#this was so nice i never did anything like this before so this was so fun

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Trigger warning. Joel triggers your PTSD when you see him drunk for the first time causing you to have flashbacks of your abusive ex.]

Mentions of DV

“You weren’t suppose to see this, baby” he stumbled in your direction.

Joel knew how you felt about alcohol, he knew the hell you had gone through with your ex boyfriend because of it. Having known him for a year, you and him both traveled alone surviving together. Never had you seen Joel intoxicated, neither of you had come across liquor during your journey and when you did Joel ignored it out of respect for you. Of course, Joel missed the alcohol helping him somewhat sleep at night yet he never mentioned it.

Tonight the two of you had gotten lucky, after being on your feet for nine hours walking through the woods you both came across a cabin that looked as if it had been abandoned for a while now. After making sure it was empty you both claimed it as your own, at least until you had to keep moving again.

“Oh it’s nice to finally have a bed tonight” you looking at the bed at the other end of the room. Joel smirked as he looked around, peaking through the cabinets where he found two full bottles of whiskey. God it had been so long since Joel had a taste, the only thing that numbed him entirely, he craved just a glass.

“What cha find?” You asked as you began to unpack your bag. Joel quickly closing the door and clearing his throat as he moved along.

“Nothin’ uh, a few cans of food and towels” Joel knowing damn well it was nothing to mention.

“Good, I’m hungry” you spoke excitedly as Joel grabbed the cans to sit at the table.

Joel and you lay on the couch, your body slouched against his for a moment as his hand brushed through your hair.

“Oh I’d love to be able to just watch a movie now, have some popcorn” you sighed, the thought making Joel slightly smile.

“What movie would we watch?” He asked curiously.

“Hmmm…I don’t know, how about a romantic comedy?” You winked at him as he playfully shook his head rubbing his eyes.

“Oh baby, I’d watch anything with you” he whispered looking down at you before kissing you softly.

“Who knows, we probably wouldn’t even watch anything” he chuckled as you playfully shoved him.

“We should get sleep” your lips brushing against his as you spoke. He nodded before you pushed yourself up and walked to the bed.

“Are you coming?” You yawned as you dusted the bed off a bit and pulled back the covers.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few” he called out to you before looking back at the cabinet that held the two bottles of whiskey. Too exhausted to wait, your eyes closed and you fell right to sleep.

Once Joel was sure that you were asleep, quietly he got up and stopped right at the cabinet. Looking back at you he reached for the first bottle, slowly opening it up. Without thought Joel began to drink savoring the taste he hadn’t had in so long, wiping his lips feeling the burn in his chest.

“Fuck” It’s just what he needed after not being able to sleep properly in weeks.

Closing his eyes in relief he took another chug before taking the bottle back with him to the couch. Within fourty minutes he was half way through, slowly getting to the bottom. The buzz creeping up on him as he leaned his head back and took a deep breath.

Joel began slowly walking around the cabin, reading some of the frames on the wall when he began to stumble. Reaching for a frame Joel accidentally knocked it to the ground causing you to wake up.

“Joel?”

“Shit” he whispered.

Rubbing your eyes you go out of bed to see Joel across the room.

“You ok?” He turned to you revealing the half empty open bottle in his hand, that’s when you looked at his face and realized he didn’t look like the Joel you knew.

“Didn’t mean to…wake ya..” he whispered as he noticed the way you stared at the bottle in his hand.

“Where’d you get that?” You asked softly as Joel took a deep breath with regret.

“You…-“ he began to walk towards you.

“You weren’t suppose to see this, baby” he stumbled in your direction.

“Maybe you should….lay down” you spoke nervously as he stopped right before you.

“Shit baby, I fucked up..” he whispered. The smell of alcohol making your stomach turn, the memories of the nightmare you lived with your ex boyfriend now coming back to you. Your heart racing as you felt a panic you never thought you would feel again.

“You’re mad at me, ain’t cha?” He couldn’t hold himself still as he stood before you, you took a step back feeling the wall behind you as you slowly shook your head. Mad wasn’t the word as your nerves took over. You trusted Joel yet seeing him in a way you never had…seeing him in a way your ex had his violent outbursts, you were terrified.

“Don’t be…mad at…..me, baby. Ima make this..right” he slurred.

You watched as he dangled the half empty bottle around before closing the top in a clumsy manner and placing the bottle on the table beside him.

“There” he placed his hands up showing you he was done. As drunk as he was he could see the fear in your eyes.

“Please don’t be mad at me-“ he unexpectedly reached for you causing you to step back against the wall harder than you meant to.

“I ain’t gonna hurt cha” his eyes desperate for you to trust him. Yet, his words only seemed to make it worse. It was something your ex would love to say just before he actually would hurt you.

“Fuck” Joel shoved the chair beside him causing you to jump.

“Stop it! Just stop!” You felt yourself begin to lose any control you thought you had.

“Baby-“

“Just go lay down! Go to sleep!” You couldn’t even look him in the eye. All you wanted desperately was for him to get away from you. Joel stood silent as he took a step back and did as you asked. Quietly going to the bed he lay down and let you be.

As soon as he walked away you began to silently hyperventilate. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried to fight off the memories, the trauma…you tried to fight the fear.

You knew you would no longer be able to properly sleep that night. Joel was out in a matter of minutes while you sat up on the couch watching him. Your eyes feeling heavy, it was getting harder to stay awake until eventually you fell asleep.

After a few hours Joel began to wake up. With a slight headache he slowly pushed himself up with a groan before looking up and noticing the bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. Quickly he looked around the room to find you sitting on the couch asleep facing him.

“Shit” he whispered to himself brushing his hand through his hair. Bits and pieces of the night before flashed in his mind, one thing he couldn’t stop picturing was how afraid you seemed of him.

Joel stood up walking towards you, he could tell you didn’t mean to fall asleep. You seemed cold and so he grabbed a blanket from the bed and slowly placed it on you. The feel of the blanket covering you causing you to slowly open your eyes and when you did, you jumped not expecting to see Joel standing over you.

“It’s me-“ he tried to assure you.

“It’s me, baby I’m sober, I ain’t drinkin’ I promise” it took a moment for you to realize he actually was sober. There was the Joel you knew staring down at you with concern. Staying silent for a moment you looked around a bit confused, you hadn’t even realized you fell asleep, let alone for how long. You looked at him quietly as you slowly sat up and took a deep breath.

“You-“

“I know” he quickly spoke as he stood up straight.

“I’ve never seen you like that before” you whispered.

“and I….I thought about Cameron and-“ he noticed you begin to slightly tremble.

“I just didn’t know what you were capable of” you blurt out as you held back your tears.

“Scared the hell out of me” Joel brushed his hand over his lips before quickly getting down on one knee.

“Look at me” he spoke low looking directly into your eyes.

“I would never do anything to hurt you. Ever. You understand that?” He was serious. He meant every word he said.

“I wish I could find the prick that did this to you, I guarantee you he’d never have a drink again” you quietly nodded yet he could still see you trembling. It was getting harder for you to control.

“Hey” he placed his index finger beneath your chin and tilted your head up.

“I ain’t gonna drink again alright? I should’ve never done that” he whispered. You let out a breath of relief and threw your arms around him pulling him in. Joel held you hold close and kissed your forehead.

“Come on, get into bed with me, baby” he slowly lifted you up and carried you to the bed. You watched as he walked to the counter and poured the left over liquor down the drain. As much as Joel loved a drink, your peace of mind was more important to him. Throwing the bottle out the window he walked back to you and lay beside you pulling you close as you fell asleep..

[helen-with-an-a]

Will there be a second part of "Be The Best" where the girls help the reader. But at some point, the father comes and says that the reader needs to become even better, but the girls stand up for him and drive him away.

Or where the reader turns out to be a good person and tries to make friends with everyone, but it turns out to be awkward.

Hiiiii - so this is a little sadder than I anticipated but I quite like it. I might make a pt3 I'm not to sure - what do you guys think/if you have any reqs for it? Also please just imagine that there's like a foresty/woodsy type bit at Colney

Be the Best pt 2

AWFC x reader ; Leah Williamson x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R has some self-realisation after trying to make friends

Word count: 4.6k

You had never felt so stupid in your life. Why? Why had you done that? Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you walked. You couldn’t let them fall. No emotion. The best don’t feel emotion.

It was lunch time, a time you usually spent eating alone before going on a walk around Colney, usually ending up in the gym. After much reassurance from Kim, you had finally worked up enough courage to approach some of the team. Kim had made it sound so simple – just walk up to them and ask if you could join. You had rehearsed it in your mind a dozen times, mentally preparing for every possible reaction.

But when you finally stood there, tray in hand, in front of the group of girls who seemed to belong to an entirely different world, everything went wrong. They were sitting in the corner of the canteen, their laughter and chatter like a bubble you had no idea how to penetrate. You were so sure you looked ridiculous – just standing there, awkward and unsure, as if you had no right to even be in their presence.

“Can I sit?” you grunted, the words leaving your mouth almost of their own accord. As soon as they were out, you regretted them. You kept your eyes glued to the tray in your hands, desperately avoiding the gazes you could feel boring into you. The food on your tray – the food that looked so nice when you picked it out, looked bland and unappetising now – suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking up, to avoid seeing their reactions.

The silence that followed was suffocating. It stretched on, a tangible force pressing down on you, making you feel smaller and smaller with each passing second. The confidence you had painstakingly built up with Kim's encouragement was slipping away, like sand through your fingers. You had never felt so out of place, so exposed, as you did in that moment, standing there waiting for a response that never came.

Finally, you risked a glance up and caught Kyra’s wide, terrified eyes staring back at you. Did you really scare her that much? The thought sent a jolt of anxiety through you. Were you that terrifying that a simple question had her so scared? Was she always this afraid of you? You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, feeling more awkward by the second.

Alessia and Lotte exchanged concerned glances, their silent communication only adding to your growing unease. You could see the tension in their faces, the way they seemed to be trying to figure out what to do with you, as if your mere presence was some kind of problem they had to solve. Vic, who had always seemed so confident and collected, visibly gulped, her nervousness painfully clear.

No one spoke. No one moved. The entire canteen seemed to have dropped into a wary silence, as if the whole room was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly you were the centre of attention. The air was thick with unease, the kind that made your skin prickle and your heart pound.

What the fuck were you doing? The question echoed in your mind, growing louder with each passing second. You couldn’t sit with them. You didn’t belong there, in their world, no matter how much you wanted to. The realisation hit you like a punch to the gut, and the embarrassment that followed was almost too much to bear. You don’t need to sit with them, you told yourself, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left.

And then, just as quickly as you had convinced yourself to approach, you mumbled something unintelligible – a mix between an apology and an excuse that even you couldn’t understand – and turned on your heel. The shame was like a weight on your back, driving you away from the table, away from the awkward silence that had frozen you in place.

You walked as quickly as you could without breaking into a run, your feet carrying you away. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel the burn of tears threatening to spill over, but you forced them back, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat.

You continued walking out of the canteen, your footsteps quick and unsteady, the tray of food abandoned on a random table near the door in your haste to get away. The clatter of the tray as it hit the table echoed in your ears, but you didn’t care. You just needed to escape. The walls of the canteen felt like they were closing in on you, the stares of the other students—real or imagined—burning into your back.

The gym. That’s what you would normally do to squash the feelings down. It was your sanctuary, the one place where everything made sense, where you could channel everything into something physical, something real. There was nothing like running until you felt like your legs were going to give out, or punching the bags hanging in the corner until your arms ached and your hands were bloody. Pain was something you could deal with; it was tangible, controllable. The emotions, though – they were a different beast entirely. The best didn’t feel emotions. You had told yourself that so many times it had become a mantra. Emotions made you weak, and you couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now, not ever.

But you would be easily found in the gym. It was the first place anyone would look, and you couldn’t bear the thought of someone finding you like this – sweaty, shaking, and teetering on the edge of a breakdown. You didn’t want to be found. You couldn’t let anyone see the cracks in the armour you’d worked so hard to build. Not now, not after what had just happened. You had embarrassed yourself in front of the team, made a fool of yourself by going against your instincts, by trying to reach out and connect when you knew better.

You needed to find somewhere to hide, somewhere you could lick your wounds in peace. The locker room was out of the question – too many people coming and going, too many chances for awkward questions and pitying looks. The thought of facing anyone right now was unbearable.

You found yourself heading for the back exit of the gym, the one that led out to the far side of the training grounds. It was quieter there, the paths less travelled, especially at this time of day. You pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool air, the breeze hitting your face like a slap. You bit your lip, the pain momentarily distracting you from the hurt of your stupidity.  The coolness of the air was a sharp contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside, and for a moment, it felt like you could finally breathe again.

The gravel crunched beneath your shoes, the sound oddly satisfying, grounding you in the present. You weren’t entirely sure where you were going, but you didn’t care. You just needed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the people inside. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You bit your lip even harder, tasting iron on your tongue. The best don’t feel emotions. The best don’t need friends. The best train and work hard. The best practice until they physically drop. You didn’t need anyone else, didn’t need to put yourself in situations where you felt so exposed. So why had you allowed yourself to think, even for a moment, that this time might be different?

The girls’ faces flashed in your mind – Kyra’s wide, startled eyes, Alessia and Lotte’s concerned glances, Vic’s visible gulp. The sudden silence of the canteen echoed in your mind. They hadn’t known what to do with you, hadn’t known how to react, and that stung more than you wanted to admit. A solitary tear rolled down your cheek. Besides that day in the media room with Kim, you don’t remember the last time you cried.

Actually, that was a lie. You remember the exact time and place where you last cried. You were 10, you had just received the academy letter that you were to be their second-choice goalkeeper for the Under 12s. You had shown your mum, she had been so excited for you, beckoning your father over to have a look. He had told you it was first choice or nothing. If you weren’t going to be the best, then you shouldn’t even bother. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, clutching the letter so tightly that you woke up with paper cuts. You wanted to prove him wrong, to show him that you could be the best, but that tiny voice in your head, the one that echoed his words, made you doubt yourself. It made you wonder if you’d ever be good enough.

The sky had transitioned from a soft amber glow to a deepening indigo, the kind of blue that swallows the light whole. You had found a bench just off the path, hidden by a canopy of trees that whispered in the evening breeze. The bench was old, the wood splintered and weathered. It was a place where you could disappear, if only for a little while.

You had never missed training before. Not even when you were 18 and had pneumonia. You could still remember that week, the way your chest burned with every breath, your lungs heavy with fluid that rattled every time you inhaled. But you stayed bundled in layers, forcing your body through drills with single-minded determination. Your coach had asked if you were okay, concern flickering across his face, but you’d just nodded, pushing past the exhaustion and pain. You could barely breathe, but missing training wasn’t an option. Not then, and not now. Or at least, that’s what you’d always believed. The best doesn’t show weakness. But today was different. Today, you couldn’t find that strength. The drive that usually pushed you onto the pitch, no matter how tired or sick you were, had vanished. Instead, you felt drained, hollowed out by emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

You shivered slightly, a definite autumnal nip to the late summer evening. The long sleeve top you wore did little to prevent the cold from settling on your skin, but you welcomed the chill. It kept you grounded, made the swirling thoughts in your head a little less chaotic. The cold helped you think, or at least gave you something tangible to focus on when your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

Your mind kept drifting back to Kyra. She had looked so genuinely scared of you. The memory of her wide, startled eyes made your stomach twist with guilt. You’d never seen her like that before – Kyra, who was always so confident, so full of life. She’d looked at you like you were a stranger; someone she didn’t recognise. And maybe, in that moment, you were. Maybe you didn’t recognise yourself either.

You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly as if the pressure could hold you together. The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves above you, and you closed your eyes, letting the sound wash over you. It was peaceful here, away from the noise and the people and the expectations. But the peace was deceptive, fragile. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually, you’d have to go back, face the reality of your team. The cold crept deeper into your bones, but you didn’t move. You deserved this discomfort, this numbness.

A tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another. You wiped them away quickly, but more followed, and soon you were crying in earnest, silent sobs that shook your shoulders and left you gasping for breath. You hadn’t cried like this in years, hadn’t allowed yourself to. But now, alone in the dark, surrounded by nothing but trees and the fading light, you let the tears come.

It wasn’t just Kyra’s fear that haunted you, but the realization that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as strong as you thought. The thought was terrifying, a crack in the foundation you’d built your entire life on. If you weren’t the best, if you weren’t unbreakable, then what were you? Who were you?

The tears slowed eventually, leaving you drained and exhausted. You rested your head on your knees, staring blankly at the ground as the darkness settled in around you. The training session was definitely over by now, the team heading back to the locker room, wondering where you were. They’d ask questions tomorrow, they’d want to know why you weren’t there, and you didn’t have any answers to give them.

But for now, you stayed on the bench, hidden away from the world, trying to piece yourself back together. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever, but for a little while longer, you allowed yourself to be weak, to be human. The best doesn’t show weakness – those were the words you’d lived by for so long. You didn’t know how to live without them.

You heard footsteps approaching. Whoever it was, was moving wearily - each step slow and calculated, like trying to approach a frightened animal. Is that what they saw you as? A wounded creature that had to be handled with caution, a volatile presence they needed to tread carefully around to protect themselves? The thought stung more than it should have. You used to like having that barrier. That bubble of self-protection that kept you alive.

You kept your eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to acknowledge whoever was coming. Maybe if you stayed still, they’d turn back, leave you to your thoughts. But the footsteps continued, growing closer until they finally stopped just a few feet away. You could feel the presence lingering there, the silence heavy between you.

“Hey,” a voice broke through the quiet, soft and hesitant. It was Leah. You didn’t need to look up to know it was her – her voice was unmistakable, that Milton Keynes accent audible even on a single syllable word. You didn’t need to be told why they had sent her to find you. She was your national captain, your club’s vice-captain. You had always respected her.

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t really know what to say. You let the silence linger, stretching on to the point where Leah questioned if you even heard her. The silence hung between you, thick and heavy. Leah’s words were gentle, but they carried weight. “You missed training.” It was a simple statement of fact, but it felt like more – a subtle nudge, a reminder of the responsibility you’d momentarily abandoned. You expected her to follow it up with something more – maybe a reprimand, maybe an expectation that you explain yourself. But instead, Leah just sat there, her presence calm and steady.

You could feel her eyes on you, but you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. What could you possibly tell her that she didn’t already know? She had seen what happened in the canteen. She had seen your stupid attempt to make amends. She had seen everything.

But Leah didn’t push. She didn’t demand answers or try to fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she simply waited, giving you the space to speak when you were ready – or not, if that’s what you needed. It was one of the reasons you respected her so much. She understood that sometimes, silence spoke louder than words.

“You don’t have to explain,” Leah finally said, her tone soft, understanding. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all that matters.”

Her words caught you off guard. You’d expected some kind of judgment, some level of disappointment that you’d let the team down, but instead, there was just concern. Genuine concern, not just for the team, but for you. It was a foreign feeling; one you weren’t sure how to process.

“Kim told me that you were thinking of trying to start sitting with people at lunch,” she continued, her voice gentle but probing. There was no judgment in her words, just a simple observation. It was as if she was giving you an opening, a chance to share what was really going on inside your head. But even with the invitation, the words still felt tangled up inside you, too messy to untangle in front of someone else.

You shifted uncomfortably on the bench, the rough wood digging into your legs, grounding you in the present moment. It had seemed like such a simple idea at the time – a small step toward breaking down the walls you’d built around yourself, a way to prove to the team that you were trying, that you wanted to be a part of things. But now, in the cold light of Leah’s concern, it felt almost childish. What had you really expected? That one gesture would erase months of distance, that a seat at the table would magically make everything better?

“Am … am I a bully?” It was something that had been floating around your head all afternoon. No one looked that scared, that nervous of someone unless they had valid cause.

Leah’s eyes widened slightly at your question, and for a moment, she seemed taken aback. But she recovered quickly, her expression softening as she took in the vulnerability behind your words. She didn’t rush to answer, clearly understanding the weight of what you’d just asked.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice gentle but resolute. “You’re not a bully.”

You wanted to believe her, but the doubt still gnawed at you, clawing at the edges of your mind. “My dad’s a bully. And I act like him.”

Leah's expression shifted, her brows furrowing slightly as she processed your words. There was no immediate response, just a thoughtful silence that hung between you. You could see the wheels turning in her mind, the careful consideration she was giving to what you had just said.

“You’re not your dad,” Leah finally said, her voice steady and calm.

“But I act like him.” Your voice held no emotion. These were simple facts. At least in your mind. “He screams and shouts at me for the smallest thing. I shouted at Kyra in a training session. I asked if she was deaf or just stupid. I told her she shouldn’t think. I shout at everyone. I told Alessia she was a waste of money. I said to Laia that she was useless, and I couldn’t understand how she won the World Cup with her defensive skills. I said we were doing better without Laura during her first session back. I told Jen I was glad to see her go because we would make fewer stupid mistakes”

You weren’t proud of anything you said. Each accusation felt like a knife twisting in your chest. The realisation of the hurt you had inflicted was almost unbearable. You could see their faces in your mind – Kyra’s eyes wide and a little glossy with hurt, Alessia’s shoulders slumping, Laia’s frustration, and Jen’s quiet resignation. You knew you’d been mean, knew that all those little comments had chipped away at people’s confidence and self-worth. It was the technique your dad and old coaches had done to you. In order to be the best, you must be broken and rebuilt. Your dad had broken you a long time ago.

 Leah listened intently, her eyes never leaving yours as you laid out the fears that had been gnawing at you. Her eyes widened slightly as you listed the hurtful things you’d said. The gravity of your admissions was evident in the way her expression softened, shifting from surprise to deep concern. She took a moment before responding, her voice steady but compassionate.

“What do you think when you let a goal in?” The question took you by surprise. The question hung in the air, unexpected and almost jarring in its simplicity. For a moment, you were caught off guard, trying to piece together why Leah would ask something so seemingly unrelated.

“That I’m worthless. What’s the point in having a keeper if they can’t stop the goals, right?” You sniffed a little, thinking about all the self-deprecating thoughts that course through your mind at lightning speed if you let a goal in. You bit your lip, letting the familiar pain wash over you. 

Leah's eyes remained locked on yours, her gaze filled with a mix of concern and understanding. She took a moment to absorb your words before responding, her voice calm and measured. “Who told you that?” You blinked, looking at for her a brief second, confusion clouding your mind. “Who told you that you’re worthless if you let a goal in?”

“My … my dad, my old coaches. But everyone knows that goalkeeper’s who can’t keep clean sheets are useless," you laughed humourlessly. "I mean, look at our Champions League matches last season, we lost on penalties, that’s my fault. We came third in the league, I let too many goals in. We crash out of the FA cup because of a goal that I could’ve easily stopped. I let a goal in the Conti cup. All of them are my fault. I wasn’t good enough. And with England? I let the goal in in the World Cup, our Nations League losses were all my fault, goals that shouldn’t have been scored. I’m the reason we weren’t at the Olympics this year. We qualified for the Euros by the skin of our teeth – we lost to France and drew to Sweden on home soil.” It was the rhetoric that had been spewed to you all summer. Every day, you needed to be better, do better, be the best, you couldn’t make a mistake. Look at what mistakes had cost you.

Leah listened carefully. Yes, she knew you carried each loss personally, but she didn’t know you took it this badly. She could see the deep exhaustion in your bones, the deep circles under your eyes, the paleness in your skin. You looked like you hadn’t had a proper rest in years. Each statement you made was like a dagger, not only piercing through your own sense of self-worth but also hitting Leah in a place she hadn’t expected. The weight of your guilt and frustration was palpable, and it was clear how deeply you were affected by every perceived failure.

She could see the toll this relentless self-blame was taking on you. Leah had known about the pressure you faced, but hearing the full extent of your suffering was sobering. It was one thing to understand the high stakes of professional sports, but it was another to see someone so dedicated and talented struggle under the crushing burden of their own expectations. She was struck by how your relentless pursuit of perfection, driven by past experiences and harsh criticisms, had led you to this place of self-doubt. The emotional scars were clearer now, and Leah could see that your harshest critic wasn’t just your dad or your old coaches – it was yourself.

Leah’s heart ached for you. She remembered her own struggles, the pressure to perform and the fear of failure that often accompanied high-level competition. But what you were expressing went beyond that. It wasn’t just about the weight of a single match or a missed opportunity; it was about a pattern of self-destruction that had become ingrained, a relentless inner voice that constantly reminded you of every shortcoming.

“I’ve heard it all before,” you continued, your voice cracking as you went. “Every mistake, every goal that went in was my fault. If I don’t perform perfectly, then I’m useless. I’m supposed to be the last line of defence. What good is a goalkeeper that lets goals in? In order to be the best, you must be broken and rebuilt.” You sounded so lost, in so much pain. Yet you clearly believed every word you were saying.

Leah’s eyes softened even more as she listened to your words. The silence that followed your last statement was heavy, thick with unspoken emotions. Leah let it linger, allowing the gravity of your confession to settle between you.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, yet full of determination. "I don’t believe that," she said firmly. "I don’t believe that you have to be broken to be the best. And I don’t think anyone should make you feel that way."

You looked at her, an unfamiliar ache in your chest tightening as you tried to absorb what she was saying. "But I am broken," you whispered, the words almost choking you. "I’ve been broken so many times. I don’t even know who I am anymore, Leah. All I know is that I have to be perfect, or everything falls apart."

Leah shook her head, her expression resolute. "You’re not broken," she insisted. "You’re hurt. And there’s a difference. You’ve been hurt by people who should have supported you, people who should have built you up instead of tearing you down. But that doesn’t make you broken. It makes you human."

Your breath hitched as you processed her words. They were so different from the ones you had grown accustomed to hearing, the harsh criticisms and impossible expectations that had been drilled into you for years. Part of you wanted to reject them, to cling to the familiar pain because it was what you knew. But another part of you, a small, fragile part, wanted desperately to believe that Leah was right.

Leah reached out, placing a hand on your arm, her touch gentle and reassuring. "You’re not alone," she said softly. "We all make mistakes. We all have moments when we don’t perform the way we want to. But that doesn’t define us. You’re so much more than those moments. And you’re allowed to be human, to have bad days, to not be perfect all the time."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, trying to maintain control. It was hard, though, with Leah looking at you like that, with so much compassion and understanding in her eyes. "What if I’m not good enough?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Leah moved over slightly, shuffling across the bench until she was almost touching you. "You are good enough," she said firmly. “We are a team. We help each other be the best. We rely on each other and push each other to be better. We can start slowly, there’s a team bonding next week. We’re going to the cinema and then out for a meal and drinks. I know you don’t usually come but how about you turn up. If you don’t like it or you want to go home, you can do – no questions asked.” You had never been to the cinema before. At least not that you can remember – maybe when you were a kid?

“Cinema … that sounds … nice.”

[rosenclaws]

Logan Howlett x gn!reader who’s not a mutant, but has a very high precognitive sense (in which they can sense when a ball might hit someone and catch it without looking / or anything similar to the matter heh)

warnings: gn!reader, the reader is crazy flirty with logan, some drunk assholes being dicks, it gets a little suggestive idk how I keep doing this.

a/n: Okay i can’t lie i was struggling a little bit coming up with an idea but i did my best. Shout out to @huffle-punk for helping me ily bitch

Logan was no stranger to seedy bars. In fact he might call them his home away from home. He just needed an out. A place that actually served alcohol for once. The mansion was nice and all but sometimes the man needed a drink. So he hopped on his motorcycle and rode for a while until he stumbled upon some hole in the wall.

He scoped out the bar as soon as he walked in. Taking note of everyone who was there. It was mostly dead. Some loud assholes by the darts and a few people sitting in the booths but that's about it. He was naturally alert. His kind weren’t always welcome in places like these.

“What can I get for you?" The bartender nods towards him as he sits on one of the bar stools. Logan takes out a 20 and hands it to the guy.

"You got Molson Ex?" The guy nods and cracks one open for him.

"Whiskey sour please." A voice next to him says.

He glances over to see you standing at the bar. Now that peeks his interest. You look too good to be here in a place like this. You catch his glance and smirk.

"Never seen you here before." You take the seat next to him. He was a stranger for sure but a very good looking one. Logan cocks an eyebrow before taking another sip of his beer.

"Not a talker huh handsome?"

"You always this forward with strangers?" Logan asks, slightly amused by your flirting.

"Only when they're hot. You should be flattered."

The bartender comes back with your drink and before you can pay Logan gestures to put it on his tab. You take a sip of your drink and set it down close to his beer. Logan turns his body towards you, letting you see just how built this man was. You bite your lip as you shamelessly look him up and down.

"You got somewhere to be?" Logan asks a playful smirk on his lips.

"Nope."

You don't know how much time has passed since you started talking to Logan. He was one of those mysterious brooding guys, not even a last name as you flirt up a storm. That's okay, you don't need to know his last name. The space between you two got smaller and smaller as the night went on. Moving away from the barstools to the back of the room. More hidden, more private. His hands have found their way to your back. Holding you close as he leans in close.

"Logan..." You hum as you trail your hand up his chest. Gently grabbing onto his shirt. You roll your eyes as the group of guys by the darts start to get rowdier. The more alcohol they have in them the more obnoxious they get.

"We should get out of here." He hums, he registers your words but he doesn't move. Instead leaning closer, his lips ghosting your jaw as he gently nips below your ear.

You body tenses as your hand shoots out before you can even think, catching the dart that was heading directly for Logan's neck. Logan looks at you in slight confusion. How you managed to react so quickly.

"Hey assholes!" You slip out from Logan's arms and march over to them.

"Watch where you're fucking throwing these things." You throw the dart on the table.

"Or what?" One them gets up, he's not as intimidating as he thinks but he's clearly drunk. You roll your eyes and turn to leave. A hand grabs your wrist harshly and pulls you back. In a flash Logan is by your side. Practically ripping the guys hand off you and pushing him into the table.

"Don't fucking touch 'em bub." Logan growls.

Your eyes widen as you see metal peek out from his knuckles. He's a mutant. The drunk guys scramble away from him. You tug on Logan's arm. Noticing stares from the rest of the people, fear in their eyes. "Come on," He sheathes his claws and looks around. Wordlessly he storms out of the bar with you hot on his heels. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a cigar, letting out a small groan as he lights it.

"You alright?" Logan asks, noticing that you've followed him out.

"Yeah I'm okay. Are you?" He takes another puff of his cigar and nods.

"Those are some crazy reflexes."

"Yeah, I don't know I've just always had them but I'm not a..." You trail off as you become unsure if you should say anything.

"A mutant?" He finishes for you. He laughs, shaking his head as he gets on his motorcycle.

"Wait Logan! I, I like you and I'm sorry those assholes ruined our night but I don't want it to end." You place your hand on top of his.

It's been flirty, fun, casual up until now but there's a clear attraction that you can't ignore, you don't want to ignore it.

"You sure you can handle a mutant?" Your hand jerks away as his claws come out. Oh that's how he wants to play it.

"I can handle some kitty claws Logan," You tease, running your fingers along his claws.

"The real question is, can you handle me?"

[jasontoddproblems]

Pinstripes (1)

[Jason Todd x Reader]

Word Count: 2906

Summary: You take the leap and decide to introduce Jason to your new boyfriend.

A/N: No one has ever been more normal than Jason Todd. He's fine. He's totally fine. Stop looking at him.

Your apartment was still a chaotic whirlwind when Jason arrived, several dresses draped over the back of the couch, your usual purse contents emptied out on the coffee table next to an assortment of tiny, fashionable clutches. You barely took the time to open the door before fleeing back to your bedroom, your chosen dress for the evening technically on but still unzipped. 

“Hello to you too,” Jason called, trailing after you with much slower steps. 

“Hi, hello, how are ya?” you mumbled, shoving various makeup products back into a small floral bag. 

“I’m fine. You don’t seem to be, though. Wanna talk about it?” He dropped down on the edge of your bed, unbuttoning his suit jacket in the process. 

That seemed to catch your attention, and you spun quickly to face him.

“Yes. Tonight’s a big deal. You know that, right?”

Jason raised a brow.

“It’s just another Wayne Foundation gala. You’ve been to dozens of them. You’ve planned dozens of them. It’s your job, and you’re damn good at it.”

Despite the kind words, your lips fell into a frown.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He did know it, unfortunately. Because what you actually meant is that you were introducing your fancy new boyfriend to Jason tonight. Your New York new money, Gotham transplant, up and comer in the Gotham DA’s office with irritatingly private social media accounts boyfriend. 

“What are you so worried about? Help me understand,” he said patiently, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach that felt suspiciously like dread. It had no right to be dread. Jason wasn’t scared of shit. Certainly not a 30-year-old man with an overly-gelled comb over. 

“I haven’t ever introduced anyone to you before,” you said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I feel… weird about it.” 

“This was your idea. If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll just drop you off and go home. You can tell him I’m sick or something.” 

Because honestly, Jason wasn’t looking forward to this either. You were right. You’d never introduced anyone to him in the almost ten years you’d been friends. You’d dated here and there, but never anything serious enough that you bothered with… all this. And Jason didn’t love the fact that you were bothering with it now.

“No, no. I need to stop putting it off. It’s important,” you said, sitting beside him. “I’m just… nervous.”

“I can see that,” he whispered, gesturing around at the disaster zone that was your room and earning an elbow to the ribs in the process.

“Just be nice,” you pleaded, moving to stand in front of him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. 

“I will.”

“Jason.”

“I will!” he repeated with a laugh.

You still didn’t look convinced, eyes slightly narrowed and a cute little pout on your lips. 

“I’m serious. Please. I know how you can get.”

“Okay, what does that mean?” 

“You can be a little… quick to judge.” You hurried to continue when you recognized the flash of hurt in his eyes. “Not me! And not even most people. But like… when you see someone doing something you don’t approve of, you kind of…. Have a hard time letting that go sometimes.” 

“Because you let it go too quickly,” Jason said, brief memories of your past relationships passing through his head like a very convincing powerpoint. “I balance you out.” 

There was the one who stood you up and didn’t call you until the next day to apologize, rattling off excuses that all could have been easily communicated while they were happening. Jason had refused to call him anything other than Ghost Boy for the remainder of your relationship.

Then there was the one who documented his every movement on social media to an alarming degree, always taking pictures when the two of you were together and posting them with cringey, coy captions that had made Jason roll his eyes so hard they hurt a little bit afterwards. He’d named him The Tourist.

And there was no forgetting Small Dick Energy 1, 2, 3, and 4 who had all had huge issues with your best friend being a man in general, and Jason Todd of the Wayne family specifically. You hadn’t seemed aware of the actual problem, just the symptoms: showing off, being obnoxiously vocal about your relationship when you preferred privacy, a dozen different instances of insecurity, becoming possessive and clingy especially when you wanted to make plans with your best friend. It had been very clear to Jason that he was the problem. And he found he didn’t particularly mind it. You deserved better anyway.

“Meet me in the middle,” you requested, squeezing his shoulders to regain his attention. “And I’ll try to meet you in the middle too.” 

“I can try…” Jason said slowly, smiling despite himself when you patted his cheek in approval.

“That’s all I ask. Zip?” 

You turned, standing perfectly still while Jason zipped up your dress, taking the extra time to fasten the tiny hook and eye clasp at the top for good measure. 

“All set.” 

“You’re the best,” you said easily as you moved back toward your vanity, sorting through your various tubes of lipstick.

“I know. It’s a curse.” 

You snorted but didn’t argue, turning once again to present him with four different shades of lipstick. 

“Which one?”

“What color are your shoes?”

“Black.” 

Jason tapped the deep burgundy.

“Ooo. Going bold tonight,” you commented, tossing the others back in your makeup bag.

“You don’t have to,” Jason said with a shrug, but you were already leaning into the mirror, carefully smoothing the rich color over your lips.

“No, I like it.” 

Things moved more quickly after that. You made Jason pick out your purse while you put on your shoes, and he chased you to the front door with a bottle of perfume Bruce had bought you last Christmas.

The ride was quiet. Jason had opted for the Wayne’s favorite car service tonight, since you were attending a public event. It always made you a little uncomfortable, carrying on a conversation as if there wasn’t a third person in the car. You texted each other instead. 

Jason didn’t protest when you directed the driver to the service entrance of tonight’s ritzy hotel venue. Even though you were technically a guest tonight, you’d earned enough favor with the staff of every fine event venue in the city to get special treatment. Including a way in that avoided the paparazzi stationed out front. 

“Can’t believe you sprayed me with that stuff,” you groaned as you led Jason down a service hallway, plucking at your dress with dissatisfaction. It was nicer than what you usually wore when working these events, but not by much. Still unadventurous in color and cut, designed to help you blend in. 

Jason caught your hand, gave it a comforting squeeze before releasing it.

“Do you not like it?” he asked, eyes wide with artificial innocence that made you scoff. 

“I smell like an old rich lady,” you complained. 

“Gonna break Bruce’s heart, talking like that. I’m pretty sure he actually picked that out himself.”

“Well we’re not going to tell him, are we?” 

He caught your hand again, intercepting it before you could fuss with your hair. 

“Will you stop? You look amazing. There’s nothing to worry about.”

You sighed, pausing before the door that would let you into the hotel ballroom and brushing your hands over your dress again.

“Easy for you to say.” 

Jason frowned.

“Hey,” he said softly, guiding your chin up until you were meeting his gaze. “Tell me how to make this easier for you.”

That alone seemed to do something, tension beginning to ease from your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “Just…”

“Be nice. I know.” He offered you his arm with an encouraging smile. 

“I mean it.” 

“I’ll be so nice he’ll fall in love with me, and you’ll regret ever introducing us.”

“Well, I believe the second part of that statement,” you laughed as he led you through the door and into the ballroom. By the look of things, about half of the invitees had arrived, small groups of business magnates, socialites, and philanthropists forming along the edges of the room to network and gossip and generally be seen together. 

“Rude,” Jason said drily, smiling when you pinched his bicep in retaliation. “Alright, where is this guy?”

“Umm…” You stretched up to your tallest, peering around at the near-identical suits around the room. “Right over there!”

He followed the direction of your gaze to 

“Is he wearing pinstripes?” 

“Jason.”

“I’m not being mean! I’m asking a question.” 

“Fine. Yes, he’s wearing pinstripes,” you said, flashing a bright smile as the man in question met your eyes and started making his way towards you.

“To a charity gala?” 

“I told you he was coming straight from work.”

“You did. Except the lines of that suit are too sharp for him to have been wearing it all day. Which means he changed into a pinstripe suit. For a charity gala.”

“Stop using your weird observation powers to be a bitch.” 

“You love when I - ”

“Well not right now I don’t. Cut it out.”

“Does he think he’s on Wall Street? Or a Law and Order rerun?”

“Jason.” A fierce whisper, accompanied by a sharp elbow to the ribs announced the arrival of your boyfriend, and Jason let out a sigh of defeat. 

“There you are!” 

The voice was, irritatingly, pleasant. A voice fit for radio. Or campaign videos. 

His greeting was smooth, polite, moving you from Jason’s arm to his own with subtlety and a kiss to your cheek. 

“You smell nice. New perfume?”

Jason bit down hard on his lip to contain a laugh, flashing innocent eyes at you as you glared at him over your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Did you send my staff into a panic by turning up early?” you asked.

“Early is on time,” he replied, with the intonation of a phrase often repeated. “On time is late.” 

“I don’t think that rule applies to parties,” you laughed. 

“Definitely doesn’t apply to Wayne parties, anyway,” Jason added, snagging a champagne flute from a passing waiter and handing it to you. 

“Oh, thank you! I suppose now’s the time for introductions...”

“You must be Jason,” the other man said, holding out his hand. “Sorry, is it Todd or Wayne? I’ve seen it both ways in the paper.”

“Todd,” he said firmly, reaching to accept the offered handshake with a bit more strength than was strictly necessary. “Unless I need a last minute dinner reservation. Or I want to meet a famous person.” 

He knew how to play this game. Kind of. He’d seen Bruce and Dick play it often enough, anyway.

“Good for you,” the other man said with a polite laugh. “Making use of your connections. I’m William Woodley.”

“Middle name?”

William tilted his head curiously, but appeared unfazed.

“Samuel.”

Jason clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“Was hoping for another W.”

Take that, asshole. 

William gave another news anchor-esque laugh.

You looked faintly confused. 

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to finally meet you in person.”

“You’ve got the advantage then. I only started hearing about you last week.”

Your sharp gaze bit into the side of his face, and he was sure if there was a subtle way to do it, you would have stomped on his foot for good measure. And he deserved it. That was too clumsy of an insult to land properly. 

“I can’t blame her,” William said, turning his full attention on you until your eyes softened again. “I’ve wanted to keep her all to myself too.”

Gag. Damn, he was good at this. 

“So, how did you two meet?” Jason asked, though you’d already told him the story. Twice.

“We - Oh, pardon me. Is that the mayor? Darling, we should go introduce ourselves,” William turned to you, eyes bright with excitement. 

“I’ve met him,” you said patiently. “Several times. And last week, I’m pretty sure his wife called me the help, so I think you stand a better chance at a good impression if you go without me.”

His eyes scanned over you quickly, assessing, smile beginning to slip.

“Oh. I don’t… I don’t have to go. We could find a different group to join.”

“It’s alright! Go ahead.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ll be fine! I still have Jason.”

It was Jason’s turn to be assessed, though more cautiously. 

William gave a noncommittal hum, dropping another kiss to your cheek and whispering something Jason couldn’t hear before heading off towards the growing crowd of sycophants surrounding Gotham’s mayor. 

“Well, that was quick.” 

“Why are you being weird?” you asked, an overly-polite smile on your face as you watched William make his way across the ballroom. 

“I’m not being weird.” 

You gave him a flat look. 

“I’ve never met one of your boyfriends before! I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.”

“Like a human person, preferably,” you muttered, taking a long sip of champagne. “Like yourself, would be nice.” 

Jason’s sigh was drowned out by an enthusiastic voice calling out your name. 

“Seriously?” he complained quietly. 

Dick Grayson bounced up on sunshine and smiles (and expensive booze), snatching up your hand and guiding you into a graceful twirl before you could even say hello.

“Good to see you! You look lovely.” He dropped a gallant kiss to the back of your hand. “What did it cost you to get Jason in the building tonight?”

“I asked nicely,” you said, with a fond smile. “It’s good to see you too.”

“Funny, I always ask nicely for things - ”

“You do not,” Jason cut off, rolling his eyes. 

“Never works for me!”

“Well, she’s prettier than you.”

“Rude,” Dick said before turning to wink at you. “But fair. Was that William Woodley from the DA’s office you were just talking to?”

You blinked in surprise. 

“Uh, yes. He - ”

“He’s her boyfriend.”

Something in Dick’s brain seemed to glitch, and his eyelid twitched.

“Interesting! When did that happen?”

“What do you mean interesting?” you asked suspiciously. 

Dick hummed, rolling back his exuberant public persona as he searched for the right answer.

“Is he not a little… serious? For you?” 

“Have you met my best friend?” 

“Jason’s Jason. It’s different,” he said, waving you off.

“What does that mean?” Jason asked, feeling like he should probably be offended. This night was already giving him a headache.

“William’s sweet,” you defended. “And it’s kind of nice to be with someone more serious. He knows what he wants.” 

“Sure…” Dick slipped the champagne flute out of your hand, handing it to Jason. “Think you need that more than she does. You look like you tried to eat a snail. Again. I’m gonna go charm more rich people out of their money. Have fun!”

He turned away after a hard clap on the shoulder, taking only a second to identify his next target before he was off again, shouting out someone else’s name with his arms wide open.

Jason drained the rest of your glass, trading it for a fresh one which he handed to you. 

You took it without looking, your eyes once again fixed on William through the crowd and your perfectly-painted lips tugged into a slight frown. 

That was Jason’s fault, at least partially. And he knew it. 

He took a deep breath.

“You should go ask him to dance,” Jason said, plastering on his most convincing  smile when you glanced at him curiously.

“Why?”

“Because you’re a guest, they just started playing a new song, and you’re supposed to be having fun.” 

You tapped the edge of your champagne flute absently.

“Yeah… but he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities like this. And he doesn’t really like to dance, I don’t think.” 

Jason took your glass back, giving you a little nudge.

“He will if he knows it will make you happy.”

“You’re being sweet,” you said, tone nearly accusatory as you look over your shoulder at him.

“How dare you. Would you get outta here?” 

Your eyes narrowed a little, but you smiled anyway.

And Jason watched you make your way through the assorted guests, watched you come up beside William, your hand gentle on his shoulder. Watched the way his eyes lit up, the bright beaming smile he aimed at you. Tried, really really hard, to think you two looked like a good match. Tried to be happy for you. 

But your own soft smile faded after a few exchanged words, turned into something plastic and polite that clashed with the disappointment he could see in your eyes even from across the room. 

Something tightened in Jason’s chest, and he let out a slow breath. He didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to make you happy. Not anymore.

What he wanted to do was shove everyone out of the way until he could stand right next to you. He wanted to steal you away into an alcove, make rude jokes about the elitist guests until you laughed, until champagne threatened to come out of your nose. He wanted to dance with you. Because he knew it would make you happy. Because your boyfriend wasn’t. 

Because Jason Todd had been your best friend for ten years. And he’d been in love with you for eight. 

*****

A/N: Help, I'm gonna LOSE IT! What do we think, besties? Is this anything? Come chat!

[svtiddiess]

Soft Serenity

Synopsis: Watching your boyfriend sleep is one of the best things in the world.

Pairing: Jeonghan x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, one shot

Rating: sfw

Word count: 529

Warnings: none! Lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Need me a Jeonghan right now ㅠㅠ

@tomodachiii I told you he'd get a happy ending! Now, please stop screaming at me.

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Safe. That's what you felt at the moment, in your boyfriend's arms as you watched him sleep. Streaks of sunlight peak in through the blinds, illuminating your boyfriend's face and making him look more ethereal than he already does. His blonde hair, which he recently dyed for the upcoming comeback, frames his face, truly making him look like an angel.

You smile at the thought of your boyfriend being known as an 'angel' among his fans when, in fact, he's quite the opposite. Not a day goes by when you're not dealing with the consequences of dating this angel-like devil. But you know for a fact that you wouldn't give it up for the world.

Ever since you met Jeonghan, every day has been an adventure. Even if most days you spend with him are at home cuddling, he somehow always manages to keep you on your toes, either through cheeky remarks or 'harmless' pranks. You can't imagine your life before you met him; it seemed so monotonous and bland, like something was always missing. And when you met Jeonghan, it finally clicked; he was the puzzle piece that was missing in your life.

You bring your focus back to the man in front of you. You gently use your finger to trace his beautiful features, careful not to wake him. You've always marvelled at how beautiful Jeonghan looked, even admitting to him that he looked more beautiful than you, to which he laughed and cooed, saying that to him, you're the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.

Your finger stops when you reach his lips, which are pouting due to his face being squished by the pillow. You'd never admit this to him, but you're addicted to his lips. You can kiss him for hours and still want more. The feeling of his lips on your skin always makes you shudder, even if it is just an innocent peck on the cheek. You lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his pouting lips, silently giggling to yourself.

Jeonghan's pout turns into a smile as he shifts to bring you closer to him, causing you to let out a small squeak. He then places a kiss on the corner of your lips before snuggling his face into your neck.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" You softly ask, moving your hands to thread them in his hair. He shakes his head.

"I've been awake this whole time," he mumbles into your neck, and you swear you can feel him smile.

"So you knew I was watching you this whole time?!" You could feel your cheeks heat up at the thought of Jeonghan catching you admiring him.

"You looked so happy, so I just let you be," he hums, "plus it felt nice."

"You're going to tease me about it later, aren't you?"

"Definitely."

You let out a defeated sigh as you continue to rake your fingers through his hair. With Jeonghan, there's definitely no winning. But with him, there definitely will be happiness, excitement, comfort, safety, and serenity. You feel him place a kiss on your neck, making you giggle softly.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[saintmuses]

❝𝙨𝙤 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮❞

Pairing:

Thomas Shelby x Jurossi!Reader

Summary:

When he courted his first love Greta before the Great War, he met her younger sister; Y/N Jurossi. He took her under his wings after the war and she was the best thing that could have ever happened to someone like him.

Warning(s): Soft SMUT. Somewhat dub-con. Fluffy. Implied age gap (everyone’s grown). A pinch of dark theme, but it’s consensual. Implied minor corruption. Minor power imbalance. Fingering. Thomas being extremely soft towards Y/N. Daddy kink (so sorry). Minors, dni!

Word Count: 2.5k

“Bad day?” She asked quietly into his ear while wrapping her arms around his chest from behind.

"Hectic," Thomas said with a sigh, leaning back against her. Her warm breath caressed his ear. He would never tell anyone, but it felt nice to be held and comforted. "We're gettin’ more trouble at one of the factories. I've been tryin’ to straighten it out, but it seems nothin’ works," he muttered, shaking his head in frustration.

“You’re Thomas Shelby, you’ll figure it out.” She said soothingly, rubbing her hands on his shoulders to ease out the tension.

Thomas chuckled under her touch and relaxed into her embrace. “I know, but sometimes the weight of all this responsibility gets to me,” he admitted, “It’s nice to have someone here to keep me steady.”

She was confused because he had a family who could support him every step of the way. “What do you mean?” She asked. He looked up at her before dragging her into his lap making her yelp in surprise.

Thomas laughed softly. His hands wrapped around her frame, pulling her close. His chest rose and fell, his heart pounding against her.

“I just mean that you’ve been keepin’ me sane and grounded, keepin’ me from losing my mind ‘n all this mess.” He said softly, stroking her hair.

“Other than whiskey and cigarettes?” She asked, eyeing the Irish whiskey on the desk next to them. 

Thomas shrugged, “That helps too, but I prefer you.” He murmured, leaning in closer. His hands trailed down her back, pulling her body flush up against his. “You’re my favorite thing.”

She giggled, “well I hope you would choose me as number one over whiskey as your favorite thing on the list, it would be terrible if I’m number two.” She pouted with mischief in her eyes 

"Oi, I'd always choose you over any bottle of whiskey." He said with confidence, almost playfully. She was his favorite thing, his whole world. His hands caressed her soft skin, tracing their way up and down her body. He couldn't help it. He was intoxicated by her beauty. He craved her in so many ways. "You're my everythin’."

She blushed, “not even your siblings?” She questioned softly.

"Never," Tommy said firmly. He leaned in closely and stared deeply into her eyes. "No one could ever take your spot in me heart. I would never choose anyone over you. You're too special."

He had met her when he started courting Greta Jurossi before the war. He had thought she was a sweet little thing, but he had never saw her as anything other than Greta’s sister who was quiet and meek. 

It wasn’t until he received a letter from her in France during his days and nights digging and shoveling dirt to form tunnels underground and he had been surprised to see a letter from his past. 

She lost her parents to influenza that took over Europe and she had nowhere else to go. He did tell her after Greta died that if she needed anything, send him a letter and he would make sure she was taken care of.

When he came back as a different man, he knew he needed to take her under his wing because she was one thing in his past that was undamaged, untouched by many things.

Somewhere along the line, he fell in love with her.

She grinned at him before turning her head to see the dark liquid in a bottle and grabbed it before unscrewing the top. Raising the bottle to her lips, she took a delicate sip, swallowing it. 

Thomas’ heart skipped a beat as he watched her take the first sip of whiskey. Her eyes twinkled as she swallowed the liquid and licked her lips, her face brightening with a mischievous grin.

He had never seen anything so beautiful and so arousing. She was so bold, so daring, so alluring. His hands clenched into fists as he watched her.

He then reached for the bottom of the bottle, knowing she could handle as he tilted the bottle towards her lips, guiding the liquid into her mouth and watching her swallow it down flawlessly. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Every move she made was perfect, enchanting, and irresistible. The way she drank the whiskey down so easily, gulping it as if her life depended on it was so incredibly arousing.

He eased up on the bottle before putting it aside, placing it back on the desk, and collected her back into his arms. She mumbled unintelligible as he pushed her head into his neck.

He cradled her in his arms as she nuzzled against his neck. His grip tightened around her body as he pulled her closer. She was sleepy, and her words were nonsensical, but his embrace felt so right. It was as if it was where she belonged.

He buried his face in her neck and let out a sigh of contentment. The smell of her hair sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine. He couldn't get enough of her.

She giggled, trying to edge away from his face, “Tommy, that feels ticklish.” Her words slurred from exhaustion that flitted on her face as well.

He reluctantly pulled away from her neck and laughed softly. She was slightly tipsy, but she sounded cute when she was like this. He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes.

“Are you tellin’ me you’re lightweight, eh?” He asked, grinning, wanting an honest answer.

She hesitated before nodding. “I think so?” She giggled once more. “I mean I had two glasses of gin before checking on you, but you know what alcohol does to me.”

She seemed so adorable when she was exhausted like this. Thomas couldn't help but chuckle, enjoying her adorable tipsy and sleepy mannerisms. 

She did not get tipsy in the shape of getting drunk. Whenever she had too much, she would get sleepy.

He brushed back her hair, his hands roaming over her soft skin. "I think you are, my little sleepy baby," he whispered, trailing his fingers up her arms. Once he reached for her neck, he then chuckled and brushed her hair behind her ear, loving the way her eyes opened up, and she whimpered slightly.

"Is something wrong?" Thomas asked softly, his voice a little huskier than before. He was enjoying this way too much. His hands cupped her cheeks, slowly caressing her face. His touch was gentle but firm. "Are you not a sleepy little baby?"

“What would you call me if I’m not sleepy?” She pouted, eyes blinking innocently.

His lips twitched as he tried not to smile. He liked her when she was being sleepy, but he also loved it when she pouted. She was so cute and innocent, in total contrast to his fierce and powerful personality.

"You'll always be my baby." Thomas murmured, kissing her forehead. his hands slowly traced up and down her back, wanting to give her some sort of comfort yet also seeking something more from her.

Her pout shifted to a smile in response. Her eyes slowly blinked, lulling her head forward onto his shoulder. Her head rested on his shoulder, and for a moment, she seemed so innocent and sweet. He could tell she was a little tipsy, but something else was stirring within him. She was so vulnerable, so open to him. 

His hand ran across her cheeks softly, playing with her hair. His other hand rested firmly on her thigh, caressing the soft skin.

He lifted her onto the desk in front of him. She grumbled slightly when she felt a hard surface under her, but he laid her down on it gently before sitting down in the chair again.

Thomas couldn't help but chuckle again when she grumbled slightly after he laid her down on hard furniture.

Her presence next to him was so inviting. She smelled so intoxicating and she was so delicate. Her body was just begging to be touched, and he couldn't refuse.

“You are so pretty,” he whispered in her ear, his breath caressing her neck.

She felt his hand trailing from her shoulder, down between her sternum, down her abdomen until he reached the hem of her night gown. He dragged the fabric of her night gown up her thighs until her abdomen was revealed, exposing her in her underwear. 

Thomas’ fingers trailed along her body, exploring it in such intimate and bold ways. It felt so good to be able to touch her without any limitations. 

Her body was so fragile. He had never felt anything soft as her. His fingers glided along her skin, his hands rubbing up and down her sides and down her thighs. Curling his fingers around her calves, he gripped them to maneuver her legs until they were propped on the wooden arms of the chair with her feet flat on the surface, the position made her thighs spread apart. She gasped when his hand ran from her calves towards her thighs then ran over her underwear, trying to feel her through the fabric.

Thomas’ hand caressed her thigh, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric covering her skin. He loved the way she would gasp whenever his hands touched her. 

He wanted to see how much it would take to make her lose her restraint. He pulled back slightly, caressing everything but the skin under her underwear. He made her sweat a little before finally sliding his fingers underneath it.

She felt him curling his fingers to pull the fabric aside, exposing her cunt to his hungry gaze.

“What are you doing, Tommy?” she mumbled the question.

"What does it look like, eh?" Tommy's voice was low and husky as he looked her up and down, studying her body with his eyes. She was so vulnerable and innocent.

He was taking advantage of that. This was his girl, and he was going to let himself enjoy her.

"Just lettin’ myself enjoy every inch of your perfection," Thomas said softly as his fingers began to trace her folds, feeling the slickness of her arousal on the pads of his fingers.

She whimpered as she felt his fingers parting her folds and slid a finger excruciatingly slow into her. “Da-“ she cut herself off, feeling embarrassed through her sleepy-addled brain.

"Did you just try to call me daddy?" Thomas asked softly, although he was a tad bit surprised by the name, but he enjoyed watching the look of embarrassment on her face. She was so easily embarrassed, and it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. 

He was loving the way that she was responding to him. It was as if her drunk sleepy body was submitting to him, letting him explore every inch of her.

“N-no.” She lied, flushing slightly as she began to mumble incoherently under her breath.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart," Thomas said, smiling. He moved closer to her face. If she was too embarrassed to speak, he would read from her body. Her facial expression gave away everything she was feeling right now.

His index finger joined his middle finger, and his fingers explored her more deeply as he looked into her eyes, wanting to see how much she could handle.

“Would you honestly like it if I call you that?” She asked quietly, arching her back slightly.

"Oh, I would love that," Thomas said immediately, not even wasting a moment to think. He didn't care about his pride when it came to her. She gave him the opportunity to take care of her, and she was so submissive to him right now. ”Do it, my girl," he softly commanded, running his fingers along the walls of her cunt before curling up to touch the spongy surface.

She gasped, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Daddy,” she breathed, swallowing inaudibly.

His lips curled into a satisfied smile; he was pleased to hear that particular word coming from her. He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, his fingers continuing to explore her intimately.

She whined, her eyes were still unfocused, but she had a semi strung out look on her face before biting down her lip to hold back noises as he continued to touch her.

His fingers slowly traced between her folds, exploring every inch of her there. His fingertips ran up and down, making her squirm and whimper. She was so sensitive, and so easily aroused. His touch sent a jolt of pleasure to the tip of her pleasure spectrum, and she couldn't contain her body from writhing.

She whimpered. “Daddy,” it was almost in a slur in response to his ministrations.

"That’sa good girl," Thomas muttered softly, his voice huskier than before. He couldn't get enough of this. Her submission to him had awakened something dark and devious within him. He wanted to take advantage of it. "Do you like this, my naughty girl?"

“Y-yes.” She whined. He looked down at her slick cunt and praised her.

"It's so perfect," Thomas whispered, taking a moment to look her in the eyes, his fingers slowing down just a little. He was enjoying her responses to his touch, but he wanted to prolong this a little longer so he could explore every single inch of her.

“What is?” She whimpered.

"Your pretty cunt," he answered softly, trailing his fingers along her thighs again. The way she squirmed and whimpered with every touch gave him a rush of adrenaline.

Thomas had never felt this turned on in his entire life. Every sound that came from her mouth turned him on even more. Her responses drove him over the edge. Her whimpers were like music to him. The music he thought he did not want to hear since the war.

His fingers glided back and forth between her folds, tracing the skin of her cunt softly.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the feeling. 

"You're so pretty when you get like this, my girl," Thomas whispered. He couldn't help but look down at her face to see her expression. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she looked so vulnerable. She couldn't resist him in this tiredness mind of a state, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

She felt him lean in closer to her, his breath on her face as he rumbled softly at her. 

“Daddy,” she whimpered when she felt his nose nuzzling her nose.

“What is it, baby?”

“I love you,” she whined softly to him, sighing at his closeness.

His breath caught in his throat at her words. She couldn't have said anything nicer or better to him. Her words made everything more real, and he couldn't stand it because he knew he did not deserve her. However, he was a selfish bastard after all, and the war had taken too much from him. He deserved this one thing.

He brought her face closer to his, his breath still trembling, his voice sounding softer. "I love you too, baby," he whispered softly.

He saw her head lolling back on the surface of the desk, and he couldn't resist the urge to lean in and kiss her lips gently. His fingers brushed against her cheeks tenderly as he caressed her face with his hand. It was as if she was the only thing that mattered in this fucked up world.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: thinking about some nerd!anakin fic where he had heard the reader talk with her friends that she's not passing physics and since he has the biggest crush on her since second grade he later suggest to help her..if she'll help him with something else ;)

Nerd!Anakin who inside was a little dirty minded boy that wished nothing more to have a loving girlfriend to do with her all the cool, nice things he always wanted to do (and he meant more joyful activities than sex)

Nerd!Anakin who has a collection of technical manuals and scientific holobooks that he reads in his spare time. His nightstand is filled with them, and he gets excited when a new one comes out. He’ll stay up late, curled up on the couch, devouring a manual on hyperdrive mechanics or some obscure sci-fi novel, eyes glued to the hologram.

He also loves telling you all about the technical details of what he's learning. You may not always understand everything he’s talking about, but his excitement is so adorable that you just let him ramble on.

Nerd!Anakin who has a soft spot for droids, and he might even give them 'upgrades' just because he thinks they deserve a treat. “You’ve been working hard, buddy. How about a new power cell?”. He’ll talk to them while he works, explaining what he’s doing like they’re his assistants (his fav is R2D2 obviously)

Nerd!Anakin who gets ridiculously excited about the latest gadgets or tech upgrades. When something new comes out, he’s like a kid in a candy store. Whether it's a new holo-terminal, a high-speed pod engine - he’s always the first in line to get it. He’ll show it off to you, explaining every little detail with enthusiasm. “Look at this! It has a new feature that triples efficiency!” He gets that adorable spark in his eye, completely geeking out over the smallest improvements.

Nerd!Anakin who would love when you'd do your nails; he'd ask soon later (when you two are alone) if you could play with his hair to only feel you scratch very gently against his scalp

Nerd!Anakin who was a great whimpering mess whenever you touched him (poor guy had never felt woman's touch before);

a sharp gasp left his mouth as you touched the mushroomy tip of his member, his hips jerking towards you without thought. he was already embarrassingly close, and now your teasing was only driving him closer to the edge “please-“ he let out a pleading moan, the words barely leaving his dry mouth

"please what ani? Use your words like good boys do"

He tried to focus enough to form a coherent sentence but it was getting so hard when all his mind could focus on, was the way you made him feel “I’m close-“ he gasped out, his hips rocking frantically against your tightening fist “I’m so close baby, i need it” he let out a sobbing whimper

"can you hold it in a little?" you asked gently

he groaned at the question before nodding almost desperately “for you, anything” his glasses sliding down his nose

You only hummed, all proud of your actions. How easily you could tear him apart by your single touch. Using her free hand to move his glasses so they were a bit more comfortable on him. You increased your movements, making sure to

he could feel the heat in his abdomen tighten as your hand moved faster. he was struggling to keep himself together, not much to your surprise "oh-oh god-“ he let out a loud gasp and a groan as your thumb moved over his tip again, that little touch sending electricity up his spine “oh-fuck…” one hand digging into the couch for some kind of grip “I can’t hold it—please please please” tears of desperation and overwhelming began to prick at the corner of his eyes

Nerd!Anakin who when was nervous, draw circles and designs on the back of your hand to relax himself

Nerd!Anakin who did your own minifigure from Legos

Nerd!Anakin who always had perfectly ironed shirts

Nerd!Anakin who in general was perfectionist in everything he'd do. If he had a mess in his room, he couldn't focus normally. If just one thing was moved inches apart, it drove him wild

Nerd!Anakin who made cupcakes with his mother for you

Nerd!Anakin who's a true mommy's boy

Nerd!Anakin who teared up after you gave him his first blowjob. He felt so overstimulated when his thick member was hugged around your warm throat, your tongue working on his shaft..it was way too much for the first time, he'd gasp and ask you to slow down because if you wouldn't, you'd already have his cum dripping down your throat

Nerd!Anakin who gave you flowers - sometimes real one and sometimes he'd do them from origamy

Nerd!Anakin who has a little sketchbook where he draws schematics for future projects—droid designs, custom technology accessories, etc. He’s always thinking of new ways to improve things, and his sketches are filled with intricate details and notes.

Sometimes, he’ll show you a design he’s particularly proud of, grinning ear to ear as he explains how it works. “What do you think? Pretty sleek, huh?”

Nerd!Anakin who was a true worshipper of your body. Would press such gentle kisses all over your body as if you were a ceramic doll he was scared to break

Nerd!Anakin who's glasses got foggy everytime he made love to you, his curls sticking to his forehead and his pinky, swollen lips quivering to hold back his own orgasm

Nerd!Anakin who adored math and physics (but not as much as he adored you). And of course, he loved to help you with those subjects

Nerd!Anakin ho invited you to weekly movie marathon. With all the snacks ready and a fluffy blanket

Nerd!Anakin who adored to cuddle with you. It was something so precious for him, and whenever he had a chance, he'd just wrap his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzle to your soft neck

Nerd!Anakin who liked to play with your hair like brushing them out of your face, twirling the strand around his finger and watch intensively, as if it was the most important/gorgeous/captivating sight he had seen, how it hugged his finger so perfectly

Nerd!Anakin who had his 'sexual education' with you;

Anakin hesitantly reached out, his hand trembling as he lifted it towards your chest. He hesitates for a moment once more, not sure if he's ready to do that. He just felt so sinful watching you naked..but oh so good.. so, before the thoughts would envelope his entire mind, he gently cupped one of your round, full breasts. He instantly marveled at, not only the softeneness but the weight, the way it filled his palm, how it was so beautiful, seeing your raspberry ripple hidden thanks to his large hand made him feel so fuzzy all inside

As he squeezed the soft globe tentatively, feeling its weight sprawl all over his senses, he couldn't help but let out a low moan, his body responding to the newfound pleasure. Guilty feelings fade away, leaving him all needy for more of you. His fingertips graze over your nipple to harden it, eliciting a soft gasp from both of you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with wonder. "I-how i-" he stuttered shyly "-what should I do now?"

"whatever you want..you can kiss it, play with it, anything you want Annie"

Anakin's eyes widen at your words. To have the whole access to your body felt more pleasurable than anything in his life. He leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the underside of your breast. You gazed down at how his glasses pressed against your skin, making your breath hitched. He then brought his hand up to gently squeeze and caress the soft mound at your left breast, almost nuzzling to the right one. He looked back up at you, seeking approval, as if not sure if he could go any further

"go on, they're all yours" you encouraged

Anakin smiles shyly at your encouragement, feeling emboldened. He starts to kiss and lick at your breasts, alternating between the two. He gently nibbles on your nipples, sucking on them and releasing them with soft popping sounds. "Ahh... they're so soft... and t-tasty..." he mumbled the last part more quietly, as if embarrassed that he actually thought about your breasts in that way

he accidentally uses a bit too much pressure with his teeth, causing you to hiss in pain. He immediately freezes, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm so sorry... did I hurt you?" His voice soft, laced with adorable concern.

"no--its okay..just try to use a little less teeth..and relax"

Anakin nods, his expression turning gentle again. He leans back in, this time more careful, his touch feather-light. He alternates between sucking and licking, paying close attention to the way you react to his touch. "Like this?" He asks softly, his voice muffled against your skin.

"just like that" you tugged on his curls

After the moaned sentence left your mouth, Anakin felt a surge of pride. He continues his gentle ministrations, his own body growing harder with each passing moment. He looks up at you,l with his eyes hooded. "Can I... can I kiss you lower now?"

Nerd!Anakin who was scared to eat you out at first, cause it'd be his very much first pussy. But when he did, he had no idea how to do it. He used his teeth a little too much, his tongue a bit too forceful but in time he got better

Nerd!Anakin who loves space documentaries. He'll make you sit with him on the couch to watch them, enthusiastically pointing out facts you didn’t even know he knew. He’s the type to lean over and say things like, “Did you know that this system’s star is actually binary? And it formed 4.6 billion years ago?”

Nerd!Anakin who uses cheesy, nerdy pick-up lines that leave you both laughing. He’s the kind of guy who would say, “Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.” He says it with so much confidence that you can’t help but find it endearing.

When you tease him about it, he’ll get all flustered, scratching the back of his head with that sheepish grin. “I thought it was clever..and you'd like it, maybe give me a small kiss or something.."

Nerd!Anakin who is fiercely protective of his tech projects. If someone tries to mess with them or touch his tools without asking, he’ll get all defensive. “Hey, be careful with that! I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

But when it’s you? He lets you mess with his projects all you want, even if it makes him a bit nervous. He’ll give you a dorky smile and say, “Just don’t break it, okay?” But secretly, he loves sharing his passions with you.

Nerd!Anakin who, as smart as he is with machines, is absolutely terrible in the kitchen. He’ll try to make you dinner as a sweet surprise, but something always goes wrong—he burns the food, the recipe doesn’t turn out, or the kitchen ends up looking like a disaster zone.

He’ll stand there, looking embarrassed but hopeful, holding a burnt dish with a lopsided grin. “Uh, it’s a little... crispy..”

Nerd!Anakin who leaves you small, nerdy notes;

On a sticky note on your fridge

"You’re the binary star to my existence. Without you, my orbit is off. Also, I reprogrammed the toaster. You're welcome.”

In your notebook or planner

“If I could rewrite the laws of physics, I'd bend space-time just to spend an extra 5 minutes with you.”

"The only code I can’t crack? How you make my heart race this fast.

Tucked inside your favorite book

“You're like the perfect algorithm: complex, beautiful, and always leaving me wanting to solve the equation that is you.”

On your desk after a long day

“You must have a gravity field around you, because I can't seem to stay away. P.S. Check under the desk, I might've added a small modification.”

Next to your coffee in the morning

"You must be a supernova, because you light up my entire galaxy."

Left on the keyboard of your laptop

“I may be fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, but none can express how much you mean to me. Except maybe binary: 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.”

On a scrap of paper in your bag

“If life were an RPG, you’d be the rarest item—a perfect balance of stats, charisma, and intelligence. Also, +100 beauty.”

Tucked in between your sketchpad pages (if you're into art)

“You’re the canvas, I’m the artist... together, we create the perfect masterpiece. P.S. I’m still better at drawing starships though.”

Left in your lunchbox

“Did you know you increase productivity in starship repairs by 43% just by being near me? I’d call that a superpower.”

Taped to a little DIY gadget he made for you

“This little thing is just like you—ingenious and holds everything together. Also, try pressing the blue button for a surprise.”

Next to your favorite snack

“You’re like the perfect engineering schematic: flawless in design, and I can’t stop marveling at the details.”

In your locker

"I’d cross the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs just to see your smile."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet (I have not forgot about you now ;) )

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[avatar-anna]

please please pleeeeeease more of assistant×harry!! 🥺

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

August 2013

In just a year of being Harry Styles’ assistant, Y/n had seen a lot, experienced a lot, and learned to expect just about anything, which was why her head began to throb before they even touched down in Las Vegas.

“Here,” a voice said from above her. Y/n was supposed to be answering emails and prepping for all the appearances Harry was supposed to make before the jet landed, but she decided to close her eyes. Just for a few minutes. Not that anyone would’ve noticed, anyway. The boys were all hanging out in the back of the plane, and Natalie, Zayn’s assistant, was watching the boys to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble. All the assistants took turns when the boys of One Direction were in a confined space together; tag teaming just seemed the fairest deal.

When she peeked an eye open, though, she was surprised to see Harry standing beside her seat, a mug in his outstretched hand. Smiling, she took it, watching through tired eyes as he sat down across from her. He was in a red flannel shirt, though it was hardly buttoned, and the black skinny jeans he’d taken to wearing almost the entire tour. He had multiple pairs, all the same exact brand and style, just in case one ripped. Y/n would know. She had to race all over Manhattan when that very nightmare happened and Harry didn’t have any backups. Now there were at least four in his suitcase at all times. And an extra one in her backpack just to be safe. Harry swore the bag that followed her everywhere was made of magic because her whole life—and his—was nearly placed in there. But Y/n knew it wasn’t magic, she was just prepared for everything.

“I told the boys we’d be on our best behavior while we’re here. Just for you,” Harry said, giving Y/n his most innocent grin.

She’d seen that grin too many times to believe him, but the sentiment was nice. He and the boys were never menaces to her or the other assistants per day, but their antics did make her life more difficult depending on what they got up to. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I’m a sweet guy,” Harry said with a grin. Then with a nod toward Y/n’s phone, he asked, “Who’re you texting over there?”

“I’m not texting anyone. I’m sending emails,” she said.

“What? Even while we’re in the air?” he asked incredulously. “Do you ever not work?”

Y/n grinned. “Of course.”

“Well then put the phone down and talk to me. I feel like I've known you forever but I don't actually know you” Harry said, and it sounded like he was almost whining.

Y/n looked up from her phone. Harry’s eyes were pleading as he leaned forward in his seat. She was honestly a little surprised that he was so insistent that she talk to him. He was always nice of course, and they’d had brief conversations that didn’t involve work here and there, but Harry didn’t know much about Y/n personally. She kept her personal life private for the most part, for no other reason than she liked to keep things professional while she was working.

Setting her phone down, Y/n crossed her leg over the other and looked at Harry expectantly. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Y/n choked on the tea Harry had given her. "That's the question you want to start with?"

Harry shrugged before leaning in playfully. "Are you avoiding the question?"

"No. To both questions," she answered honestly.

"Hm."

"Hm? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/n asked. She thought they were having a lighthearted conversation but Harry looked contemplative.

"Why not?" he asked, not answering her question.

Y/n ran a tired hand over her face. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation, Mr. Styles."

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to pry," he said, leaning back in his seat. The playful gleam in his green eyes told Y/n differently, though. "I just feel like you know a lot of intimate details about my life, and all I know is that you like cinnamon bagels and have an affinity for wearing black. And you always manage to wake up before I do, which just seems outrageous to me sometimes."

Y/n pondered what he said and supposed he had a point. She did know a lot about Harry's relationships, or the intimate details of his life he referred to based on his line of questioning. But it was her job to know. She made sure he was up and ready each day, she ensured that no one night stands overstayed their welcome or helped themselves to his clothes after he was gone; she was privy to his PR dates and the ones he wanted no one else to know about. Their... relationship was one sided, and Y/n didn't fault him for his curiosity.

"You know how I take my tea, and that I drink tea at all," she finally said, her voice light.

Harry smiled, as if he'd been waiting to engage in whatever game he'd been trying to play with her since he sat down across from her. "I noticed you reach for the tea packets whenever we fly."

"It relaxes me," Y/n admitted.

"Do you not like flying?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to act more casual than she felt. "It's mostly the takeoff and landing. I don't know it just...freaks me out a little. All the jostling and pressure and whatnot."

"You picked a strange job if you don't like to fly, I'm afraid," Harry said.

"Hence the herbal tea. I'd take something a little stronger if I didn't think you boys would do something the minute my eyes were closed."

"We wouldn't—I would never—You can take a nap around us, Y/n," Harry said, frowning as if he were truly offended by what she said. "I know we like to pull pranks or whatever, but we wouldn't. I wouldn't let them do that to you."

His sincerity was sweet, his gaze hard and imploring. Y/n didn't mean for their conversation to turn down this route but somehow it did, and she couldn't help but notice how angular Harry's features were when he looked at her like that. Protective.

Something light and airy unfurled in her belly that she pointedly ignored.

"I was mostly kidding, but thank you."

And just like that, the hard look was gone, the tense fog lifted. Harry grinned and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a deck of cards. “Play with me?”

“You don’t want to play with the boys?” Y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I need to practice for this weekend, and they’re not good enough competition.”

“Oh, and I am?” she said. Y/n knew how to play cards, but she wasn’t any kind of pro.

"We're about to find out."

Harry set the cards on the table between them and split the deck to shuffle them. Y/n watched his hands as the cards shuffled between his long, nimble fingers. There were calluses on them now from learning to play the guitar. He was a couple months in, and he was already pretty good. Harry often played the new songs or chords he learned for her, eager to show his progress and knowing she wouldn’t judge him when his fingers slipped from time to time.

When he finally stopped, Y/n realized she’d been openly staring at his hands for a little too long. She snapped her head up, thankful that Harry hadn’t caught her staring. Shuffling around in her seat, she asked, “What are we playing?”

*.*

Later that night, Y/n was alone in her hotel room. One Direction’s performance in Las Vegas went off without a hitch, and the boys had hit the Strip to celebrate. Harry insisted she join them, promising a night she would never forget, but she declined. She had plans of her own tonight.

Finishing the last touches on her hair and giving herself one last check in the mirror, Y/n grabbed her keys and her purse. A knock on the door sounded, and thinking it was Natalie, Y/n rushed to open it. When she did, her eyes widened.

“Mr. Styles? What are you doing here?”

Harry was in fact standing on the other side of her door, a bottle of champagne in one hand and the same deck of cards they’d played with on the plane in the other. They'd played until it was time for landing. Y/n had a large pile of candy by the end of it—Harry had wanted to play with real money but Y/n joked she couldn't afford to play real poker with him. And as the plane started to descend, Harry switched seats so that he was beside her, offered his hand for her to squeeze until the plane finally touched down. It had been the most tension-free landing of the tour for Y/n, and though neither of them said anything about it, Harry knew she was grateful for him being there.

He looked sheepish now as he took her in, the realization that she was on her way out striking him as he saw her clothes—a pair of jeans and a black button down top that was only buttoned in the middle, and black boots to match.

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling up for going out tonight, so I came down here to—but of course you have plans. It’s your night off, you’re allowed to—”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Styles?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “Did you need me to call a doctor? Run down to the pharmacy? I can—”

“No, I…I came here to—to play cards again, but if you already have plans I won’t get in your way.”

Y/n’s head tilted to the side, partly confused and partly endeared. Harry was a kind boss, but he’d never come to her hotel room to hang out before, especially when parties and liquor were guaranteed elsewhere. The time she spent with him was strictly professional.

“Natalie and I had planned to go out tonight,” she said, looking down at her purse.

Y/n didn’t often go out while on tour, but Natalie knew someone that could get them into some exclusive rooftop bar with discounted drinks. She hadn’t had a night off in a while and thought it would be a fun and responsible way to spend her time in Vegas. But now that Harry was here…

“I can cancel—”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry said, stepping away from the door. His eyes trailing up and down her body in a way that didn’t feel entirely professional. A look Y/n chose to ignore. “I should’ve asked you earlier.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us,” Y/n said.

She wasn’t sure how Natalie would feel about that. Her friend had made it clear that she wanted a night away from the boys of One Direction so she could let loose a little. But she didn’t want to just leave Harry on her doorstep.

“No, no, you go. I’m not in a partying mood tonight,” Harry said, waving Y/n off.

“If you’re sure,” she said.

“I’m sure.”

“Next time, then,” she offered.

Harry smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Then, before she could say anything else, Harry fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them to her. Y/n tried to protest, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, making sure he watched her put the money in her purse. “And take my driver too. There’s a lot of creeps out there. Dominic will take good care of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” Y/n said graciously.

“No problem, Y/n, and for the last time, it’s Harry.”

Y/n grinned as she let the door shut behind her. “Whatever you say, Mr. Styles.”

*.*

Y/n trudged through the halls of the lavish hotel, her boots shuffling tiredly across the carpet. She’d had a good night, but when Natalie and a group they’d met at the bar wanted to move onto a club, Y/n decided it was time to go. She had her fun, but she wasn’t the clubbing type, and she had to be up early the next morning.

And she couldn’t help but think about Harry sitting around in his hotel room all alone. She spent nearly every waking moment with him, and yet on her night off, she felt the need to go see him, be with him. Y/n enjoyed hanging out with Harry on the plane to Vegas. It had been the first time they’d interacted with each other in a non-professional way. He told her goofy jokes and playfully tried to peek at her cards, a look of genuine surprise when she beat him on more than one occasion.

For a moment, Y/n had actually forgotten that he wasn’t her boss and that she wasn’t his assistant. For a moment, they were just two friends going on a trip somewhere.

And for whatever reason, Y/n wanted to revisit that moment. She bypassed her floor’s button on the elevator, opting to press the one a few levels up from hers. The hall was quiet, which made sense if the other boys were still out. Harry told Y/n earlier that he wanted a quiet night in, but as she approached his door, she heard music and muffled voices from the other side. She had his extra key and would’ve been able to enter no problem, but when she made it to the double doors of Harry’s suite, she elected to knock. Maybe she should’ve left when she realized he had company, but she stayed, eager to see him for some reason.

It took a minute or two for someone to answer. With the music so loud, Y/n wasn’t surprised no one could hear her knock. She nearly gave up after knocking a third time, the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?”

It was a young man. A handsome young man with short brown hair and freckles over his nose and a deep skin tone. His eyes looked droopy, like he’d woken up just to answer the door. Or had recently smoked a joint. The latter was more likely.

“I’m Mr. Styles’ assistant. I just thought I would check in. He has an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um…He’s…busy?” the man said, clearly not wanting the fun to stop. “Should I get him for you?”

Y/n had never been in this predicament before. Sure, she knew Harry occasionally liked to invite someone into his hotel room for a night of fun, and this wasn’t the first time she’d found another boy keeping him company in this way. The first time that happened, Harry wouldn’t meet her eye for a whole day, but she never judged him for it, and she never said a word of it to him or anyone else. That was his personal business, not hers.

So the boy wasn’t what caught her off guard. It was that he was awake. Y/n always interacted with Harry’s one, sometimes two, night stands the morning after, equipped with a pen and an NDA, and possibly a sharp wit, depending on how reluctant the individual was to leave. But she’d never been in this position before, in the middle of it. She felt embarrassed, at a loss for words.

“N—No,” she finally said. “He just told me he wasn’t feeling well earlier. I thought I’d check on him before heading to bed, but…it seems like he’s feeling better.”

That’s and understatement, Y/n thought. She felt disappointed for some reason. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she really thought Harry would want to hang out, that he would somehow be waiting for her to come back, which was stupid. He had no reason to.

Y/n finally started to shuffle away, leaving Harry and his companion to his own devices. The door shut after the young man gave her a small smile and a wave, leaving her alone in an all too quiet hallway, the sounds of their voices muffled by the thin walls.

Sleep was in order. She knew that she was probably having an off day. Too much traveling, no doubt. Harry wasn’t her friend. She was his assistant, hired by his management team to make sure his every need and whim was met and sought to. Tomorrow she would wake up and remember that.

*.*

The next morning when Y/n stepped onto the plane, Harry was already seated in her little corner of the jet, a deck of cards, two steaming mugs, a multitude of snacks, and a big blanket were waiting. He didn't say anything about last night, so she didn't either. Not a word was said at all during takeoff, Harry merely offered his hand again, and when the plane was leveled in the air, he took out the deck of cards.

"Up for another round? This time Oreos are on the line so I'm less inclined to lose."

After that, plane rides weren't so bad anymore.

[m-ilkiee]

Anything for you, Fushiguro-kun - Fushiguro Megumi x Reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [summary] handsome blue eyes, honeyed praises and putting your needs above his, megumi seems like the perfect guy to lose your virginity to. that is, if everything he did wasn't for his selfish gain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [pairing] aged up! fushiguro megumi x fem! reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [warning] no-curse au, dark content, aged up fushiguro megumi, smut, angst, manipulation, gaslighting, coercion, dubcon, fingering (f.recieving), piv sex, unprotected sex, virginity loss, creampie, corruption kink, praise kink, use of pet names (baby, good girl), mention of pregnancy and oral. everyone in this fic is above 20+

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [r- 18+] not suitable for 17 or younger

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [wc]: 2.9k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [author's notes]: i adore writing depraved megumi. please reblog, or say something nice and if you like this fic, I have an upcoming megumi fic called E-boys Ruined my Life, so please check that out and if you’re interested, apply to my taglist ♡ okay, back to the story

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [masterlist] [taglist] [main]

MEGUMI almost feels bad for you.

From the first day he met you, you've always been a good person. You're the type of person that genuinely cares about the well-being of people around you. You're considerate, kind and you never hold any grudges.

You're the kind of person that makes him sick to his stomach.

Megumi doesn't consider himself a good person. Sometimes he's nice to his friends and cordial to strangers, but that's it. He's not like you that would go out of your way to make anyone comfortable and certainly hates your style of putting others first before yourself, especially when it's detrimental.

Or at least he did. He doesn't hate it when you do it for him though.

"Megumi- i- can't … I've -mmh ahh- never done this before -ah ah-"

It wasn't his fault you were tempting. It was hard for him to stay focused when you're just so cute and pliant, being a sweetheart, a ray of sunshine. He wasn't one to care if someone was attractive or had big tits, but there's just something so appealing about you that he can't resist.

Your purity.

Ever since you mentioned you've never touched or kissed anyone, Megumi has never been the same around you. Something inside him shifted. It started with subtle touches on your arm and shoulders and then with each time you let him, he gets bolder; touching your back and moving lower, accidentally grabbing your tits or ass, roaming eyes whether you come over to his room like the naïve princess you were. He should feel like a piece of shit the way it's always you he fantasizes about whenever he jerks his cock to orgasm.

Unfortunately, he's not you and he's not going to feel guilty about it. Not like you would mind it, even, with all the cute sounds you make when anyone hits on you.

Your words are feeble in comparison to the loud moans he's pulling out of you with each thrust of his fingers in your cunt. It wasn't hard to get you on your back and legs spread out just for him to play with you.

Your breath hitches in your throat when he pressed a wet kiss on your neck, still fingering you deep and hard. "I'll be very gentle (name)." he curls his finger deep inside your cunt and you instantly arch your back, scrunching up the sheets underneath your fists. "Just gotta stretch that tight hole of yours real nice. Okay?"

A loud 'ah please' escapes your lips as he curls and twists his fingers into your g-spot faster and your face contorts into a perfect O as he fingers you. 

You're a panting mess underneath him and the sight has him practically drooling. Your legs are trembling on either side of his waist, as if they can't take any of his ministrations anymore. His fingers make quick work of getting you closer and closer to your orgasm and Megumi leans closer to your ear to guide you through it. "Feels good, doesn't it? That tension in your belly?"

He smirks when you nod hazily, your words unable to convey the new feelings you're experiencing right now. It only grows wider when Megumi strokes your g-spot to orgasm, to the point your hands are buried into his sheets and your thighs are violently shuddering while you scream "Megumi oh god '' loud enough to wake up his entire apartment. "Ah, please please-"

"Good girl. Keep cumming."

Music to his ears.

He pulls his fingers out of your poor, abused cunt, the drool of your clear cum connecting your still pulsating pussy to his long digits. Megumi pops the two fingers in his mouth, the tangy taste of your fluids assaulting his taste buds. He supposes this is what satisfaction tastes like - strong and pleasant- but if Megumi just wanted to taste your juices, he would have eaten you out instead.

That could wait, his cock is aching in his boxers

He has your back pressed on his sheets as he hovers on top of you, greedy eyes taking in the sight of your fucked out face and cups your chin with his unsoiled hand. "Won't you thank me baby? Gimme a kiss."

You're so obedient, puckering up as he slots his lips on yours. The kiss is messy, your tongue entangling in his and your soft hands digging through his thick dark hair while his hand squeezes your cheeks. Megumi kisses you until you're fucking breathless, letting you pull away as you pant for air before kissing you again, teeth knocking against each other desperately.

"Need to- fuck" he murmurs between kisses as you fall deeper and deeper into submission. "-fuck- I've got fuck that tight pussy of yours right now. Raw." You don't even get to protest when he adds. "Just need to fuck you raw baby. I'll get you the morning after. I swear."

"Bu-but I could get pregnant-"

"(Name), baby, please. It'll feel better to cum in you for your first time. I won't let you down. You trust me don'tcha?"

"But-"

One thing about you is that you're so easily convinced to go against everything you stand for. Megumi knows you're much too fucked out to understand the kind of risk he' about to put you through. It's selfish how he's hellbent on raw dogging you, something he hasn't ever done before and yet something about being first man that would not only dive into that pussy of yours, but also cum inside it sounds so appealing to him.

And looking at the way you're chewing your lips nervously, you just need a little nudge to agree.

"I'll wear a condom next time, baby. I promise, you'll enjoy it."

"O-okay."

Bingo. "Good girl."

He's much in a rush to roll down his boxers -practically soaked with pre- letting his pale pink erect cock spring up and slap his abdomen lightly. Your reaction was priceless, eyes almost bulging out of your sockets as he hovered above you again, stroking his cock with one hand and placing the other one just above your head. "Eyes on me." He demanded, and you complied, tearing your fearful gaze from his angry red tip moving closer to your entrance, to his face.

You're so pretty, the way your eyes are fixated on him trying not to think of the pain before the pleasure. Feeling a twinge of pity, he pressed a kiss on your cheek to ease up your nerves. "I'll be gentle. I promise." He whispers and you nod, keeping your thighs far apart no matter how bad you want to clamp them shut. Megumi rubs his lengthy dick between your wet folds, his tip teasing your poor, neglected clit before positioning himself towards your entrance.

Maybe it was sleazy for him to coax you into doing this. If Megumi was truly a good friend, he would pull away and leave, you've done nothing to deserve him using you like this after all. You came here to study and he's taken advantage of that.

"It's going to sting a little, (name). But I'll talk you through it. Just follow the sound of my voice, okay?"

Who was he kidding? Remorse was not something Megumi cared about, especially when it's him getting what he wants -you completely surrendering yourself to him and him tainting every inch of you until you're a filthy mess.

  THE blood curdling scream you let out is absolutely gut wrenching to anyone with a conscience. There's a part of Megumi that feels bad for you going through such agonizing pain of his cock splitting your poor cunt apart. Hell, tears are rolling down your cheeks and your fingers are buried in his sheets, trying to distract yourself from the pain.

"Ssh, it's okay." He coos, stroking your cheeks to soothe your pain, wiping your face with his thumbs. You're already shaking and crying, tears rolling down your trembling face, but you hang onto every word he says and lean into his touch. "It'll feel better soon, keep your eyes on me, breathe and relax."

You nod and take deep breaths between sobs, focusing on just him continuously comforting you. Megumi has never lied to you before and he won't start now. You just need to follow his instruction, so you let yourself ignore the searing pain of accommodating his entire length in one go and relax for him. All for him.

You'd do anything for Fushiguro Megumi.

The pain fades slowly but surely and the feeling of fullness for the first time is utterly delightful. The stretch hurt less and the need for him to just start moving was growing. "Megumi, please-"

He leans to your lips and cuts you short with another deep kiss, making you melt in his arms. God, it took everything in Megumi to not go crazy with how you were throbbing around his cock, because as much as he wanted this for himself, a little part of him wanted to take care of you too. Pulling away from the kiss, Megumi raises your legs to dive deeper into your cunt, making you jolt in response.

"I know, baby. I know."

His first thrust was slow, letting the feeling of pleasure wash over him as he let out a grunt. If he knew you were going to feel this good wrapped around his cock, he would have tried to seduce you a long time ago. He starts jerking his hips into you, increasing his pace with each thrust until he finds a steady rhythm that has the both of you moaning for each other.

Megumi is enraptured by the way sweat rolls down your breast, his eyes never never leaving your scrunched up face as he fucks into you. Your hands are now on his back and your nails are painfully scratching on him with each drag of his long cock inside your velvety walls.

"Ah, Megumi… s'good… your cock…"

Your words are a jumbled up mess in your head as you let Megumi fuck you deep and hard. He looks so handsome above you, his well formed abdomen glistening with sweat and slick from your wet pussy, dark blue eyes hooded with nothing short of lust, staring down at you. His dark, spiky hair stuck to his forehead, his biceps flexing every time he connects the two of you together.

Back when you first met him, those dark blue eyes always seemed to scare you because it made him look so unapproachable. Now, they're a siren call and you can't stop staring into them.

"Fuck, your pussy's takin' me too well." he whimpers into your ears, his breaths coming out in quick pants. You feel your pussy throb in response. "Gonna make me fucking lose my mind, shit."

The sound of skin slapping skin as he thrusts into you is sinful, loud and echoing through your ears. His dick is so deep inside you, far better than his fingers and he's fucking into you with such precision that has you gasping for more. You don't think this can get any better than what he's giving you right now-

"AH, WAIT, WAIT-"

Megumi has your legs practically folded to your chest and he's angled his thrusts to your g-spot, now increasing his pace until all you can hear is the headboard practically hitting the wall with his powerful thrusts. Your body is suddenly jerking against your command as the tip of his dick practically slams into your g-spot repeatedly. Your legs are twitching, your nails are drawing blood from his back and you're sure everyone can hear a shrill voice screaming "Megumi!" over and over again.

It's music to his ears.

Megumi can't help but smirk at the way you're out of control. Your pussy is throbbing around his cock like crazy as he pistons into you and you're a mess underneath him, his main goal from the start. "Yeah, keep clamping around my cock baby, just like that." He groans into your ears between thrusts, letting your moans fuel his lust. "And touch that clit of yours like I taught yoy, hmm?"

You comply despite being a shaking mess from his incessant pounding, removing your trembling hand from his back and moving them to your clit. Your breathing is harsh as you rub your clit to his thrusts; the pleasure is intense, too intense for you. "Megumi, 's too much-"

"You can take it (name). Rub your clit."

He's greedy. He wants to see you convulse and soak his bed. He wants you to cum so hard you would be embarrassed for days, weeks even thinking about how you ruined his sheets permanently. It's like an ego trip for him, watching your fucked out self do what he wants for his pleasure.

And like the person you are, you do as commanded.

The scent of sex practically saturated the air of his room. You rub at your clit wildly, your back pressed against the sheets as he pounds into your g-spot. The coil in your belly is even more intense than your previous ones, wounding so tightly it makes you feel like you're going to burst. He doesn't let up in his pounding and you don't stop touching yourself for him, enjoying his lustful gaze as you both work together to bring yourselves to orgasm.

"You're close aren't you?" He curses underneath his breath, your cunt is sucking him tightly and he can feel his dick practically twitch inside you. His breath tickles against your skin, earning a shiver of pleasure from you. "You're gonna be good and cum with me?"

"Yes, yes…" you're screaming now, you're too close, too close to snapping and you don't care if anyone has heard you scream at this point. The whole buildimg probably knows you're fucking him at this point, something you'll deal with later. "anything for you Megumi!"

Your orgasm comes first in torrents, racking your body with violent shudders as your pussy twitches against his cock, liquid soaking his entire abdomen and the sheets beneath you. The sight of you cumming has him following suit soon after, his entire body seizing up as he pumps you full of his hot semen, jerking his hips to ride out the intense ecstasy you both feel until he's spent. Megumi slumps onto you weakly, hazy eyes peeking at your tired form through his long lashes before resting on his elbows to kiss you gently on your forehead.

"That felt great."

You're barely conscious when his lips leave your forehead, the intensity of your orgasm practically knocking you out. You stare back at him and he knows you're unsure of what to say as he dragged himself out of you and climbed off the bed to get a bath started.

Megumi had taken your virginity. It was a thing that just happened and he doesn't regret anything he did. Maybe post nut clarity is taking its time to hit him, but he doesn't care that he had just slept with you. He doesn't care he manipulated you to get his high or that he's sick for deriving pleasure watching you lose your virginity to him.

All that matters is that he wants to do more things to you again and he will.

Once he was sure the shower was hot enough, he walked back to the bed. You were sitting up now, your eyes glued onto the floor with his phone in your hands. He popped up a brow on seeing hot tears roll down your cheeks when you finally sighted him, clearly confused at your reaction.

"You… you planned this."

Oh great, you looked through his phone while he was gone and saw the notification of the period tracker with your name written all over it.

No use denying.

"You shouldn't look through other people's phones. That's bad."

He dodges the phone thrown in his direction easily and it clatters onto the wall instead. Ah well, he'll get a new one when you're done with your tantrum. "You sick bastard! You monitored my fucking cycle, just so that you could have sex with me?"

Megumi doesn't know why he doesn't feel any guilt despite you being in tears. You were a sweet girl who had just been used and it's not like you did anything to him to deserve it. Ignoring you, he got two towels from his drawer and walked back to where you sat, dropping one on your lap. "You should pee, then join me in the shower." He's so casual about everything, mindlessly wrapping a towel around his waist and it genuinely terrifies you. "Do you need help to stand?"

"Megumi, I trusted you. How could you-"

You don't complete your sentence when he pins you flat on your back, his body hovering above you. Your words get caught up in your throat as you gaze at his unreadable expression, dark blue eyes glaring down on you. "How could I ?" He breathes against your skin and you feel your legs twitch against your better judgment. "I could because I wanted you to myself."

You want to turn your head away from Megumi but he curls his long fingers around your chin and jerks it to face him. "Don't look away now (name) and don't pretend you hated what we did. You enjoyed every moment of it as much as I did."

"But you-"

Your breath becomes shaky when he pulls down his towel, now feeling your skin on his as he leans down until your lips almost touch. "But what? I didn't drug you. I didn't force myself on you (name). I never once lied to you." 

You don't resist when he lowers his lips to your neck, now kissing you gently, letting him trail his lips onto your jaw. He murmurs into your skin at your compliance, clearly pleased he had proven his point. Just as he was greedy to have a taste of you, you were willing to give him all of yourself until there's nothing else left to give.

"If you wanted a round two, you could have just asked."

As usual, you gave in to him again. Too easy.

special thanks to: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @getonite @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @megumisdivinedogs @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @iluv-ace @lovely-maryj @slvdsjjk @bunniejeansz @kalerah02 @maraya-007 @littlemisspropaganda @cherie026 @Sycomantis666 @thisismarisaaa (bolded cannot be tagged)

divider by- @/cafekitsune

[judebellswife]

First Glimpse - Jude Bellingham

— REQUEST status OPEN

— pairing • jude bellingham x fem!reader

— summary • In Jude Bellingham’s much-anticipated documentary series, fans are given an intimate look into the football star’s life, with a special feature introducing his long-time girlfriend—you. Known for keeping a low profile despite dating one of football’s brightest stars, this marks your first public appearance. During a heartwarming interview, you open up about how you and Jude met, even though you already knew who he was, and how you never expected to become his girlfriend. The episode includes candid moments with Jude’s family, particularly his parents and younger brother, Jobe, with a special Thanksgiving Eve gathering where you all share laughter, love, and togetherness. Through your eyes, fans get to see a more personal side of Jude and his close-knit family.

— warnings • none :)

— note • i’ve got like 7-8 request about to write a one-shot with reader featuring in one of jude’s document series. so here it is, i hope you enjoy, happy reading!!

The camera focuses in on a familiar setting for those who follow Jude Bellingham’s career: the cozy, welcoming living room of the Bellingham family home. The walls are adorned with family photos, mementos from Jude’s rise in football, and hints of his personality—trophies and framed jerseys alongside warm family portraits.

But today, the focus is on you. You sit on the sofa, the soft cushions surrounding you as the camera captures your slight nervousness. A small, warm smile crosses your face, and you shift in your seat, unused to the spotlight.

A voice from behind the camera breaks the silence. The interviewer. “So, this is your first time on camera. How are you feeling?”

You chuckle, glancing off-screen for a moment as if looking for support before turning back. “Yeah, it’s definitely new for me. I’m more of a private person, so this is... different, but I’m excited to be part of this.”

There’s an understanding laugh from the interviewer. “For everyone watching, could you introduce yourself?”

You nod and give a small wave. “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Jude’s girlfriend, and, um... yeah, I’m usually not in front of the camera, so this is a bit out of my comfort zone,” you say, your voice laced with both nerves and humor.

The interviewer continues smoothly, keeping the tone light. “So, let’s jump into the good stuff. How did you and Jude meet?”

You pause for a moment, your eyes softening as you think back to the day. “Well, I actually knew who Jude was,” you begin with a smile. “I mean, he’s Jude Bellingham. Anyone who follows football knows who he is. But I never imagined I’d actually end up dating him. That wasn’t even on my radar.”

The camera cuts to a shot of Jude laughing in an earlier part of the documentary, as if he’s recounting the same story, though from his perspective. His grin is wide, and there’s a glint in his eyes that shows how much he enjoys this memory.

You continue, your voice a little more relaxed now as you find your rhythm. “We met through mutual friends at a small gathering. I’d seen him play on TV and heard about him through the grapevine, but when we met in person, he was just... Jude. Not the football star. Just this really laid-back, funny guy.”

“So, did you know right away that you liked him?” the interviewer asks, intrigued.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not at all. I was definitely attracted to him—he’s handsome, obviously—but I didn’t expect anything more than just a friendly conversation that night. I thought it’d be a ‘Hey, nice to meet you,’ and that’d be it.”

There’s a brief pause, and the interviewer presses gently. “So what changed?”

You smile, eyes twinkling with the memory. “Jude changed. We ended up talking the whole night. It was so easy with him, and I realized he wasn’t just this football prodigy everyone sees on the pitch. He’s so much more. Kind, funny, and really grounded. But it was his persistence that surprised me the most. After that night, he didn’t just let it end there. He reached out, wanted to spend time with me, and honestly? I couldn’t resist his charm.”

The camera switches to a series of candid clips, showing you and Jude out and about—him pulling faces to make you laugh, you playfully pushing him away before being pulled into a hug. It’s the kind of chemistry that makes it clear this relationship runs deep, full of mutual adoration and comfort.

“So, how long have you two been together now?” the interviewer asks off-screen.

You think for a second, tilting your head slightly as you calculate. “A little over two years now. Time flies, honestly. It’s been an incredible ride.”

“And what’s it been like, dating someone as high-profile as Jude?”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “It’s definitely been an adjustment. At first, it was a bit overwhelming, especially with how much attention he gets. But we had a conversation early on about keeping our relationship private, at least until we were ready. Jude’s been really protective of that—he’s always made sure I feel comfortable, and I love that about him. But I also understand that he’s a public figure, and being with him means that sometimes, I’ll be seen too. This,” you gesture around at the cameras, “is one of those times.”

The camera cuts to another moment—this time, Jude and you are walking through a park, your hands loosely clasped together. He swings your arm playfully, then stops to pull you into his side, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh. It’s easy, intimate, and full of warmth.

“Speaking of being seen,” the interviewer continues, “how does it feel to finally share a bit of your relationship with the world?”

You laugh softly. “It’s exciting, I guess. People have always been curious, but I’ve been pretty firm about staying out of the spotlight. I’m not someone who thrives on attention like Jude does. But it’s nice to be able to show this part of his life. People know him as the footballer, but they don’t really see the person behind all of that. I’m happy to share a little bit of what we have, because it’s special.”

The camera pans across the Bellingham household, warm and inviting with the sounds of family chatter filling the air. Thanksgiving Eve at the Bellingham’s is a full house. Jude’s dad, Mark, is in the living room, laughing loudly with Jobe and Jude as they discuss football, while his mom, Denise, is in the kitchen, bustling about as she prepares the family meal.

The lens of the camera focuses on you for a moment. You’re helping Denise chop vegetables, your hands moving a little slower than hers but with focus, and you share a comfortable conversation. A nervous laugh escapes you as you attempt to cut the vegetables to her standard.

“Are you sure I’m doing this right?” you ask, holding up an unevenly chopped carrot with a teasing smile. “It doesn’t look quite like yours.”

Denise glances over and laughs softly, reaching out to gently touch your arm in reassurance. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re doing just fine,” she says, her voice full of warmth. “Trust me, my first Thanksgiving wasn’t perfect either. And honestly, even if it’s a bit wonky, it’s still going to taste amazing.”

Her words, her tone—there’s something deeply maternal in the way Denise speaks to you. It’s as if you’re already a part of the family, not just Jude’s girlfriend, but someone she holds close to her heart. You smile at her gratefully, feeling that familiar warmth whenever you’re around her.

Denise’s attention turns fully to you now, setting down her wooden spoon and wiping her hands on a towel before stepping closer. “You know,” she begins, her voice soft and kind, “I’ve always thought of you like a daughter. You’re such a big part of Jude’s life, but you’ve also become such an important part of ours too.”

You look at her, slightly taken aback by the depth of her words. Your heart swells in your chest, not expecting the surge of emotion. “That means the world to me, Denise,” you say, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’ve always felt so welcomed here. You and Mark, and even Jobe—you’ve all made me feel like part of the family from day one.”

Denise steps forward, enveloping you in a gentle but tight hug, the kind that only a mother could give. “That’s because you are family,” she whispers against your shoulder. “We love you like one of our own.”

You close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to sink into her embrace, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you. In this family, you’ve found something special—something you didn’t expect to have when you first started dating Jude. It’s not just a relationship with him; it’s a bond with the people who raised him, who made him the person you love so deeply.

As you pull away, Denise gives you a warm smile, her eyes soft with affection. “Jude’s a lucky man,” she says, glancing toward the living room where Jude is seated. “But then again, I think we’re all lucky to have you around.”

You chuckle softly, still holding onto the warm feeling in your chest. “I’m the lucky one. Jude’s incredible, and you’ve all been nothing but wonderful.”

Denise’s eyes twinkle as she leans in conspiratorially. “He’s a handful sometimes, though, isn’t he?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “Oh, definitely. But I love him all the more for it.”

Denise shakes her head, her smile growing wider. “Good, because he needs someone like you to keep him in check.”

There’s a shared understanding between the two of you, the kind that goes beyond words. Denise pats your hand and returns to stirring the pot, the air between you filled with warmth and affection. It’s a small moment, but one that fills your heart, making you realize just how deeply connected you’ve become to Jude’s family.

The scene transitions to the dining room, where the entire family is gathered around the table. Mark is telling a story, his booming laugh punctuating the conversation as Jobe makes a playful remark. Jude sits beside you, his arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder as he smiles and laughs along with his family.

“Jobe, pass the bread,” Jude says, reaching across the table with a grin.

Jobe rolls his eyes dramatically but tosses the basket of bread to his brother. “There you go, Mr. Superstar.”

You nudge Jude with your elbow as he catches the bread. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t start charging for autographs at family dinners.”

Jude grins, leaning in closer to you. “Oh, I’d give you an autograph for free,” he teases, his voice low and playful.

You roll your eyes but smile, and as Jude reaches for his plate, Denise catches your eye from across the table. She gives you a wink, as if to say, See what I mean? A handful.

The love and ease that fills the room is palpable. You can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. This family has welcomed you, loved you, and made you one of their own, and tonight is a perfect reflection of that.

The camera lingers on the scene—Jude’s hand resting on your shoulder, Denise watching her sons with pride, and you laughing along with them, fully immersed in the warmth of their family dynamic.

As the evening winds down, and dessert is served, Jude’s dad, Mark, stands up, raising a glass. “I think we all know what I’m about to say,” he begins with a grin. “But this Thanksgiving, I just want to take a moment to say how grateful we all are. Grateful for family, for good health, and, of course, for the wonderful woman who’s come into our lives and made our son the happiest he’s ever been.”

You blink, taken aback by the sudden toast, your eyes glancing around the table. Denise smiles warmly at you, her eyes filled with affection, and Jude leans closer, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“To Y/N,” Mark says, raising his glass higher. “Welcome to the family. Officially.”

There’s a soft murmur of agreement as everyone raises their glasses, and you feel your throat tighten with emotion. It’s not just words—it’s a promise. A declaration that you belong here, with them.

As everyone takes a sip, Jude leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “I told you they love you.”

You turn to him, your heart full. “And I love them.”

The camera captures the final moments of the evening—the plates scattered with crumbs, the soft murmur of conversation as everyone winds down, and the love that fills the room. The bond between you and Jude has always been special, but tonight, it’s clear that your relationship extends beyond just the two of you. You’ve found a home with his family, and they’ve found a place in your heart.

As the screen fades to black, the soft hum of background music plays, leaving the viewers with a sense of warmth and love, the credits rolling as the final glimpse of your story is shared with the world.

[lilacgaby]

Yay request open oh oh if youre in Gumi era just having idea can I have more of his domestic fluff like planning on their future life any kind of domestic will do (๑•́ω•̀) 💗💗

title: my heart is yours eternally

pairing: boyfriend-> husband!megumi x girlfriend->wife!reader

summary: megumi thought this life he planned was only one in fairytales, but as he looked at the life he built with you, he knew it was real.

note: i love megumi pls pls pls request him more ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

"i want a small wedding." he said out of the blue as you two laid in his bed, holding your hand in his and he looked over you. "one that's intimate, i don't mind you choosing the theme or anything."

as you nodded thoughtfully, you entangled your fingers together. "mhm. just for us. and i want you to have a pretty ring too, i think you'd look nice with one in silver."

"you think?" he replied, eyebrow raised.

"i know so. and we can have a huge wedding cake-"

"vanilla."

"yes vanilla, with ice cream too. just for us."

he seemed content with that, smiling softly. until a thought crossed over his mind and he looked down at you with a look in his eye.

"i'll get you a nice ring, i promise. you just need to wait." he said, determined.

"i'll wait for you 'til the end of time, 'gumi."

he flushed and squeezed your hand tighter, he had to get the best for you. he couldn't sleep right if he didn't.

"you want any kids 'gumi?" you asked absentmindedly, not noticing the way he choked on air at the thought. images of you pregnant ran through his mind, his mind spiraling as he failed to find the words.

"megumi?"

"oh, uh.. a brother and a sister. that's all we need."

"sounds good, i wouldn't want our baby to get lonely when we're gone after all."

he felt his mind sputter at the thought of your baby, with features from you and him.

the topic of conversation eventually changed to something different, a show you were watching. as he listened to you recount how happy you were that the characters you hated died, his mind still kept going back to the conversation you had earlier.

he fell asleep holding your hand, images of the life you'd have together running through vividly, like he could almost touch it.

since then, he was determined to make that a reality for the two of you.

he proposed to you on your anniversary, taking every possible note he could about the types of rings you liked before choosing one. as he held you hand in his and slid on the ring, kissing you with only the sunset behind you as witness, he felt truly loved.

the months spent planning your wedding weren't as stressful as you handled it together. finding the perfect venue, small like you both wanted.

going on dates to sample cakes, laughing at megumi's face of disgust. choosing the topper for the cake, opting for two loving bunnies at the top since none of them could get megumi's hair right.

choosing who to invite, megumi 'begrudgingly' inviting his old friends from jujutsu high, and you yours.

him going out with gojo and yuuji to pick the perfect suit, you choosing your dress with your most trusted friends.

walking down the aisle, megumi felt emotional since you were just so gorgeous, he never felt as luck as he did when you were announced husband and wife.

well actually, that's a lie.

when you gifted him a box, full of baby clothes and a stick with two life changing lines on it, he knew you were his good luck charm.

as he promised, he loved you through even your sickness. a lot of foods made you nauseous, so he'd started to learn how to cook because it was exhausting for you.

your bump was bigger than average, not like he'd say it to your face, but it was confirmed when you went to get your ultrasound. twins.

you squinted your eyes at him and jokingly hit him on his shoulder lightly, saying, "this is your fault!"

he only laughed. at your gender reveal, just a small thing between you two, you held hands and cut a cake slice out of the cake. to your surprise, it was blue and pink.

your stomach got huge, at 9 months you just wanted your kids out. megumi would take you out on walks everyday, well just strolls around your house technically, but it was a lot for you.

on day number 3, your water broke. you thought you'd finally feel relieved, but good thing megumi was there because you panicked. he was too but mentally.

as you delivered your babies, the son first, you squeezed his hand for dear life.

when you went home with 2 kids a couple days later, you sleeping as megumi held the two in the rocking chair he'd picked out, he felt like it was a dream.

when you awoke, and he'd matched the features of your son who took after you and your daughter after him, his heart fluttered as he felt his body soar.

this is what love is, and this is what he dreamt of.

[cvnntagious]

Die For Me

☆ Fuckboy!Matt Sturniolo blurb for anon

Not that you cared, but Matt had been M.I.A for over a week now. He hadn't been in class, hadn't texted you, and you hadn't seen him in his usual hangout spots around campus. Not that you'd bothered to check.

Well, okay, you shouldn't have checked — But you did. Not because you cared. I mean, he didn't care, so why would you? You'd been looking for him because, for some reason, your professor had decided to hand over his work to you. It didn't seem like he knew where Matt had gone either.

You didn't really understand what this had to do with you. The professor had just told you to give it to Matt whenever you got the chance. What, did he think you and Matt were something? Because you're not. That's not what Matt wanted, and neither did you.

But as your grades began to slip, it was clear Matt was on your mind. For no reason, really. Like, you didn't like him or anything. Seriously, you didn't like him. Usually, with the help of Matt, you would've been able to de-stress by now. Even touching yourself was no good. His help had been keeping you steady for the semester, and without it, you were nothing academically. At least that's what you told yourself.

Today 10:22 PM : ' Hey sorry. Been a minute. '

That's what you saw pop up on your phone as you tried to focus on studying for the upcoming quiz. You knew who it was before you even read the contact at the top of the notification — that unreadable way of texting, topped with an annoying amount of periods, just like always. He said it'd been a minute, but it had only seemed like seconds since you last talked at that moment. You were already annoyed.

Texting back seemed like no use, brushing it off with a sigh that exuded not only irritation, but a hint of relief as well. At least now you knew he hadn't gotten himself into some shit. Not that getting into shit was much like him, it was more his brother's thing. But still, he tended to stick his nose where it didn't belong when it came to any problems Chris got into.

Today 10:25 PM : ' Come slide. Dorm's P17. '

You tried to ignore it, but the numbers caught your attention. Could he really want you this bad? Usually he'd come to your dorm, or on some rare occasions you'd meet him at Chris' frat. Never once had he bothered to give you his dorm number. This felt new, possibly refreshing. He'd always told you where he stayed wasn't necessary information— basically the nice way of saying he didn't take you seriously, nor trust you enough.

Though tempting, your better judgement told you not to give in so easily. As you held down the power button and slid the icon to power off before flipping your phone face down, you felt a certain sense of empowerment, proud of yourself for deciding it wasn't worth it. So why did you find yourself waiting for him to answer the door, fidgeting nervously as you looked at the short brown carpet of the dormitory hallway?

"Didn't even get a warning," You heard his voice as the door opened in front of you, causing you to look up at him.

With an embarrassed chuckle, you lifted your hand to show him the black screen of your phone. "It died," You lied, eyelashes fluttering as your eyes met his blue ones.

You watched his small smile as his tongue ran over his white teeth to hide it, invisalign making them chunky and, in some strange way, admirable. Then, he stepped aside, giving you room to walk into his doorway. "S'late, I know, but I just- like I said, its been a while," Matt began explaining as you walked into his dorm, leaning on the doorframe as his head followed you.

You turned to look at him after having taken in his dorm, rather unimpressed by the lack of personality. "Yeah, about that, actually— Where y'been?" You asked curiously, as he shut and locked the door behind him.

Matt only shrugged, suppressing a smirk as he took a step forward to let his hands travel down your waist. "Lot'a stuff," He replied simply, head cocking slightly to one side. Of course he wasn't going to tell you - he never told you anything. "S'a lot to handle, y'know," He then added, eyes darkening as they held contact with yours.

Your brows furrowed at his words, a bit confused. If he didn't want to tell you why he was gone straight up, you'd prefer if he didn't start hinting at stuff. "What is?" You breathed out, hands moving to rest on his forearms as you unknowingly caught his bait.

"Not being able to see you every day; To touch you every day." He said that as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his head dipping to place open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck. "To call you mine," He then whispered. You knew it were dumb to think he meant that, but for some reason, those four words made you want to give yourself to him completely.

Matt smiled for the first time since you'd walked in when you pulled back to admire his face, letting out a small hum when you leaned back into him to press your lips against his. Just like that, he walked you backwards towards his bed, hands slipping under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach. The coldness of his silver rings caused you to hiss into the kiss, too distracted by the sensation to notice him turning you so that he was now with his back to his bed.

As he sat down on his bed, he pulled you down to straddle him, hands holding your waist. You looked down at his glossy blue eyes as your hands reached up to knock his hat off of his head, fingers threading through his brunette curls. "What d'you want, Matt?" You finally asked, one hand coming down to allow your finger to caress the underside of his chin as he looked up at you.

His hands traveled up your figure, lifting your shirt as he did so. He allowed his hands to rest on your boobs, kneeding them as he chuckled ever so quietly. "To not have to do the work this time," He answered in a teasing tone, eyes flickering down to look at where his hands worked.

Though reluctant, you lifted yourself off of his lap to hoover over it. Using one hand to stabilize yourself on his shoulder, your free hand made its way down to his belt buckle as he watched your every move intently, "Don't look so happy," You mused when your eyes had glanced up to see the excitement in his.

"You know I love this shit," He quipped as you pulled his belt through the loops, lifting himself just enough for you to pull his pants down to his thighs. You only had so long to admire all you could see through his boxers before you felt Matt tugging on your pants, pleading without words for you to take them off.

Again, you lifted yourself off of him, this time allowing him to unbutton your pants and shimmy them down your legs until they were discarded somewhere beside his bed. As he fiddled with your pants, your hand began palming him through his boxers, length already riled up from not being touched much longer than he was used to. He groaned as his eyes remained locked on yours, a wet patch turning a spot of his boxers a darker shade of gray.

After a bit of teasing, you decided it was time to finally get your eyes on the prize—his prize. Pulling it out of his boxers, you ran your hand along his shaft to feel it rock hard already. "So big," You muttered, eyes glued to it.

Matt couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at your words, expression smug as it could be. "This's new news?" He asked playfully, a stark contrast to his usual cold behaviors. It was like he really came out of his shell when he was aroused, and you were ready to put him right back in it.

With a squeeze of his dick that caused him to grunt, you pulled your panties to the side and lined him up with your entrance. Matt looked enthralled as he watched you do your work like this were routine, hands leaving your hips to rest behind him, leaning back to tilt his head back when you sunk down onto him without warning.

His hair was messy, and he could feel he was ready to sweat with your gummy walls around him. Lips pursing together, he hummed as you began to slowly grind into him, letting you do the work, just like he said he wanted.

It wasn't long before you began bouncing on him, hands on his shoulders for stability as you let out choked moans, as if his cock were suffocating you. The quick pace had your thighs burning, struggling to keep up with it, and yet, Matt simply watched in enjoyment. It wasn't often he allowed himself to freely make noise, but you could tell he was really enjoying this, with the way he had let out more groans and pants than usual.

Seemingly out of nowhere, his hands dartted out to grip the flesh of your hips as you continued your motions. You could've swore you heard a whimper when his head dropped forward to lean on the front of your shoulder. "Fu–ck this," He drawled out to you, hips begining to meet yours as he chase his high.

This simple, not so innocent gesture only served to fuel you, completely forgetting about the burning sensation. Your bounces got bigger, lifting yourself all the way to his tip before dropping back onto him with shreik-like moans. Matt was loving this, pants and groans now following each motion on his painfully ready cock.

"K- keep goin' f'me, baby, m'gettin close," He rasped, forcing himself to lift his head from your shoulder so he could look in your eyes while he came.

You nodded, bouncing mixing with grinding as you tried to tell him you were close too. It was too late. You let out a loud moan as you snapped on top of him, Matt following suit at the feeling of your sticky liquid releasing all over his dick. Your movements slowed to ride out your guys' orgasms before eventually coming to a halt, both of you panting with each other.

"Le's, uh— We'll do that more often, yeah?"

○

"Come on over, baby, can you slide for me? Yeah / You know how I love it when you ride on me." -Chase Atlantic

w/c : 1.8k a/n : if you've sent in any anons, i promise i'm getting to them. it's taking me a while cs i take forever to write and now i'm super busy so please bare w me, these anons have been building up for months now...

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[cloveroctobers]

I CAME HOME LATE — Terry Richmond [September Prompts] 🩶

A/N: listen…I’ve been wanted to write for this man since he was Mid-sized Sedan 😆 but he definitely wasn’t being talked about enough then. This isn’t anything big but I’m here to feed the tag a little with this thing so I hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: ²¹⁾ steaming cups of sake + ²²⁾ an airport terminal at midnight.

WARNINGS: language and some angst?

<- check out my previous anthology prompt here.

☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘

Being a night owl wasn’t foreign for you.

You were born when the twilight hit the evening sky and your mother always had a hard time getting you down for the night as a baby. For as long as Terry’s known you—since high school—it was no surprise to learn that night shifts were where you thrived best.

He’s at the airport terminal, not knowing your schedule but taking the risk to show up where you worked. He had the urge to be near you again once it was set in motion that he was selling his food truck to head east to start over with his cousin, Mike. Terry had no issue adjusting to change as long as it has substance in the end. He couldn’t leave without seeing you and although it’s been a minute since you both spoke, he didn’t take it personally.

You were his ex-wife after all but that didn’t mean that the utmost respect for you vanished. Ever. Terry made himself comfortable in the crisp cool of the quiet pale blue airport, sticking to the front of the large building but couldn’t help his eyes searching the area every so often for you. He had a feeling that you would be coming around sooner than later and exactly at 12:03am, he spots you being led to the revolving doors with a man who was dressed in security attire.

Your light laughter is almost childlike, a little raspy and airy as the both of you squeeze each other’s shoulders lightly in farewell for the night before you turn to face Terry’s direction.

“Terry,” your voice is hushed with a hint of croaking in it, which is unusual since you were normally upbeat once the moon shined but from the sound of it, the day at the airport must have been a long one.

Terry says your name with a dip of his head, eye contact always on lock, which you held before slowly closing your eyes, not knowing what to expect of this appearance.

“Everything good?” The security guard asks based on your reaction and you raise a hand up with a nod of your head, informing him that it was.

Terry briefly stared at the security guard underneath his lashes, who must have been a good friend of yours—not that good if he was letting you walk out into the night to your car on your own—sure you could handle yourself if it ever came down to it but it was the right thing to do.

“Y’all take care.” The security guard states as he realizes that Terry is no danger to you.

Terry gives a crooked smile, “you as well, man.”

You step to him, fixing the strap to your backpack on your left shoulder—your better shoulder that didn’t suffer from a extreme tear that took two surgeries to fix—, “what’s happening?”

“Hm…I thought it was a nice night so I took a ride.” Terry smirks at you while you roll your eyes and begin walking towards the automatic doors.

Throwing your head back as you stood on the sidewalk you glance at Terry and begin to walk backwards, “A nice night to throw my mind for a loop? You never did have good timing.”

He would have thought that was a jab, considering that the papers he sent your way two weeks before he got honorable discharge arrived in your shared mailbox the same day your elderly dog died. It’s not like the papers were a shock, it’s been discussed over many video chats but like you said, Terry Richmond didn’t have the best timing when it came to certain things.

He was a marine after all so timing kind of came with the profession…perhaps if you were looking for something to blame it would be that.

“Now we both know that isn’t a hundred percent true,” Terry lightly points, head downwards and a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips, “is it a crime to come see my favorite girl?”

Letting out an exaggerated yawn, you give him an expressionless face afterwards before spinning back around to head to the parking lot, with Terry following you into the foggy low sixty degree night. He’s holding the car door open for you after you unlocked it with your clicker and you’re shoving your things into the passenger side before taking a seat in the driver’s side.

You peer up at him, “Did you need something?”

“Yeah,” Terry starts, “come with me to Liu’s…just to talk.”

Raising your brows you say, “Why now?”

“He hasn’t said anything to you?” Terry questions.

Lifting your once slumped shoulders, you stare back at Terry and he’s never known you to be a liar.

“Should he have?” You press, “He’s never gotten into our shit before so why would he? If you wanted your business told, you should have said something to Ken.”

Terry snorts at the mention of Mr. Liu’s nephew.

He was a good guy but he was crap at secrets and excellent at taking direction.

“You’re not wrong,” The man with the goatee inhales, “look I won’t hold you…yet I’m leaving in the morning and i don’t know when I’ll be back. I just thought I should come by.”

He thought of you in the moment and there’s neber been a day where you didn’t think about Terry, all bright eyed and imagining the what if’s. The divorce had to happen, it was the right decision but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss him.

Terry gave you the space you needed, he couldn’t keep coming around as if the whole trajectory of your relationship wasn’t altered. It never got disrespectful however you were very vocal once you returned home from work, finding every trace of him erased from the home except for pictures. A conversation was eventually had over dinner, a passionate night was shared and just like that he was gone in the morning. You feared that you would run into him in town often, since Mr. Liu’s was pretty popular and Terry’s truck was more lowkey and out the way with a good amount of locals— just how he preferred it.

You did the best staying away from that side of town for a while before you realized how silly you were being. Life didn’t have to stop because Terry was no longer in it. That was your choice. You were never the type of person to be so dependent on anybody before.

So you thought.

Being surrounded by family constantly…you never had to feel alone. Terry was the opposite, an only child raised by a single mother who was a pediatric nurse and worked nights. He found a bonus home with your family and became part of it, no questions asked.

“You’re leaving?” You quiz, “for how long?”

Terry can see you visibly flinch after the words slipped through your lips. You were trying to put up a shield or maybe even a boundary for not caring as much. Like a concerned wife should. Just like he said before, just because you’re no longer romantically involved didn’t mean he didn’t value your friendship.

“Don’t know. Heading out to Shelby Springs for Mike and a fresh start.” Terry states and it’s not like you can feel a way about that.

Inhaling air through your teeth you say, “that bama ass place?”

Terry tells, “I know. It’s a in and out type of thing. Getting a pick up and starting a business from as far as we can get from there.”

You don’t say anything but the look on your face says enough.

“…Don’t worry.” He starts.

Scoffing you reply, “who’s worried?”

“That pretty little face is.” Terry even pokes your cheek with his free hand that’s not holding the door open but you slap his hand away, leaving him smiling softly, “so…are you coming with me?”

“To Shelby springs? Hell no!” You jest with a wink, “I can go for a vegetable spring roll though.”

There’s amusement in Terry’s eyes as he nods, “that’s it?”

“I don’t like to eat heavy at night, remember?” You defend.

A hearty breakfast was always more your speed.

“Yin and Yang,” Terry smiles at a memory you don’t push for him to share because you’ve probably thought about it plenty times before whenever you had breakfast alone, “You’ll lead?”

“Course.” You give a small smile and Terry makes sure you’re all the way in before shutting the door behind you.

He follows behind you on his bike and the airport is a good distance from downtown. It’s not long before you’re trying to pull over but Terry just zooms past you, grinning back at you over his shoulder while you’re shaking your head in disbelief behind the wheel.

This was a challenge for Terry, a norm to not only test himself but you and you never backed down from a competition.

Letting out a low-whistle you comment, “Moving like that and you’re traveling to Shelby in the morning?” You say as you walk up to the doors where Terry is waiting, “you might be taking a long nap instead.”

The both of you were hardly sleepers, you with your hint of OCD and mind racing always finding something to do and Terry was always on military time even before he went into the field. He was the earliest riser and believed in that old saying, “the early bird catches the worm.” Your rest time together involved pillow talk, just breathing the same air either facing each other or you being the little spoon, and of course there were times where you both didn’t mind helping the other go to sleep.

After locking up his bike, he shifts the keys around on the ring to unlock the restaurant holding the door open, “Nah, I’ve got the best stamina in the world.”

Spinning to face Terry after he locks the door behind you two, you’re pushing your lips out with a tilt of your head once his eyes settle back on you. It’s a teasing smile and he’s leans towards you on his way by, “get your head outta the gutter.”

Laughing in between the stools, you turn to rest your elbows on the counter which Terry is behind now. He asks, “You down for some of Ken’s sake?”

“Ah…now I see.” You sigh dramatically, “you brought me here to get me drunk.”

Terry laughs, “no. I just remembered that you enjoyed it a lot back in Japan and Ken’s been experimenting thanks to his dad’s recipe all while offending Mr. Liu.”

Where you got married.

“I can’t even tell you the last time—fuck it! It’s your going away night and you should be honored that I’m here so why not?”

“How did this turn into praising yourself?” Terry jokes as he gets ready to prepare the warm beverage.

You grumble, “Somebody besides myself needs to.”

Terry flicks his spring green hues to you, “so you’re not seeing anyone?”

“It’s not the security guard.”

Terry frowns, “funny how I didn’t even mention him.”

Wagging your finger at him you respond, “I saw the way you were analyzing my friend with that high opacity setting that you call eyes.”

He pauses and snickers, “oh yeah? And what did they say?”

“You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt because that’s just how you are but…you were curious about us.”

“That was a thing then?” He quirks up a brow while you press your cheek into your fist.

“Nope!” You answer as you move to sit up on one of the chairs, “That gorgeous chocolate man is happily taken with four kids, with three of them being triplets.”

“Damn!”

“Terry.”

He laughs and then shrugs, “what? I’m only kidding…kids are blessings.”

You hummed as you watched him work for a while before he’s placing steaming sake in front of you.

“What should we toast to?” You ask, pinching at the glass before finding a safe spot of the cup to hold up, “Goodbye’s?”

Terry immediately furrows his brows, “come on now…you know that’s what I’m actually not good at. Look at this as more of an…until next time.”

Clinking your cup against his as a response, you both slowly sip at the hot sake and its sweetness is felt with its warmth. “Not bad, Ken. Not bad.”

You both share a laugh, letting the silence hit while the sake cools off some. The silence doesn’t last long before you’re both poking fun at each other and falling into more conversation. It flows even when it gets tense, blood burning as your feelings come to the surface with Terry listening to you intently and speaks to you calmly.

“When I brought up divorce the first time it was never to be manipulative…it was to save us both the heartache of this ongoing distance.”

You open your mouth to interupt but Terry stared at you from underneath your eyelashes, which makes you deeply sigh, “We grew apart but we tried. You know it and I know it. No matter how long you would have held me down it happened and I felt like you deserved better than that. I thought you felt the same way when you agreed and signed.”

It’s not like you signed right away! You actually took your sweet ass time, even when he pulled what he pulled.

“I mainly signed because you pissed me off, sneaking through the house to get your things like a thief in the night while I was at work. I should ask how you managed to do it all but then I remembered who you are.” You exhale, “I’ve got to get some hobbies besides working myself to the bone and constantly thinking about you. I should be over this already. It’s been months.”

“We did put in a solid five years of marriage though.”

Dated since senior year just for him to go off to the military three years later. The love and the effort was there but you been around a lot of military significant others at group meetings and their stories were much worse. So you tried to be thankful of the time shared but that didn’t mean you didn’t have your own sorrow too.

‘It’s not something you can just get over.’ Terry thinks.

“That we did.”

And it’s back to the eye game again and it makes your stomach feel like flipped flapjacks.

You can’t stand Terry Richmond.

He intertwined your fingers once you’re both outside. This was happening, he was leaving again and you chose to be numb about it on the outside but slightly achy on the inside. It was weird really, how you could both live in the same town and never run into each other but it still felt comforting to know that you were both out there carrying on—even if it wasn’t beside one another.

You wish he would hold you instead of your hand but Terry didn’t want to cross that line. Not when you revealed that your heart wasn’t really in it to sign the papers in the first place.

Squeezing his rough hand back before letting go, you’re aware that he’s crashing at the restaurant tonight so it’s closer in the direction he’ll be heading in the morning. Yet there’s still a part of you that wishes he would come home.

It’s early when your eyes peel open to focus on your block out curtains. They were the best investment you made (from a cousin you didn’t like—but no one can say you were never supportive) since it’s always sunny in this town and the only time you preferred light was in your kitchen and living room but you still have a feeling that it’s early morning. You sit up in bed, ears searching for any sound in your bungalow.

Your feet are sliding into your slippers, knuckles rubbing into your eyes as you peek at the clock on the nightstand to see it’s another 5am. As you’re handling your business in the bathroom across the hall from your bedroom, you can’t help that pull in your gut that brings you to the front of your home.

Flicking on the lights, you yelp at the sight of Terry sitting in the dark of the living room staring off in space.

It’s been days since you last saw him.

You pushed him to the back of your mind like you trained yourself to do. Putting your attention elsewhere and even picked up a hobby to keep yourself preoccupied besides just those long double shifts at the airport.

Now he was back and something shifted within him again that didn’t sit well to you. You carefully took a step towards him and his eyes followed you but much slower this time.

“Terry,” breathe his name, “…what’s wrong?”

He simply flips the palm of his hand over that’s resting on his knee and you reach out to place yours right in his while you move to sit next to him. Terry squeezes your hand like his life depends on it and it makes your heart rate spike, it doesn’t hurt—he’d never purposely do so—but it’s strong enough to let you know that he needs you.

“Can I get you something? Water? Those shady over easy eggs you like so much?”

That gets a snicker to escape his lips, always finding your issue with eggs to be humorous. You were not an egg person and commonly called it, “the devil’s snot,” which let Terry know you might have been spending too much time with your granny and great-aunties.

“Maybe later,” he says, “can you just be here with me?”

You don’t hesitate to cup his face once he turns his gaze to you and not this daze he seems to be in. He slowly blinks at your touch, head moving to press a kiss into the palm of your hand. You nod and he moved again to lay in you lap, hands wrapping around your hips tight that you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Something was wrong and you were determined to fix it—if he would let you. You didn’t push him and let Terry rest as you squeezed one of his shoulders being trailing your fingers across his back to the other.

That’s when you felt it underneath his shirt, a bandage of some sorts. You kept it to yourself for now, knowing he would tell you as you continued rubbing circles across his back to soothe him.

It had to have been a half hour when Terry dozed off and your legs were aching. You forgot to put a pillow down for extra cushion but Terry never had any problems using your body as his personal pillow. Some things never change.

Your attempt to weasel out of his hold was a challenge before you realized he was holding onto you on purpose. It was good to still see some humor in him due to whatever happened once he left this town.

“Be for real,” you tell him as he looks back at you, “I’m trying to get up and make breakfast and this is what we’re doing?”

Terry sits up, always the light sleeper but there’s a weight in his chest that won’t ever subside, “wanted to see if you still had it in you to get out of my hold…you need some more work.”

“I lug baggage at the airport that’s heavier.” You sass pushing yourself off the couch, “I didn’t get my stretches in yet so excuuuse me, Mr. Richmond.”

Terry mutters playfully, “sounds like excuses to me.”

“You know what? It’s too early for your irritation so why don’t you take another nap?”

Terry shakes his head as you make your way over to the fridge, “nah, I much rather watch your face while you mentally fuss over the eggs.”

“Ah so I’m your source of entertainment for you this morning am I?” You place your hands on your hips as Terry places his elbows into his knees, “let me go find my flapper dress.”

“…I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a dress again.” He admits, eyes burning into you from across the room.

Rolling your eyes you turn right back around so he couldn’t see how much of an effect that had on you. It shouldn’t by any means but here your insides were acting up!

When you turn around with the carton in your hands, you’re met with Terry’s chest that catches you by surprise. His arms lock over your shoulders as you carefully hold onto the eggs and feel him relax against you. He always smelled like leather and pine and that also hasn’t changed. Slowly you snake a free arm across his waist and lean your ear into his chest, finding his heartbeat. It’s always the most soothing thing, equivalent to your hands on his back.

You’re not sure how long you’re holding onto each other but you don’t question what this is all about or what this is for. You didn’t need to, you knew Terry Richmond and you knew when something was up, regardless of the distance that was between the two of you. He came to you in the middle of night at your job and again in the early morning. The pull was still there and perhaps it would always be that way.

He wants to help you make breakfast, after he lets go of you and you almost tell him to sit his big behind down, sensing that he was injured in more than one way but he’s not exactly a guest in this home. So he puts in the work beside you, just like old times and begins to open up about his time in Shelby springs much to your own heartache for him.

Terry arrived back home after all this time and as you sat from across each other just listening, you realized him being here was better late than never. 

☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎ ☾˚ ༘

Continue with my September anthology prompts here.

[stxrrgirlz]

Stepbro!Beomgyu x Stepsister!reader

Wc. 1.3k

A/n. I never fully finished kinktober from last year so I’m taking the time now to fully finish it. That means I’ll be posting 4 new fics before this month ends. I won’t be participating in kinktober this year buttttt I will be posting during it! I missed y’all <3333

1:34PM

Your apartment wasn't big enough for both of you; it already felt claustrophobic with just you and Beomgyu living in the place, but when he's constantly inviting friends over to stay the night, it gets even worse. You can't count on one hand how many nights you've walked out of your room with just an oversized shirt on and met with one of Beomgyu’s friends laying on the couch.

While you didn't mind his friends staying over every once in a while, the recurring visits from them made it hard to walk around your own home without the worry of flashing someone.

Sometimes you wanted to kick Beomgyu out of your apartment but he needed a place to stay during college, and your parents convinced you over many long phone calls to not put your stepbrother in a horrible situation like that. You weren't quite sure what to do about this problem, but one day when Yeonjun almost walked in on you showering, you decided to have a talk with him.

You sit on the couch in your living room with a bowl of cereal in your hand, slowly lifting up the spoon to your lips and crunching down on it. Hearing Beomgyu’s door open, you turn your head and speak with a mouth full of cereal.

“Come here,” you pat the seat next to you.

Bemogyu sits down next to you; he looks shy, and his hands are placed directly on his lap as if he's nervous of making contact with you. noticing his behavior, you raise an eyebrow and him.

Swallowing your cereal, you begin to speak in a confused voice.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, did you need anything?”

You lean in closer to him, putting the back of your hand against his forehead. A crimson blush develops on his cheeks as he stays perfectly still.

“Well yeah, but you're just acting weird.”

“Oh- sorry”

"No, it's fine; however, I wanted to talk to you about Yeonjun... or all your friends.”

You lean back from your previous position from in front of his face.

“I mean, it's nice to see you socializing, but there isn't enough space for them to stay over every day, not to mention they don't know how to knock.”

Beomgyu nods slowly, “Well, I'll invite them over less.”

“Thank you”

You nod with appreciation and focus on continuing to eat your (soggy) cereal.

Beomgyu takes a controller from the coffee table and turns on Mario Kart, handing you your own controller silently. Looking up from your lap and staring at his face that has already turned back to the screen. Moving slightly closer to him, legs touching so you can get a better view of the screen. Beomgyu freezes up before relaxing again as he starts the game.

The next few hours pass slowly, and you start growing sleepy. Beomgyu notices and turns off the console. Stretching out your arms before laying your head on his shoulder. Beomgyu adjusts himself so he's fully lying down and you're clinging onto him from the side. You can hear Beomgyus' heartbeat when you lay your head on his chest, adjusting your leg so it reaches across his body, making your ass perfectly positioned on his dick.

Hearing Beomgyu groan, you try to lay still so he thinks you're sleeping. His hand moves from your upper back down to your ass, groping the flesh in his veiny hands. Making a move, you slowly start to move your hips up and down, grinding on his sweatpants. Beomgyu doesn't say anything about your advances and instead reaches his hands into your pants from the backside and moves them down to your ankles with his hands. You kick off the rest of your pants without his help.

Beomgyu moves your pants to the side and dips his hand into your folds. Feeling your wetness, he quickly flips you onto your backside, with him hovering above you, making it easier to maneuver. Beomgyus’ hands skillfully work their way deeper into your cunt, collecting your slick on his hands on the way, slowly scissoring your cunt open, preparing you for his length.

Letting out a lengthy moan at the feeling of his fingers inside your gummy walls, you arch your back, pushing yourself into him. Beomgyu nuzzles his face into your neck and keeps a lethal pace with his hands. Before adding a third finger to your tight cunt, he pulls away from the crook of your neck and initiates a deep, passionate kiss. Your lips latching onto each other, almost as if they were made for each other. As Beomgyu pulled away from your lips, he quickened his pace, focusing all his attention onto your clitoral area as his thumb circled the sensitive part.

Your lips part to breathily moan out Beomgyus’ name and stutter out a warning before you cum. You feel your fluids dripping onto Bemogyus fingers. Beomgyu uses his clean hand to lift up your chin, making eye contact with you before sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean.

Beomgyu pulls away from your body to pull down his own sweatpants. You sit up a little and you meet with Beomgyus bulge, the cum staining his boxers; you can tell he's been painfully hard for a while now. You use your hand to pull down his boxers, and his length jumps out at you. Beomgyu uses his hands to push you back down to lay comfortably on the couch again and uses his hand to grab his cock and guide it through your folds.

You wrap your hands around Beomgyus neck, letting out a short, breathy moan straight into his ear. You feel Beomgyu stretching you out. You feel every single vein, and even the slight curve at the tip, he filled you out so well, unlike any other guy who's tried to make you cum.

“fu-fuck you’re too tight, baby.” Beomgyu whispers gently into your ear.

”s’ too big,” you whine back in defense.

Beomgyu lifts up your hip to get a better angle and slowly starts moving in and out of your tight cunt. Your nails fly to the beomgyus back, gripping it tightly, leaving lasting marks from your tight grip. As you get used to beomgyus length, he continues to move, moving his mouth to your neck to suck and tease the area. Red and purple marks follow wherever his mouth goes from his roughness.

Beomgyu pulls back from your neck and makes eye contact with your lust-filled eyes. He can see the way your mouth contarts and moves to let out sounds, making it known how good he makes you feel. He reaches his hand down to your clitoral area to stmulate it, helping you get to your climax quicker. Beomgyu knows he's not going to last any longer in your cunt when he feels your cunt squeezing him tightly, giving him the signal you're close.

“m’ so close,” moaning out as you dig your nails tighter onto Beomgyus back.

“I know, baby, you’re- fuck, squeezing me so tight.”

Beomgyu quickens his pace, adjusting himself yet again to hit your G-spot.

You look down to see a gush of liquid coming out of your cunt, covering your face as Beomgyu pulls out, embarrassed that you squirt all over Beomgyus's bottom half. Beomgyu removes your hands from your face and holds eye contact with you as he lets himself come undone all over your stomach.

Beomgyu falls on top of your body, using his hands to fully cover you in his embrace, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, sounds of heavy breathing filling the room. You both lay there for a while, taking in that you just fucked your step-sibiling. Beomgyu gets up after a while, getting a cloth to clean you up with and moving you to his bed before laying down with you and holding you in his embrace.

[lfghughes]

Won't Do It Again pt.2

Weeks had passed and you hadn’t seen Jack. Each day was different, some days you were mad and other days you were anxious about how this was somehow your fault. Other days you barely thought about him at all. But mostly you thought about how it was your fault and you always had a weird pit in your stomach. Maybe you should just text him and see where you two stood. Yeah, he didn’t want a relationship clearly but even just having him the way you did have him was enough. 

When you heard the buzzing on your phone, your heart skipped a beat. Somehow your brain was programmed to always think it was Jack. But a confused look grew on your face when you saw the notification and it was a dm on instagram from…Nico? You clicked open the message and for some reason your heart started beating just as fast as it was before. ‘Hey was just wondering if you wanted to get a drink sometime?’

He was just being nice clearly but Jacks words from the other night rang back in your mind. ‘Yeah, of course!! Just pick a time and place’ and well that’s how you ended up at a random bar in Hoboken with Nico. As you sat there with the captain of the hockey team, you had never felt more free in your life. As much as you liked Jack you always felt like you could say the wrong thing and he would end up thinking you’re weird. 

Meanwhile with Nico it was like you could be as weird as you liked and he seemed to match that same energy. “Tonight was so much fun. Hopefully we can do this again soon?” Nico said with that cute boyish smile. And those words were the exact reason that over the next couple of weeks you both had hung out multiple times. 

Of course you knew that eventually you and Jack would end up in the same room together. They were teammates and close friends so it was only a matter of time. One of the nights Nico asked you to hang out a lot of the boys and girls they were either dating or hanging out with went out too. It was not shocking to anyone that Jack was there. You spent a majority of the night talking to Nico and it was pretty clear you two were growing closer and closer. 

The night actually wasn’t too bad at all and by the end of it you were bummed it was time to go home. Nico dropped you off and you had almost considered inviting him in for a bit but you changed your mind, not wanting to rush anything yet. You liked the pace you were going at and you knew that you were still getting your head straight after the whole secret Jack thing. When you got inside your place your phone started vibrating and your heart stopped when you saw the name.

“Hey?” You said onto your side of the phone. “I wish you had invited me over.” And just like that you were melting. But the problem was it was Jack on the other side of the phone and you shouldn’t be reacting like this. “Jack…” You whispered into the phone. “Please? I miss you.”

Next thing you knew Jack was at your place and the past few weeks were quickly forgotten when his lips attached to yours right away. How could you think about all his wrongs and everything else that had happened when he was kissing you like this. “I missed you, baby.” And just like that you two were slipping into your room and back into your bad habits.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: xu minghao

enemies to lovers

'you're not mine but wouldn't you want to be?'

minghao tries is hardest to stay calm but all these higher ups are making it really hard. he turns to look at you and the sight of your hunched back and bitten raw lips makes him boil. are you two friends? no, far from it. minghao is very aware of the whole 'enemies' agenda that is happening between you both, but does he want to see you like this? nervous, agitated, scared? no. fucking hell, no. he wants to see you burning with passion, wants to see that fire in your eyes whenever you two argue - minghao feels like he's been punched in the chest when he realizes that he's ready to kill just for you to not look this scared.

'can we wrap this up?' he voices out loud, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'i don't see any point in this.'

'it'd be wise for you to be more polite and remember who you are talking to, xu minghao.'

he sees how you cringe at this, how your hands ball up into fists at the way that man spoke to him. understanding that you are angered on his behalf warms minghao up; it feels incredibly nice to know that you care. he keeps his mouth shut, lets managers drag on about the issue and takes two step in your direction, stopping when your shoulders brush. you tense up at first, sending him a questioning glance but he only stays put to which you reply with a rejected sigh. they lecture him and then start lecturing you and minghao can't just stand still when you're obviously fuming. they are being rude to you and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through: 'don't talk to her like that.' your sharp intake of breath kind of wakes him up and he stares ahead at all the managers, who all look shell shocked.

'you have no right to talk to her like that.' minghao pushes in a clipped tone. 'she did her best and so did i, our timing got fucked up but it's not our fault. don't speak to her in that tone.'

shortly after you get pulled away by other people and minghao is in for another 30 minutes of lecturing. by the time he finally gets out of that stuffy room, he feels like he wasted ten years of his life on nothing. he sighs, stretches and is about to turn when soft steps stop him. he knows it's you even before you call out his name.

'why did you do that?' you ask, squinting at him. 'why the sudden hero act?'

'it wasn't an act,' he says, rolling his eyes. god, he's so tired. 'but you're welcome.'

'i haven't asked for it,' you spit out, obviously angered. 'i don't need your pity.'

minghao turns around, raising his eyebrow. 'i have never pitied you,' he says strongly, feeling himself getting worked up again as some stupid side effect on you being close. 'can't you just say 'thank you' and move on?'

'i don't need your help!' you hiss. 'i haven't asked for it!'

and - only you can make minghao want to both bang his head on the wall from frustration and laugh like a maniac. he sometimes wants to step closer, pull you into his arms and... he doesn't know. part of him wants to strangle you for being so damn difficult all the fucking time, but another part wants to smash your mouths together so you can finally shut up. minghao is aware of how unhealthy it is just as he is aware of how often your gaze falls on his lips or his biceps. it's good to know he's not the only one who's gone mad. they say it's a fine line between hatred and love and for minghao right now this line is so thin that he barely see it anymore. is it the same for you? he wants to ask, but instead he says: 'why you didn't stop me then? you always could just interrupt me over there but you didn't say a thing. if you don't need my help why i was the one who you turned to when authorities came? you didn't say anything but you searched for me with your eyes, don't even try to deny it.'

five steps. that's the distance that separates you two and minghao thinks it's fitting. he can take two and then you can take two and then maybe you'll play game of chicken on that last step. but you surprise him with taking all those five steps yourself, storming onto him with fire in your eyes that he loves so much. 'you're not the one to talk, minghao. you think i don't know that it was you who asked everyone to wait up for me? who brought medicine to my team when i fell sick?' you try to push him on his chest but minghao easily catches you wrist in his, not letting you move. 'let me go.'

'that's not what you want.' he says in a calm tone that doesn't show all the hurricane which's happening inside of him.

reality of how close you two are standing dawns on you. jerkily, you try to step back but his hold on you is too strong. 'let me go,' you whisper, voice wavering. 'hao, let me go.'

hao. 'that's not what you want,' minghao whispers and lets his other hand wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. 'tell me what you really want, angel.' he sees how you shudder at the petname and smiles, leaning in. he lets go of your wrist, locking his arms around you instead. 'you can go if you want.' he leans in, brushing your noses together. 'or you can stay. and i can never, ever let you go. which i think is what you actually want.'

it's brave. it's bold, it's brazen and - it works. your body sags in his arms and you hide your face in his neck, hugging him back. 'prick,' you mutter into his neck, raising goosebumps where your lips touch his skin. 'self absorbed asshole.'

'yeah,' minghao easily agrees, hugging you tighter. 'prick, self absorbed asshole that i will never, ever let you go.'

a/n: this one is a bit vague but i couldn't figure out how to write this for the live of me. i hope this was okay? let me know! - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here