#-for messages or notifications. notifications are the biggest reason i look at my phone at all

[famewolf]

my dögs are turning out really well and it's been nice to spend the morning doing a fun arts n crafts

im trying to do gray wolf markings on this last guy so we'll see how that goes!

[brattyspence]

u up? | s.reid

summary: early season!spencer is reluctant to request nudes from gn!reader while hes gone on a case. warnings & key info: nudes (what an ugly word), sexual themes implied, nothing rlly explicitly stated. a very reluctant and maybe insecure spencer, a hint of teasing  a/n: this is rlly just a drabble but i love the idea of early season!spencer who is kind of nervous to ask for things but also rlly down bad for reader! maybe i’ll make more with this pairing bc its so fun. word count: 1.5k my masterlist!

Spencer flopped back into the queen-sized bed with a sigh. The hotel room was small, the generic beige walls blending into the generic beige room. The only light source he had at present from was the warm, yellow light of the bedside lamp and the screen of his phone.

The team had successfully closed another case. The unsub was apprehended after a week-and-a-half long chase, but he didn’t feel any better.

The relief that followed long cases like this one was different. Of course the week had been long and tiring. He hadn’t exactly slept well between the late nights at the local precinct and the looming anxiety about finally catching the guy. When Hotch made the decision to fly out the following morning to allow the team to get some sleep, he wasn’t so thrilled. 

He had returned to his hotel room, showered off the day (and it’s germs) before attempting to get into bed, but something was amiss. 

Catching the unsub didn’t mean just another solved case, but it also meant coming home to you. Maybe it was selfish, sure. Still, he had looked forward to it all day, and the sudden change in plans threw him off. Here he was, on top of the scratchy maroon bedspread of the hotel, very awake and very much frustrated by the prospect of spending another night apart from you. 

Sexual frustration and Spencer were two things you never would have put together. He was the most patient man in the world to you. Sometimes you still consider it his biggest flaw. When you first began dating him, it took weeks for him to work up the nerve to kiss you first. Sex was another beast. Somehow he wasn’t comfortable initiating anything for fear that he was pressuring you, and it seemed that no amount of reassurance would encourage him to make the first move. 

You were half asleep in bed when you heard the buzz of a new notification. You lifted your head from its spot in the pillow, and patted your hand around to find your phone somewhere in the mess of sheets in your bed. When you found it, you squinted as your eyes adjusted to the bright screen in the darkness of your room. He never liked to interrupt you when you were sleeping. It was another one of his obscure demonstrations of love. If you ever texted him past 9 PM, he would delve into a rant about how the blue light of your screen would keep you up all night, or how sleep deprivation could cause a multitude of issues, and “I just don’t want to be the reason you didn’t get a good night’s sleep.”

Patient, kind, respectful, and painfully so. 

Which was why you were thoroughly confused when you received what could only be interpreted as a very Spencer Reid version of a ‘u up?’ text at 12:51 AM.

Spencer: Hi. I miss you. Are you awake? 

You: i am now :)  i miss you more. 

Spencer struggled to find the right words to type. He always relied on you dragging it out of him. He drafted a few responses, deleting them immediately. His fingers hovered the keyboard for a moment, contemplating if he should just let it go.

You watched the ellipses come and go as he typed. It disappeared for a few seconds, and then reappeared. Eventually, you decided to call him. 

He picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft, maybe more so than usual. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was hoping to hear your voice,” you replied.

“But it’s so late. You should be sleeping, and now-”

“Spencer,” you replied, cutting him off. “I don’t care about that. You’ve never been one to message so late, so I know something must be bothering you. Talk to me.”

You heard the soft rustle of fabric against the microphone. 

“I was just really looking forward to coming home tonight.”

You sighed. “I know. I was looking forward to it, too.”

“I just…” he trailed off. “I was thinking about you all day. Thinking about seeing you, thinking about… just thinking about you.”

“Hm.” You sandwiched the phone between your ear and shoulder before sitting up. The jersey sheets pooled around your waist as you leaned across your nightstand, flicking on the bedside lamp. Your room filled with the soft glow. “Thinking about me?”

“Yeah.” His voice was almost a whisper. “That’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s all, honey.” 

You could visualize his reaction through the phone, the same reaction he always had when you pinned down his real intentions. He probably made an attempt to roll his eyes and brush off your comments, but he’d blush seconds later and avoid eye contact, knowing you were right. 

“Why do you… say that?” Somehow his voice was even softer.

“It’s one in the morning, Spence. You never call this late,” you explain. “And you’ve been away for a whole 10 days.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed audibly. 

“Yeah,” you repeat. “So you clearly want something from me.”

Silence.

“Do I need to drag it out of you?”

He huffed.  “It feels really juvenile. And I just respect you so much, and I don’t want you to ever think that I’m using you for anything, or that I don’t value you-”

“Spencer. We talked about this.” 

“Right.” He sighed. He held the phone to his ear with one hand, the other pressing into his eyelids as he formulated a response. 

“So,” you clear your throat, and sit back into your pillows, your phone lying across your chest. “Ask me.”

“I don’t…” he exhales. He’s struggling to come to terms with the fact that you have him figured out so well. He’s quiet for a few seconds before he gives in reluctantly. “I was looking forward to seeing you tonight. Not just talking.”

“Spencer Reid,” you reply, amused. Teasing him was just too easy sometimes, especially when he was so easy to rile up, even if he knew you were just joking with him. “Are you asking me for nudes?”

“I… It just sounds so wrong. Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, come on. Just ask me.”

He groaned. “I don't want you to think that my love for you has anything to do with your body. You know that, right? Because it doesn't. Although I do love… looking at you. That sounded weird. I just mean that I don't want to put you in a position where you feel commodified based on something like your physical appearance when you have so much more to give, and it's not respectful of you. You're brilliant and kind and so, so good to me, and it’s just so vulgar, I think-”

He fell quiet as his phone buzzed in his hands. He could just see the preview of the text you had sent him. After changing the call to speakerphone, he opened it, scrolling through the carousel of photos, taking in the images.

“You think..?”

“Jesus Christ…” he breathed, opening a slideshow of photos you had taken just for him. Sent to him, for his personal use. He would have felt bad about it if he wasn’t so horribly entranced by the sight of them. Whatever was left of his rambling fizzled out.

“You're not gonna finish your sentence?” You asked.

“I…” swipe. “God, I don't remember what I was saying.”

You chuckled. “Does that fix your problem?”

He was clearly short circuiting. “Mhm. It does.”

“See what happens when you ask, Spencer?”

“I feel guilty,” he replied, his voice breathy and quiet. He was clearly having some kind of internal struggle about the ethicality of the situation. It didn’t bother him enough to look away, though.

“Why?” You ask. 

“Because… these are really…” He stopped. Although you couldn’t see it, his cheeks were burning red. “Are you sure you’re okay with me having these?”

“Spencer,” you say. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve seen me naked plenty of times. I watched you fold and organize my sock drawer without my asking last week. You preheat my coffee mug for me every morning. I’m not just okay with you having these. I want you to have them.”

Oh. He swallows thickly, forcing himself to close the app and come back to his senses.

“But…” He trails off. He still sounds a little distant, pausing a bit too long between words, clearly still looking the photos over. “How did you… did you have these ready to send?”

“I did. I took them the other night. I was just waiting for you to ask.”

You wait a few seconds to see if he says something else. He doesn't. The line falls silent.

“Are you okay over there?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, exiting the app and putting his phone down on the pillow next to him. “Yeah. Sorry. I just… wow.”

You were used to his continual praise, but somehow his lack of words was the best compliment he could have offered you.

“Next time just ask, okay?”

He swallows. “Mhm. I will.”

“You should go have fun. I'm gonna go back to sleep. I'll see you soon, pretty boy.”

“Yeah… you should get some sleep. I’ll… see you tomorrow. Thank you.”

You smile to yourself. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

[mbappeslover]

écoute chérie // kylian mbappé | part one.

kylian mbappé x f! reader.

saw this edit on tiktok, they edited mbappé to écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer and… i fell in love. the song is sooo mbappé.

y/n got the job as kylian’s personal assistant. his previous assistant fired for unknown reasons. y/n had heard about kylian mbappé and his terrible attitude. she wasn’t excited to work with him. but, turns out.. he’s actually not that bad.

read part 2 here.

read the finale here.

credits to the editor: strkvoid on tiktok, they did such an amazing job <3, my favorite mbappé edit.

“y/n y/l/n, you’ve been accepted!” the notification pinged and appeared at the top of your screen. you clicked on it so fast.

one week ago.

“y/n, have you seen this? kylian mbappé’s management is looking for a new personal assistant.” your friend tells you during a phone call.

“oh really?” you ask.

“yes… and, you qualify for it! like a 100 percent. wait, i’m gonna send you the link.”

you received the message and clicked on the link, it was indeed an exclusive offer/application to becoming the footballer’s new personal assistant.

“y/n, you should really go for it. the pay is amazing and i’m sure it’ll be an awesome experience.”

you skim through the countless pages and listing of requirements and benefits the job offered. plus, you were indeed qualified for the job.

“mmm… i don’t know. everyone talks about how much of an asshole kylian mbappé is. how he’s a jackass with a shitty attitude and an unbearable ego, bigger than the universe.” you explain, iffy about this whole thing.

“oh please, it’s not like you’re gonna be all lovey dovey with the guy. imagine how much money you’ll be making. you want to quit your current job right now anyway.” your friend says, trying her hardest to convince you.

you laugh. “okay, you’re right. i’ll call you back, i’m gonna read through all the paper work, submit my résumé and update you on it.”

you weren’t too serious about it, you doubted that you’d actually get the job.

everything just got real. definitely serious.

you got the job, you were on call with the footballer’s management, and you were now getting familiarized with his schedule.

“alright, ms. y/l/n, we’ve spoken through all the things you’ll be needing to do for kylian. i’ve sent you an email of a file that lists all the things you must do for him. now, all we need is for you to sign a few things. it’ll take you about ten minutes. it wasn’t much before but… some things went down. so, we had to make a few arrangements.” kylian’s manager stated.

you just nod taking everything in and trying to process it at once.

you heard the ping from your phone, signaling you got the email.

“okay, perfect. today, i’ll show you around psg and tomorrow you’ll be meeting kylian.”

a tour guide took you around the stadium, briefly explaining different areas and rooms in the building to you.

it was a long day. you were now in bed, aimlessly scrolling on instagram because you couldn’t sleep.

you’re nervous. why?

the athlete you’ll be attending to is possibly the biggest asshole in paris, france and you’re gonna have to deal with it.

you decide to go on his instagram.

“k. mbappé, 94.1m Followers, 389 Following, 1204 posts.”

you click on the first photo presented and begin scrolling down.

in almost all photos he’s smiling, with a caption full of emojis and empowering words.

he looks so… sweet?

is this the same guy with the so-called “bad attitude?”

you fell asleep.

after scrolling through all one thousand, two hundred and four posts by kylian mbappé.

your alarm rang, loudly.

you groaned, getting up to prepare yourself for the day.

after getting dressed, you received a call from kylian’s manager.

“good mornin-“ you tried greeting politely, before cut off.

“good morning dear, i need you here in ten minutes.”

“it’s only 9:00, i was told to be there at 9:30. did something happen?” you ask, exasperated.

“yeah, well, kylian decided to come earlier than we thought and right now, he wants an organic green juice from le juice. it has to be from juicerie.” the manager explains.

“le juice is like fifteen minutes from where i am right now, how will i be able to make it in ten?” you say, slightly panicking.

“well, find a way. mbappé cares about his health, a lot. all that stuff about nutrition and good food is the key to health. if you didn’t know, now you do. be here in ten, please darling!” the managers says in a cheery voice before hanging up.

first day on the job and they were already trying to make the impossible, possible.

you quickly go on the website for le juice and order and paid online for a medium organic green juice for pick-up.

you catch a taxi and head over to le juice. it was a five minute drive because it was still a bit early and the streets hadn’t start to fill yet, luckily.

you ask the taxi driver if they could wait for a quick second while you grab the order from inside.

the taxi driver fussed a bit yet ultimately decided to wait.

again, you were able to swipe up the juice since the shop just opened and customer didn’t pile up in the juice bar.

you hop back in the taxi and make your way to the stadium.

“tsk, your first day on the job and you’re seven minutes late. you better hurry up and get in there.” the manager scolds you once you arrive, outside the office room of psg.

“well, you should’ve told me i would have to be here earlier, you cunt.”

you didn’t actually say that, you thought it, but, you didn’t say it.

you quickly enter the room, with a little a stumble, almost tripping on your own feet. you quickly laugh at how much of a mess you are.

the room is packed, there’s people everywhere, most likely other staff members. you see at the corner of the room, there’s a small crowd of people surrounding something.

you squeeze in between people, trying to find a way through.

“excuse me. yea, sorry. my apologies. let me just squeeze in. i’m sorry.” you murmur out while gliding through the people in the packed room.

that’s when you were faced with him.

he’s exactly like those photos on the internet, a vibrant face, smiling while the people around him asks him questions like how’s his morning, would he like anything to drink, trivial things to simply make conversation. 

the infamous kylian mbappé.

you cleared your throat, put on your most brightest smile and polite voice.

“mr. mbappé, this is your organic green juice.” you say, putting your hand out to give the drink.

the area becomes quiet as the attention shifts on you.

you briefly look around confused.

and the smile that was once on kylian’s face had disappeared.

it was replaced with a hard stoned, cold glare.

“the fuck?” you thought.

he grabs the drink from your hand, not even thanking you before continuing the small talk with staff around him.

you try your hardest not to make a face at his rude behavior.

you brush it off.

literally.

brushing yourself off, taking a deep breath. putting on a polite voice again, you introduce yourself.

“hello, my name is y/n. i’m sure your manager already told you about me, i am your new personal assistant. if you ever need me, for anything, feel free to let me know. that’s my job, of course.” adding in a little humor to lighten the atmosphere, reaching your hand out.

once again, the area of the room goes silent. his smile falls once again and he slowly turns to look at you.

“d'accord. où est ma paille?” (okay. where is my straw?)

the crowd laughs.

you reach out your bag, handing him the straw before walking away.

“the rumors are true. he’s insufferable. literally an asshole. a two-faced scum? who even treats someone like that? no wonder his old assistant left. who’d want to deal with that.” you were now on the phone with your friend who encouraged you to apply.

“y/n, calm down. i know it was frustrating, but, it’s just your first day. at least quit after you get your first check.” your friend said, trying to comfort you.

yea, that’s right. y/n cried. cried very hard. today was extremely difficult.

you followed kylian everywhere, attempting to tend to his needs, but, all he did was be rude or downright ignore you.

“sir, how are you feeling? would you like for me to schedule a massage for you, in case you are feeling tense?” you ask.

“do i look tense to you?”

“mr. mbappé, your manager has informed me that you have a meeting on friday at 3pm.”

“who makes meetings on friday? i’m not going, you’re going. i have to relax.”

“mr. mbappé-“

“please stop bothering me. aren’t you my assistant? why must you keep calling out my name, you’re here to handle my business.”

“i don’t even know what i did to him? why should i get treated like this? it makes no sense.” you complain to your friend.

“i’m sure it’ll get better eventually… hopefully.”

“yea, hopefully.”

it’s been two weeks, working as kylian mbappé’s personal assistant.

to say y/n felt drained would be an understatement.

fourteen endless days of talking to a brick, solid wall.

a brick, solid wall with snarky remarks and a stinky attitude.

“mr. mbappé, your driver is outside waiting for you. he has the specific refreshments you asked for.” y/n says.

“alright, walk me to the car.” he says.

y/n’s concerned because he usually just nods and walks to the car himself.

as the two makes their way to the car, kylian starts conversation.

“your name, y/n, right?”

this is weird.

so weird.

“yes, sir. y/n y/l/n.”

“alright y/n, can you cook?”

“yes, i can cook, why?” y/n questions.

“génial. je veux que tu cuisines pour moi. (great. i want you to cook for me).” kylian says nonchalantly.

y/n stops dead in her tracks as kylian continues to walk.

“so, now i have to cook for this man? really?

well, it is your job…

oh, shut up. i know that!

just saying…” you internally battle with yourself.

he turns around, “well are you coming? i don’t have all day and i’m starving.”

you snap out of it, speed-walking to catch up.

“why are you standing by the door?”

you were in your bosses house. well, it’s not out of the ordinary because you are his personal assistant.

however, this is a drastic jump from a few days ago, when he didn’t even want you near him.

“are you okay, mr. mbappé? it looks pretty bad. i can go get you some soothing gel!”

he hurt himself pretty badly while trying to perform a trick during practice.

“no! i’m fine. don’t touch me, move!”

he spat out, stumbling to get up by himself.

you back up in utter shock.

other staff runs up to offer him support as he limps away.

mbappé’s pov:

his new personal assistant stood at the door, looking like a lost puppy that was left for dead on a rainy night.

kylian knew he was being hard on her, harsh to her. but, he couldn’t let his guard down.

he refused to let history repeat itself.

“why are you standing by the door?” he asks.

y/n seemed to be lost in her thoughts when he said that because she snapped up and made her way into the house after taking off her tory burch sandals.

kylian observed the woman as she subtly looked around the place before making her way to the kitchen.

he couldn’t lie. she was beautiful. she could be on the cover of a makeup magazine because of how natural and pretty her features were.

he wishes he could see her smile. most of the time she wears a frown on her face, sometimes a pout that kylian finds endearing. he wouldn’t show that though. or.. say it, ever.

her hair looked so soft, her voice was so nice on the ear. she had a nice figure, ones of a dancer, delicate, light on the feet.

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she said. he loved her voice, utterly. like a bee, wanting to drown in honey. he wanted to drown in her voice, listen to it forever.

“call me kylian.”

for some reason, he finds himself wanting to get to know her. get closer to her.

y/n’s pov:

‘oh God, he’s staring.’ you think to yourself.

y/n has made her way to the kitchen after taking in the penthouse. it was so nice and luxurious. she wondered how much or how long she’d have to work before ever living in a place like this.

she began looking in the cabinets, taking out a few pots and pans before realizing her boss didn’t even tell her what he wanted to eat.

“mr. mbappé, what exactly would you like for me to cook.” y/n says, an attempt to ease the tension.

‘he’s still staring. what the hell is wrong with him?’

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she repeats.

he looks you straight in the eye.

“call me kylian.”

you two continue making eye contact, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable, but, it’s rather… nice? it feels nice. it’s the first he’s ever actually acknowledged you.

you break the eye contact, clearing your throat.

“alright, if you don’t have anything set in mind, i’ll just cook and try to make do with whatever you have here.” you say.

it’s been about 50 minutes and you’re finally done cooking. you made steak & farfalle pasta with creamy tomato sauce.

kylian went into his bedroom since you began cooking and hadn’t come out. but, you did hear faint music coming from his room.

you begin to plate his food nicely, setting it on the kitchen island with a glass cup of ice water.

luckily, you clean along the way while cooking so there wasn’t a mess. you were tired, you wanted to get home and unwind.

you walk up to his bedroom door, about to knock, when the door swings open.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” you say slightly surprised.

he doesn’t say anything.

but, you could care less. your attention shifts to the song being played in the background.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” you say excitingly, completely forgetting that you’re at work. technically.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he replies with a small chuckle.

‘did he just chuckle? with me? did kylian mbappé, my rude ass boss. chuckle… with me?’

you smile, looking at the small smile that adorned his face as he chuckled.

you won. you’re winning mbappé over.

mbappé’s pov:

he was in his room, sipping on some expensive red wine from a brewery that gifted him some.

he felt at peace, moments like these to himself. drinking something, listening to music, letting loose.

not only that, but, most likely, he could smell the aroma from the food his personal assistant, y/n was making for him.

its been a little while, he was gonna go check on the food.

his favorite song comes on.

“partir, venir, mourir, courir.”

what a lovely song. he sings to himself, along the chant before making his way to the door.

opening it, there she was.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” she says, obviously a little spooked.

he doesn’t care about that, though. the more he looked at her, the more time he spent around her, the harder it got to suppress his obvious attraction to the woman.

he visibly sees something click in her head as she moves from his sight to get a better hearing of what was being played.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” she says.

‘God, she’s so cute.’ he thinks to himself.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he says, trying to hold back the ‘awe’ he wants to say so bad.

she smiles.

kylian felt like his heart could explode.

without absolutely zero exaggeration, she has got to have an award for having the most beautiful smile in the universe.

that smile right there—convinced kylian that he would make it his mission to always see that smile as long as y/n’s around him.

y/n turns around, leading him to his meal.

his stomach grumbles as he lay eyes on the food. it looks delicious. better than any five star michelin restaurant he’s been to. would probably taste better as well.

he’s confused, though. there’s only one plate of food.

he turns to y/n.

“where’s your food?”

“oh, i only made food for you, sir-“

“kylian, call me kylian.”

“yes, i’m sorry, kylian.”

“i’m gonna wait here for you to finish your food so i can wash your plate, then i’ll be out your hair, if that’s fine with you, kylian.”

he knows he can’t just let her leave like that.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he thinks he knows what he wants.

“that’s fine. come sit down.” he says, pulling out the chair next to him.

y/n hesitantly makes her way and gets seated. kylian slides over the glass of ice water to her.

“no, it’s for you.” y/n explains.

“i know, but, just drink it. i have some wine in my room.”

“okay, do you want me to go get it and pour some out for you?” y/n says, about to make her way there when kylian gently pulls her down.

“no, no, it’s fine. relax.” he says.

kylian begins eating, almost scarfing the food down.

y/n takes a sip of the water while looking at him eat.

“is it good?” y/n asks.

he stops for a second, chewing and swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“very. best meal i’ve had in a long time, y/n. thank you.” he says with a genuine smile on his face.

y/n smiles back before bringing the glass cup up to her lips and drinking some more water.

“so, y/n, how old are you?” he says, finishing up his food.

“i turned 24 a few months ago.” y/n says.

“really? i turned 24 a few months ago as well.”

“i know that, you’re the star of france.” y/n says with a small smile on her face.

he smiles at her again.

y/n couldn’t take it.

‘this is awfully weird. why is he being so… nice. it was concerning.’ she thinks to herself.

silence takes over the room and the only sound being the fork hitting against the glass plate as kylian takes a bite of the pasta.

“kylian, why are you so mean to me?”

“y/n, i know i haven’t been the nicest to you…”

they say at the same time. they both laugh.

“you go first.” kylian offers to y/n.

“alright, i was asking. why are you so mean to me? did i do.. something.”

kylian sighs deeply, “no y/n, you did nothing wrong, but, a lot happened before that’s making me like that towards you. just know i don’t mean it.” he explain.

“well, what happened?”

“i’ll tell you later.” kylian says finishing the food.

y/n took the plate and glass cup, made her way to the sink and began washing the dishes.

y/n wondered, what was on his mind. what was he thinking about.

too deep in thought to not see her boss, kylian. staking right next to her, leaning on the countertop.

she finishes cleaning the plate and cup.

she turned to her left, her soul jumping out her chest.

“kylian! why are you always sneaking up on people.” y/n said, laughing off the remaining shock with a hand over her heart.

“sorry, sorry, i just like looking at you.” he laughs.

y/n laughs too.

“oh really?”

“OH? REALLY?” she says backtracking because it registered to y/n what he said.

“yes. you’re beautiful.” he says, stepping a teeny closer to the beautiful woman in front of him.

y/n blushes.

“the food was really good as well. i really wish you would’ve ate with me.” he says.

“i’m just your assistant. i don’t want to break any of your boundaries. i respect you.” y/n says.

“i respect you.” kylian replays it in his head.

he already had a slight crush on y/n, but, this was different.

he has a crush on y/n.

“wow, you’re making me feel like shit for treating you the way i did. i respect you, too. say, come over again tomorrow. if you make me something to eat again, i’ll tell you what happened.” he says with a smile on his face.

y/n remains silent. she was thinking.

‘is kylian mbappé flirting with me?’

there’s no way.

yes there is! look at the way he’s looking at you. he wants you!’ you weigh out to yourself.

kylian think it’s adorable. the way y/n constantly looks like a lost puppy.

he bends down a bit, leveling himself to y/n’s height to get her attention.

“everything alright in there?” kylian says.

y/n seems to still be in deep thought when kylian giggles.

he takes his index finger, placing it underneath y/n’s chin, lifting it up.

he looks her in the eye.

he wants to kiss her, her lips look so soft. he’s 100% sure if their lips were to simply graze across one another, he’d still love it. be addicted to it.

y/n looks back into his eyes, feeling her heart beat and her stomach start to flutter.

“deal or no deal?” kylian says as he tilts his head to the side.

y/n eyes drops to kylian’s lips. they were the perfect size and naturally protruded out.

she imagined how it’d feel. probably like a pillow, or, maybe a marshmallow.

y/n eyes make its way back to kylian’s.

she made up her mind.

“deal.” she says before gently removing his finger from her chin. she gathered her bags and made her way to the door, kylian following right behind.

she slipped on her sandals as kylian unlocked & opened the door.

y/n walks out, before turning to kylian who stood by the door.

“goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

they say together.

the two laugh.

“till next time then, goodnight mr. mbappé.” y/n says.

“it’s kylian and i’ll call you tomorrow. make sure you answer. goodnight, y/n.” he says, smiling.

a/n (author’s note):

i am confident in this at all.. i feel like it could be way better but i wanted to hurry and publish something to whoever’s waiting. i’ve been so busy and tired with school :,(. it was supposed to only have one part but i didn’t wanna rush the plot too much.

i tried something new with the whole “pov” thing. and, i hope it’s not too confusing because i switch from 2nd point of view to 3rd a lot.

i guarantee part 2 will be more exciting than this. thanks for reading!

[graneymar]

HII can you do a jealous neymar? Thank you!

#9. NEYMAR: JEALOUSY JEALOUSY

SUMMARY: Neymar is getting jealous because one of his friends seems to like you a little too much

WARNINGS: none

PAIRING: Neymar x fem!reader

"Oh God, that guy, Gabriel Medina, he’s literally so hot! Have you already met him?", Nessa, my best friend, asked and held up her phone, a picture of Gabriel on her screen. "Yeah, last time we were in Brasil I've met him a few times. He's really nice", I told her as I prepared Neymars favorite salad for him. He would be home from training soon. "I am having the biggest crush on him, literally. Next time you're going to Brasil and get to meet him you gotta take me with you", she insisted, "Why have you never talked about him before? I usually know when you're hanging out with Neys friends." The moment she finished her sentence, my phone lit up. An instagram notification. Speak of the devil and he appears. Gabriel replied to my insta story.

"The weather in Paris looks shit, you better move your ass to São Paulo soon 😏 jk. Tell me when you're here again tho!"

I never really knew how to react to Gabriel acting this way. Was he actually flirting or just trying to be nice and funny? I knew most of Neymars friends and none of them acted like this, at least not around me. I glanced up at Nessa and handed her my phone, "That’s why I prefer not to talk about him - at all." Nessas mouth fell open as she read the message. "Y/N, he obviously laid his eyes on you! Does Ney know about it?" I shook my head from left to right quickly. We were together for nine months now, but I still didn't feel good about talking negatively about one of his closest friends. Plus, Gabriel meant a lot to him, I didn't want to be the reason their friendship would come to an end. "Neymar doesn’t know anything about it and I don't want him to know, at least not yet", I answered her question and heard something drop onto the ground. I slightly turned my head to find Neymar standing in the door frame, his training bag on the floor next to him. His eyes said more than a thousand words. He must’ve heard us. "Hi babe, how was training?", I rapidly put on a fake smile to hide my shock. No reaction from his side. "Uhm, I made you your favorite salad! Are you hungry?" He watched me for a few seconds, my nervousness rising, before he finally spoke up. "I don’t know about what? What is it that you don’t want me to know?" I gulped, my heartbeat skipped a beat. Nessas eyes kept on wandering between us until she decided to get up from her seat. "I'll just leave you two alone", she shyly said, "Have a nice day!" And with that, the front door was closed behind her. Neymar still stood in the door frame, his eyes literally looking right through me, the silence in the room was unbearable. "Are you going to tell me what you’ve been talking about now or do I have to find out another way?", he said, his voice calm yet mad. I bit the side of my cheek, not sure what I was supposed to do. I unlocked my phone and went on instagram in order to show him mine and Gabriels chat, but I got cut off in the middle of doing so. "Seriously? You're going on fucking instagram now?", Neymar raised his angry voice. My body twitched at his tone. I put my phone onto the kitchen counter and pushed it to Neymar, Gabriels message already visible. I followed his eyes reading every word, but I wasn’t able to read his facial expression. He then took my phone and scrolled through the chat, reading about how Gabriel called me beautiful, saying I should come back to São Paulo, sending me songs and a lot of - mostly shirtless - photos of himself. "Block him", he suddenly said. I looked at him in disbelief. "Ney, he’s one of your best friends. Don’t you think it’ll be awkward when I see him again after I blocked him?" He handed me back my phone and looked me straight in the eyes. "Who says you’ll see him again? I won’t let that bastard get near you." I shook my head from left to right, "Don't talk about him like that, he’s still one of the closest people to you."

"You really think I'll act like everything is alright after this son of a bitch tried to get to my woman? He better pray to God I won't see him next time I'm in Brasil. He really thinks he can pull whoever he wants with his sparkly eyes, adorable smile and bodybuilder body. Always acting like Mister Charming and being oh so funny. You can try to pull whoever you want, but not my girl." I tried to hold it back, but couldn’t stop myself from quietly giggling. He looked at me all confused. "What’s so funny?"

"Is someone getting jealous?", I playfully raised my brows at him. "Me? Jealous? Of who?", he replied, trying to deny what was obvious. "I quote: his sparkly eyes, adorable smile, bodybuilder body." Neymar shrugged. "So what? I'm still better. He doesn’t even come close to me." His lips were pouted and his eyes wandered to the ground as he was speaking. "Aw babe", I started, positioning myself right in front of him and wrapping my hands around his neck, "You are the most attractive, truly the most handsome man I've met in my whole life. No one makes me laugh like you do. You make me the happiest and I couldn't imagine a better boyfriend than you." I smiled and kissed his lips gently. His facial expression softened as he placed his hands onto my waist. "Just block him, ok?"

"Your wish is my command", I nodded before pecking his lips once more.

[amourists]

A guide to decluttering your phone

If you’re someone like me who uses their phone the moment they wake up till the second they fall asleep (7 hours screen time yikess) it’s important to keep your phone organised and up to date. some of these i’ll do every few weeks and others once a year depending on how cluttered it feels.

clean out contacts and update info - every year i’ll go through my contacts and delete any numbers I don’t want anymore, add names to numbers I haven’t saved etc

delete any unused apps - this saves so much storage and space but I don’t have to do this often as I try to be mindful of what i download - think if you really need an app for it or if you could just use it on your google browser. optional; organise your apps into folders for different categories e.g games, school

update apps - something I do every few months; go into the app store and update the apps I have so everything runs much smoother with no bugs

delete unwanted photos and videos - one of the biggest reasons for lack of storage is your photos app. I know so many people who have basically the same picture x15 or 5 minute long videos of fireworks - whilst memories are important to keep, having a cluttered camera roll can make going through these memories hard - clip videos so they’re under a minute, clip the main parts, delete any duplicates and get rid of screenshots you don’t need - I do this every few weeks

organise photos and videos into albums - mostly just for aesthetics, i like to make albums of photos i’ve taken in different countries, an album for food, nails etc something that can be done in a car ride if you’re bored

delete unneeded text threads - this also takes up storage and most of these you wont even look back on. it can also be good for your mental health - delete that text thread with your ex so you can stop looking at it

reminders app - I have so many random to do lists there that I just forget to check off heh

clock app - delete those alarms you don’t need and all those different world clocks you won’t refer to

calendar app - add new events like peoples birthdays you need to remember and delete any reoccurring events you don’t need anymore, organise with different colours based on if its for school, work or personal.

update software - if my phone is glitching out 9/10 its because i haven’t updated it in a while

delete unwanted notes - the amount of notes i have with random letters or numbers… it makes it hard to find the notes i actually need so i’ll go through them every few months

notifications - go to your settings and turn off any notifications you don’t want to receive and go through any notifications you might have missed aka those 99+ messages

emails - delete and unsubscribe from any you don’t need

delete tabs on google/safari - all my safari tabs stay open if i close the app so sometimes tabs i don’t need pile up

change phone layout - change your wallpaper, make different lock screens, change app icons, add widgets and change the layout to make your phone feel more refreshed

most of these can be easily done in road trips or just when you’re bored, lmk if i missed anything you do!

[jiminrings]

jealous 478jk smut drabble sneak peek :O

Jungkook looks at you like he’s lost.

There’s this wide-eyed look to him, the origins in it embedded for a reason you can’t decipher. He doesn’t exactly look like he’s mad even when his jaw is clenched, and he doesn’t precisely look sad either while his brows are furrowed. Jungkook’s at a loss for words, even when you’ve thoroughly explained your impending absence for the next week.

“It’s an artist retreat, baby,” you repeat, tracing along his fingers while he’s stuck in a trance. “We’ve already watched the first season of it, remember? It was a different cast the first time but this time, I’m included,” you test out your explanation at the tip of your tongue, confused when he still doesn’t speak. “We’re all just… basically gonna have fun together.”

Your husband doesn’t speak about it. He’s thinking about it longer than necessary even if you’ve already made your decision because after all, it’s your career and he’s your biggest supporter. There shouldn’t be any qualms about your incoming reality show stint as a promotion for your newest drama, not at all — is what he’d like to think.

Jungkook doesn’t reply to your explanation whilst helping you pack until your phone dings face-up, the pop-up notification hovering above your home screen of him carrying Hwayoung in his arms. He shouldn’t be bothered, really. The preview of your groupchat with your co-stars (that just conveniently has Yoongi’s face as the photo) and its pings have long been playing in the background for the past month now.

Jungkook doesn’t open his mouth except when his eyes catch the tiny text, the message immediately met with laughing reactions.

Min Yoongi

| i bet my car jungkook’s gonna try and fit in y/n’s suitcase LMAOOOOOOOOO

“I know what it is,” he suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, passive-aggressive as he folds all your underwear into tight bundles with the way he’s clenching his fists. “You sure I can’t come?”

You only chuckle, tickling Hwayoung on her sides as she’s propped up in the bed because while your husband’s packing your things for tomorrow (and on late notice too because you’re already leaving for your schedule tonight), you’re packing her bag because she’s staying with your parents for the next three days.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself, actually — he knows what he does best and that’s being your husband and Hwayoung’s dad, but with both his girls gone for the next few days, he’s a little lost.

Doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s lost in his own thoughts of how you continue to be even more popular and with that, you’re prone to have more articles and rumors attached to your name. His alone time hasn’t even started and yet, he’s already internally going down the rabbit hole of what he searched up last night; that you despite being married to him, you and Yoongi are each other’s soulmates.

It’s stupid; he really thinks it is. He finds shippers stupid and also the countless threads where everybody just talks for the sake of talking, saying that the way Yoongi looks at you can’t be rivaled by the way he does. 

He finds picture slides and videos annoying when you and Yoongi are in it and it’s to the tune of the most recently trending, cloying nostalgic song, both the posters and the people in the comments saying that you and Yoongi must be each other’s greatest loves — just conveniently (and rudely) skipping over the fact that you have a husband and a kid.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t, Jungkook,” you snort, ruffling his hair. 

Jungkook tamps down the rising guilt of selfishness because the tiniest bit of him doesn’t want you to go on that trip. He doesn’t want you to go on that show because the hype between you and Yoongi will only ramp up, your names about to be linked more often than it already is.

Your husband tries to keep his selfishness at bay when he drives you up to the shoot location and hugs you closely– longer than what is needed for a couple who’ll only be apart for a week. He still smiles (although tightly and a little forced) when your co-stars who are mostly men to begin with, promise to take care of you and make sure that you won’t go home with even a single mosquito bite.

There’s too much time in his hands, most of them he doesn’t even really need alone because he thinks that its best use is when he’s with his family. Jungkook knows that he’s needy and he’s trying not to be clingy so much but he thinks this time, it’s not only in his head that you were barely giving him something to go by.

There were no rules about not using cellphones during shoots and given that you were the only actor in your team that had a husband and a child, you were given more leniency in all aspects. 

Jungkook tries his hardest not to be clingy because his only check-ups on you are whenever it’s time for meals and before sleep. He’s tamped down his selfishness to a minimum and yet at the first time you answer for the past two days that he’s tried checking up on you, it’s in the context unlike what he’d imagined.

| brb yoongi’s teaching me how to fish lol

Of course he is. Of course that for the first time you reply to him, it just had to be on the duration where no fish are biting on your bait while Jungkook thinks that probably, Yoongi’s out there chuckling beside you seeing the array of his previous, one-sided texts.

He dials you immediately, swallowing down his growing annoyance just because he really, really wants to hear your voice.

“Can you talk right now?”

“Yeah! What’s up?” you perk up at the sound of him, making him relieved that you’re not looking to drop the call anytime soon.

“So I’m looking into-…” 

Of course Jungkook gets interrupted when he was about to relay his plan of possibly bullying Jimin into letting him crash your schedule (when the cameras aren’t rolling) just to visit you.

Of course it’s Yoongi who interrupts him. 

“Y/N! Is that Jungkook again?” he yells in the background, the distinct voice of the guy being heard all the way through the other side of the line. “Eat up while the food’s still hot!”

Jungkook has no words to say — especially when you don’t give him any chance to do so.

“He’s — yeah, yeah! I’m coming,” you yell back but despite the volume, Jungkook doesn’t even flinch; he just clenches his jaw. “Gotta go, baby. Yoongi’s the boss, I don’t wanna get on his nerves tonight.”

It wasn’t your yell prior that makes Jungkook’s ears ring; it’s your soft-spoken yet urgent tone when you say to him that you’ll get going because Yoongi’s the boss. It’s what makes his teeth grind together and the pulse in his neck grow because you’re in a hurry to go get dinner, because you don’t want to get on Yoongi’s nerves tonight.

The flush rises in his neck and for all the wrong reasons, his skin warm from the rising irritation that just begs to manifest into something more tangible — something more memorable.

Without a second thought, your husband gets into his car and starts the long drive to you, brewing in anger the entirety of the four hours that it gets to you. They all fly by quickly just as how he weaves in between cars, the angry honking no match to the noise inside his head.

Jungkook walks right past the staff who’s packing up equipment for the next day because almost everybody’s gone into sleep, not stopping for the stunned faces and the excited squeals, not even for Jimin who squawks at his unexpected presence and the way he walks inside the main house with a mission.

It’s easy to spot your room despite having no knowledge of it at all because of course, your co-stars had the decency to give you the biggest and solo room anyway. Jungkook walks past discarded card games on the hallway and even bumps with a Doberman that’s half his size, the dog sniffing at him right before he enters your room.

You don’t flinch because you think it’s one of the lovely and doting producers giving you a face mask because you forgot to pack one, but when you turn — you flinch because it’s Jungkook.

It’s your husband in the flesh, clad in his gray sweatpants and a short-sleeved shirt that’s worn-out perfectly to the point that it stretches across him perfectly. If you couldn’t read him before you left, you certainly can now.

Your mouth opens and closes but you can’t find the words, lips parted open in surprise as you try to reel in his presence.

“Your husband can’t come, but Dongwook’s dog that’s the size of a horse can?” he scoffs, trudging towards you with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t even greet you hello.

“Kook, I love you but-…” you start, looking up to him automatically but you stumble on your words when he hooks his arms around your back and presses you to him tightly, the pout he has on his face when looking down on you making you shut up.

“But?” he tilts his head, the smile on his face too empty yet provoking that it gives you goosebumps. “Why are you withholding yourself, sweetheart?”

“What are you doing here?” you whisper-yell once you’ve had the semblance to actually reply, trying to pry yourself out of his hold but he doesn’t even loosen up one bit. “You can’t be here!”

“Says who?” Jungkook questions, a hand raising to get your baby hair out of the way. He’s doing it so slowly that you hold your breath, his thumb lingering on your cheek when you can only watch him closely. “What are they gonna do, fire you? They can’t do that to someone who gets their ratings up.”

“What are you going on about, Jungkook? Why’d you drive all the way here?”

Your husband laughs– actually laughs and even throws his head back but you can’t find what’s exactly so funny about it, your confusion only spurring on him more. He thinks that sometimes, you could be so humble to the point that you’re clueless — painfully too clueless to the point that he’s driven the hours just to instill something in you.

“Can’t I just miss you?”

There’s that frown again on Jungkook’s face that intimidates you more than it annoys you, one that weaponizes him to trace the tip of his nose from your hairline to your cheek until he settles his face to your neck, making you swallow the lump on your throat when you automatically open up to him.

“I, I missed you too,” you confide, the shudder that racks through you when he suddenly bites at the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder enough to make you hyper-aware. “Stop. Yoongi’s sleeping next door.”

Jungkook’s face was buried in your neck one minute ago but at barely the blink of an eye, your husband’s face is right in front of you, jaw clenched and eyes glazed.

His breathing’s staggered, the thumb that had only been pressing against your shoulder now on your chin, tilting you up to look only at him.

“There you go again,” he snickers, the pout he has on his face sickeningly sweet. Jungkook pries open your lips with only his thumb and puts the pad of it flat on your tongue. “You’re a fucking brat, y’know that?”

“Excuse me?” your eyes widen, words slurred from his thumb in your mouth. You try to pry him off you with no real fight as you put a hand on his wrist, but he only chuckles lowly at your attempt of handling the reins.

“What, you’re offended that I called you a brat?” he asks, moving both his large hands this time to grab ahold of your face. Jungkook comes even closer that the sight of him makes you almost cross-eyed, his voice low yet venomous. “What’re you gonna do, huh? Run to Yoongi?”

“W-why would I run to him?” you ask in confusion, brows furrowed as you try to make sense of everything; the slick smoothness between your legs, however, not being rocket science to figure out.

Jungkook laughs to your face.

“Why are you so confused, hm?” he whispers. “Didn’t you say he was the boss? Surely, you don’t wanna get on his nerves, do you?”

You think back to what you’d said hours ago, making sense of your rushed words. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

It’s too little, too late for Jungkook no matter how sincere you are, his mind already being made-up.

“And I don’t care,” he smiles, eyes dark and dimples deep when he delivers his sentiment. “This is long overdue anyway, don’t you think? Thanks to your crush on Yoongi-…”

“I don’t have a crush on him.”

“I didn’t say you can talk back to me. Didn’t even tell you to speak,” he spits, his hand splayed across your nape tightening slightly when he speaks against your ear. You have no plan on escaping his hold but he grips you like you’re going to anyways. “Thanks to your slip-up though, you’re gonna learn whose nerves you don’t actually want to get on.”

Jungkook inhales your innocence and exhales his selfishness, the smile that appears on his face coming across determined; desperate enough to put you at his mercy.

“I need to put my brat in place.”

.

.

.

RRRRRRRRRRAHHHHHHHH U GET JEALOUS 478JK!!! wanna read the full piece now? this, along with other exclusive drabbles, will only be exclusively available on my patreon :-)

p.s., don't worry!! i'll still post a 478 smut drabble (aka on the baby blue floor couch scene) available for everyone to read!! it'll be up on patreon for early access though (and yes it wud still be posted on tumblr), so i'll release a sneak peek here once i wrap it up!!

[fqbang]

To You | fabang au

“You , I always need you”

One fine morning Quinn realized she’s not waking up to a man beside her, her husband is not on the bed. Neither anywhere in their room. She scrolled through her phone to check her messages and emails, if there were any, and of course there were! A LOT actually. Mostly about her clients asking for updates on their case, advices, and some colleagues requesting to help with any of her trial cases. She ignored those. She went straight to her imessage to message her husband Mike.

“Hello Doctor Chang are you there? I think you might’ve forgot that you got a wife here back at your home. So I’m texting as a gentle reminder. Text me back ASAP. worried about you” —SENT.

Not even a minute after it was sent, her phone buzz a notification from him.

“Good Morning Atty. Fabray! I actually did not forget about my wife at all and I, in fact, did sneak in last night to steal some sleep but then I was paged and needed to come back at the hospital even before you wake up. Sorry for not texting sooner. Good luck on your hearing appointment today.”

Oh Quinn sweared she didn’t care about the hearing of one of her biggest clients until Mike brought it up and she was forced to get up of bed and started preparing for it.

An hour or so has passed, Quinn is done with all her morning rituals when an email arrived in her inbox informing her that today’s hearing was cancelled because the client just fired her for some unknown reason.

“Oh great after all of our preparations for this case, I was fired just like that” she said to herself frustrated and angered.

A text from Mike arrived once again.

“Hello Atty! Has the hearing started yet? Best of luck, not that you need it but still ! Text me back whenever you can. I love you”

A smile replaced her furrowed eyebrows when she read the text from her husband. ‘I miss him’ she thought to herself.

“Only the rough wind lingers around me so I always need you.”

“How many hours before you could actually come back home to me, Dr?”

“5 more hours :)”

“Too long!!!”

“Sorry, i’ll make it up to you, Atty. How’s the hearing going?”

“Meh it’s boring.”

“Hmm would still wanna know how’s it going but I gtg. I bet it’s going so well though!! Anyways, Break time’s over, i’ll ttyl :)”

“And what if isn’t?” she sent it not waiting for any response because she knows Mike is back to his job where phone is never allowed.

“Then next time it will. I still love you don’t worry too much about your cases you know it gets better”

“Hey, even if you don’t say anything, You’re the only one that understands me.”

With a slightly heavy heart she packed her stuff and drive to Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital where her husband is currently working. Her heads thoughtless all she ever wanted was a hug— a warm, very long comforting hug from her husband. The sun hasn’t shine for too long yet as the day was just starting but for Quinn it felt like it’s the end of the very draining day at work and she needs someone who she could vent out to. Someone who would just listen and understand her. She’s clearly sad because she felt all her efforts go to waste after she was suddenly fired.

“Today I’ll go to your arms too”

“hello is Dr. Mike Chang in here?” I asked the nurse at the lobby.

“Oh he is. Will you be having a follow up check up with him? May I have your name so I could search for your records, Ma’am?” the nurse politely responded.

“No, actually I am not. I am—“

“Hey nurse Lizelle I need the charts for the patient in room-“

“Oh great timing Dr. Chang someone’s looking out for you” pointing at Quinn “ and of course I’ll grab the charts of Riley from Room 2”

Quinn slowly turned his gaze on him and he’s just expecting a normal patient who might need his help. Surprise was very evident on his face when their eyes met.

“Quinn what are you doing here?” His voice sounded a bit excited but more worried.

“Are you hurt?” He questioned once more.

“No, but I need something from you.” sadness on her eyes.

“A hug if I may?” She extended both her arms asking for a hug.

And so the doctor immediately pulled her for a hug.

“Sorry nurse liezel for this little pda. A little favor can you page me when some urgent matters occurred? I’ll be back later.” He ordered to the nurse who’s smiling when she saw the two hugging.

I’m grateful to you, who greets me whenever I open the door.

“What happened my love?” Mike asked Quinn who’s now happily eating her lunch.

“Life sucks!” She yelled with her mouth full of salad. “But at least this salad is delicious!” She added.

“Okay…” Mike just let her be.

“I was fired…” her voice turned serious.

“It’s my first time to be fired. And by a very important client too” she felt a lump forming on her throat “It’s not a very good feeling. I’m sorry I had to bother you like this but-"

“You didn’t bother anyone here. Actually you came in perfect time.”

“What do you mean?”

“ I miss your voice.”

“Okay I guess this is from your lack of sleep but you’re not making any sense right now.”

“There’s this patient I talked to earlier. She’s turning 7 undergoing a chemotherapy and she wants to meet a fairy who would sing her ‘seven by taylor swift. Do you think you could do her some favor?”

You've given me a piece of happiness

How did Quinn get so happy in an instant? Easy, Mike knows her.

She dressed up as a fairy and surprised Riley, the kid who’s battling cancer and sang to her “Seven”

“Thank you Dr. Chang! I don’t know how did you find a fairy but it’s magical in here now!” The kid exclaimed in excitement

“You’re welcome Riley” Mike replied and gave her a hug.

The doctor and the ‘fairy’ left the room when Riley fell into slumber.

“Thank you Dr. Chang. I don’t know how you did it, but you definitely cheered me up today.”

“Out of all the things I’ve achieved today, making you happy was the most fulfilling.”

“I love you, Mike”

“You too, Atty!”

Hi what do you think of this? My favorite headcanon today is Dr. Mike x Atty. Quinn so here it goes lol

Idk if it’s confusing for anyone but the random “” in between scenes are lyrics of the song “To You” that best describes each scenarios so i added :)

[bt5bby]

Hello 👋🏻

I will spare you the long reason why this story took me forever… but I finally got it into the editing website I use which was my biggest hurdle for 2 months. 😅 (sorry if it’s a bit disjointed too)

Anyway, here is Namjoonie’s story… Lonely.

Warning ⚠️ - Graphic child birth, Mpreg, mentions of rape and sexual slavery(kinda), mention of threats/violence, sick children.

————————————————————————

Namjoon heaved against the bed posts. His body was ready to give in and pass out, but he knew he couldn't. He had to continue to work hard, holding his legs in the correct position and using all his strength.

Oh, how he wished he had someone else here. He didn't want to do this alone. He wanted someone holding his hand, encouraging him, telling him how well he was doing and that it was nearly over. He wished he didn't have to do this in his crappy apartment, hours away from anyone he knew.

He wanted to be at a hospital, safe and secure. People tell him what to do and how to do it. He wanted to ensure everything would be ok, but he wasn't at a hospital. He didn't have anyone around him to help, and he didn't know if everything was ok. He was alone, giving birth to his baby in a dank apartment in a city far away from his home.

He screamed again, feeling the pain of a contraction. He had been at it for hours, pushing as hard as he could but not finding any real progress. When the pain stopped, he laid his head back again, struggling to catch his breath between sobs.

All he could do was cry. Cry and wait for the next contraction, which wasn't far away, and then start pushing again. The pain was worse than he imagined, but he was determined to do this. He chose to keep his baby, and now he would bring it to life, even if it killed him.

He pleaded with it internally as if the baby could hear him while in his body. 'Please come out. I can't take much more!' He screamed again, the next contraction clenching his muscles to push the baby out of his body.

Before he was in the mid stages of his labour, he walked around the house, thinking just how lucky he was that his baby was tiny. The nurse he saw last told him that he was a bit underweight.

Namjoon regretted doing all he could to ensure his baby was born at an average weight for those last two months. He was sure that the baby must have grown into a bowling ball or something because as he felt the head starting to push his hole open, he swore he nearly tore it in half.

The scream that left his mouth was so shrill he was sure it had set off the dog 10 blocks over. Namjoon was just thankful that the place he lived in was so poor that none cared enough to call the police. They would all just ignore him.

With the next push, Namjoon felt his hole stretch around the broadest part of the baby's head. He must be so close to crowning. Namjoon was sure he could feel the top of the baby's head on the next push. He wept more, hearing another ding from his phone beside him.

He had turned off all GPS and signals, routing the location to a different place every few days to make it look like he was constantly moving, but he kept it on. He had never changed his number, just in case he needed something. Just in case he decided to go back.

The noise drew his attention away momentarily, and he looked at the phone. As much as he had it, he didn't really use it. In fact, it had been several weeks since he unlocked it. He didn't need to do everything he could on his phone; he could do it on his laptop, which was much harder to track. He looked at the phone screen light up, seeing a message from another of his old band members.

They had been piling up for a long time, showing all on the notifications board on his phone. Six individual chats pinging away over time. He had read each one and never replied, but he read them all. They made his heart hurt every time, but he wouldn't stop. He liked to torture himself. He cried a little harder reading the message from his friends.

"I still don't even know if you are reading these, but it makes me feel better." The text read. "I don't know what happened, and I don't know why, but know that wherever you are, I'm always here, right where you left me."

Namjoon screamed again, the next contraction ripping through his body again. He sent a hand down to feel between his legs, the baby's head was now sticking out slightly, and he could feel the hair on its head. "I miss you, and wherever you are, I hope you're safe and happy." He finished.

Namjoon hiccuped his sobs from his chest. He tried so hard to calm his breathing, but now the added stress of the message really made him feel lightheaded. Just thinking about the boy made Namjoon's heart flutter.

He was at a loss for words, but that could have been the intense pain making him numb to all thinking. He mentally replied to the message, pouring his heart out until the next contraction came. This time Namjoon pushed his very hardest. He felt slightly more determined to get his baby out.

The boys had always strengthened him, even when they weren't there. With the force of the push, he managed to get most of the head out. He felt a tear as the baby reached the widest part of its skull, but he powered through it. It didn't even hurt, not compared to the rest of it. He doubled down, his contractions seeming much quicker after such a hard push, the pressure coming again.

Namjoon felt the baby's nose pop out, pushing past his tight rim. He was also relieved that the baby hadn't inherited his chin. He barely felt it pop out. Once the whole head was out, Namjoon gave himself a rest. He had seen many birth videos online, and most of them got the mother to wait after pushing the head out, not pushing in that contraction, but god, was it hard.

Every fibre in his body pleaded with him to get the big intrusion out of his body. "Ok, just a few more." He cheered to himself out loud.

He breathed through the first contraction, struggling to keep his pushes at bay, but he did it. Now it was time for the baby to get the fuck out. He pushed as hard as he could. He gently turned the baby, angling the shoulders to not hurt the arms.

Namjoon had been mortified when he saw some babies come out with dislocated shoulders. He couldn't let that happen. He would keep his baby safe.

The final contractions really hit hard for the once-great leader. He screamed for the next three, pushing as hard as possible. He felt the small baby slide out of his body, and a loud wail erupted from the tiny creature.

Namjoon sobbed a little harder, hearing his baby. He wasn't sure if it was relief or just his emotional outlet, but when he reached forward and picked the blood-covered thing up, he and it just sat for a few minutes, crying.

The new father took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and started to rock his baby. He still wasn't finished yet, and he knew it. He had to push the placenta out, cut the umbilical cord and make sure he wasn't bleeding to death all before he could stay with his baby, but calming them down for a few seconds wouldn't hurt.

He waited until the crying died and then sat the small thing to his side on a towel he had placed beforehand. He wrapped them up, so they were warm and then went back to pushing the placenta out. It took him another few minutes, but once he was sure it was mostly out, he used the cord to pull the rest, letting out a tiny wail once it left his body. He was so sore. Everything ached, and he was so tired.

All he wanted to do was cry. Cry and hug his baby and have someone hug him. God, he missed his friends and his family. He didn't want to be alone, but he had to. The baby let out another whimper, and he quickly picked it back up. He'd come to realise he was never alone.

Finally, he could have a good look at his little bundle. He looked down at the baby, cooing instantly. The small little nose, soft lips, and puffy eyes were all adorable to him. He moved the towel to get a good look at the baby.

He had never found out the gender when he got his scan. He felt bad for neglecting the health problems of not checking the baby properly, but he couldn't risk going to the hospital more than once.

They would report him if they picked up on who he really was. He would have to go back, and he couldn't. So now was the first time he would know his baby's gender. He took a deep breath, trying not to think about how creepy it felt to look at his baby's privates purposefully and look.

He let out a happy cry seeing his baby girl. He had a little girl. He moved her closer to his chest, making sure she remained warm. "Hello, baby." He chuckled wetly. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm your Appa."

He didn't know whether to call himself an Appa, but he couldn't see himself as anything else. This wasn't supposed to be his life, but with his little girl in his arms, he couldn't regret it.

-

It took Namjoon a few days to get used to life with a baby now. It was hard for him because he was doing it alone.

He was sleep deprived, hungry from not having time or energy to go out to get food for himself, and a bit grotty because nipping off to shower couldn't happen, but he was trying his best. He had been sore the first two days, just staying around his room, looking after the baby and laying in bed.

He couldn't really do much anyways because he couldn't leave. He barely kept the two alive for the first week, but things felt better for the second week.

He set the little girl down for a sleep on the seventh day and quickly nipped in for a shower. The feeling of water on his skin was amazing but short-lived, as he had to get back out before she woke up. He ordered groceries online and delivered them to the apartment, and once he managed all that, he got a good night's sleep. His little girl had been wonderful the whole time.

He was so happy with her until the third week arrived. It started off on the Tuesday night of the third week. The little thing seemed fussy throughout her dinner, making Namjoon anxious.

She didn't have much, and then she was quiet until the two had been asleep for about 35 minutes. A loud wail emitted from her tiny lungs, alerting her Appa.

Namjoon shot awake, bolting to the baby. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?" He cooed, picking her up. He checked her nappy, seeing if it needed to be changed. No, so he figured she was hungry again. She hadn't eaten before, so he tried to feed her, but she didn't take to that either. He frowned. Maybe she needed to burp again?

He laid her over his shoulder, patting her back, but again nothing came up. Finally, he figured she just wanted some soothing. He began to rock her back and forth, swaying his hips to keep her calm. "Shhhh baby, Appa's got you." He said sweetly.

She continued to wail until she was exhausted, pretty much passing out. Namjoon sighed and laid her down in the crib. He wondered what must have been wrong, but he figured maybe she was just fussy tonight. Maybe something disagreed with her. He noted to keep an eye on her the next day and then went back to sleep.

Namjoon started to panic on the third day of this. For the second day, she seemed to be mostly fine like the day before, just a bit whiny. On the third day, however, she really started to fuss.

Right from the moment she awoke at 5 in the morning, she started wailing. Namjoon rushed to her side, quick to soothe her, offering food and cuddles. The baby quieted but never really stopped her whining.

Every little thing seemed to set her off, and she would scream loudly, ensuring everyone on the whole level could hear her.

Namjoon was starting to become stressed and worried. Was there something wrong with his baby? Had he hurt her in some way? He thought he was doing well. He tried his hardest not to become upset but lost the battle.

He managed to get her down for a small nap in the middle of the day, probably out of exhaustion again, allowing him time to calm himself, but it hit its peak at around 6 in the night.

She screamed and screamed, crying and wriggling around in his arms. Her little face was scrunched up, with tears running down her red face. He felt like he had hit a wall, his emotions bursting as he cried. "I'm sorry! I don't know what you need." He sobbed along with her.

He was rocking back and forth again, trying to soothe her with a dummy, but she kept spitting it out.

"I've tried everything." Namjoon pleaded with the baby. He was beyond worried about his little one, the stress eating him inside. The final straw was a loud thumping on the wall beside his bedroom. "Shut that fucking baby up, or I'll come and shut it up for you!" A person yelled. Namjoon only cried harder along with his baby.

Great, even the druggies think he's a bad parent.

He had to do something for her. She was clearly suffering for some reason, and he couldn't fix it alone. He had avoided the hospital at all costs, but now he had to take the risk. He couldn't lose his baby.

Namjoon packed a bag of overnight things for him and the baby and then strapped her into a carrier. He pulled out his phone, which he had turned off for several days, and called for an Uber. He ignored the pings on his phone as he quickly ordered the car to take him to the hospital and then went to the curb to wait.

It was now in the middle of winter, so he wrapped the baby in two blankets while dressing her in a thick onesie, a beanie, little mittens and some thick socks. He pulled the cover-up over the carrier, ensuring no wind blew into her face.

He had an old jacket on. It was a bit tight as he still had a lot of baby fat, but he didn't care about himself. He would take his jacket off if his baby needed more cover.

Thankfully, the man quickly arrived, helping Namjoon strap the car seat in and start to drive. The car was warm inside, so Namjoon pulled the blankets down to try and calm the baby again. Her cries were still loud but not as bad as before.

"Is she ok?" The driver asked worriedly. Namjoon sniffled. "I don't know. I'm gonna take her to the hospital." He admitted. The man nodded, telling Namjoon he would get them there quickly but safely.

Namjoon greatly appreciated it and then went back to comforting his girl. The man kept true to his word, and they were at the hospital no less than 20 minutes later.

Namjoon thanked the man, giving him a nice tip for being so helpful and then rushed into the ICU. He moved to the reception and placed the carrier on the desk. "Hello, how may I help you?" The lady asked.

Namjoon looked at her with a red face and teary eyes. "Hi, I need someone to check up on my baby. She has been crying nonstop all day, and I don't know what she needs. She won't eat as much, only sleeps if she's worn out completely, and she just doesn't stop crying." He rushed, feeling very agitated. He wanted her looked after right now.

"Can you tell me how old she is?" The lady asked, standing up to look in at the small baby, crying in the carrier. "She's just under four weeks old," Namjoon said. "And was she born ok? Early or anything?"

Namjoon didn't know, but he was sure she was born around when she was supposed to be. "She was born around 37 weeks." He admitted. The lady said that was fine.

She looked over at the little one, not seeing anything wrong, but she could tell that the crying wasn't just a hungry or tired cry.

"Alright, have you been to this hospital before?" Namjoon stilled. He would have to give their information. "No, I haven't." He said.

The lady nodded. "Ok, I'll need you to fill out some forms and get some information about your previous consultant so we can cross-check for a better diagnosis, but I have put you through to the NICU, and they will look after her immediately."

Namjoon nodded thankfully to the lady. He grabbed the board with the forms on it and then followed her to the NICU. A nurse approached them once they entered the wing and took Namjoon's baby from him.

"Follow me, sweetie. I'll check on her." The lady smiled at Namjoon. He did as told and moved into the room, sitting on a chair anxiously as the lady began to assess the baby. "You fill out those forms, and I'll do a quick exam of this little one." She smiled down at the little girl.

Namjoon nodded and hesitantly began to fill the forms out. He knew he would have to show ID, so lying was pointless. He really just wanted his baby to be ok. He filled the form out quickly and then placed it to the side, moving to stand by his child.

"She seemed to have shallow breathing. Did you say she was born early?" The lady asked. Namjoon shook his head. "I'm fairly sure she was born around 37 weeks." The lady frowned. "And you said that she hasn't been feeding right either?" Namjoon nodded.

"She'll take for a little while and then stop. She's only had like 3 feeds in the last day." Namjoon worried. The nurse nodded and looked back down, putting on her stethoscope and listening to the baby's breathing. "How long has she been like this?" She asked.

Namjoon sighed. "She started to fuss two days ago, but only today has she been really bad. She ate fine most of the time, maybe briefly, but then stopped today."

The nurse took a mental note and then stood up. "It seems like she's got some respiratory problems. I'll need to take an X-ray of her chest to make sure nothing is stuck. I'll start her on some oxygen to keep her breathing normal. I'll need to ask some questions about your birth and history." The lady said.

Namjoon felt anxious, but he had to find out what was wrong. He would give all the information he needed to get his baby girl healthy again. The nurse left to set up the oxygen machine and hand in the forms Namjoon had filled out.

-

The nurse in reception filled out the information in the system. She looked over the previous physician's list and found it empty. She frowned, wondering why he would have left it empty. "I'm going back in now. Can you page me when the X-ray is available?" The other nurse said. The lady nodded and went back to her job.

-

Namjoon watched as the lady taped a breathing tube onto his baby's face, keeping the tube in her nose. "This will help. Then we can discover the main problem once she's back to normal breathing." The nurse smiled calmly at Namjoon, making him feel better. He thanked her, relieved.

"So, I have some questions about what might be wrong." Namjoon nodded and looked at the lady. "The birth, was it problematic in any way?" Namjoon hung his head.

"Yes, it was quite stressful." He admitted. The lady nodded. "Was there anything wrong with her at the time? No breathing problems. The cord wasn't around her throat?"

"No, she was fine when she was born." The lady scrunched her nose, thinking for a moment. "What did the doctor say at her first check-up?" She asked. Namjoon awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his girl.

"She hasn't gone for a check-up. This is her first one." He knew it sounded bad, but they had been doing well... The lady looked at him concerned.

"She was supposed to have a check at 3-5 days? Didn't your previous doctor tell you that when you got released after the birth?" Namjoon shook his head. "I had her at my house. T-there wasn't a nurse there." He made his tone soft, nearly a whisper.

"What?" She asked, a bit surprised at what she thought she had heard. "I had her by myself at my house. I couldn't make it to a doctor." The nurse was stunned. She wondered how the man had managed all by himself and why he hadn't taken the baby to a hospital sooner.

"I can't really afford it." He lied. He could afford it but didn't want to get turned in.

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and then repeated the questions. "So would you say it was a hard birth? Sometimes a stressful birth can cause problems." The lady said. Namjoon shrugged shamefully.

He had never given birth before, so he didn't know if it was hard. "I'm sorry, I'm still new to all of this." He felt bad for not being more of a help.

The lady shook her head. "It's alright. The X-rays will give me a good hint at what is going on." She smiled. Namjoon nodded and relaxed, the lady leaving him until she had to come back for the X-rays.

He moved over to the seat by his baby, looking at her now calm little face. She was fast asleep, probably tired from being up for so long. He, too, decided to get some shut-eye, dozing off in the chair.

About half an hour later, the lady returned to the room, waking Namjoon up to go for the test. He stayed with his little girl the whole way, ensuring she was ok.

The lady was very happy with her behaviour throughout the procedure, giving her a little stuffed toy to sleep with. Namjoon smiled happily as his little girl was just about the same size as the teddy bear she was given.

"It will take a little while for the results to check them over. You can both return to the room. I'm sure you'll want a rest." Namjoon thanked the nurse again, returning to the room for more sleep.

He fed his little girl just before putting her to sleep again and then dozed himself. They managed a good two hours before the nurse came to get him.

"Thankfully, we have found nothing serious. I let you guys have a bit longer to sleep, knowing that you might need it." She smiled. Namjoon was incredibly thankful.

"She has asthma. It's not a bad case, either. It is probably just worse because of the cold. She will get prescribed a puffer and spacer. I'll teach you how to use it if you don't know. Give her one to two puffs when you think her breathing is getting shallow, and she should be good."

Namjoon sighed in relief. He could cry hearing the news. In fact, he did. Fat tears started to spill out of his eyes.

"She's not dying." He breathed heavily, burying his face into his hands with a relieved chuckle. The lady moved closer and touched his back, reassuringly rubbing it.

"No, your baby girl is just fine. In fact, apart from asthma, she's very healthy. She could be much worse from what you said about the birth." Namjoon looked up at the lady. "You're doing a great job at taking care of her." She smiled, and Namjoon couldn't hold the need to hug the girl back. He jumped off the bed and wrapped her in a hug.

The nurse chuckled and patted his back again. "Thank you so much." He sniffled, moving away once he realised how inappropriate he was being.

"It's ok. I assume it's stressful to be a new parent, especially a single one." She said with a soft smile. Namjoon nodded, slightly ashamed, but he knew she wasn't judging him. "Once I fill out the prescription, you both can go home." She smiled.

Namjoon was beyond ready to head back to his house. He was so happy that the lady was so nice, but he didn't want to risk being out in public more than necessary.

About an hour later, Namjoon said goodbye to the nurses and took his baby home. The kind lady smiled and waved him off before turning back to the other nurse at the desk.

"So we just send his reference to the outpatients." She said. The nurse nodded and brought up his file. Her face fell slightly, and she looked back to the nurse. "Wait, is that his name?" She asked.

"Yeah, Namjoon. Why?" She furrowed her brow at the weird reaction. "He's part of a missing persons case. We have an alert to look out for him." The nurse looked back out the glass windows after Namjoon. She felt bad for the guy. She didn't know the reasons for his life. Maybe he was kidnapped, maybe he was raped or domestically assaulted.

"We have mandatory reporting." The other lady said, looking sad as well. Both ladies sighed, knowing there was nothing they could do. It was law, and they had families to look after.

-

Namjoon had been having a much easier time with his little girl now. Just before she went to sleep, he would give her two puffs of the inhaler and ensure she was snuggled up in warm blankets. He bought an air humidifier to help with the cold air as soon as possible.

His little girl had been doing fine. He managed another week by himself with no problems until the crying returned. He worked through the first night, rocking her gently and calming her down.

He decided to sleep in the chair beside her cot that night, knowing she always slept better when he was around. He wondered whether she could sense his presence. Maybe she just needed to be with her daddy.

However, his idea was spoiled the next night when she wouldn't calm down, even when he held her. "No, please don't start this again. Appa is trying his hardest." Namjoon sighed, feeling his own emotion bubbling again.

He rocked, changed, fed, and gave her her puffer, yet she still wouldn't stop crying. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." He cried again. He couldn't stop the thoughts if only he had help.

-

"Are you sure this was the address?" Jin asked, eyeing the building. It was run down and creepy looking. They had already heard 3 different sirens going off in the last 10 minutes, indicating how bad the neighbourhood was.

"Yes, this is where the investigator said he was." Yoongi sighed. The six boys all gave each other a nervous look and then headed into the stairwell to go up the floors.

"There isn't even an elevator? What type of place is this?" Taehyung whined as they approached the second set of stairs. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his lazy Hyung, joking about the older wanting the others to carry him up the stairs.

"Don't tempt me." Tae quipped back as they started onto the third set of stairs.

"God, Namjoon Hyung had to do this every day?" Jimin questioned as they topped the third. The others all shrugged, finding it not hard, just annoying.

"We still don't know this is him," Yoongi said cautiously. He didn't want to be a downer but wouldn't get his hopes up. They had been looking for Namjoon for the last 5 months. It had been a rough time, and hope could only last them so long. "Let's not hold our breath." He warned, finally coming to the top of the fourth stairs.

He looked around at the fifth floor they were now on. It was dinky and smelt of cigarettes and piss. He couldn't believe that their leader would live in a place like this. They all took a deep breath and then moved to the 5th apartment.

This was the address the investigator had given him, and as much as this place was horrible, he fucking hoped it was right. Only so many times can you tell yourself that it doesn't hurt.

They approached the door, silence among them. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." A voice echoed through the paper-thin door. They could hear the sound of a loud baby crying, but they all were only focused on Namjoon.

"T-that voice... it's familiar." Hoseok whispered just loud enough that they all heard. The others all agreed, which made them all even more anxious. "There's nothing I can do! I'm failing." The voice called again with loud hiccups and sobs.

"Joon-!" Jungkook tried to call, but Jin put his hand over his mouth. "Shhh, don't yell. You'll scare him away." They remained quiet momentarily, hoping they hadn't given themselves away.

"God, I think I'm going crazy." A chuckle came from inside the apartment. "I can hear them. Your uncles. They always come to me when I need them." The boys' hearts ached to hear their leader talk about them.

"I miss them with all my heart." He said. "And I'm sorry you won't ever know how much they would have loved you." He sniffled again. "You would have been the light of their lives like mine."

All the boys had the exact same thought at that moment. Jimin, closest to the door, rushed forward and gripped the handle. He was surprised when the door opened, making a mental note to scold Namjoon about locking the doors later.

All six rushed in, finding the big leader looking up stunned in the middle of the floor.

The apartment Namjoon rented wasn't very big. It was a small studio apartment, but that's all he needed. He was trying to save money for the baby's later life, so the small room was enough for a single parent.

He had been crying on the floor with his baby in his arms when he heard his door burst open. He gasped and looked up, expecting to find a bunch of robbers or maybe busy police doing a search of the building. He did not expect to see the six boys he was talking about.

His eyes were so wide he was sure they would pop out of his head. Everything froze, and his little girl must have sensed a change in the room because she had stopped crying.

"Joonie?" Jin asked, looking at the tall boy on the floor with a baby in his arms.

Namjoon didn't want to move, scared that anything he might do would be wrong. He wholeheartedly wanted this to be his friends, his favourite people coming to find him, but he knew this wasn't good. This would make things so much worse.

"It's us, Namjoon-ah," Yoongi said softly, putting his arms out to show he meant no harm. Namjoon didn't need to swallow to feel the lump in his throat. It was so big that he almost thought it was blocking his breathing, but he knew that wasn't true. He was blocking his own breathing. "You can't be here." He choked out after more silence. The six boys looked at him cautiously.

"But we are. We are here for you." Jimin smiled, trying to show Namjoon their love, but the leader shook his head. He felt his tears returning, and he was positive he couldn't stop them. His whole body began to shake as he looked at the six.

"You have to leave. You have to leave." He chanted a few times with a fragile voice. "Please go away." He turned back down to his baby and held her closer.

"Hey Joon, it's ok. We aren't going to judge you." Hoseok reassured the boy, thinking he was nervous over the baby, but Namjoon kept rocking himself, telling them to go away. He pulled the small baby to his chest and tried to curl in on himself.

"If I close my eyes, you'll go away." He mumbled. The boys were concerned that he wasn't as mentally stable as once.

"Namjoonie, we aren't going anywhere. We just found you again." Jin said, trying to keep his voice happy and hopeful.

"Please, Hyung," Jungkook said. "We can go home now." Namjoon shot his head up, looking at the youngest.

"I can't go home. I can never go home." He said, his voice very clear and low.

Everyone was a bit stunned by the sudden firmness in his voice. "Why not Joon-ah?" Yoongi asked. He made the first attempt to get closer to the boy. He crouched down and went to rest a hand on Namjoon's shoulder, but the boy flinched away.

"Somebody did this to you, didn't they?" Taehyung asked, watching the leader intensely. It seemed obvious that Namjoon had been forced into something he didn't want. "Who did this? We can help you." Tae encouraged, joining Yoongi by the leader.

Namjoon shook his head and held his baby tighter. She fussed slightly at the tight grip, so Namjoon quickly let go again.

"Who hurt you, Namjoon? We will find them and make them pay." Jimin's face was stone cold. His voice was laced with venom. He was ready to beat whoever hurt his leader, friend, and brother.

"No, no, I can't. He said he'd hurt you if I did." Namjoon choked on another sob, starting to work himself up again.

"He can't hurt us, Hyung. We will find him and make him pay for hurting you." Jungkook held a fist up, showing that he meant to use it. There was silence for a moment, waiting for Namjoon to answer. "We are going to help you, Joonie. We will fix this. I'll take a DNA test of that baby to fix this if I have to." Jin said. Once again, Namjoon hugged the baby closer, thinking about his baby being used against him.

"Tell us who did this." Yoongi finally managed to touch the boy without him flinching away. He held his chin, lifting his face to look into his eyes.

"It started last year." He said, looking straight into Yoongi's eyes, though the rapper could tell he wasn't focused.

"Mr Lee approached me after dance and said I was falling behind." Namjoon's voice shook as he told his friends his biggest secret. "He offered me extra time to dance, and I wanted to be better for you all." He blinked a few times, trying to keep his tears away. "It didn't happen until the fourth time I stayed back." He could feel the tension from the rest of the group, so he kept his eyes on Yoongi. "I went to the bathroom after I finished the extra practice when he came in. I freaked out at him, telling him he was a weirdo for barging in when he knew I was there, but he just laughed at me. He pushed me against the wall of the cubical and started to touch me." Namjoon's voice broke the more he spoke. "I tried hard to fight back but was tired after all the practices. He had been making me stay back so he could wear me out, and then he struck when I was weakest." Namjoon took a moment, collecting his thoughts before he continued again. "After he raped me, he took pictures of me and said if I told anyone, he would leak them. I was so scared, so I didn't do anything." Namjoon felt ashamed. His pride had gotten him into this mess. "Eventually, I told him that I didn't care anymore. I wouldn't put up with this, but then Tae fell down the stairs, Jin Hyung nearly got hit with the sandbag on stage, and Hobi got the knife in the mail." The boys' eyes all widened, looking at Namjoon. "He said he would hurt you all if I told anyone." Finally breaking eye contact with Yoongi, Namjoon hung his head, looking down at his daughter. "Then, on the 5th of May, I found out I was pregnant. I told him I would get rid of the baby, but he told me not to. He said he would hurt everyone if I got rid of the baby, and then he told me to run away. He wanted me gone." Namjoon felt a hand on his shoulder but didn't look up.

"Joonie, you didn't have to protect us," Jin said, his voice weak.

"He got into our house once, he left death threats for Jimin, but I got them first. I couldn't risk letting you all get hurt." Namjoon sniffled, seeing how sad his friends looked at his sacrifice for them. "He could have done anything to us when we slept when we weren't home. I couldn't risk it." Namjoon looked up. "Not once I had my baby."

The others all gathered around him close. They hadn't forgotten the seriousness of the conversation, but they knew not to push too hard. Taehyung got down on his knees, looking at the small girl. "What's her name?" He asked with a kind smile. He touched her foot, giving it a cute little shake.

Namjoon frowned and looked down at her. "I...I haven't named her yet." He admitted.

"What? Why not?" Jimin furrowed his brows at the father. The baby must have been a few weeks old by then, and she still didn't have a name.

"I don't know. I couldn't think of a name for her. They all made me sad. Wondering if I was picking the right one for her to have her whole life."

Namjoon looked at her soft little face. She had finally drifted off to sleep, calm from the people surrounding her. "I didn't have anyone to tell me whether it was a good name." The leader shrugged. There was silence again for a moment until the youngest spoke.

"What about Sook-sun?" Namjoon looked to Jungkook, contemplating the name. "It means pureness for Sook and goodness for Sun. It would be pure goodness." The suggestion warmed Namjoon's heart.

He thought about it for a while, looking back at his baby. He gave a small chuckle when her nose wiggled in her sleep. "Sook-sun. I love it." He smiled brightly. Jungkook grinned at the two, happy to be able to help.

"It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl," Jin said, placing a hand on Namjoon's shoulder. "She is pure goodness to us all," Tae added.

Namjoon felt his heart soar. His friends were amazing. Not even knowing about the little baby for more than an hour, they all looked down at her with endless love.

"You're an amazing parent Joon-ah." Hoseok admired the leader's skill. "She's such an amazing little human already." He added, happy to be able to make Namjoon smile wider. "We won't let her be alone again, and neither will you," Jimin said strongly.

The tone of the voice made shivers run down Namjoon's back. "We are going to sue that man for everything he's worth. You're coming home with us, and we aren't accepting no." Yoongi insisted, crossing his arms, so they knew he really meant it.

"H-how can I go back?" Namjoon asked quietly. "I can't be in the band with a baby. Not to mention I've lost all talent I had. I'll be right back at square one." Namjoon sighed, but the others scoffed.

"Lost your talent? As if you ever could." Hoseok chuckled at the stupid words of the leader. "Joon-ah, you have more talent in your little finger than anyone else could." Namjoon looked up with sparkling eyes. He hated that he wanted to cry once again, but his hormones were still a mess. "Nothing could stop us from wanting you to come back, Hyung. We will all help you with Sunni." Namjoon smiled at his baby's nickname already.

"We will work everything out." Taehyung looked at the others, seeing them all agreeing with him. They would bring Namjoon home...

Because they would never leave him behind. They found him now, and he wasn't going anywhere again. They were always 7.

[mdzs-kinkmeme]

why is it that you have to manually de-anon the fics submitted? it makes me nervous about submitting fills to the kinkmeme because i'm worried about delays / if it'll just end up not de-anoned at all for some reason. (i'm paranoid 😅) wouldn't it be easier to have fills off-anon by default and point people to one of the anonymous collections elsewhere on AO3 if they want to be anonymous?

I've definitely thought about doing it that way, but ultimately decided on having it be anon by default because

(a) that seemed more in the spirit of the original Livejournla-style kink memes, which were overwhelmingly anonymous-only

(b) a lot of people don't know how to use the Anonymous Collection and folks already struggle with the limited guidelines the kinkmeme has to begin with, so I didn't want to make something as important as "privacy of your deepest and darkest kinks" difficult for them.

I do sometimes wish I'd gone the other way, since the vast majority of people do go ahead and de-anon immediately - I think if I did another kink meme in a different fandom, I'd go with default public, but at this point I don't want to confuse people by switching horses mid stream.

If you're paranoid about me not de-anoning quickly (which is a fair thing to be concerned about at this point because as submissions slow down, I'm not checking every other hour anymore) then you can always send me an email ahead of time to make sure I'll be online to see the notification right away when you publish your story!

It's not uncommon for me to de-anon within, like, ten minutes of something being posted; most of the time it's a few hours max because that's the longest I typically manage without looking at my phone. The biggest problem is if you've submitted something as a draft, I will get a regular notification for that draft, and then I have to remember to go back and check to see if it got published for real on my own because I'll never get a second email.

Seriously though, if you have a concern of that sort, reach out to me on a messaging platform or via email ahead of time.

Or...you can even publish the story NOT in the collection to start with, then add it once you've received the first wave of reader reactions!

[ineff-ability]

hide and seek.

Memories are funny, finicky things, aren’t they? Moving in and out of the mind’s focus, like a piece of driftwood floating over the sea. Like hide and seek. And once you think about them, you can’t make them go away.

Sometimes, I would wish that they’d disappear. That they would fade out, like the ending of an 1970s song, and the right shade of green wouldn’t bring a pair of eyes to mind and a wave of nausea. Perhaps it was idealistic.  But all I wanted was to be able to watch movies without a cavity forming in my chest when I didn’t hear the usual commentary following along.

“Alara!”

The call of my name snapped my attention back to reality. I lifted my eyes to meet with my friend’s sheepishly. Nevaeh raised her eyebrows and looked at me with a crooked grin.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I waved a hand. My lips had become accustomed to those words. “What were you saying?”

Nevaeh shrugged, “I was just saying that my brother and I were going through my mother’s boxes earlier!”

“Oh!” I remembered faintly that Nevaeh’s late mother had a slight obsession with boxes – kept loads of them for no reason. “Anything interesting?”

“Some old photographs of hers,” Nevaeh stirred her coffee, “It was definitely rewarding though.”

“I can tell,” I observed, “You seem so much brighter today.”

Nevaeh laughed, “Really? Ezra was saying something similar.”

“Well, he’s right,” I said, taking the final sip of my coffee, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

If only I had that kind of privilege.

My phone buzzed from my pocket, and I lifted it to read a notification from my lock screen as I listened to Nevaeh talking about how she had been thinking of visiting the church again. The name Wren shone from the screen, and I swiftly clicked on my roommate’s message.

i’m going out to meet with some friends. will be back late – left the keys under the plant pot. see you later!

Wren’s social life seemed to never stop. Sometimes, I would wonder how she found time for everyone. I couldn’t ever find time for many more than five people. It had been the same even before the accident.

“I think I’m gonna have to go,” I showed Nevaeh the message with a slightly amused smile.

Nevaeh snickered,  “Doesn’t Wren realise that the plant pot is the most common place to hide keys? Go home, before someone breaks in!”

“Say it louder, won’t you?” I rolled my eyes at her, before waving goodbye, promising to text and leaving.  

The weather had been chilly lately, with summer fading into autumn. The days were growing shorter and shorter, darkness falling earlier than usual, but I didn’t mind. Winter was my favourite season.

It used to be summer. That changed. July held too many memories. July, his birthday month. July, the month that he was driving to his surprise party and never turned up. July, the month I had a call telling me that it had been quick. The funeral had been in August.  

Soon enough, everyone else had moved on. People started watching me with anxiety-ridden eyes as they danced around conversation topics, as if I were a ticking time bomb. Eventually I had enough of it. And so, I buried it. I took down all the photos and shoved them into a box. I deleted all the pictures from my phone, deleted our playlists and got rid of anything that could remind me of my best friend. It was all hidden away.

But of course, the memories would return. The one thing I had no control over.

I reached my block of flats and walked in, making my way straight up to my flat. Making my way down the familiar hall, I stopped automatically outside my door. The regular array of plants grew outside our door, at Wren’s insistence. But something seemed amiss. Had something moved out of place? Perhaps Wren had shifted something whilst she hid the keys. That made sense. I reached under the biggest plant pot to find the keys and unlocked the door quickly, before stepping in and letting it swing shut behind me.

Home sweet home.

But something felt wrong. The door opened into a hall as usual, with five doors – two bedrooms, one kitchen, the living room and bathroom. The walls were the same shade of magnolia that had been there since we moved in. Wren’s trainer collection was scattered across the entrance, not to my surprise, along with my three pairs of shoes. The living room door, however, was shut. My frown deepened as I slowly stepped forward, careful not to make a sound. We never shut that door.

I could feel my heartrate skyrocketing as I tried not to panic. Nevaeh’s words of caution echoed in my head. She had been joking obviously  – who would even want to be in my house? But my uneasiness still grew.

I pushed the door open.

The room was perfectly tidy. The TV was on, playing a show that I hadn’t watched in a year. And on the sofa sat a boy. A boy with curly brown hair and a curious shade of green eyes and a smattering of freckles. A boy who lounged on the sofa like he’d known this place for years. A man, in fact now, whose funeral I swear I had attended a year ago.

The clocks seemed to stop. Time moved through a thick wad of honey as I stared, open mouthed, at someone who was meant to be dead. The bitter taste of coffee stained my tongue. My heart stuttered and I sucked in a sharp gasp, causing him to spin around.

I found myself staring face to face with my best friend. My dead best friend. Connor. My lips formed words but no sound came out.

“Alara.” He spoke first, rising from the sofa and taking a step towards me. But I stumbled back instead, falling over my feet and gripping the door handle so tightly that my knuckles went white.

This couldn’t be real. I remembered that phone call like it was yesterday, and the wreck his car made on the road with the other van driver who had lived and I had wanted to strangle for. I remembered his coffin, his funeral, the dead silence that came afterwards. Oh, God, the silence. But here he was. Standing in front of me.

But how could he be? It was impossible. It must have been a hallucination. I reached to pinch myself, flinching at the sharp pain. Not a dream. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that when I opened them, he would be gone. He was not.

Connor stood in front of me still, staring at me from across the room. The distance between us felt like oceans.

“I’m real,” he confirmed gently, as if reading my mind.

The first word that left my mouth was, “How?”

“You probably would want to sit down,” Connor gestured to the sofa. He moved closer to the window.

I approached the sofa, sinking into it. My emotions felt at war with each other, sending me through a stormy sea, the waves battering against the hull and pulling and pushing me from one way to another. My words were trapped, drowning under the weight of it all.

“You- you died,” I choked out, but Connor shook his head.

“You need to listen Alara. I’m sorry-”

“Sorry?!” I found myself reaching for the nearest object to me – the TV remote, and chucked it right at him. It was a terrible throw and the remote fell to the floor, but Connor winced all the same. “Sorry? I thought you were dead! You were hiding!”

“There’s an explanation! I promise you!” Connor tried to plead, but I had already had enough.

Rage festered in me, bubbling furiously. I needed to kick a wall or let out a scream – just something to release all my pent up frustration. If he was alive, why hadn’t he come back to me? I could have even found him if I knew! I reached for the next closest thing, which turned out to just be a pillow, and chucked it at him again. Connor ducked as it sailed over his head, and raised his hands in surrender. There was a look in his eyes that I couldn’t place. Was it regret? He wasn’t smiling. Good. I didn’t need his grin haunting me any longer.

“Alara, listen, please! I’ll explain everything soon, I came back to warn you, okay? You’re in danger.”

My breath stilled. He had to be joking. That was Connor in a nutshell. A jokester. But his face had grown serious, and something told me that he wasn’t lying. I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, I was interrupted.

Out of nowhere, three loud consecutive knocks echoed through the flat from the door.

Connor and I swore at the same time.

[cascadedkiwi]

Notes [Comfortember 2023]

Characters: Denki Kaminari x Female OC (Kliome) Manga/Anime: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Genre: Comfort (but more fluff, I think) Summary: Kliome leaves little notes for Denki throughout his day. Word Count: 1,243

Prompt 6: Notes

Kliome giggled as she lightly hung off of Denki’s neck in the doorway. “I love you,” she said in a cutesy voice.

Denki grinned down at her, holding his hands up. “I love you, too, cutie, but we gotta go.”

Kliome kissed his nose.

He gave her a helpless smile. “Kliome, come on. I’m actually set to be early to work for once.”

She gave a little pout, setting herself back on her feet. “Are we still on for lunch today?”

“I honestly can’t promise but I’ll do my best. Pray no one decides to make my day interesting?”

“Fingers crossed.” Kliome gave him one last kiss on his cheek before sprinting out to her truck. “Bye! Love you!” She called out the window as she pulled off.

Denki blinked, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head as he made his way to his car, pausing as he settled into the driver’s seat. A folded paper was tented on the steering wheel. He opened it.

‘Good morning Chargebolt, I hope you have a wonderful day! You deserve it.  Love, your biggest fan.’

He smiled again. The i’s were dotted with little zig-zags for lightning bolts. Kliome could be so precious. 

He arrived at the agency with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. “Share some of that happy with the rest of us,” called a sidekick playfully.

When he went to change into his hero costume, something fell out of his jacket. Another paper, this time yellow.

‘Thank you for all your hard work. We’re all safer with you on the street.’

No i’s for her to dot this time, but she signed the note with a lightning bolt regardless. He couldn’t help but smile again. Even though he was a pro now, the doubts still lingers at the back of his mind, old insecurities following him from his days at U.A. None knew that better than Kliome.

“Fan Mail?”

Denki startled at the voice in his ear, nearly dropping the note. He whipped around to see Hakurei snickering into the high collar of his jacket. “Moody!”

“You were watching that note pretty intensely.” Hakurei raised an eyebrow and Denki had to remind himself that this guy was only half a decade older than he was.

Denki shoved it into his bag in his locker. “It’s from Kliome.”

Hakurei’s smile grew. “Nothing like sweet words from your soulmate to send you into battle, huh?” He merely huffed a knowing laugh at the red that climbed Denki’s face.

Patrol had been uneventful until two guys decided that Denki needed to get his blood pumping. What started as an antique store heist turned into a foot chase that attracted a gang of known troublemakers just looking for a reason to show off their quirks. It only escalated from there, introducing multiple stolen cars and a giant of a girl with a projectile-type quirk way too similar to Bakugo’s. He definitely wasn’t making it to lunch.

It took them four hours to get the situation under control. Denki looked up as a firm hand gripped his shoulder. He gave Hakurei a wry smile. 

“Need a mood boost?” Hakurei offered, looking a bit worse for wear himself.

Denki shook his head, pushing his hair from his face. “Nah, thanks man. Looks like you need to use your quirk on yourself.”

“If only I could.” Hakurei stumbled, giving Denki a grateful look for not letting him hit the broken pavement.

A pair of paramedics came to check them over, taking Hakurei away in an ambulance. 

Denki plopped down on the sidewalk, catching his breath while waiting to be collected to go back to the agency. The paperwork was gonna be a doozy for this one. He pulled his phone from his breast pocket under his t-shirt. His message app was loaded with notifications, but Kliome’s chat - pinned to the top - was lit up with a tiny "1" in the colored circle. 

‘I heard some jerks decided to make your day interesting, ^^’. Don’t worry about lunch. We’ll make up for it later. I know you fought hard and well. I’m proud of you. And proud to be yours. :P PLEASE go to the hospital, Chargebolt. Even if you think you’re fine. I’ll be mad if you don’t >:(   I wuv you <3'

His lips pulled up to one side and he reread the message again before typing out a response, hitting send just as a set of footsteps approached him. It was time to get back to base. 

Denki was in the camp of agency employees that started paperwork at the earliest opportunity. Mainly so he could get as much as he could down while it was still fresh in his thankfully unscrambled brain. 

A quick shower and change of clothes later, Denki was making his way to his desk. Upon approach, he noticed a container set next to the thick folder waiting for his write up. Taped to the top was a blue paper folded in the shape of a star. He sat down before unfolding it.

‘Yes, I made this. Yes, it’s a salad. You know my salads are never lacking. Hope it can comfortably tide you over until you get off. You deserve every piece of chicken and shrimp in this bowl.

P.S. Eat every legume. Every single one.’

He carefully popped off the lid, taking in the colorful and weighty meal. She had stripped the lettuce, fried the chicken and the shrimp, and he counted three different kinds of beans, chickpeas, and pigeon peas, all tossed in a dressing he couldn't identify. It honestly looked like filling for her homemade naan or a tortilla.

Thankfully, he didn't have to leave the agency building for the rest of his shift so he was actually able to finish all the preliminary paperwork. The drive home was a careful one. He had a medical all-clear but was still sore all over. A fortunate coincidence that he was scheduled off tomorrow. Not so fortunate was that Kliome wouldn't be able to spend the day with him, but he reminded himself yet again that he would, in fact, not perish from Kliome-deficiency over the course of a 24-hour period. 

A pink note greeted him at eye-level on the front door. 

'Good work today, Chargebolt. Rest well.'

He took it inside. His face squinched in confusion at the mess that greeted him. Well, not exactly a mess. But there were folded papers on every surface. Every seat in the living room. The coffee table, the TV stand, the dining table… every chair had a paper folded over the back and one in the center of the seat. The kitchen island, the counters, the microwave, the fridge, even the pile of clean dishes in the drainer and the sink faucet. 

How long had she been planning this?

The bathroom was in a similar state. Folded papers of varying colours on the closed toilet seat, the toilet tank, their - dry - towels, taped to the back of the door... 

On to the bedroom, then. Spotless. Had she run out? He walked in to see their dresser. The mirror was completely outlined in post-its.

He sat on the bed. His phone went off in his pocket.

Good night, my electric love. I landed safely. Bet you won't find them all before I get back. :P

He smiled. He couldn't love this woman enough.

A/N: She also put a note in at least one pocket of all his clothes in their shared closet. He'll be finding them for months.

[lovemirrah]

11:20pm, 24 January 2023

Yesterday, a man I had been talking to/dating for the last 2 months packed up his life in Singapore and moved to the other side of the world. I was only told 3 days before, via text no less.

Naturally, I cried. For a few reasons: I felt blindsided, I felt disrespected, and most of all, because I actually like him. 'Like' is in the present tense because I still do hold those feelings for him. Feelings don't go away overnight (or in the course of the last few days, in my case). Since that bomb of a text, I've been talking to my therapist every day to navigate through my thoughts and emotions. We talk so much that the only time my phone lights up is when a notification from BetterHelp pings through.

I am currently in a better place than I was 5 days ago when I got the text, or yesterday. All I did yesterday was overthink, check my phone, and consistently looking at the clock. I had asked to meet for one final coffee before he flew off for good, but even that he couldn't spare some time for. I wish I could say he left me on read, but my message wasn't even read. Imagine that. Just imagine the audacity of that man.

By the time the clock struck 7.30pm, I gave up waiting for a response. His flight took off, we didn't have our coffee, and I sent a message to my therapist declaring that the ship has now sailed. I told her I didn't have it in me to try anymore. I wanted to stop finding the potential in him. My therapist, bless her heart. She's such an angel and truly, one of my biggest cheerleaders. And in all honesty, I am so glad for therapy. Without it, I think I would be crying into my pillow every night.

Tonight, I'll go to bed with a heart that's a little bit calmer and at peace. What was meant for me will never miss me. But boy, do I hope he misses me. Karma works in mysterious ways.

[lovewithasideoffries]

Forever - Jamie Bower x reader

Jamie Bower x reader (she/her pronouns used)

Summary: Jamie wants to propose, Y/n doesn't want to get married, but they both want one thing. To stay with each other. Forever.

Warnings: swearing? i think that's it

Type: honestly idk, like angst? a little? maybe fluff? idk it's just a story

Word Count: 1073

A/N: Let's just ignore the fact that Jamie and Y/n would immediately be swarmed with fans the second they stepped outside. Also first real fic so if it sucks, sorry!! I hope you enjoy! <3

When Jamie had taken you to your favourite restaurant you knew he wanted to propose. Well, that’s not really how you knew. It was more the buildup of all the slightly strange things that he’d been doing for the past month. Like him being on call with your parents for over an hour a few weeks ago and hanging up with a huge smile on his face. Or like him being caught in antique shops and jewellery stores multiple times within the last few months, as well as his “casual” questions asking about your feelings for him, not to mention him insisting you wear your best dress to dinner with him (that’s usually your job) and the fact that he hasn’t requested that the restaurant be closed for the night so the two of you can eat in peace like he usually does.

And although you loved your boyfriend with all your heart and would gladly spend the rest of your life with him (no kids though, you find children to be way too much to handle), the idea of marriage is… not really something that’s interested you. 

It’s understandable really, the reasoning behind your distaste for getting married. And there’s nothing against other couples doing it, it’s just something you personally didn’t want. A big part of that comes from your parents. Your divorced parents. Because no matter how much they claim they still love each other as friends and that there’s no bad blood between the two of them, the amount of times you’ve heard both rant about the other is astounding. And when you grow up hearing about how “your mother became insufferable the minute we got married” and “oh, sweetie your father is an amazing man and he’s one of my best friends now, truly, we just didn’t seem to work as a married couple”, it takes a toll on you.

So obviously, you’ve been a nervous wreck all night. Even more than Jamie, honestly. The night was coming to an end as you were both finishing up your meals, and you noticed your lover starting to get a bit more fidgety. You were absolutely dreading this. 

The server comes back to take your empty plates from you and you clear your throat awkwardly. This whole meal has been awkward. He’s nervous, you’re nervous, so besides talking with the many fans who’ve come up to you asking for photos and autographs, it’s been completely silent. 

You had been trying to avoid pulling out your phone, but it got to the point where it was so awkward you couldn’t even talk to him. You whipped out your device, and watched his face fall. Ignoring him, you opened Messages and searched through your photos to find a funny picture you could send to him. 

You settled on a selfie he had taken while drunk half a year ago. His hair was tousled, some of it sticking to his forehead, and he was making the stupidest version of the duck face you’d ever seen. You hit send and put your phone back in your pocket, watching to see his reaction. 

Immediately, you heard Jamie’s phone ding with a notification and watched as he pulled his phone out and immediately burst out laughing. 

“What is this from?” he asks, the tension finally broken.

As you’re about to explain, the server comes back with the biggest fucking ice cream sundae you’ve ever seen. With a giddy smile on your face, you look to Jamie in confusion. “Did you order this?”

“About that…” he trails off and you’re absolutely mortified when he gets on one knee. He pulls out a small velvet ring box and he opens it up for you to see the ring he’s picked out. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I’ve been dreaming about this day the moment I met you at the Counterfeit concert where you walked right into me and called me a “fucked out asshole” . I love you from the bottom of my heart and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, Y/n, will you marry me?” 

And he says it quietly enough that only a few tables notice the scene. You don’t know what to do. You really do want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you just don’t want to get married. 

“J, can we talk outside?” His face falls and your heart shatters in a million pieces for him. A single tear falls from his eye and he tries to wipe it away quickly, but you still notice. He nods, and you pull him out the restaurant and thank god the streets are quite empty tonight. 

“Look,” you start, “I… I love you, Jamie, I really do. I just don't want to get married. Not like, not to you, but just in general, you know?” He shakes his head, repeatedly wiping his eyes. 

“It’s like… you love me right?”

“More than anything.” 

“And I love you more than anything. So… why do we have to prove it?”

“What?” His voice is soft, vulnerable, and you know you have to be very careful with you next words.

“I just- I just don’t like the idea of marriage in general. It’s like, we both love each other, so why do we need to throw a big fancy party about it? Why do we have to wear rings to prove that we love each other?” 

“I- I don’t know. It’s just what people do. To bring their relationship to the next step.”

“But that’s the thing, J, can’t we bring our relationship to the next step without marriage? It’s just something I’ve never wanted to.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and you’re so thankful when he starts slowly nodding his head. 

“I think I get it,” he says slowly. “We just, like pretend we’re married? Kind of?”

“Yeah, kind of.” 

Jamie pulls you in for a hug, arms wrapping around you tightly. “As long as you’re with me forever, I don���t give a fuck whether or not we get married,” he whispers, before pulling you in for a kiss. But not a sloppy or lustful kiss, it’s soft, gentle, meaningful. Like a mutual promise “I’ll be with you forever.”

And when you finally pull away, you offer him a cheeky smile and say, “Can we go back in now so I can eat my dessert?”

[justdontaskme]

Want You Close (Leila Ouahabi x Reader)

A/N: Branching out with a few other player fics. Don't worry, more Alexia ones are in the work as are other player fics. I personally think Leila could use a little more love, so here is my contribution. Let me know what you think!

Once the plane finally hit the tarmac, you felt like you could fully breathe again. While you enjoyed playing in England, you had to admit that it felt good to finally be home. As you waited patiently to deplane, you turned your phone off airplane mode, watching as a bunch of new notifications came flooding in. 

Before you did anything else, you quickly messaged Leila to tell her you were waiting to exit the plane and couldn’t wait to see her. As you waited, you could feel yourself getting giddy about seeing your girlfriend after what felt like a lifetime. 

This season with Manchester United went relatively well, but being away from Leila would never get easier for you. 

You and Leila had originally met during her second spell with Barcelona. You had joined Barca when she was in Valencia, but the instant you two met, you instantly clicked. Patri had joked about the two of you getting together for a long time, but you both skirted around the idea. Eventually, Leila threw caution to the wind and asked you out. You’d been together ever since. 

As Barca continued to grow over the years and attracted more talent, you found yourself in a similar position to Leila had when she had initially joined the first team years ago. The lack of considerable playing time was wearing on your confidence and you started to worry about your position on the national team. 

So, you felt like you needed to make a change. You needed to grow your game and as sad as it was, you didn’t see yourself making that change by staying with Barcelona. 

Luckily for you, Manchester United was looking for another skilled midfielder to help build up their team. They offered you decent money, could guarantee that you would be a driving force in their attack, and the challenge excited you. Plus, you would have a small part of home as there was another Spaniard on the team with Ona. It was exactly what you were looking for, so you signed. 

While Leila was originally supportive of you shopping around for a new team, she didn’t like it. The fight that broke out when Leila found out you wanted to sign with the English team was almost the end of your relationship. She was devastated by the idea of you leaving her behind. She felt blindsided by your decision to search for clubs out of the country.

Moving to another team was one thing, but signing with a club in another country was a whole other thing she hadn’t prepared for. In her mind, you were planning on staying close by, maybe Levante, Valencia, or even Real Madrid if you really had to. She had no idea you were entertaining clubs in England. 

The weeks leading to your departure had been tense to say the least. You both sat in limbo as you had both said some hurtful things but never really broke up. Your teammates did their best not to choose sides, but they found it hard to be neutral when they knew you were doing what was best for your career.  

Eventually, the Barca girls had helped Leila see reason in your decision. Your girlfriend then stepped up and apologized, promising her full support no matter how much she was going to miss you. 

Now, it had been a year of long distance, and you could confidently state that the two of you were going strong. 

Grabbing your backpack and carry-on from the overhead bin, you finally made it off the plane and in the direction of the exits and your girlfriend.

When you spotted Leila standing there with the biggest smile on her face, you couldn't help but run to her, letting go of your suitcase so you could jump into her arms. Her display of strength as she caught you without wavering would always be so attractive. 

“Hola, bebé,” she said, squeezing you tightly to her body as best she could with your backpack in the way. 

“I missed you so much,” you nearly cried at being in her arms again. It had been over a month since you last saw her at the last Spanish national team camp. Both of your club schedules made it hard to see one another often, and Facetime just wasn’t enough. 

You don't know how long you two stood there, but you did know you were soaking in everything Leila Ouahabi. You absorbed the warmth of her embrace, took in her familiar and calming smell, listened to the soothing sound of her breathing. Damn, you had really missed this girl.

Carefully, Leila set you back down, cradling your face as she peppered a bunch of kisses everywhere but your lips, a little smirk on her face as she noticed your pout. 

"Mi amor, please," you complained, needing her to kiss you properly.

Thankfully, she took pity on you as she laid a nice kiss to your lips, keeping it appropriate for the public.

"Te extrañé mucho," Leila whispered when she pulled away, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she threw an arm over your shoulder. 

Her smile was infectious and you couldn’t help but stick to her side and hope all of her happy vibes would rub off on you. 

“Come, let’s get you home,” she reached for your suitcase before you had the chance and led you out to the car. 

As she loaded your stuff, you took in the sights and sounds of Barcelona. The weather was so much different from in London and you loved it. 

On the drive back, you were content to sit back and just listen to her animatedly talk about how much she missed you and all the mischief that she, Mapi, and Patri had gotten into since you last saw them. She also mentioned her brother wanting to grab dinner with them later tonight. 

Occasionally, you would turn to Leila, just to look at her fondly, to remind yourself that she was finally in front of you once again. And Leila being the goodball she was, always returned your glances with a funny face. Sometimes, it was her sticking her tongue out, other times she was scrunching up her face. Either way, it had you giggling like crazy. 

It felt really good to be home. 

****

When the two of you made it back to the apartment you and Leila shared, you made a beeline for your room, wanting to get a change of clothes and take a nap with Leila cuddling you. 

You quickly pulled out a pair of sleep shorts from your dresser before skipping over to Leila’s clothes, pulling out one of her loose t-shirts.

"Can we take a nap?" You asked sleepily, already falling onto the bed and curling your body into a more comfortable position. 

"Are you not hungry? I can make you something to eat?" Leila wondered, depositing your luggage at the end of the bed. 

You shook your head, instead opening your arms up to her. Leila smiled before crawling in beside you. She cuddled up close, her face falling into the crook of your neck as she half laid on top of you.

The two of you just laid there comfortably, reveling in the feeling of being whole once again. 

It wasn’t until you let your eyelids flutter shut, that you felt your girlfriend pressing soft kisses to your neck. You hummed lowly as she started to nip lightly at your more sensitive spots. 

"Leila?"

"Hmmm?" was the response as Leila continued her actions, her fingers starting to slowly push up the bottom of your shirt. Her fingers skimmed along the newly exposed skin. 

It felt too good for you to ask her to stop, so instead you gently lifted her head so you could bring her lips to your own. As your lips molded together, you couldn’t help but feel at peace as warmth spread throughout your body. It emboldened you enough to press a much deeper kiss. The moan that escaped the back of Leila’s throat was enough to tell you that you wouldn’t be getting a nap anytime soon. 

Your hands went to the back of her neck, allowing you to play with the soft baby hairs there as you slowly licked her bottom lip, asking her for more. Leila easily complied, her tongue coming out to meet yours. 

And this time it was your turn to moan. You didn’t fight Leila when she made a move to remove your shirt. Instead, you eagerly helped her, sitting up to make the task easier before falling back down onto the bed. 

"Maybe we could skip the dinner with your brother tonight?" you suggested, through soft pants. Now that you’d started, you really didn’t want to stop. 

Leila groaned, dropping her chin onto your chest, "I would love to, but my parents are supposed to be coming too," 

You huffed. If she hadn’t been in the way, you probably would have crossed your arms over your chest and turned away from her. It was the only way you knew to put a stop to your current activities. But Leila had other plans in mind. 

"But we still have plenty of time before we have to go. More than enough for me to take care of you," Leila added suggestively, her lips teasing the side of your neck. 

With a grin, you pulled her back to you and allowed yourself to get lost in her, knowing that you could always sleep tonight. 

****

A few days later, you finally had some time to settle back home, so you and Leila decided to invite some of the Barca girls over for dinner. As the host, you were adamant about creating a feast for your friends. You always loved cooking for your loved ones. 

Leila was standing on the other side of the kitchen, eyeing you in your sweats and one of her old training tank tops. She always loved when you wore her clothes. To her, you always looked way better than she did in her clothes. 

"Smells good, bebé," Leila came up behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist, chin resting on your bare shoulder. 

"Good, because I made some of your favorites," you said, holding up a small bite for her to taste. 

"Mmmm, so good," she complimented you, her body starting to sway back and forth slowly, bringing yours with it. "You're the best. Have I told you I loved you today?"

"Yes, but it is always nice to hear," you said, going back to stir the food in the pot. 

Leila took the wooden spoon from your hand, placing it on the side so she could properly turn you around, "Te quiero. Eres el amor de mi vida."

She was met with your blinding smile. Leaning forward, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, "Te quiero también."

Leila remained by your side as you continued to cook, keeping you company more than helping. She’d ask you the most random questions or repeatedly ask you what you were doing. Occasionally, she would help you clear the counter of food waste or dirty dishes, which you appreciated immensely. 

At the same time, she was picking at everything just to annoy you. Every time you turned around, she was sneaking a bite and she didn’t even feel guilty about it. She would try to make up for it by stealing another bite, but this time feeding it to you. With a roll of your eyes, you took the bite, and then smacked her hand away before she took any more. 

Just as you were about finished, you kicked Leila out of the kitchen, telling her to go clean up a bit before the girls showed up.

Bidding you farewell as if you wouldn't just be in the other room, Leila entered the master bedroom, in search of a change of clothes. She was about to relax on the bed when she noticed your suitcase at the end of the bed, still untouched since you had gotten back. 

Knowing you and your loathing of unpacking, Leila decided to help do it for you. Lifting the suitcase onto the bed, she unzipped it just to be surprised by its contents. Carefully, she started to pull out the clothes, laying them on the bed as she began to take inventory. 

“Cariño?” Leila called out to you. 

“Yeah, babe?” she heard you yell back from the kitchen where you were still putting the finishing touches on dinner. 

“Where are all your clothes?”

“One second, I can’t hear you,” as she waited, Leila continued to empty the suitcase. 

Not even a minute later, you entered the room, Leila’s back turned towards you, “Sorry, I was just finishing up. What were you saying?”

In response, she held up one of her old hoodies from your bag before gesturing to everything else she unpacked.

"Is this why I can't find some of my clothes?" As she rifled through the clothes, she found her favorite shirt, "I've been looking for this one for days. I thought I lost it somewhere."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your body feeling warm as embarrassment started flooding through your body. You folded your arms over your chest, shrinking into yourself.

Leila knew you liked wearing her clothes, but she had no idea you were packing her clothes whenever you went back to England. When she saw you curling in on yourself, she jumped to your side. 

"Oh no. No, bebé. I'm not mad at you,” Leila quickly reassured you, unwinding your hands from around your body. “I was just surprised. Why do you have my clothes in here?"

“I was going to exchange them,” you answered.

Leila pursed her lips at your response, “Exchange them? You don’t like these ones anymore?”

“I wore them so much that they don’t smell like you anymore,” you admitted, your hands going to cover your face, so she couldn't see how embarrassed you were feeling. 

Leila smiled at the admission, stepping forward until your bodies were pressed together. Carefully, she brought your hands down, her fingers intertwined with yours. She found your bashfulness adorable, "You like wearing my clothes when you're away?" 

You nodded almost imperceptibly, “It helps when I really miss you.” 

Her demeanor softened even more, as she held you tightly in her arms, carefully sitting down and pulling you into her lap, “I always miss you so much when you’re away too.”

“Yeah?” your question, your forehead dropping to her shoulder as the tension began to leave your body. One of Leila’s hands was resting on the small of your back, her thumb rubbing the most soothing circles on the sliver of bare skin peeking out from under your shirt. Well, her shirt really.

“Of course. If it makes you feel any better, sometimes when I really miss you and I can’t talk to you, I will take your body spray and spray your pillow before bed,” she admitted, not even missing a beat in revealing her secret. 

“Why would you do that?” you asked, the arms that were now haphazardly draped over her shoulders were now embracing her fully. 

“Because I’ll hug the pillow to sleep and I can pretend that I finally get to hold you again. But I have to say, it has nothing against the real deal,” Leila said, her point strengthened by the way she tugged you close, nuzzling her nose against your cheek. 

It did make you feel a bit better. You both knew long distance was going to be hard, but you found it funny that you both had a very similar coping mechanism. 

“Does that mean I can take more of your clothes?” you asked, hand gesturing towards the pile of clothes next to them. 

Leila laughed, but nodded her head, “Absolutely. You can take as much as you want without forcing me to do my own shopping for new clothes.”

Now that the mystery of Leila’s missing clothes was closed, you just wanted to relax in Leila’s arms. Which is exactly what you two do before your friends show up. 

Being back home always rejuvenated you in a way you’d been desperately missing in England. Really, having a small piece of home in being with Leila was only you could ask for. 

After your needed vacation with friends and family, Leila helped you pack up to head back to England. She helped fill it with her clothes so you'd always have something of hers close by. You returned the gesture by buying more of your perfume, so she she wouldn't run out while you're gone.

The sense of comfort you both were able to pull from one another, whether you were physically together or not, was everything. 

[ficwriterwastakenalt]

Twitch Crush

"Hey chat, today's a chatting day, which means you can ask me questions and I'll answer them," Yn said as she sat in front of their pc. 'Who's your twitch crush?' said the stream's voice shortly after. 'I adore you and your streams as well!' "twitch crush...hmm who's that fluffy brown haired one with gorgeous grey eyes," Yn smiled, thinking.

"Karl Jacobs with a K he's definitely a cutie chat" The chat started spamming with his name and saying to clip it and post it on twitter...which they did and @'d the poor boy. "Calm down, chat," Yn whispered quietly, a blush still on their cheeks. 

After the stream, Yn shifted in her chair because a lot of the chat was about Karl, which made her feel embarrassed. What if Karl saw it? What if he dm'd Yn? Yn's phone rang with a notification.

She opened it and saw that it was from their twitch instagram, so she looked at it. 'Karl Jacobs has requested to message you,' it said. Yn's heart pounded against their chest as she read the message, 'hey you're y/u/m right, I saw your stream today!'  

'Oh my God, no!' Yn accepted it with trembling hands and typed out a reply: 'This is them, and oh you did?’ Yn didn't realise it, but his heart fluttered as soon as that message arrived at his end. He looked over to his friend Sapnap and gave him the biggest puppy dog eyes before whining, "Sap, help me tell me how do reply." 

His friend laughed before taking the taller's phone and typing out a message before throwing it back at Karl. 'yes, I did...do you really think im cute,' Karl smiled as he read it before turning to face Sapnap, who was now on the phone with Dream. Karl dashed inside his room, his fluffy hair bouncing with each step, slammed the door, and leapt into bed, staring at his phone, waiting for Yn's response.

'So you saw that and yeah yeah I do you're really adorable Mr. Jacobs,' he wiggled his shoulders as the message from Yn popped up. It was simple yet let his heart fly higher than any bird could. He moved onto his back and immediately typed another reply, 'you're cute too,' he said. He sent it, then jumped up, leaving his phone on his messy bed. As he stood in the corner, his phone dinged twice, compelling him to peek before hastily answering Quackity and opening Yn's message.

'But I'm faceless, unless *checks windows*.' 'It's cool, I'm under the bed /j for legal reasons,' he replied, Yn blushing and giggling 'hey Karl, weird question but you up for a call?' Karl looked at the time and thought he had enough time to call before he had to meet up with Jimmy and the crew. 

Yn quickly fixed their hair, pressed the call button, and sat just outside of view. "Hello?" the brown-haired boy asked "Hello Mr.Karl Jacobs!" Yn said as she stuck her head into the frame of their phone. "I was right," Karl whispered, not even realising it. "About what?" Yn questioned, their e/c eyes wide with wonder and confusion as they looked at the man. 

Karl reddened, and Yn felt the sudden impulse to screenshot it, so they did. "WAIT DID YOU JUST SCREENSHOT ME?" Karl's phone shook as if he was walking, and Yn shrugged "Sapnap tell Yn delete the screenshot they took of me," Yn chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Yn screenshotted your guys' dms?  I know you're terrible at talking to girls, but Karl, I didn't realise you were that bad."

"SAPNAP SHUT UP -hmpf we're on call moron," Karl yelled, stamping his foot and huffing to blow the bangs out of his eyes, which appeared to Sapnap to be a little brighter. "Right now?" Sapnap asked, his gaze falling on Karl's phone, which was pressed against his chest, making Karl nod. "Can they hear me?" Sapnap asked again Karl drew back and stared at the screen. Yn smiled and nodded at him. 

"Send it to me, Yn, and tweet it" On their monitor, Yn opened Twitter and posted the photo she had sent to both themselves and Sapnap, with the description 'Karl Jacobs is really a blushing simp'. Both Karl and Sapnap were tagged by Yn. '@KarlJacobs_ requested to follow you,' '@sapnap requested to follow you.'

--6 months later--

Yn sat for hours on the plane, but it was well worth it. Jimmy had sent her an instagram message not long ago, asking her to come down to surprise Karl for his birthday, and Yn couldn't stop their heart from racing as they gazed down at the gift box in their lap and the plane descending to the runway.

--ya yk what happens blah blah blah 

As he stops, Yn looked up at Chris and then at the house, which had balloons tied to the mailbox, making her laugh. She got out and Chris followed, and Yn smiled at him as a thank you before they made their way into Karl's house, where Jimmy stood by the door, opening it for them and hiding Yn in his room. Yn sat in his streaming chair, her facing to the monitor the gift sat in their lap.

Yn couldn't help but nod off after their lengthy flight. Yn awoke not long after to Jimmy talking just outside Karl's door "Karl, your gift is in there" "I told you guys not to get me anything" Yn could almost see the pout on his lips now Yn heard shuffling and turned the chair staring up at Karl

"Y-Yn?" Karl muttered as Yn nodded and stood up, leaving his gift on the chair. Karl scooped up Yn and twirled them around before being tossed onto his bed, where he jumped and hugged Yn with all his might, making them laugh at his actions. Jimmy and the rest of the crew left the room, but not before taking blackmail photos.

Before they both grew tired of talking, they both have been talking about everything. "Karl?" Yn asked as she noticed Karl leaning against Yn's shoulder and wrapping his arms around their waist. He responded with a gentle hum, as if to say, 'I'm listening, but he's also too tried to talk', "You're my favourite twitch crush."

[hornime]

watch and learn | iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x team japan

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

warnings: 18+, timeskip!everyone, BIG MANGA SPOILERS BASICALLY, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: now i don’t know if iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer learned about female orgasms when he was studying sports science at irvine BUT he def knows how to show a girl a good time which is reason enough for me to write this. also, i read this article to prep for this piece and it was super enlightening, so i do recommend giving it a read if you’re interested!

in the middle of his morning run, iwaizumi slowed momentarily to check the repetitive buzzing of this phone, curious as to who was messaging him this early. when he’d left the apartment, you were sleeping, and you had the tendency to still be sleeping by the time he returned, so who else could it be?

he unlocked his phone, quickly finding the source of the notifications: the team japan group chat.

[06:43 AM] miya: hey @iwaizumi—you know stuff abt the human body right?

[06:43 AM] miya: cus like you studied it in college and shit??

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. i spent four years in america to earn my degree, came back home to support my country’s olympic team, and dealt with the biggest idiots of volleyball, only to get treated like this?

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: yes, miya. i took many courses on the human body. in fact that’s the purpose of my job. to know the human body. because i am a fucking athletic trainer.

[06:44 AM] miya: okay okay i get it. dumb question

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: why? is something up? you need help or anything?

[06:44 AM] miya: uhhh kinda

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata i’m not fucking asking this

[06:44 AM] bokuto: bro just do it

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata @hinata @hinata 

iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. what the hell are they going on about?

[06:45 AM] iwaizumi: so am i needed or...

[06:45 AM] hinata: YES

[06:45 AM] hinata: we had a question

[06:46 AM] sakusa: by “we” he means him, miya, and bokuto

[06:46 AM] suna: yeah don’t bring us into this

[06:46 AM] hinata: don’t listen to them! both suna and sakusa wanna know too

[06:46 AM] iwaizumi: okay. what’s up

[06:47 AM] hinata: we wanted to know how to make a girl cum

he chuckled in disbelief.

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: you’re telling me that you guys are in your mid-20s, literal olympic athletes, and you don’t know how to make a girl cum

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: have you never done it before??

[06:47 AM] miya: NO

[06:47 AM] miya: FOR THE RECORD IVE MADE MANY GIRLS CUM

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ME TOO

[06:48 AM] bokuto: i think

he laughed out loud, briefly startling another runner on the sidewalk.

[06:48 AM] iwaizumi: you guys are unbelievable

[06:48 AM] hinata: i mean she says she finished but idk what i did to make that happen

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ^^

[06:48 AM] hinata: so like i wanna know how to actually do it

[06:48 AM] suna: actually im kinda interested in this too

[06:48 AM] aran: i pray for your future girlfriends. this is painful to see. im out

[06:48 AM] kageyama: i’m with aran on this one. you guys are dumb

[06:48 AM] hinata: shut up. you suck.

[06:48 AM] miya: cmon iwaizumi, help a guy out

[06:48 AM] sakusa: it wouldnt hurt for you to give us some pointers at least

iwaizumi sighed.

[06:49 AM] iwaizumi: @miya @hinata @bokuto @suna @sakusa meet in the locker room after practice. ill give you guys a lesson in the art of pleasing a woman

to teach effectively, he needed a volunteer, though he was sure you wouldn’t need much convincing. you’d always loved the attention, and the biceps, of the pro athletes. he spun on his heel and jogged home.

you woke up to the sound of your apartment door opening, your boyfriend creeping inside, forehead damp with sweat.

“hey,” you said quietly, making your way towards him.

“hey, baby. sorry for waking you up, i was trying to be quiet.”

you giggled sleepily. “s’okay, haji. you spoil me too much anyway, always letting me sleep in for hours while you’re off doing god knows what.”

at that, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and as you tried to step into a hug, he shuffled back. “woah there, baby. i gotta shower, ‘m all gross from my run. and then,” he gave you a peculiar look that you couldn’t quite place, “i got a proposition for you.”

after his shower, he waltzed out of the bathroom, steam wafting out from behind the door. his tanned body made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be barely an hour after the sun’s risen, and you reached out to massage the tension in his shoulders. “so, what’s your proposition?”

“well,” he hesitated. “it’s a bit... unconventional. the team asked me to show them how to make a girl cum,” he took in your intrigued expression. “and it’d be a lot easier to explain if i had someone to do a live demonstration with. so,” his eyes flicked up to you. “that’s where you’d come in.”

“a... live demonstration? like you’re gonna make me cum in front of them?”

“yeah, essentially.” he gave you a devilish grin. “you want that, baby? wanna show those boys how a real man treats a gorgeous woman like you?”

you rubbed your thighs at his words. “yeah,” you purred. “i do. wanna show them how good you are to me.”

and that’s how you found yourself nestled between iwaizumi’s muscled thighs, back pressed against his chest, completely naked, with five of japan’s best volleyball players staring at your body in awe.

practically an expert in his field, iwaizumi knew the human body inside and out. this had many benefits; of course it allowed him to catapult up the ranks and work with the country’s best athletes to keep them at the top of their game, but it also had a unique side effect: an overwhelming vault of knowledge on how to make a woman feel good anywhere. 

you’d seen the proof firsthand; he knew exactly where to push, prod, stroke, and tease to have you cumming in seconds, over and over, as many times as you wanted. he was amazing, and you were well-aware just how lucky you were to have such a talented man in the sheets.

“oi,” iwaizumi snapped his fingers, drawing each of the players’ eyes away from your glistening cunt. “pay attention. i know more than anybody that she’s hot as fuck, but you gotta listen to what i’m saying or else there’s no point to this.”

he lightly pressed his lips against your collarbone, slowly tracing them against your jaw, the contact making you squirm. “if you wanna make a girl cum, first thing you gotta do is make her comfortable. if she’s worried about how she looks or sounds or smells she’s gonna be too stressed to let go.” he moved his hands to grope your tits, his calloused fingers brushing over your hardening nipples. “so reassure her, tell her how irresistible she is, how pretty her moans are, how tasty her pussy is. shit like that. the sexier she feels the better it’ll be.”

he leaned into you, whispering into your ear. “feeling good, baby? we can stop whenever.”

you nodded weakly, afraid to open your mouth, barely holding in your whines as his palms worked wonders on your chest and stomach, sending shocks of heat wherever they touched. 

you craned your neck up to observe the men before you. atsumu was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was worried they’d do something embarrassing if he didn’t keep them occupied. hinata was bouncing his leg up and down, wiping his palms on his shorts as he took in the plushness of your thighs. bokuto was basically drooling, greedily tracing your soft curves with his eyes. suna maintained his indifferent expression, but the reddening tips of his ears showed that he was a lot more hot and bothered than he let on. sakusa stood quietly to the side, leaning against the wall, mask tucked under his chin as if he’d just realized how much the temperature had gone up in the room.

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

"make sure to try different things; there’s multiple ways to make a woman cum. only like a quarter of women experience orgasms just from penetration,” someone made a sound of shock. “yes, the number is that small, bokuto.” 

his fingertip slowly trailed past your belly button, dipping into the mess between your thighs, causing you to slightly arch your back into the solid chest supporting you. “foreplay with the clit is your best bet; even stupid fucks like you probably wouldn’t screw it up too bad.”

hinata opened his mouth to speak, but iwaizumi anticipated his question and continued.

“i know you’re wondering where the clit is. it’s around here, under this hood of skin,” he slid his digit between your labia. “s’not gonna come with a label so you gotta explore a little bit. i know where hers is like the back of my hand, but for you guys, with your girls, you’re gonna have to move your fingers around. slowly. and pay attention to her expressions.” he began to rub in a circular motion around your clit, causing you to make small whimpers of pleasure and shift your hips to meet his movements. 

“if she clenches up or twitches when you feel a certain spot, like this,” your legs flexed as he increased the pressure, “that’s the clit. be kind, it’s not a volleyball. be gentle n’ make small circles, whether it’s with your fingers or your tongue.” 

he thought for a second. “speaking of which, oral’s important. very important. most women cum when they’ve been eaten out, so use your mouths for something more useful than just dirty talk. suck on the clit, maybe tongue-fuck her a ‘lil, but your main focus should always be the clit.”

he removed his hands from your sopping pussy, and you made a pathetic noise of frustration. “’m sorry, baby,” he muttered seductively in your ear. “don’t wanna have you finishing too early. lesson’s barely started.”

he turned his attention back to your audience, his lustful tone being replaced by a more instructional one. “there’s other places that’ll help a woman orgasm, too: her nipples, her neck, her ears—”

“her ears?” sakusa questioned. he blushed profusely as everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he’d opened his mouth. “what? we were all thinking it.”

“s’a valid question,” iwaizumi said. “yeah, you can lick ‘em if they’re sensitive. hers are.” as if to prove his statement, he licked a stripe on the shell of you ear, making you wiggle helplessly at the stimulation. “‘n leave kisses everywhere else. feels good for them just like it does for us.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and forcing your movements to stop as he traced patterns with his tongue all around your neck.

“something you should know about an orgasm is that it’s something called a positive feedback loop.” he looked up and was met with five blank stares. shouldn’t have expected anything from these dumb jocks, he lamented. “basically that means that, once you start releasing sexual tension, things will feel better and better until you climax.”

“oh!” atsumu chirped. “like how my sets get better and better throughout a game.”

“no, not really,” he quipped. “your sets suck throughout.” atsumu frowned at that.

iwaizumi exhaled exasperatedly. “the general idea is that the body gets more and more sensitive, muscle contractions become more and more frequent, and touches feel more and more stimulating until you cum. all right?”

they all made noises of understanding except for bokuto and hinata, whose eyes had glazed over at the first mention of an academic term. whatever, iwaizumi thought. they’ll get it through example.

"don’t worry about it too much if you don’t get it, that’s just an orgasm on paper. in practice, though, this is the crucial step: listen to her. she knows what feels good. never forget that you’re just an idiot with a cock.” he took a breath, gathering his thoughts before proceeding with his lecture.

“if she tells you to slow down, you slow down. if she tells you to go harder, you go harder. if she tells you to keep doing what you’re doing, you...”

“keep doing what you’re doing”, they all chimed in at staggered times.

“that’s right. don’t go faster or else you’ll mess up the rhythm and she won’t cum. and you wanna make her cum, don’t you?”

they nodded simultaneously.

“so if you keep up the tempo and force that feels good to her, you’ll be fine. questions?”

suna spoke up. “what about,” he choked on the word. “penetration?”

hinata hummed in agreement and bokuto jumped in. “yeah, what if i wanna make her cum on my cock?”

iwaizumi made a weird face. “that’s some pretty advanced stuff, but i guess i can go over it. when you try it, though, you have to be patient. with both of your bodies. s’not rocket science but s’not always easy. also it depends on the woman but sometimes she physically won’t be able to finish from penetration alone. just make sure you’re communicating.”

his swirled two fingers over your hole before shoving them in, your wetness making it easy for him to thrust in and out as your entrance stretched to accommodate him. “f—fuck!” your eyes flew open at the intrusion and you body lurched forward, but you were held back by his strong forearm. “ohmygod, oh my g—ah! feels s’good haji, s’good!”

“i know, baby, i know. you’re taking it so well.” he turned his attention back to the men, each of who were gulping heavily. if that didn’t signal to you that they were evidently affected by your moans, the way they shifted in their workout shorts did.

“boys, focus.” he curled his fingertips, brushing at the spongy spot at the top of your walls, ripping a pleasured wail from your throat and causing tears to prick at your eyelashes. “when you’re fingering her, you’ll feel an area inside that’s a bit soft and squishy. that’s the g-spot.”

you trembled in his arms as he mercilessly struck the same place over and over again with his fingers. “when you’re fucking her, try to keep the pressure building there, but it’ll be harder to make her finish since you can’t see what you’re doing.”

your breath hitched as iwaizumi’s incessant movements brought your body tantalizingly close to your release. he suddenly stopped and you almost sobbed in disappointment, until he plunged his fingers impossibly deeper.

a guttural scream of ecstasy came from within you, and your eyes rolled back as he began playing with another part of you, your body putty in his hands. “hngh, haji, ah! so good, s’good...” you threw your hands back around his neck, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded. your soft moans filled the air.

“stop clenching,” he hissed. “can barely move my hand.” you tried to relax but failed miserably as the tips of his fingers grazed your cervix. 

“holy fuck,” suna muttered. “you’re a god.”

“she sounds so pretty,” atsumu said in amazement.

“i wanna make a girl feel good like that, too!” bokuto sulked.

“you can do it, bokuto!” hinata hit him on the arm. “just listen to iwaizumi. clearly he knows what he’s talking about.” 

their eyes refocused on your figure, writhing in pleasure, prompting white hot waves of arousal to pool in their stomachs. 

“yeah,” sakusa said. “clearly.”

“stop talking,” iwaizumi ordered. “and listen. beyond the g-spot is the cervix, which is basically the end of the vagina. if you’re long enough,” he briefly scanned each of their faces, “which i’m sure you are, you’ll be able to reach it if you bottom out.”

“haji—hajime, please.” the stimulation was coming absolutely unbearable, and you could tell he was sadistically holding you at the edge, refusing to give you the satisfaction of finishing. “lemme cum, please. please lemme cum, please, please, i can’t—i can’t take it ‘nymore!”

“what was that? you can’t take it anymore? gonna cum?” you helplessly bobbed your head up and down, hoping that he’d give you permission. “well,” he growled, “we can’t have that happening, can we?”

he abruptly halted his thrusts, pulling his fingers out of you with an embarrassing squelch and popping them into his mouth. pearly tears rolled down your cheeks as you grieved the loss of contact and relief.

your viewers looked on in horror, feeling immense sympathy for you; you just looked so dejected from being denied yet another orgasm.

“why didn’t you—why didn’t you let her cum?” bokuto asked.

“why do you think?” iwaizumi snapped. “don’t want you guys to see her when she does. that’s for me, and only me.”

“oh, okay,” he responded, disgruntlement clear in his voice.

iwaizumi’s glare could cut glass, it was so sharp. the possessiveness that had enveloped his mind made him hyperfocus on just one thought: being alone with you. “so, any other questions? if not, we’re done here.”

you pouted at that, not wanting the demonstration to be over. “but haji,” you mumbled into his collarbone. “i di’nt get to cum. and i wanna.” you looked up at him, eyes wide with want. “please make me cum.”

iwaizumi sent a harsh glance to the players that nonverbally communicated his message loud and clear: get out. they shuffled awkwardly out of the locker room due to the hardness between their legs that they would most definitely need to deal with soon.

your boyfriend turned his attention back to you. “’m sorry, i know i had to deny you a bunch of times. i just really hated the idea of anyone but me seeing the cute way you look when you cum.”

you made a small noise of acknowledgement and a little whisper of it’s okay, haji. he looked down, sensing the way your poor, desperate cunt was pulsing around nothing, the erotic sight injecting him with the pure need to ravage you.

he shifted his head to kiss you passionately. “why don’t i make it up to you?” he breathed between your parted lips before picking you up by the backs of your thighs, forcing you to lock your ankles around his waist. 

he delicately situated you onto one of the recovery beds at the back of the room, before murmuring something that made your pussy throb in anticipation: “i’ll make you cum whichever way you want, however many times you want, all right? all you gotta do is lay back and take it.”

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