father, sir tudor, wasn’t the poorest dope saer’s father has ever seen, but he was the loyalist. he worked on the gwynn estate, doing a multitude of things for the family, automatically gaining the trust of the duke and then the king himself. at the time, king gwynn was more fascinated with how a man with such little knowledge could become his most loyalist man, but that he did. following the pregnancy of both the queen and your mother, he decided that the best course of action was to marry his second unborn son off to the unborn daughter of a freeloader.
an icy shiver runs down saer’s back, forcing him to shake his shoulders and head. looking up from your half eaten plate, raising your head to the sudden movement. he was quiet the whole time, poking at the small slivers of bacon like they were the nastiest things on earth. you werent surprised that he wasnt talking; no, you were actually relieved. it wasn’t because he wasnt attractive or anything, he certainly does look like the main lead; its just the talk you had prior to the breakfast that was replaying in your head. cynthia and amanda didn’t give you much information, since, from the looks of it, they didn’t want to say too much. either their heads were on the line or yours were. you never thought about asking tily, even though she was the one that brought you down here. it just felt too weird knowing she was the one who weirdly had something against you. from your fading memories of ‘obsession falls’, you remember reading online forums and tweets about the whole thing. it seemed like the only real crime edina committed throughout the whole book was wanting her husband to love her. she did everything he had asked of her, from the way she talked to her style of clothing, even to what letters she can reply to. in olden standards, she seemed like the perfect obedient wife. this might have been your first mistake, but you didn’t read too much on saer or his backstory, so you never really understood the reasoning for his hatred of his wife, but you knew it was deep and it was boiling.
clearing your throat, you believed it was a better time than ever to clear the air and get to your point. you never understood why edina allowed things to get as deep as they were, but she was made just to be killed. it sucks that no matter what you do or say, saer will always hate you because you are edina.
“saer,”
“ae.”
that stupid nickname. shutting your eyes tightly and fighting back against any light to seep through, you sighed heavily. the whole time, saer had been watching you carefully. even though it was from the corner of his eyes, he was indeed trying to calculate your next moves. it was kind of silly that your sudden change in physical response is making him antsy, but how can anyone fault him? the last time the air-headed cunt decided to change the way she was reacting, gracie was suddenly engaged to alastair and smiling in his face about it. it was enraging. other than the fact that you were in his life to begin with, knowing that the reason he couldn’t slit the throat of his ex best friend was all because you decided to breathe. those two minutes were the longest two minutes of his life. he watched as your head dropped down on the table, making a very sudden and loud noise with it. saer had sternly told any and all servants to leave the two of you be if any loud, disruptive noises were heard. he even double checked that he sent your nosey maids, cynthia and amanda, home around that time. he knew that if they were present in the building, you weren’t going to eat that poison.
it was infuriating to watch them care about someone as lowly as you. not just them, anyone. reading gracie’s letters, asking how you’ve been and to see you before she even utters a word about him, was beyond hurtful. it felt as if his whole world was falling apart, all because you decided to have superpowers and not die. this was the only way to get back at you. he has tried strangling you. he has tried slaying you. each attempt was caught by either maid, cynthia, or amanda. it made him sick to see you get dotted on. seeing the frilly outfits they were making you wear, as if you were a porcelain doll not worth anybody’s touch. you were disgusting. a disgusting being that deserved to die. so why. why were you here? why were you looking at him like he had done something wrong. 
“enough with the causalities, i would like a divorce saer.”
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churipu · 1 day
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PAINTING THEIR NAILS 𓆝 ⋆。𖦹°‧
ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuuji
ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. none :)
note. i don't know, something about painting your partner's nails feels intimate to me. like, yes. make art on my nails pls.
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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
"what are you doing, baby?" gojo asks, his cerulean blue eyes gazing into the on-going television series playing in front of him.
you didn't answer him, brows furrowed in concentration — slipping your tongue out, a bit past your lips. index finger and thumb clutching onto the polish brush as you try to stroke his nails neatly with a light pink color.
"are you painting my nails?" he asks again.
much to his dismay, the room was void of answers yet for the second time. but gojo wasn't angry, his eyes finally gazes at your figure, eyeing you in content. his chin prepped on top of his free hand, limping the hand you were holding onto, "just a little more," you whisper to yourself.
three minutes passed and you pulled yourself back, "all done and dolled up, give me your other hand," you commanded, ushering gojo to give his other hand.
"good job, baby. they look pretty," he chuckles, indulging to your command — letting you have your fun, "can i do yours after?"
you nod, "mhm, i want to use (favorite color). and you gotta do it neatly too . . ."
gojo shrugs, "easy job to me."
it was in fact not an easy job to him.
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔
"paint my nails?" geto parrots softly.
you stood in front of him, holding a grey colored pouch — that geto knew was filled with different colored polishes, he's seen you done your nails for fun and then erasing them just a few hours later because you were bored.
"yes, i want to paint them. can i?" you ask him, taking a seat right beside him on the couch, immediately letting yourself sink a bit into the fabric.
"mhm, sure baby. what color were you thinking?" geto raised his hand up to your thigh, letting you take over.
you hummed, "i was thinking . . . just a simple silver colored cat eye nails, you have pretty nails, you know?" geto, frankly, couldn't understand what you meant by that — cat eye on his nails? but you were his partner, and he trusts you.
it didn't take you long to finish a hand. his eyes never leaving your hand as they moved in slow strokes, "how do you think they look? i was watching a video on the internet, and i thought this might look pretty on you. 't looks a little different than what i saw though."
geto's gaze fell onto his nails, a smile popping up onto his lips, "'t looks pretty, thank you."
"really? you're not just saying that, right?" you ask, narrowing your eyes jokingly.
"nope, 'm being serious. do my other hand," he offers, leaning his lips to the top of your head, "ever considered opening a nail boutique? you have the skills for it."
"now that you mention it, maybe i should."
𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈
"can you do my nails, please?" yuuji asks, wiggling his fingers in front of your face, "i want them to be painted prettily."
you raise a brow, "they're already pretty though."
yuuji puckered his lips out slightly, "but i wanted you to paint them for me," he draped himself over you, chin laying on your abdomen. brows furrowed like a baby, "make them look prettier."
"grab my nail polish pouch in the room, yeah?"
your words lit him up like a lightbulb, and yuuji was almost immediately up and about — disappearing into the room to grab the pouch you told him to. his giddy smile not leaving his face even when he came running back to you, laying the pouch on your tummy.
"i think maroon would suit you," you rummaged through the pouch, "or black? whichever you'd like . . ."
"can you do both? zig-zag?" yuuji questions.
you nodded, "mhm, anything for you, yuuji."
it was obvious that the boy was excited, his body trembling as you painted his nails, "woah . . . they look pretty," he whispers, squeezing your hand a bit.
"you're pretty," you replied back.
yuuji looks at you, a bit taken aback, but said nothing to deny you — only letting out a soft laugh, "too busy for a kiss?"
shaking your head, you leaned in towards him, stealing a kiss from his lips, "nope, never too busy for a kiss," yuuji huffs out with a large grin.
"i love you, you know?" he asked you.
"mhm, always. i love you too."
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© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
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eleutherafairy · 19 hours
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luke being so in love with the new media girl at the devs? she was the media girl from umich so she known him for awhile and they are friends and she always got him out of media, and then this season she got an offer to join the nj devils media team, and jack is like holy shit my baby brothers in love and maybe like finally asked her out after pinning after her for three years
THE "i love media" SOCIAL GIRL & THE "i hate media" HOCKEY BOY — luke hughes
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SUMMARY! in which luke is in love with the media girl who works for the devils  
INVOLVED! luke x reader 
WARNINGS! N/A
BEFORE YOU START! don’t know how the hughes act irl this is just an imagination!
extra! this is part 1 of a new series!!! lmk what you guys want to see :)
find my masterlist → here!
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You and Luke had known each other since your second year at UMich. You were a year older, double-majoring in social media marketing and statistics. You were lucky enough to work with the UMich hockey team as a social media manager where you basically spent your time as a babysitter– trying to get the attention of child-like boys to do silly tiktoks and answer questions. It was probably your favorite past-time and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 
You and Luke had met each other at some party during the summer, marking the beginning of the semester and Luke had approached you. You were in a random corner of the house and he made a joke about you looked like you had a fuck you sign on your forehead.
Sooner or later, you found out that he was on the hockey team and you guys quickly created a bond. You loved to pick on Luke whenever you had the chance, just because he would turn so flustered and red whenever you asked him a question– whether it was unserious or not.
A year or so passed and you graduated two semesters early while Luke went off to play for the Devils with his brother. You guys never stopped talking– relying on your phone calls and facetimes to keep your friendship going. You always looked forward to when Luke would call you randomly throughout the day and you would always answer, even if you were busy studying for midterms or exams. 
Now, Luke was on his way to pick you up from the airport. You hadn’t told him that you were actually moving here. All you told him was that you wanted to come visit and he paid for your ticket and invited you to stay in his apartment with him and Jack (you turned him down, he was really upset about it).
You stood impatiently at the pick-up area, waiting for Luke’s jeep to come round the corner. As you looked up from your phone, you saw Luke’s car swing around the corner and stop in front of you. You felt your excitement as he stepped out of his car and came running to give you a hug.
“Holy shit, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you in person,” Luke said, wrapping his arms around you.
“I know, Lukey,” you replied back. “I’m so sick of seeing your face through the screen.”
He held the two of you guys in an embrace until the car behind him started honking his horn. The two of you rushed to the car and Luke shoved all your suitcases in.
“Why did you bring so much luggage?” Luke asked, getting into the driver’s seat.
“I’m just a girl,” you said shrugging. “Plus, I just have a few things to do while I’m here,” you continued.
“What things?” 
“You know, just some media shoots and whatever,” you said absentmindedly. “I have a few opportunities in the New York area.”
“That’s big, y/n. Why didn’t you tell me anything?”
“I didn’t want to make it a big deal until it was actually set in cement,” you said, shrugging. 
You could feel the urge to just tell Luke the truth, but Jack had convinced you that this would be the biggest surprise ever. So, for now, you were going to keep it a surprise from him. 
Luke dropped begrudgingly dropped off at your apartment– he had spent the whole drive trying to convince you to stay with him and Jack instead. You almost caved, but you continued to tell the pleading boy that you were only a street down from his own apartment and that you would come later on in the day.
- - - 
It was currently four in the afternoon and you felt your nerves as you fiddled around with your camera settings. It was your first day working with the Devils and your first job out of college. You were called to come at five to photograph the guys during prior to their arrival to the arena. Chugging down the rest of your energy drink, you headed down to catch your Uber to the arena. You would be photographing their arrival. 
Luke had invited you to watch tonight’s game– he got you tickets and everything, and you had to decline, telling him that you made plans for tonight. 
Was he upset? Yes. Did he try to convince you with his puppy eyes to watch? Yes.
You called Jack right away after that conversation with Luke and he told you to just hold it in until tonight because apparently Jack has something to surprise him.
Arriving at the arena, you took your place at the entry way to the team room and you adjusted your camera settings, making sure that your camera was well suited for the lighting in the room. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and you quickly went to look at it.
── ★
lukey boy: Heading to the arena rn… are you sure you can’t make it :( 
you: sorry lukey… i’ll be there for the next one, promise
lukey boy: You better be. Still down for dinner tonight?
you: ermm… we might have to raincheck
lukey boy: :////////
you: have a good game, lukey. will be watching!!!
── ★
You tossed your phone back into your pocket, getting ready for the arrival of the boys. The first wave of boys came in, smiling as they made time to introduce themselves to you.
“Y/n?” Nico asked, coming to shake your hand.
“That’s kind of freaky you know my name,” you said, shooting him a weird look.
“Luke doesn’t shut up about you,” Nico said, shrugging. “He also didn’t tell me that you would be working with us this season,” he continued, shooting me a look.
“He doesn’t know,” you said, nonchalantly. “Jack is the only one who knows.”
“Well, that’s exciting. Nice to finally meet you.”
You shot the man a smile as you continued to photograph the trickling players coming down the hall.
Soon enough, you saw Jack come through the doors and shot me a smile, grabbing me a good picture for all the Jack girlies. 
“He got caught up in an interview, but he should be coming in like two minutes,” Jack said, coming to give me a hug.
“Hey, Jacky,” you said, giving him a wide smile. 
“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Jack said, “I really though you finally being here would lessen Luke’s yapping, but somehow it has increased and I didn’t know that was possible.”
“What do you mean?” You asked, cocking your head.
“Nothing,” Jack said, coughing nervously.
Your eyes peered to the door that had just opened.
“Jack get the fuck out of my way,” you muttered, pointing the camera at the door.
You saw Luke coming down the hallway, his face glued to his phone.
Jack mumbled under his breath before calling Luke’s name.
Your camera caught Luke’s expression change from confusion to pure happiness as he spotted you and his face lit up.
“Y/n?” Luke asked, coming towards you with a wide smile.
“Hey, Lukey.”
“You’re telling me that your new media job is working with us?” Luke said, excitement engulfing his face.
“You’re stuck with me and my stupid questions for a bit longer, Luke,” you said, laughing.
“You’re gonna be watching?”
“Yeah,” you said, lifting your camera. “Taking cool pics like before, too.” 
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Luke said, giving you a quick hug before hitting his brother.
“You knew and you didn’t tell me?” He said to Jack.
Jack shrugged as he shot me a smile. “I told her not to tell you.”
“Wait does that mean, you’re moving here permanently?” Luke asked, his excitement now running rampant.
You gave him a nod before he literally started trembling with excitement.
“Okay calm down, Lukey,” you said, laughing. “You got a game to win.”
Luke smiled at you once more before making his way into the player’s room.
“He’s going to have a hell of a game,” Jack said to you.
“Hm??”
“He’s going to have a hell of a game because you’re here,” Jack said once more.
“He better or else I might take up the Islanders offer instead,” you said, jokingly.
“Shut up, y/n,” Jack said, lightly pushing you. “I’m so glad you’re here. Luke hasn’t shut up ever since he bought your ticket four months ago. He’s glad that his favorite girl is finally here to watch him.”
“Favorite girl is pushing it,” you told the older Hughes, giving him a look of confusion.
“You really don’t know, huh?” Jack asked.
“Spit it out, idiot,” You said, looking down at your phone to check the time. “Your time is running low.”
“You’re telling me, idiot. Michigan to Jersey, huh? Just know, he hasn’t shut up about you since that first night in Michigan,” Jack said shrugging as he walked off, giving you a smile.
That first night in Michigan.
Luke’s first night at the University of Michigan. The first time Luke met you.
You shrugged off the funny feeling you felt before uploading the pictures from your camera to your phone. Scrolling through the pictures, you picked around five guys to post on the Instagram. You posted the pictures and updated the story before scrolling through the comments.
── ★
njdevils: Boys on the move
comments:
fan1: everyone say thank you admin
njdevils: you’re welcome :)
fan2: Luke looks so excited to see the camera for once
fan3: the Luke girls are eating rn because why does Luke look soooo good
fan4: bro whoever is behind the camera… luke might be in love with u because HE IS CHEESING
fan5: media admin woman we love u 
── ★
You laughed as you read some of the comments of the post. Walking past the player’s room, you were stopped as you heard commotion behind you.
“Y/n.”
You turned around to see Luke coming out of the room with his tuxedo jacket already off. You shot him a confused look.
“Luke?”
“Am I not gonna get a good luck?”
“I already texted you good luck, dummy,” you said, crossing your hands over your chest.
“It’s not the same,” he said, giving you the famous Hughes pout.
“Good luck, Luke,” I’ll see you tomorrow.
“Tomorrow?” Luke asked, pouting once more. “We’re not getting dinner?”
“Luke you act like you aren’t going to come to my apartment tomorrow morning for breakfast. Uninvited by the way. I have things to do tonight. I’m just here until the first period so put on a show for me, okay.”
“Okay, but you’re literally my best friend,” Luke said, whining. “I haven’t seen you in person for almost six months and I’ve barely seen you even when you’re here. It’s not fair.”
“Clingy ass,” you muttered before waving at the boy. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“I can’t believe you’re not staying,” Luke said, pouting as you walked away.
“Luke,” you yelled exasperatedly. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweets.”
“Shut up.”
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