#But I’m the most confident that I’m this

[iris-qt]

physical affection

& how the slytherin boys show it

I. MATTHEO RIDDLE

Mattheo Riddle showed love the way he did everything: loud, unapologetic, and impossible to ignore.

“Pumpkin Pookie Pie!” His booming voice rang through the corridor as you buried your face in your hands. He’d been calling you that for weeks, his new favorite way to get under your skin.

Before you could respond, his arm slung around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “What’s wrong? Too shy to admit you love it?” he teased, his grin wicked.

“Too mortified to acknowledge your existence,” you shot back, trying to wriggle free.

He only held on tighter. “Oh no, you’re stuck with me now,” he said, steering you down the hall as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Later that day, you found him perched on the edge of your study table in the library, nudging your quill off balance with his finger.

“Mattheo,” you hissed, grabbing it before it rolled onto the floor. “Some of us are trying to pass.”

“Pass? You’ll ace it,” he said confidently, leaning closer until his face was inches from yours. “I mean, you’ve got me, don’t you?”

“You’re a distraction.”

“And yet,” he quipped, flicking your nose, “you’re smiling.”

You were. Begrudgingly.

Then there were the bear hugs. Merlin, the bear hugs. Mattheo had an uncanny talent for sensing when you were stressed, usually followed by him swooping in and pulling you into a hug that could rival a skull-crushing bludger.

One evening, as you stared blankly at your parchment, trying and failing to organize your thoughts, he came up behind you. Without warning, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you clean off your chair.

“Mattheo!” you yelped, flailing.

“Shh,” he said, spinning you around. “This is a medical intervention. You were looking far too tense.”

By the time he set you back down, your frustration had melted into laughter, your cheeks warm as you leaned back into his arms for a moment longer than you’d care to admit.

But there were other moments, too. Quieter ones, where his teasing gave way to something softer.

The common room was nearly empty when he found you curled up on the couch, a book in your lap but your eyes distant. Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, close enough that your knees touched.

You expected a quip or a joke, but instead, his hand reached out, finding yours where it rested on the page. His fingers laced through yours, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles over your knuckles.

The playful grin he always wore was gone, replaced by something calmer. “You’re too brilliant to stress like this,” he murmured, his voice low.

For once, you didn’t argue. His hand in yours felt grounding, his words a quiet reassurance..

II. THEODORE NOTT

Theodore Nott didn’t need grand gestures to show he cared. He was subtle, deliberate, and always knew exactly what you needed without a single word.

Like now, as you struggled to balance a precarious stack of books in the library. “Need a hand?” he asked casually, appearing out of nowhere.

“I’ve got it,” you huffed, shifting the stack.

“You mean, you’re about to drop it,” he corrected, plucking the books from your arms with ease.

“Show off,” you muttered, but the corners of your mouth twitched.

He gave you a small, amused smile as he set the books down on your table. Then, without a word, he reached forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, tucking it gently behind your ear.

“Better,” he murmured before sitting down across from you. It was so casual, so effortless, but your heart still skipped a beat.

Later, in the Great Hall, it was his hand on your lower back guiding you through the bustling crowd of students. It wasn’t pushy or overbearing, it was just enough to let you know he was there, steady and constant.

“Theo, I’m not made of glass” you teased as you sat down, and he leaned against the table beside you.

“No, but you’re terrible at dodging elbows,” he quipped, nodding toward the chaos of the lunch line.

He was right, of course. He always was.

And then there were the little things he did that were so infuriatingly him.

Like the time he stole your quill mid-essay. “Theo!” you snapped, glaring at him.

“You’ve been using it wrong,” he said nonchalantly, twirling it between his fingers like a wand duelist showing off.

“How can you use a quill wrong?”

“You can. You’ve been gripping it like you’re stabbing someone. Here.” He handed it back, his fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary. “Relax your grip, or you’ll snap the nib.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help noticing how much smoother your writing felt afterward.

And then, on a rainy afternoon when you were both sprawled in the common room, you’d been flipping through a book while Theo quietly worked on an Arithmancy chart. Without looking up, he reached out and nudged a mug of tea toward you.

“You’re looking a little pathetic,” he said, his tone completely deadpan.

“Thanks, Theo,” you said dryly, but you took the tea anyway, smiling softly as you sipped it.

It wasn’t until you glanced over later that you noticed his gaze lingering on you, a rare warmth in his usually calm expression.

“What?” you asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Nothing.”

But as his hand reached out to brush against yours once again, you realized that with Theo, even the smallest touch felt like the loudest declaration.

III. LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo Berkshire loved quietly and warmly, his affection woven into the small, steady ways he touched you.

Like the way he always grabbed your hand without thinking, his fingers threading through yours as naturally as breathing. It didn’t matter where you were: in the middle of a crowded corridor, walking to Hogsmeade, or, as it happened today, dodging Peeves’ latest chaotic masterpiece of enchanted water balloons.

“Quick!” Lorenzo yanked you behind a suit of armor, his hand gripping yours firmly as water splashed past.

“You could’ve warned me sooner!” you hissed, clutching your soaked sleeve.

“I did warn you,” he said innocently, his grin betraying no remorse. He squeezed your hand before letting go to wring out his own robe. “Besides, you’re lucky I’m here. Imagine if Peeves got you while you were alone.”

“Yeah, I’d never survive without you,” you deadpanned, earning a soft chuckle.

Then there were his hugs: warm, steady, and impossible to resist.

One afternoon, you’d been pacing in the common room, ranting about something ridiculous Professor Snape had said in Potions. Lorenzo was sitting on the couch, watching you with a quiet amusement, until you threw your hands in the air in frustration.

“Am I wrong, though?” you demanded.

Instead of answering, he stood, stepped forward, and pulled you into a hug. It was so sudden, you froze.

“Lorenzo, what are you---”

“Shh,” he murmured, his arms snug around you. “You’re spiraling. Just… stop pacing and let me hold you for a second.”

For a moment, you considered pushing him away, purely out of principle. But his embrace was so warm, so comforting, that you found yourself leaning into it instead.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered against his shoulder.

“And you’re adorable when you’re annoyed,” he said, his voice muffled but teasing.

Then there were the casual touches that seemed second nature to him, like the way he always rested a hand on your shoulder when he leaned down to read over your notes.

“Did you mean to write ‘infusion’ here?” he asked once, pointing to your parchment.

“Yes, Enzo,” you said, your tone mockingly patient. “That’s exactly what I meant to write.”

“Good. Just checking.” He gave your shoulder a quick squeeze before walking off, as if correcting your work was the most normal thing in the world.

But perhaps the most Lorenzo thing he did was during Quidditch practice. You’d shown up to watch, cheering loudly enough to embarrass him in front of the whole team.

After practice, he jogged over, damp and out of breath, and pulled you into a sweaty, enthusiastic hug.

“Lorenzo!” you shrieked, trying to push him off.

“Just sharing the victory,” he said with a grin, tightening his grip.

“Victory? You missed three goals!”

“Details,” he said, leaning back just enough to grin at you. “Besides, I know you secretly love this.”

And as much as you complained, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Because with Lorenzo, every touch, whether it was a hand in yours, a shoulder squeeze, or a hug that left you blushing, felt like home.

IV. DRACO MALFOY

Draco Malfoy had a way of turning even the simplest gestures of affection into acts of grandeur.

“Y/N,” he drawled, stepping into the courtyard where you were waiting. “Your scarf is a disaster.”

You looked down, confused. “It’s just a scarf, Draco.”

“It’s an offense to fashion,” he corrected, already closing the distance between you. Before you could stop him, his gloved hands were carefully unwinding the scarf from your neck.

“Draco, it’s cold!”

“Shh.” He ignored your protest, methodically rewrapping it, each fold placed with the utmost precision. “If you insist on walking around like this, the least I can do is ensure you don’t embarrass me.”

Once he finished, he stepped back, inspecting his work like a proud artist. “There. Better.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though you had to admit the scarf did feel warmer.

Later, during a stroll to Hogsmeade, he offered his arm with a flourish.

“Draco, we’re not at a ball,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“And yet,” he said, his tone prim, “you look like you might trip over the cobblestones at any moment. I’m merely preventing a tragedy.”

You rolled your eyes but slipped your arm through his anyway. He gave a satisfied smirk, his fingers resting lightly over yours.

Then there were the smaller gestures, the ones you weren’t entirely sure were affectionate or just Draco being Draco.

Like the time he spotted a speck of dust on your robe during dinner.

“Hold still,” he said sharply, brushing it off with the utmost seriousness.

“Draco, it’s barely visible---”

“Barely visible isn’t invisible,” he cut in, flicking the imaginary lint away with a look of triumph. “You’re welcome.”

Sometimes, his gestures were less about precision and more about necessity. During a Quidditch match, the wind had ripped your hair tie loose, leaving your hair whipping into your face. Draco, seated beside you, sighed audibly before pulling out a spare ribbon from his pocket.

“You carry ribbons?” you asked, bewildered.

“Of course not,” he said, already tying it into place with practiced ease. “Mother always says to be prepared for emergencies. Apparently, this qualifies.”

“Does it?”

“Obviously,” he said, brushing a stray strand out of your face. “Imagine how ridiculous you looked before I fixed it.”

You stared at him, torn between laughing and being annoyed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re lucky I am,” he replied smugly, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

Whether it was adjusting your scarf or offering his arm, Draco's gestures always came with a quiet, meaningful undertone: he cared more than he’d ever admit.

V. BLAISE ZABINI

Blaise Zabini’s affection was effortless, delivered with the same smooth confidence he carried everywhere he went.

Take, for example, the way his hand always found your thigh when you sat next to him. It didn’t matter if it was in the library, the common room, or even during a particularly dull History of Magic lecture. His hand would settle there, light and casual, like it belonged.

“Are you even paying attention?” you whispered once, glancing at him while Professor Binns droned on about goblin rebellions.

“Not really,” he said, smirking as his fingers tapped absentmindedly against your leg. “But you are, and that’s far more interesting.”

His casual touches extended to the little things, too. Like the time you’d been sitting together at breakfast, distractedly spreading jam on your toast while skimming your notes. Blaise had leaned over, taken the knife from your hand, and spread the jam evenly in one smooth motion.

“You were going to ruin it,” he said simply, setting the toast back on your plate.

“It’s toast, Blaise,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Precisely. There’s no excuse for sloppy toast,” he replied, his lips quirking into a half smile as he rested his elbow on the table and leaned closer.

He was equally casual about his protectiveness. When you walked into the common room one night, balancing a stack of books, Blaise, who was lounging on the couch, arched a brow.

“Drop one of those, and I’ll laugh,” he said lazily, though he was already standing.

“You’re so helpful,” you said sarcastically.

But before you could move, he reached out, took the books from your arms, and placed them on the nearest table. His hand brushed your back as he passed, light and deliberate. “There. Now you don’t have to make a spectacle of yourself.”

Even in the rare moments when you were annoyed with him, his touch had a way of disarming you.

Once, after an argument about which Quidditch team was better, you’d crossed your arms and turned away from him. Blaise, unbothered, leaned back against the couch and stretched his arm along the backrest until his fingers lazily grazed your shoulder.

“You’re mad,” he observed, his voice amused.

“No, I’m---” You stopped mid-sentence as he lightly trailed his fingers down your arm. It wasn’t much, just enough to make you shiver and forget whatever comeback you’d been forming.

“Hmm?” he prompted, his smirk growing.

“Nothing,” you muttered, glancing away, which only made him chuckle softly.

VI. REGULUS BLACK

Regulus Black wasn’t one for grand gestures. His affection was quiet, almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But you always noticed.

It was in the way his fingers would brush against yours as you walked side by side through the castle corridors, his hand lingering just long enough to send a silent, unspoken message.

“Regulus,” you teased once, glancing down at where his hand hovered near yours. “You can hold my hand, you know. I won’t bite.”

He huffed softly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you replied, your voice laced with amusement. But before you could say anything else, his fingers laced with yours, quick, almost shy, but steady.

In the common room, when you were bent over a pile of parchments, furiously scribbling down notes, he would sometimes come up behind you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” he said one evening, his voice low and steady.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, not looking up.

He didn’t argue. Instead, his thumb brushed against the fabric of your robes, a small, grounding gesture. “Just don’t forget to breathe,” he said softly before slipping away, leaving behind the faint warmth of his touch.

And then there were the moments that caught you off guard, like when you’d been lost in thought by the Black Lake, the chilly wind tugging at your cloak. Regulus appeared beside you silently, slipping his scarf from around his neck and draping it over your shoulders without a word.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested, clutching the soft wool.

“I’ll survive,” he replied, his tone so matter-of-fact it made you smile. He didn’t move to take the scarf back, though he did stand close enough that his arm brushed yours.

And then one evening in the library, you were both pouring over ancient texts for a Potions essay, the quiet hum of the room interrupted only by the scratch of quills. Without looking up, he reached over and adjusted the candle near your book, tilting it so the light fell more evenly across the pages.

“Thanks,” you said softly, glancing at him.

He shrugged, not meeting your gaze, but the faintest hint of a smile played on his lips.

VII. TOM RIDDLE

Tom Riddle’s affection was as precise and calculated as everything else he did.

You were pacing the length of the common room, muttering under your breath as you reviewed your notes for the tenth time that evening. Tom, seated in his usual armchair, watched you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “you’re going to wear a hole in the carpet.”

“I can’t help it,” you replied, not stopping. “I need to make sure I’ve got everything memorized.”

Before you could pass him again, he stood, closing the distance between you in two measured strides. Gently but decisively, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Stop,” he commanded, his tone low but unyielding. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, a gesture that was oddly soothing despite the intensity of his stare. “You’re better than this frantic display. Calm your mind.”

For a moment, all you could do was blink up at him, the warmth of his hands grounding you in a way that words never could.

“Better?” he asked, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

He stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides, though he lingered close enough that the heat of his presence remained.

There were other moments like this, too, where his touch was both a command and a reassurance.

Like the time he found you struggling to reach a book in the library. Without a word, he appeared behind you, effortlessly plucking the book from the shelf and handing it to you. When you opened your mouth to thank him, he tilted your chin up with a single finger, his expression unreadable.

“You shouldn’t have to struggle,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Or the time you were arguing with him over something trivial (probably his refusal to let anyone but himself tutor you).

“You’re insufferable,” you’d snapped, crossing your arms.

“And you’re too intelligent to waste time bickering with me,” he replied smoothly. Before you could fire back, he placed his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind. “Now, sit down and let me help you. You’ll thank me later.”

Despite the commanding edge to his touch, there was something deeply reassuring about it. A promise, unspoken but felt in every deliberate move.

Because with Tom, every gesture carried the same message: You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.

A/N: SURPRISEEE just temporarily back bc i missed writing and I missed you guys

Taglist (for those who asked to be tagged in everything) = @smut-anarchy, @marikajhaha, @nottinmyheart, @hzdhrtss, @babene-e

love u guys

[gumims]

tied by ink | choso x reader

for the @phantasmaebg event

wc: 1350

your soulmate tattoo showed up on your sixteenth birthday, scrawled across your wrist like a bold declaration: “stay.” it wasn’t cute, romantic, or poetic like you imagined. it was blunt. vague. frustrating.

and years later, you still had no clue what it meant.

that’s why you were here now, sitting in a tattoo parlor that smelled like antiseptic and fresh ink, the fluorescent lighting humming faintly above you. you didn’t know what you wanted yet, but you knew you needed something.

“you here for a consult?” the girl at the counter asked.

“yeah,” you replied, your fingers twitching nervously at your side.

“choso’s got time. best hands in the shop.” she grinned, jerking her thumb toward the back.

you nodded, muttering a quick thanks before heading toward the artist’s booth.

as you turned the corner, you saw him sitting there—dark hair pulled into a messy half-bun, loose strands falling around his sharp face. tattoos covered his forearms, disappearing beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his black shirt.

hot.

his dark eyes flicked up as you approached, pinning you in place.

“you’re here for a tattoo?” his voice was deep, smooth like it didn’t belong in this tiny shop.

“uh, yeah,” you stammered, your heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

he gestured to the chair in front of him, and you sat, trying not to fidget as his gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long.

“so, what are you thinking?”

you hesitated. “something small, but meaningful. i just… need something new.”

he tilted his head, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read you. “first one?”

“yeah.”

he hummed, his gaze dropping to your wrist. you’d forgotten to cover the soulmate mark today, and his eyes lingered on the word inked there.

“soulmate tattoo,” he said casually, like it wasn’t the most personal thing he could’ve pointed out.

you tensed. “everyone’s got one.”

“not everyone,” he replied, his voice low, almost teasing. “what’s the story with yours?”

you glanced away, your face heating up. “there’s no story. it says ‘stay.’ it’s… complicated.”

“complicated how?”

you met his gaze, your frustration bubbling up. “it doesn’t mean anything. not yet, anyway. and honestly, i’m not holding my breath.”

his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “so you’re one of those people who doesn’t believe in soulmates?”

“i didn’t say that,” you shot back. “i just… don’t think everyone finds theirs. or if they do, maybe it doesn’t work out.”

he didn’t respond right away, but the corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest smirk. “fair enough.”

you watched as he grabbed a sketchpad, his tattooed hands moving with practiced precision. “let’s figure out something that fits,” he murmured, his focus shifting to the page.

the way his fingers moved, the way he hunched slightly over the paper, made it impossible to look away. he radiated confidence, like he knew exactly what he was doing—not just with the drawing, but with you, too.

“so,” he said after a few minutes, his voice breaking the silence. “you’ve never thought about finding them?”

“my soulmate?” you asked, trying to sound casual even though his words sent a weird shiver down your spine.

“yeah.”

you shrugged, leaning back in the chair. “not really. it’s not like they’re going to show up out of nowhere.”

“sometimes they do.”

his tone was calm, but something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. you glanced at him, your brows furrowing.

“has it happened to you?”

he didn’t answer right away, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second before returning to his sketch. “maybe.”

cryptic much, you thought, but you couldn’t deny the way your pulse jumped.

“what does your tattoo say?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.

his lips curved, but he didn’t look up. “you really wanna know?”

“obviously.”

“you’ll find out.”

“that’s not an answer,” you muttered, but he ignored you, his focus back on the page.

when he finally turned the sketchpad around, your breath hitched.

“what do you think?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“it’s…” you swallowed. “it’s perfect.”

he gave you a small nod, standing to prep his station. “this’ll hurt a little,” he warned as you settled into the chair, rolling up your sleeve.

“i can handle it,” you replied, though your voice came out shakier than you wanted.

his hands were steady as he guided the needle over your skin, the soft hum of the machine filling the room. the sting was sharp at first, but it quickly dulled into a strange sort of comfort.

“so,” he said after a while, his tone almost conversational, “if your soulmate walked through that door right now, what would you say?”

you hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “i don’t know. maybe… ‘where the hell have you been?’”

he let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a tingle down your spine. “bold.”

“what about you?” you asked, desperate to turn the attention off yourself. “what would you say?”

his hands didn’t falter, but his voice dropped a notch. “depends on if they’d stay.”

your heart skipped, his words hitting deeper than you expected. you glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable, his focus entirely on your arm.

when he finally pulled back, he wiped the tattoo clean, tilting your arm toward the light.

“done,” he said simply.

you stared at the design, your chest tightening. it was beautiful, perfect in a way that almost felt… familiar.

“thank you,” you murmured, your voice softer now.

he leaned back, his gaze meeting yours. “anytime.”

as you stood to leave, you caught a glimpse of his wrist as he reached for something—a single word inked there in bold black letters.

“stay.”

your blood ran cold.

he noticed your pause, his eyes narrowing slightly as he followed your gaze. when your eyes met again, there was no denying it.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whispered.

he smirked, leaning casually against the counter. “took you long enough.”

“you—” your words caught in your throat, your pulse racing. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“wanted to see if you’d figure it out,” he said, his tone maddeningly calm.

you took a shaky breath, your mind reeling. “so what now?”

he pushed off the counter, stepping closer until the space between you felt suffocating.

“now,” he said, his voice low, “you decide if you’re gonna stay.”

[piece-of-pierce]

I’m all his time studying Danny, Damian has noticed Danny’s interests. Space is the obvious choice, but there’s also an obvious change in Danny’s mannerisms when learning about or discussing history.

Danny is constantly drawing from personal experiences with various historical ghosts and his few trips into the past. He seems more engaged because he actually has personal knowledge on this topic that he can draw from.

Damian notices that Danny seems most interested in anything to do with Ancient Greece and their mythology. So, clearly, Damian must give Danny a gift to demonstrate his returned interest in being friends, and it must be related to Danny’s interests.

First, it’s a book; a comprehensive guide to constellations and the Greek Myths connected to them. Danny beams and laughs and says ‘you didn’t have to get me anything’ but Damian ignores that. He’s lost count of how many candies Danny has given him and refuses to remain so far behind in this exchange.

Next, it’s a blanket with the family tree of the Greek gods and goddesses. It’s overly complicated, but Danny snorts when he sees it and immediately starts telling Damian who’s who and what’s what. According to Danny, the myths stents entirely accurate to the true gods. He speaks with so much confidence that Damian almost believes this normal boy might know better.

The next gift Damian gets, he bases on Danny’s rants he’d been giving. The other boy had repeatedly come back to the story of Pandora, so Damian took a chance and gifted him an enamel keychain that looked like a golden box, barely cracked open with dark smoke beginning to slip out.

As soon as Damian confirms what it is, Danny smiles and starts telling him about Pandora. Not the myth she was a part of, but Pandora herself. He talks about how she was a warrior especially fond of swords, and from there, Damian manages to engage in a full conversation about various types of swords and their specializations. Apparently, Daniel has been able to practice using a sword before and is partial to a Macedonian Xiphos, himself.

Naturally, Damian’s next gift for Danny is decided. He likely won’t be able to hand it off at school, though.

Danny: So I may have did a bit of an oopsie daisy.

Jazz: … define a bit.

Danny: you know how you were telling me about the two main ways of conditioning?

Jazz: Yes?

Danny: And you remember how I said Pavlov’s dog sounded strangely familiar?

Jazz watching her brother pace: Danny?

Danny: Well, there’s this guy in my lit class who was very pretty and I heard he was vegan and you know that giant bag of vegan candy Sam sent?

Jazz: Please tell me you didn’t.

Danny: Not on purpose! You know how big that bag is! And I can’t just throw it way it’s good candy! So I just, kept giving him a couple pieces when I saw him! I didn’t even realize what I did until I passed him in the hall earlier and he nearly smiled at me and he never smiles!

Jazz: only you little brother.

Danny flopping on the floor dramatically: he just looked to the floor in confusion Jazz! Like visible confusion!

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[angelofthenight01]

Truth Serum

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

genre: flufy  ||     warnings: none

It all started, as these things often do, with a seemingly straightforward mission. Infiltrate a HYDRA base, retrieve some stolen tech, don't get captured, the usual. You were pretty confident, you'd been training with the Avengers for a while now, holding your own, even earning a few nods of respect from Captain America himself. You weren't exactly a superhero, more of a very skilled and adaptable support member, but hey, it paid the bills and got you close to, well... certain people.

You remember the moment the serum hit you. It wasn't dramatic, no needles, no villainous laughter. Just a rogue vial – accidentally knocked off a table by a HYDRA goon who tripped over his own feet, a testament to their competence – and its contents splashed right onto your cheek. It didn't taste like anything, but a second later you could swear you felt your brain doing the cha-cha.

"Are you alright?" Tony's voice was crisp over the comms. You knew he was watching the feed from his suit.

“Peachy,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm, even as the world around you started to look a little too vibrant. “Just feeling a bit… honest.”

“Honest?” Steve’s voice now chimed in with that trademark wholesome concern. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know,” you found yourself saying, “like, if you asked me if I liked the way the light caught your hair this morning, I’d say yes, Steve, you’re like a walking, talking golden retriever of justice and your hair is always perfectly coiffed. Sorry, am I oversharing?”

A beat of silence followed, punctuated only by the sharp crackling of your boots on the steel floor of the HYDRA base.

"Uh, thanks?" Steve said hesitantly.

“And Tony,” you continued, unable to stop the runaway train of your mouth, “your sarcasm is a coping mechanism, and sometimes it's a little predictable, but you're actually really good at inventing things, even if you pretend to hate trying.”

You could hear Tony sputter in disbelief. Before he could recover, you spotted your quarry – the tech – in a nearby room. And then you saw her. Natasha Romanoff, a whirlwind of controlled fury and ballet-like movements, expertly disarming guards left and right. Everything suddenly seemed… brighter. And also terrifying. Because, of course, the truth serum also seemed to have activated your inner monologue on high volume.

"Oh, damn it," you muttered, your voice still broadcasting. "You're so cool, Natasha, your hair looks amazing, are those tactical boots because you can be both deadly and elegant and it's totally not fair. I also think... I think..." You clamped your mouth shut.

There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath over the comms. You could practically feel Natasha's gaze burning through the screen and directly into your soul.

"Alright," Natasha said, her voice silky smooth, but with a definite hint of something dangerous lurking beneath. "You’ve had your moment. Let's finish this."

And that’s when you realised that you had a very, very big problem. You had a mission to finish, sure, but you also had to not reveal your crush on the world's most deadly spy. You could picture it now, if you even let a hint touch your tongue, it would be all over the tower, Tony would create a song about it, and Clint would laugh and draw cartoons of you in love struck positions.

You moved with newfound urgency, grabbing the tech and bolting for the nearest exit.

“I’m just gonna, uh, take this and go now,” you announced, “Gotta avoid... uh... social interactions. Bye!”

You broke into a run, your boots thundering on the metal floor, the comms going silent as everyone processed what had just happened. You could hear footsteps behind you, and you didn't need to look back to know who was trying to catch up to you.

You burst out of the HYDRA base into the cold night air, not caring where you were going, just knowing you needed to get away from Natasha. You sprinted across the snowy landscape, your breath puffing in white clouds.

Then, you hit a patch of ice.

You went down, hard, landing in a comical heap with a muffled oof.

“Are you alright?” Steve’s concerned voice came over the comms, making you groan.

“No,” you whined. “I just busted my butt. Also, I think I need to be honest with you all about the way I prefer to put my butter on my toast, and it’s not the way you would imagine, it’s much more…”

You cut yourself off before you could launch into a detailed explanation of your highly unorthodox buttering techniques. You scramble to your feet, wincing.

“I think I need to go home now!” you shouted, then took off running again, stumbling over the uneven snow.

“Wait!” Natasha’s voice called out from behind you again. Closer this time.

“No!” you yelled back. “I can’t, if I’m not running away, I’ll probably tell you I think you’re amazing and all of the romantic feelings I have for you and then you’ll get weirded out and it’s just, a whole thing!”

You didn’t wait for a response, diving behind a large snowdrift. You could hear Natasha’s footsteps pause, a beat of silence followed, and then you heard a sigh.

You peeked over the top of the snow drift, and saw the figure that was Natasha, hands on hips, a look of fond exasperation on her face. It made your heart do a little flip of emotion.

"Okay, fine," Natasha called out, "I'll give you some space. But you're not getting out of this conversation without explaining all that 'buttering' talk later. And your feelings." She added the last bit in a soft voice.

You ducked back down, a blush creeping up your neck. You could hear laughter coming through the comms this time, Tony, Clint and Steve having a field day. You might have also heard Thor laughing way too loud, then suddenly a deep growl, and then silence.

You knew you couldn't hide forever. But for tonight, you decided, you'd take your chances with the arctic wind over the truth serum and the very attractive woman currently stalking you. 

For now, your escape was enough. You would deal with the awkward, heartfelt, and hopefully not too embarrassing aftermath tomorrow. But tonight? Tonight you are just a very honest person with a severe case of avoidance and a very big crush. And that’s something, right?

[not-magdi]

-it has always been you / lando Norris

Warnings: Alkohol, some weird dude

Words: 1.5k

Reading Time: 6min 25sec

A/N

Some cute friends to lovers trope cause I‘m bored :)

Hope you love it !

Y/N and Lando had been inseparable for years. Their friendship had started in the most unexpected way—a fateful encounter at a karting event when they were kids.

Y/N’s brother had been racing that day, and she had found herself sitting alone on a cold metal bench, watching the drivers zip around the track. Lando, always full of energy and curiosity, had plopped down beside her, still in his racing suit and smelling faintly of rubber and fuel.

“You look bored,” he had said with a cheeky grin.

“I’m not,” she had replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Yes, you are,” he had insisted, before launching into an animated explanation of how he was going to win the championship one day. That was the start of it all.

Over the years, they had become best friends, sharing everything from late-night texts about random thoughts to spontaneous road trips when life felt too heavy. Y/N was one of the few people who truly understood Lando’s hectic lifestyle, and in turn, Lando was her anchor in a world that sometimes felt overwhelming.

But while their friendship had always been easy and natural, Y/N had been harbouring feelings for Lando for quite some time. She’d never acted on them, fearing it would ruin the bond they had. And she was convinced Lando didn’t feel the same way. Why would he? He was charming, successful, and adored by fans worldwide.

-----

Tonight, their friends Max and Pietra had insisted on a night out. Y/N had initially resisted, claiming she was too tired, but Pietra wasn’t having it.

“Come on, Y/N,” Pietra had said, practically dragging her off the couch.

“You never go out anymore. You need this. Besides, we can all use a little fun.”

“Don’t worry,” Lando had chimed in with his usual playful smirk. “I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself too much.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Y/N had shot back, rolling her eyes but secretly glad he was coming.

-----

The club was alive with energy, a pulsating mix of lights and music that seemed to electrify the room. Y/N followed Max, Pietra, and Lando through the crowd, her senses overwhelmed in the best possible way. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and the faint metallic tang of sweat, but it was all part of the atmosphere.

Max was the first to hit the dance floor, his exuberance unmatched as he flailed his arms in exaggerated, dramatic moves. “This is my signature!” he shouted over the music, spinning in a circle.

Y/N burst into laughter, holding onto Pietra for balance as the latter tried to mimic his wild movements. “Max, you look ridiculous!” she called out, but her voice was nearly drowned out by the pounding bass.

“That’s the point!” he yelled back, sticking his tongue out before attempting a failed moonwalk.

Lando lingered close to Y/N, his usual cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Remind me to never let him dance at my wedding,” he joked, leaning in so she could hear him better.

“You say that like you’re not just as bad,” Y/N quipped, shooting him a playful glance.

“Excuse me,” Lando replied, feigning offence. “I have moved. You’re just not ready for them.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” she teased, her smile wide.

Lando nudged her shoulder with his, chuckling. “We’ll see about that.”

They found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, where Lando casually leaned against the wall, his eyes occasionally scanning the room. But his gaze always seemed to find its way back to Y/N. She was laughing more than usual, her face glowing in the neon light. He couldn’t help but admire how the stress of her week seemed to melt away.

“You having fun yet?” he asked, leaning down so his lips were close to her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Actually, yeah,” she admitted, her shoulders relaxing as the rhythm of the music washed over her.

Pietra returned moments later, handing Y/N a cocktail in a glass rimmed with sugar. “Here, try this. It’s amazing,” she said, her excitement evident.

Y/N took a tentative sip, her lips puckering slightly at the sweetness. “Wow, that’s good.”

“See? Told you!” Pietra beamed before disappearing back into the crowd with Max.

Y/N took another sip, then another. The drink was deceptively light, the alcohol masked by the sugary flavour. Before long, Pietra was back with another, and Y/N—caught up in the excitement—didn’t hesitate to take it.

By the time she was halfway through her third drink, the room felt warmer, the lights brighter, and her laughter came easier. Everything seemed a little funnier, a little lighter as if the weight she had been carrying all week had finally lifted.

“Easy there,” Lando said when she stumbled slightly, catching her by the arm before she could lose her balance. His grip was steady, grounding.

Y/N looked up at him, her giggles bubbling over. “What? I’m fine!” she insisted, though her unsteady footing said otherwise.

“You’re having a little too much fun,” he teased, his voice warm but laced with concern.

“Isn’t that the point of tonight?” she shot back, her words slurring slightly.

Lando chuckled, his hand lingering on her arm as he guided her back to a less crowded spot. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But maybe slow down a bit?”

“Party pooper,” she mumbled, sticking her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin. Y/N rarely let loose like this, and while he loved seeing her happy, a part of him couldn’t shake the need to keep her safe.

As they stood off to the side, Y/N’s attention was caught by a man weaving his way through the crowd toward her. She didn’t notice the way Lando’s posture tensed, his playful demeanour replaced by a quiet vigilance.

The man stopped in front of her, his height forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “Hey there,” he said, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Y/N offered a polite smile, stepping back slightly. “Oh, I’m just here with friends.”

He didn’t take the hint. “Well, lucky for me I found you. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, her voice tight. She glanced at Lando, who was already stepping closer.

The man leaned in, his tone dropping. “Aw, come on. Just one.”

Before Y/N could respond, Lando was at her side, his arm slipping around her waist with practised ease. The gesture was protective but natural as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Everything okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, her relief palpable. “Yeah,” she murmured, leaning into his side.

The man’s expression shifted, annoyance flickering across his face. “Didn’t realize she was taken,” he muttered, backing off with a forced smile.

“Yeah, she is,” Lando said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the man disappeared into the crowd, Y/N exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Lando with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his hand lingering on her waist for a moment longer before letting go. “Let’s get some air.”

-----

Outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the club. Y/N shivered slightly, and without a word, Lando shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Lando, you’ll freeze,” she protested, though she made no move to take it off.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a small smile. “Besides, you need it more than I do.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city filling the air. Y/N clutched his jacket, her mind replaying the scene from the club.

“When you said you were my boyfriend…” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It… it made me feel something. Something good.”

Lando turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “I know you were just pretending, but… I’ve thought about it before. You and me.”

He stepped closer, his heart pounding. “You have?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “For a while now. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Lando reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. “Y/N,” he said softly. “I’ve liked you for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them fading away. Then, slowly, Lando leaned in, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that deepened as their feelings finally found an outlet.

When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her forehead resting against his. “So… not just pretending, then?”

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, his voice warm and full of affection.

As they walked back into the club, hand in hand, Max and Pietra spotted them immediately.

“About time,” Max said with a grin, clinking his glass against Pietra’s.

Y/N and Lando laughed, but neither let go of the other’s hand for the rest of the night.

——-

Don’t forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !🩷

[cybrasigilism]

Touch (Player 124/Nam-gyu X F!Reader ONESHOT)

warning: smut | not proofread | lowercase intended | masturbation | JOI | hand fetish if you squint | reader has female genitalia | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: had this one on my mind for a minute, i’m just looking for any excuse to write about him i fear. it’s funny to think about how reluctant i was to write for him and now he’s one of my favourites to write for, but anyways ENJOY KISS KISS MWAHHHH (AGAIN THIS IS WRITTEN IN POINT FORMAT BC I FEEL MORE CONFIDENT GETTING MY IDEAS OUT THIS WAY)

MDNI! 18+ content below the cut, readers discretion is advised

➤ it’s hard to believe how nervous you were the first time nam-gyu suggested this, for you to masturbate in front of him, but looking back you truly had no idea how much you would come to enjoy it.

➤ he would have you sit between his legs, back to his chest while you touched yourself. you could feel his breath hitch at every little sound that escaped your lips. shivers went up your spine whenever he rubbed his hands up and down your arms, telling you how hot you sounded right then

➤ his absolute favourite thing to do was to talk you through it, telling you exactly how he would please you if it was him fingering your cunt instead. he would even come as close as grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand himself, but most of the time he will simply sit back and instruct you on how to jack yourself off

➤ he really likes to egg you on through the process too, he’ll taunt and tease while you try so hard to make yourself cum

“bet you wish that was my hand between your legs, huh? you wish those were my fingers fucking your pathetic pussy, don’t you?”

“come on you can do better than that! you must not want to cum that badly if that’s all you’ve got”

“do i need to remind you how you like it, is that it?”

➤ he’ll give you a hint of praise, only to go right back to calling you his “dumb little slut”. he pulls you right in by saying how good your doing for him, how pretty you sound— but in the end he’ll go back to his way, not that your complaining.

“fuck this is all your good for isn’t it. being a dirty little whore for me, isn’t that right?”

“don’t hold back now, you and i both know you like being treated this way; how wet you get when i boss you around like this.”

➤ he’ll definitely touch you in other ways, mainly trying to distract you from bringing yourself to release. he’ll grope your tits, pull your hair back and kiss your neck, squeeze your thighs; anything to get you all the more hot and bothered

➤ to expand on the praise point, some things he’ll say include:

“such a good girl, doing exactly as i say”

“shit— you sound so pretty when you do that”

“yeah, do it like i showed you fuck”

ıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllı

happy nam-gyu day!! (1/24) i just want to thank you guys again for all the support on my page, i’m truly blessed and forever grateful :)

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fabulous night/day lovelies 🤭

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @kouzih @gabbystinks

[leovenuslatina]

ETERNAL DESIRE⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

!!THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI!!

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what makes your FS feel desired?

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₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

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PILE 1 -

King of Pentacles & The Magician

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Your FS like to feel confident pile 1. he likes when stroke his ego make him feel good and you build him up i mean of course everyone does but he mainly likes it when you do it. it means the most to him when you do it especially when you two are making love and you whisper all things he’s doing makes you feel good he’s obsessed with that. Outside of the bedroom your FS likes knowing that you depend upon him that anytime you need him or anything that you come to him. he likes when you make him feel like a “real man” you know chopping wood lifting heavy shit and stuff like that. your FS is OBSESSED with making you feel safe protected and comfortable. whether it’s when some creep is hitting on you and making you feel uncomfortable or his just hold you in his arms. he likes knowing that you trust him completely with everything: soul and mind but especially body. Your FS does put a lot of his identity in what he does and his job so he maybe like really important where he works or in his field. he has a lot of respect which indirectly helps his confidence especially with you he likes to buy you nice things and taking you on trips and luxurious experiences. Lastly your FS LOVES ! communication and hearing words of affirmation from you it does wayyyyy more than you think it does.

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PILE 2 -

Two of Wands & Six of Pentacles

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Immediately pile 2 your FS means business! they love to get shit done they have a long list of goals and they intend to achieve everything on that list and they don’t let anything or anyone stop them. that makes them feel really desired and important and impressive. they like when you challenge them i’m getting that the chase is like a good motivation for them. in the weirdest way what makes them feel wanted is when you act like you don’t want them 🤭. when you tease them and act like a brat for lack of a better word. your FS def wants what they can’t have and when you tell them not right now or no he LOVES IT ! (side note lol): i was having a conversation with my man the other day and i asked him why he kept pursuing me even when i acted like i didn’t want him he said because he was so used to girls throwing themselves at him that when i didn’t he was intrigued and when he got me he felt accomplished. Your FS is the SAME way he’s probably like handsome or really charismatic and when you don’t immediately want him he’s obviously obsessed with you !honestly just being in a relationship with you makes him feel the most desirable. because he views you as the highest prize he could ever win. he sees you as a goal he wants to achieve (not in a bad way!!) he just knows he has to work his hardest to get you and make you happy and keep you happy and that makes him feel really good about himself. he feels like he won at life just because he’s with you 🥰. because they are very goal oriented they LOVE when you give them tasks to do for you like helping you move or helping you with some car troubles. they are a HUGE acts of service kinda guy and he’s the type to do stuff for you before you even asking like filling up your water bottle or washing your car for you or just anything to make your life easier. it’s the same thing in the bedroom. he likes when you tell him what you like and what to do and when he does that and makes you pleased he’s extremely happy with himself.

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PILE 3 -

Knight of Pentacles & Six of Cups

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Your FS prides himself on being who you lean on. He’s ambitious and he’s a GOOD man savanna!!! he’s loyal and faithful if you care about that stuff he is a religious man (only of that applies). What makes your FS feel desirable is knowing that you see him and that you know all he does. he’s the type of guy that doesn’t brag he’s not boastful about all he does. he’s very humble. he’s not in it for any type of praise or recognition. but you truly see him and you’re thankful and appreciative of everything he does for you and that makes him happy literally he’s a simple kinda man it really doesn’t take much to make him happy or feel. your FS is an extremely patient and supportive man he’ll do anything for you even if you have trauma or past experiences that cause you anxiety he’ll be right by your side. this FS is the perfect person for someone who needs a lot of patience and attention and love. he’s very caring and soft and loving. and the look on your face when he hold you or when he sees you happy that is the ultimate compliment to him. like all he wants to do is be a good MAN for you !

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[woniescheeks]

Flustered

Synopsis: In which Enhypen leaves you flustered with their sweet gestures, playful teasing, and protective sides, making you feel loved and embarrassed all at once.

W/C: 2.3k Warnings: Light teasing, fluff, mild embarrassment, protective behaviours 

Pairing: bf!enhypen x gn!reader  Genre: Fluff, Romance  AU: Established Relationship 

LEE HEESEUNG

You’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a blanket draped over your legs. Heeseung walks into the room, holding his guitar like it’s no big deal. He plops down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight, and starts strumming lazily. 

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Practicing again?” 

“Something like that,” he says with a smirk before breaking into a sweet melody. The song sounds oddly familiar, and then you realize—he’s improvising lyrics about you. They’re cheesy, talking about how your laugh is his favourite sound and how even your messy hair is perfect to him. 

“You’re not serious,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you glance at him. 

“About what?” Heeseung asks innocently, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“About playing me a song right now,” you reply, crossing your arms. “You know I’m not falling for that cheesy stuff.” 

Heeseung only grins and leans in closer. “I’m not trying to be cheesy,” he says, strumming the guitar a little louder. “But I think you’re already falling for it.” 

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile. “Please don’t make this any worse, Heeseung.” 

But before you know it, he starts singing again. The lyrics this time were about how you light up his world, how he’s so lucky to be with you, and how even your quirks are perfect to him.  

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. “Heeseung, stop!” 

“Why? Am I making you blush?” he teases, leaning closer, still playing. His voice softens, and he gives you this look—part playful, part sincere—that makes your heart skip. “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed, you know?” 

“Not cute! I’m dying of second-hand embarrassment,” you reply, but you can’t help but smile. Heeseung’s face lights up as he continues to sing, and for a moment, nothing else matters but his voice and the way he makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. 

PARK JONSEONG

You’re in the kitchen, huffing in frustration while trying to open a jar of pasta sauce. “Ugh, seriously?” you mutter to yourself, tugging at it harder. Just as you’re about to give up, you hear Jay’s voice behind you. 

“Need some help, babe?” he asks, his voice dripping with that familiar confidence. You turn to see him standing there, hands casually in his pockets.

“No, I got it,” you say quickly, not wanting to admit you’re struggling. You give the lid another twist. 

Jay just raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, it looks like you really got it,” he teases. “Let me just do it.” he says, already reaching for the jar. Before you can even answer, he takes it from your hands and pops the lid off like it’s nothing with a smirk on his face. “You can’t do everything yourself, you know.” 

You cross your arms, huffing in mock annoyance. “I could’ve gotten it! It’s just a jar!” 

“Sure you could,” he says, giving you a look that says he’s not buying it for a second. “But you didn’t. And now I’m the hero of the day.” 

“Show-off,” you mutter, but before you can grab the jar back, he steps closer. His chest brushes lightly against your shoulder as he leans down to whisper in your ear, “How would you survive without me, huh?” 

His voice is low, smooth, and so close that you freeze. The warmth of his breath on your skin sends a jolt straight to your stomach. You try to come up with a comeback, but all that comes out is a flustered laugh. 

Jay pulls back with a grin, clearly proud of himself. “You’re welcome,” he says casually, setting the jar down like nothing happened, leaving you to process your racing heart. 

“Ugh, whatever,” you mutter, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “But I definitely don’t need a ‘hero.’” 

“Of course you do,” he replies, winking. “Every superhero has their sidekick.” 

SIM JAEYUN

 You’re standing in front of the mirror, frowning as you debate between two outfits. Jake sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with his head propped up on his hand. 

“Which one do you like better?” you ask, holding up both options. 

He doesn’t even look at the clothes. Instead, he says, “You.” 

You pause, blinking at him. “What?” 

He grins, standing up and walking over to you. “I mean, you could wear either of those—or nothing at all—and you’d still look amazing.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to hide how flustered you are. “That’s not helpful.” 

Jake laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’m serious. You could wear a trash bag, and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful person in the room.” 

Your cheeks burn as you swat at him. “Stop it, Jake!” You laugh nervously, but Jake isn’t done.

“Actually, scratch that,” he says, his voice softer now. “You’d still outshine the sun even if you wore a potato sack.” 

Rolling your eyes, you try to step away, but Jake gently pulls you back, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. He rests his forehead lightly against the side of your head, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. “Why do you always get so shy when I tell you how amazing you are?” 

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Because you’re so extra sometimes,” you mumble, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. 

Jake chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Can’t help it,” he says with a grin you can feel more than see. “I mean, have you looked in the mirror lately? You make it way too easy for me to hype you up.” 

You glance at him, finally letting out a real laugh as the warmth of his words starts to sink in. “You’re ridiculous,” you tease, but your voice is soft, affectionate. 

“And you love it,” he quips, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. His expression shifts, becoming more tender as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “For real, though,” he adds, his voice steady and sincere, “you’re beautiful” 

Your face warms, but this time, you don’t try to hide it. Instead, you lean into him, resting your head on his chest with a content sigh. 

He just laughs again, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect without even trying.” 

PARK SUNGHOON

It’s a lazy Saturday morning, and you’re lounging around in an oversized hoodie, feeling cozy and not at all concerned about how you look. You’re still in your pajamas, hair a mess, and in your fuzzy socks on the couch when Sunghoon enters the room, looking as put-together as ever. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees you. “Wow. Are you trying to set a new record for the ‘cozy chic’ look?” 

You glance over at him and laugh, tugging the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms, “I mean, it’s kind of unfair. Even when you’re like this”—he gestures at your hoodie—“you’re still so cute it’s ridiculous.” 

You blink, completely caught off guard. “Excuse me?” 

He walks closer to you, his eyes playful. “I mean, you could wear literally anything, and I’d still think you’re cute, but you’re not even trying today.” 

“You’re ridiculous!” you exclaim, grabbing a sofa pillow and throwing it at him. 

But Sunghoon catches it effortlessly, his smirk only growing. “What? I’m just stating the obvious. You know you’re perfect, even when you don’t try.” 

He rests his arms on the armrest of the sofa and leans in as you give him a funny look. “What? Can’t handle a little truth?” 

You sigh dramatically. “You’re such a handful, you know that?” 

“I know,” Sunghoon says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “But you still love me, don’t you?” 

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Maybe.” 

KIM SUNOO

You’re walking through the park with Sunoo, holding hands and chatting about everything and nothing. The day is perfect—blue skies, a light breeze, and his hand warm in yours. 

Suddenly, he stops walking. “Hold on,” he says, looking down. 

You follow his gaze and realize your shoelace is untied. Before you can bend down to fix it, Sunoo crouches in front of you, taking your foot gently in his hands. 

“Sunoo, I can do it,” you protest, feeling your face heat up as people glance your way. 

“Shh, I’ve got it,” he says, tying the laces with a practiced ease and looks up at you with a cheeky smile. “You don’t want to trip, do you?”  

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine! I can tie my own shoes.” 

“Yeah, but I’m the one who always makes sure you don’t fall,” Sunoo teases, finishing the knot with a neat little bow and standing up. “Can’t have you getting hurt on my watch.” 

You’re about to thank him when he stands up and brushes off his pants. “You’re lucky I’m here to take care of you,” he teases, linking his arm with yours again. 

You try to act annoyed, but the affection in his voice makes it impossible not to feel warm inside. You shake your head, trying to ignore how flustered you feel. “You’re too much sometimes.” 

“And you love it,” he shoots back with a grin. 

YANG JUNGWON

It’s another quiet night, and you’re both on the couch, wrapped in your favourite blanket. The warm light from the lamps in the room casts a soft glow, and the sound of the movie playing in the background is just a distant hum compared to the peaceful silence between you two. You’ve been talking here and there, laughing about silly things, but now you’re both just enjoying each other’s presence. 

You notice your hands are getting colder, and you instinctively start rubbing them together to warm them up. At first, you don’t think much of it. But then, you feel Jungwon’s gaze on you. 

Without a word, he shifts closer to you, his arm around you tightening slightly, as if to pull you into him even more. You’re about to make some sarcastic comment, but before you can, Jungwon takes your hand gently, his fingers warming up your cold ones. 

“You’re freezing,” he says quietly, his voice laced with concern, as if he can’t stand seeing you uncomfortable. 

You chuckle softly, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cold. It’ll pass.” 

Jungwon’s brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. He’s staring at your fingers, noticing how icy they are, and his dimple pops out as his lips curl into a small frown. “You really are freezing,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand slowly, trying to transfer his warmth to you. 

You feel your heart flutter at the tenderness of his touch. It’s so simple, yet it feels so intimate. You look up at him, not expecting the softness in his eyes. 

“Jungwon, you really don’t have to do that,” you say, your voice almost a whisper, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you thought you would. 

But he just shakes his head, his expression softening as he looks at you. “I want to.” His voice is low, genuine, and you can tell he’s not saying it just to reassure you. He means it. 

Before you can argue, Jungwon scoots even closer, taking both your hands in his. He brings them to his lips, gently kissing the tops of your fingers, sending a wave of warmth through your body that has nothing to do with the temperature. 

“You’re not used to people taking care of you, huh?” he says with a small smile, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his voice, almost as if he’s trying to understand you better. 

You look down, feeling a little embarrassed but also touched by how attentive he’s being. “I guess not. But it’s not like I need it all the time,” you murmur, trying to play it cool. 

Jungwon just smiles, this time with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s not about needing it. I just want you to feel comfortable. And I’m always going to make sure you’re okay, even if you don’t ask.” 

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you can’t find words. His kindness always catches you off guard, especially when it’s so genuine and effortless. He’s not doing this for any reason other than that he cares. 

You shift, leaning into him a little more, suddenly feeling the weight of his affection, making everything seem so much more real. “You’re going to spoil me, you know that?” 

Jungwon chuckles, his hands still holding yours. “Maybe. But I like doing it. You’re worth it.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI

You’re walking through a crowded mall, shopping with Ni-ki. The place is packed, and as you’re navigating through the crowd, someone accidentally bumps into you. You stumble slightly, but before you can even react, Ni-ki is already there, stepping in front of you like a shield. 

“Are you okay?” he asks immediately, his eyes scanning you for any sign of discomfort. 

You quickly nod, trying to downplay it. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

But Ni-ki’s eyes narrow, clearly not convinced. “Stay close to me,” he says firmly, his hand gently slipping around your waist to pull you toward him as he expertly manoeuvres through the crowd, guiding you with ease. 

You look up at him, a little startled by how serious he seems. “Ni-ki, you don’t need to protect me from everything,” you say, trying to brush it off. 

But he just shrugs, still holding you close. “I’m your boyfriend, it’s my duty, I just want to make sure nothing happens to you.” His tone is calm, but the protective edge in his voice is obvious, and there’s no way you can argue with that. 

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying how sweet he’s being. “You’re such a mom sometimes,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. 

Ni-ki smirks, his protective hold never loosening. “Well, I’m a good one, aren’t I?” 

“You’re impossible,” you say, though your heart skips a beat at how endearing he’s being. 

“I know,” he says with a wink, squeezing you closer. “But you’ll thank me later when nothing happens to you.” 

You can’t help but smile. “Fine, fine. But only because you’re cute.” 

Ni-ki’s grin widens as he leads you through the crowd, making sure to keep you close, and for the rest of the day, it’s clear he’s not about to let anything happen to you. 

“Stay close, okay?” he says softly, a little more quietly this time, and it’s in that moment you realize just how much he cares. 

You smile, leaning into him a little more as you walk side by side. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay close.” 

[cinnaleaf]

「 Drunk &. Nasty | In Your DMs 」

summary: you said u weren’t into footballers, yet somehow you end up in jude’s bed after a night at the club | pt 2 of In Your DMs | MDNI 18+

warnings: smut, oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation, slightly public sex via phone call, alcohol consumption, themes of public attention/fame, language wc: ~3.9k 💌: pt 2 as requested! pls remember me different, i am ovulating 🤸🏾‍♂️ song inspo: Party Girls x Victoria Monét ft. Buju Banton

Cool night air slapped you with reality when you stepped out of the club with Jude, but it didn’t last long. He walked you toward a black Mercedes parked in front with tinted windows. You could see a driver already holding the door open and inside there were galaxy lights shimmering on the ceiling.

“Go ahead” Jude motioned inside the car, smirking because he knew you’d be cursing his name for the next few hours, and not in the way you did earlier at the club. You hopped into your seat and he followed shortly after, filling the car with the scent of seat leather, your creamy coconut perfume, and alcohol wafting from each others lips. Jude spread his legs out, encroaching your space while you tried to keep a respectable-ish distance. You tilted your head back, pretending like you weren’t hyper aware of him watching you. The second the car door shut, he broke the silence.

“C’mere.”

You didn’t look at him, knowing he was probably trying to pull you into a compromising position in the car. “I’m good right here.”

“Are you?” He leaned in close, giving you a smug look while trailing his hands up your thigh. You tucked your lips in and blew out through your nose to try and gather yourself. Thighs were a very sensual zone for you and the higher he trailed, the wetter you became. “Stop the act Y/N.” You bit back a whimper when he kicked your legs open with his own foot for easier access. “You want it so bad you’re shaking.”

“I’m not shaking” you lied even though your thigh was flexing against his hand. You shifted in your seat, trying closing your legs to avoid the heat pooling from his touch but his leg was in the way. You didn’t want give him the satisfaction of watching you squirm around like that, but when his hand crept up even higher, you bit back a gasp. “I’m g-good,” you repeated with twitching legs from the feathery light feeling of his fingertips.

Jude tilted his head up with a cocky smirk, searching your eyes to catch you in your lie. “Yeah? You sure about that?” He squeezed your thigh and rested his hand right below the spot he wanted to touch the most, making you glare from his confidence.

“What point are you trying to make Jude?”

“My point is…” he began while dragging his hand back down to tease you. “You’re sitting there acting like you don’t want me but we both know you do.”

You were crumbling faster than you wanted to, so you scoffed a laugh to mask wanting to hop on him right then and there. “What???”

“You heard me. Stop pretending and come here.” Jude came in closer and trailed his lips over your neck, making you lean into it while you bit your lip.

“We’re in a car…” you answered just as Jude scraped his teeth over the pulse point on your neck, making you whimper in response. Having decorum was your plan, but something about being drunk after a night of dancing with Jude in the club had you ready to risk it all.

“Never cared” He leaned back just enough to look at you and you swore he was undressing you with his eyes. Once you saw him wet his lips with his tongue and drop his eyes to where your dress rode up, you knew you were done for. In one swift motion, he gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his lap before you could push back. Your knees hit the plush leather and he smirked at you while trailing his hands down to rest on your ass. “If you don’t want it, tell me. Use your words.”

You definitely wanted it now, so you stayed hush which satisfied Jude but also pushed him to tease you even further. His large palms gripped the cheeks of your ass to pull you against him and your head dipped back in a mix of frustration and arousal. “You’re so cocky.”

“Say that again,” Jude laughed, pressing you tighter against him so you could feel how hard he was for you. The contact made you stifle a moan and clench your thighs against his instinctively. “Say it while you’re grinding on me like this.” He shifted his hips under you to press his cock against your core, making you dig your fingers into his shirt while he guided your movements with his hands. “You thought you had it under control tonight and now look at you.”

“I-” you wanted to fire back, but his hand dipped under your dress to trail the edge of your panties, making you jerk into his hand out of pure desperation.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He gripped the sides of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss that was all tongue and love bites on the bottom lip. When he finally pulled back to catch your dazed expression, he brushed his thumb over your lips with a sinister grin on his face. “You’re soaking my jeans, angel. You need it that bad?” The cocky lilt in his voice set you on fire and you wrapped your lips around Jude’s thumb to give him a sneak peek of what was to come. He sucked in a breath and took his thumb from your mouth to pull the top of your dress down, making your boobs spring free. 

“Fuck. Such pretty, perfect tits,” he whispered while raking over your chest in appreciation. His mouth latched onto your nipple and you arched toward him, gripping the back of his head. He swirled his tongue around, lightly biting the sensitive bud.

“Shit” you gasped from the sting, clencing your thighs tighter around him to grind down while his other hand squeezed and kneaded your other boob.

“You’re so beautiful” he spoke against your skin, switching to your other nipple with the same greed and tugging it between his teeth just to hear you hiss. “And you’re making the sweetest fucking noises for me.” When Jude finally pulled back to look you in the eye, his pupils were blown with hunger. “We can keep going here,” he muttered, still kneading your chest, “but I’d rather fuck you properly in my bed.”

“You sure you can handle me for that long?” you quipped while grazing your hand over his hard-on.

“Keep chatting shit and I’ll show you how long I can go.”

Jude lifted you off his lap and signalled for the driver to drive faster while you sat back in your seat bewildered. He was acting like he hadn’t just been latched onto you like a starved man while you sat down with Niagra Falls between your legs. The ride back to his place was filled with heavy breathing and teasing touches that had you ready to snap, but when you finally arrived at his house, he seemed to be in more of a rush than you did. Jude barely gave you time to take in the size of his place before he was opening the door and leading you inside with him. The second the front door closed, his hands were back on you. “Let me show you around,” he teased, pretending to be polite when in reality he really wanted to put you through the mattress. He kissed the corner of your jaw and moved his lips to your ear, nibbling. “Or I can show you around after I ruin you?”

You fumbled with the button of his jeans, eventually unzipping them to grab his dick right through his briefs. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

Jude groaned, forcing himself to step back. His hand wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the house. “Bedroom’s this way,” he said as if you had any fucks to give besides the one he was about to give you. You didn’t care where the bedroom was, you would’ve taken it against the front door or even the stairs but you didn’t want to seem too eager after your hard-to-get performance at the club. When you made it to his room, you were barely holding it together when he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his muscled, shirtless body. His jeans came off next and he pulled the bottom hem of his briefs up to show off his thighs and massive bulge. It made you shake your head because you saw him do the same thing at some of his matches when he wanted to tease his fans, but this was just for you.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away.

“Like what you see?” Jude smirked. His briefs joined his jeans on the floor and your jaw opened from the shock. You heard he was big but seeing his dick in front of you made you audibly gasp. It was thick, heavy, and had its own gravitational pull. It swung toward you with each step he took forward and you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your legs together. Jude caught the shift immediately and reached for you. “What’s wrong, angel? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.”

You swallowed hard, trying to get it together. “Please. I’m not scared.”

“Good.” He grabbed your neck gently and brushed his thumb under your jaw as he tilted your head to look up at him. “Take this dress off.”

“Take it off me.”

You weren’t boldly challenging him in the way you thought you were. Jude didn’t need to be told twice and took the dress off of you in a quickness, leaving you only in your soaked panties. “Look at you,” he muttered in appreciation. “So fucking gorgeous. Let’s see how ready you are for me.” His hand slid up your thighs and he spread them for you, kissing his way to your core. He hummed when he saw the wet patch on your panties and dragged his thumb over it with enough pressure to make you whimper. “You’re so wet” he cooed with awe. Jude had to peel your panties off of you because you were so wet they clung. When his finger slid inside of you, your eyes rolled back from the fullness. If he had you like this from one finger, you had no idea how you were going to react from his dick. Jude smiled as he watched your face contort, then he added another finger in. “You gotta open up more for me baby. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax for me.”

The way he softened his dominance to make sure you were ready somehow made you even hornier, and you grinded against his fingers already a mess from his touch. Jude had you hanging on by a thread from the way he thrusting his fingers inside of you. Every time you clenched around him, your hips bucked in a pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, but everytime you were about to, he’d pull his hand back and leave you gasping for air while kissing the inside of your thigh to soothe the ache.

“Jude” you whined, barely able to breathe from how good it felt.

“Shhh, don’t start begging now. Took you long enough to answer me so I’m gonna take my time with you.” He kept you spread for him and trailed his lips closer to your pussy, yet not close enough for what you wanted. You were a goner and he was loving every second of it.

“Pleaseee,” you begged while squirming around from the heightened sensation of his warm breath between your legs.

Jude tilted his head, smirking against your skin as he kissed higher and skimmed the edge of your folds with his lips. “More?”

You nodded frantically, grabbing at his head to pull him down but he was stronger than you so you had to settle for begging now that he was in control. “Jude please. I need your tongue.” As soon as you said it, he flicked his tongue out with one long stripe between your lips, making you clench your thighs against him. He wrapped his arms on your thighs and slurped between them, teasing your clit with light suction and rhythmic licks while you pushed up against his tongue. He refused to let you cum and pulled away just as your moans pitched higher. “Why are you like this? Just fuck me please.” you begged, gripping his wrist in an effort to pull him back to you to no avail. You fed his ego to fullness with the stark contrast of yourself at the club and between your begging, he grabbed a condom and slid it down his shaft.

“You ready?” he coaxed, spreading your folds with both his thumbs. You moaned a ‘yes’ which made him smirk, lick over his lips, and spit on your clit as a silent way to claim your pussy as his. When he tapped his tip against your clit to mix his saliva with your wetness, you clenched around nothing, fueling you to take matters into your own hands. You reached down to grab his cock while biting your lip, slowly guiding him inside of you. 

But then your phone rang.

“Answer it” he grinned, even as his dick twitched from your touch.

You looked at him dumbfounded. “What?”

“I said answer it. Right now.” Jude leaned down and brushed his lips on yours, but then he pulled back. He was beating you at your own game now and it had you dizzy with lust while he reached over and handed you your phone.

Your hand shook as you swiped the screen. “H-hello?”

“Did you guys fuck yet?” Bri’s voice loudly came in through the phone, making you wince. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how was it? Was it everything you imagined? Does he eat it off the bone?? Is the girth to length ratio good? I need to know everything girl.”

You were barely paying attention to her questions while you watched Jude place your legs on his shoulders. He dragged his dick through your folds and rubbed his tip against your clit, making you open your mouth.

“Well?!” Bri’s impatient voice snapped you back to the phone.

Jude pressed his tip inside of you, stretching you out and making you quietly mouth a ‘oh my god’ at him with creased brows. 

“Y/N?? Hello?”

“Uh–I–yeah it’s good.” you managed in a shaky voice just as Jude pushed in a little more with a smirk. “Sooo good.”

“And?!” Tasha’s voice chimed in way too clear, making you realize you were on speaker.

“And…” Your voice broke into a sharp gasp just as he gave you a teasing thrust to keep you on edge.

“Wait, is he still there?!” Bri gasped. “Because you’re not really giving us a proper dick report. What about aftercare? Is he a cuddle after kind of guy or did he already call your Uber? He seems like the cuddle type honestly.”

Jude leaned in, loud enough for them to hear over the phone. “Tell them you’re busy.”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered as he pulled out slightly, only to slide back in deeper. “I’m–um..really – oh fuck – busy. Very. Busy.”

“Was that him?!”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, looking up at him as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. He was pushing you closer and closer to orgasm, making your vision blur from pleasure. 

“I can’t” you whimpered quietly as he continued to thrust slow enough to keep you hanging on by a thread.. “I-I’ll call back later.”

“Yeah, she’s still working on the report.” Jude called out, even louder this time. He slid out of you and turned you on your knees, making you arch your back before deep stroking back in with a smack to your ass just as he pressed the end call button. You buried your face in a pillow to muffle your moans when he started hitting a spot that had you squelching into a wet mess on your thighs. 

“Jude, Jude, Jude,” you repeated in a chant, grasping at the sheets beneath you. “Deeper.” A dick like his wasn’t something you got to have often, so you were going to indulge, even if it did seem a little greedy to have him fill you completely. He pulled out slowly for you to feel every bit of him, then he gave you deep, calculated strokes with his balls slapping against you for extra sensation. You felt him smack your ass and you arched your back more to throw some back shots of your own.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

Jude slid his hand between your legs to massage your clit and your legs shook from the feeling. You didn’t know if you wanted to cum, cry, scream, or beg so you gripped his wrist instead, squirming. “I’m..I– oh god.” 

“So fucking good for me. I need to feel you cum on my dick.” The roles flipped. Jude’s arousal was being fueled by your sounds and now he was begging for you; the way he sounded while talking to you spurred you on.

“Don’t stop talking.” you moaned, throwing it back heavier on him. 

“Yeah?” He smacked your ass loudly. “Now you don’t want me to stop talking?” With another deep thrust, he felt you begin to flutter around him and he held your hips down to push you into the mattress. “You gonna cum for me?” You nodded as best as you could with your face pressed against the sheets, strangling out a moan.

“Tell me.” He demanded, feeling your muscles choke his cock with a tight grip.

“I’m gonna cum. Just for you, all for you.” you whined between the sounds of his skin meeting yours. 

“Give it to me then. Let me feel it baby.” In a quick motion, Jude wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. He gripped your neck, turning your head toward his lips while peppering kisses on your jawline. “You can’t believe you waited so long for this, huh? Such a good girl now.”

The moan that came out of you after he said that could only be described as pornographic. You clenched around him, flying higher and higher until your body shook against him from the intensity of your orgasm. He held his grip on you, talking you through it while telling you how sexy you sounded coming undone. Once you finally came down to earth again, he released his grip on you, making you fall against the mattress, shaking from orgasm aftershocks.

Jude removed the condom and rubbed your back, laughing at your predicament. “You okay?”

His laugh irritated you so you rolled over and sat up with a nod. “I’m fine. But you didn’t cum?” Your eyes shot down to his dick that was drooling with small beads of precum leaking onto the sheets. You trailed kisses from his thigh vein to the tip of his dick, pampering it with soft, short kisses while he twitched in your hand. 

“I thought I’d give you a break.” Jude saw you look up at him through your lashes and he licked his lips, caressing underneath your chin while you continued to tease him. “You clearly don’t want one though, huh?”

You answered by running your tongue along the vein of his dick, licking from base to tip in one long stroke. Jude’s head tipped back with a groan when you wrapped your lips around him, sucking just enough to make him flex toward you. His fingers tightened on your hair, guiding your movements while you took him deeper, choking a little when his tip grazed the back of your throat.

“Goddamn Y/N” he threw his head back in shock, but then quickly looked back at you because he couldn’t get enough of the sight. “Don’t stop.” Your tongue swirled around the tip as you pulled him out of your mouth enough to twist your hand around the base. Jude groaned, breathing heavily to hold on to the feeling for as long as possible. “Shit... do that again.” His voice was low but needy. You unhinged your jaw and took him deeper, swallowing to tighten your throat around his cock. Jude’s breathing got heavier and his hips thrusted involuntarily into your mouth for more. You started to feel him pulsing against your tongue as he strengthened his grip around the back of your head. “Stay right there and taste it angel.”

You swallowed around him again, milking him for everything he had while you massaged his balls. When you finally pulled off of him, his chest was heaving, he was sweaty and his eyes were half open while looking down at you. “Your head game is mad dangerous…” Jude leaned back to prop himself up on the headboard and pulled you in a straddle on top of him. 

“Is it?” you giggled as he gripped your ass to pull you just above his dick, which was starting to get hard again. When you felt him, you realized you were in for a treat. Jude’s refractory period was damn near nonexistent and the more you kissed, the harder you felt him get beneath you. When he finally pulled back, you were out of breath and riled up all over again. “Round two?” he asked, tapping himself against your folds. You nodded and he grabbed another condom, ready for a long night of ‘meeting your standards’ now that he was outside of your DMs and inside of you.

The next morning, you winced from the sunlight and cracked an eye open – only to be greeted by a room that looked nothing like yours. You shifted around, groaning quietly against the weight of Jude’s arm wrapped around you with his chest pressed against your back.

“Wait. What?”

Scattered condom wrappers were all over the floor. You froze, thinking in a daze while the puzzle pieces of last night came together in your mind. The club, the drinks, an answered DM, and Jude Bellingham. You turned your head to make sure you weren’t imagining things and sure enough, he was laid up next to you with a stupid smug smile on his face even in his sleep.

“Wait..did I– oh my god, I did.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you muttered, scrambling to grab your phone from somewhere in the tangled sheets. You found it buried under a pillow, unlocked it, and opened Instagram. Your stomach dropped. At the top your feed was a still image of you in the club with Jude.

“It’s been like–what? Six hours? How are these people so fast??” You rubbed your hands over your face but it did nothing to undo the situation. You checked your messages and opened your group chat:

Bri: goooood morninggg to the latest star of Bellingham Baddies! i hope the D was worth it babe. i tried to defend you but they kinda ate me up too!!

Tasha: no bc why’d someone make an entire thread about you following jobe but not jude?? i’m sorry but i laughed

You groaned, wincing from your hangover as the text notifications kept going off.

Bri: she’s 100% regretting her life decisions right now

You glanced at Jude who was stirring awake. He gave you a lazy smile and kissed you. “Why are you up so early? C’mere.” he hummed against your skin, pulling you into him. You wanted to be mad at him but when he kissed your neck, mumbling, “Don’t leave yet. Need you to stay here a little longer with me,” you sunk right back into him like you did the night before, biting back a smile. You texted your group chat while Jude continued to scatter kisses across your skin.

You: No. 100% worth it.

You locked your phone and faced Jude who was grinning wide and had his eyes half closed from hangover grogginess.

Yeah. 100% worth it.

[lucygraysboy]

hearing the songstress’ sweet voice, basking in the feel of her gentle thumbs on his rough skin, the smell of her hair so sweet that it’s almost overwhelming as dark curls smack his cheeks every now and then, billy can’t help but show lucy gray his most sensitive side. “i’m so happy to have found you,” he whispers, squeezing her sides. “thank you for showin’ me that special place by the lake. i ain’t ever seen nothin’ so beautiful. and for savin’ me when you first found me.” her laugh is like music to him, and it makes everything they’ve been through earlier seem less painful. stress of nearly losing her evaporating. “hope you know now there ain’t nothin’ intimidatin’ ‘bout ‘im. just takes a little trust, is all,” he softly reassures as sundance continues to trot, the rhythm steady but enough to feel the power beneath them. the ride a little more bumpy now. “right, i quite like my chin, wouldn’t want it bruised.” or her shoulder for that matter. a laugh sounds from him when she pushes him away. “don’t lose confidence now, doll. you doin’ real good. and horses got a way of knowin’ how sure you are, just like people do. ain’t much different.” he doesn’t want her to think she’s incapable of handling sundance just because he’s no longer walking slowly. if she ever needs to get away from here, she can’t be afraid of going faster. “ain’t everyday an outlaw like me shows up teachin’ fancy spanish, alright? must of been some kind of fate.” maybe his ma arranged it from up above or hers, if she’s up there, too.

“that sure means a lot to me, thank you darlin’.” thumbs rub against his real quick for a display of affection, he’s just full of sweet things to say. she feels mighty grateful to have such a kind person dropped into her life and the air in her lungs she’s taking extra deep breaths in for, that was terrifying earlier…sinking to her demise. so soaking up every breath she’s given, has made her realize to never take it for granted either. not that she did before, but it’s been a good reminder. “no, not that you seemed unfriendly. just a lot bigger than me. intimidatin’.” the brunette answers, shyly smiling towards the back of sundance’s head. “well be careful, if you’re gonna make him go… he won’t be so friendly to your chin hittin’ against my shoulder.” amusingly smiling, gently pushing his face away to make him not hit his chin. “no, you do it, i might do it too much.” backing back away from controlling sundance again, she sheepishly laughs and then hangs on tighter when he begins to trot. it’s exhilarating and fascinating how fast he can change speeds so easily— just one word and he’s an entirely different horse. “this is a weird thing for sure… an outlaw who wandered up just to teach me spanish.” amusingly smiling, wondering how’s that. “she’d definitely approve of that, too.”

[baeksqt]

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 — alexia putellas

alexia putellas x barcelona!reader

(a/n: on a roll trying to pump out my drafts cause I can feel the drought coming soon from uni >_< I’ve had this alexia piece gathering dust from last february)

word count: 2234

genre: somewhat fluff with angsty tendencies??

tw: emotional cheating

summary: trying to keep your heart in check, but alexia’s charm keeps slipping through the cracks

You had always dreamed of playing for FC Barcelona. The moment you stepped onto the training grounds for the first time, it felt surreal, like walking through a dream you were afraid to wake up from. The weight of the crest on your chest, the legacy of the club, the camaraderie…it was everything you’d imagined.

What you hadn’t imagined was Alexia Putellas.

Alexia had a presence that couldn’t be ignored. As captain, she carried herself with an effortless confidence, but it wasn’t just her skill that made people gravitate towards her. It was how she made everyone feel like they belonged and were part of something greater. You admired that. Admired her.

But admiration was one thing. Whatever this thing brewing between the two of you? That was something else entirely.

It started subtly.

You noticed the lingering glances during drills, the way Alexia always seemed to pick you as a partner for rondos, and the teasing remarks that hovered just on the edge of something more. At first, you thought it was just the team’s natural warmth, a culture of closeness, of sisterhood. But then came the casual brushes of Alexia’s hand against your arm, the way she’d lean in just a little too close when you were reviewing plays, the way her eyes would linger just a second too long.

You weren’t unaware of the tension that danced just beneath the surface; rather, you were cautious. Caution was necessary because no one on your team was privy to the intricate details of your life back home. It wasn’t a secret in the traditional sense—more of a quiet truth you didn’t feel the need to broadcast. Lucia, your girlfriend, had been your unwavering supporter as you took the leap to move to the vibrant city of Barcelona. She understood the sacrifices involved, even as the miles stretched between you. You had made her a promise, a vow echoing in your mind: you would make it work, that your bond was resilient enough to withstand the distance and that nothing essential between you would change.

But things were changing, weren’t they?

After an intense afternoon training session, most of the team had already headed inside, but you stayed behind to run a few extra drills. You were focused, dribbling through a set of cones, when Alexia appeared at your side, effortlessly matching your pace.

“You know, overachieving isn’t always attractive.” Alexia teased, her voice light, but there was a glint of something more in her eyes.

You smirked, side-stepping around a cone. “Good thing I’m not trying to be attractive.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” She chuckled, a rich sound that sent warmth prickling down your spine.

You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on the ball at your feet, but it was hard when Alexia was right there, watching you with that signature, half-lidded smirk.

“You always this serious?” Alexia asked, dribbling in sync with you.

“Serious wins games.” You said without missing a beat.

Alexia grinned. “Yeah, but flirting makes them fun.”

You barely managed to avoid tripping over the brightly coloured ball that had rolled onto the path. With a swift recovery, you straightened yourself just in time to see Alexia snatch it up, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes that made her amusement unmistakable. “You’re unbearable,” you muttered half-heartedly, nudging her lightly with your shoulder in an attempt to redirect the conversation to a more comfortable territory. But Alexia didn’t shift away; instead, she leaned in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You like having me around though.”

You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat as you grappled with an unfamiliar warmth creeping over you. The afternoon sun beat down relentlessly, but the flush in your cheeks hinted at something deeper—an awareness that you could not shake. “I like winning. You help with that.” You attempted to keep the atmosphere light, forcing out a nervous chuckle that barely masked your racing heart. Alexia, ever perceptive, tilted her head to the side, a playful spark dancing in her eyes as she regarded you with an amused smirk. “Good answer,” she replied, the corners of her lips curling up in delight. A quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as Alexia leaned back a fraction, the teasing tension lingering in the air between you, thick and palpable.

In the locker room later, you sat down on the bench, wiping sweat from your brow. Your phone buzzed with a message from Lucia: Miss you. Call me later?

You stared at the screen, feeling the weight of the distance between them more than ever. You were loyal, you loved Lucia. But Alexia had a way of getting under your skin, of making you question things you didn’t want to question.

“You good?” a familiar voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back into the bustling hallway. You looked up to find Alexia standing a few feet away, her silhouette framed by the harsh fluorescent lights. She leaned casually against the row of lockers, one leg crossed over the other, a relaxed posture that somehow emanated confidence. The warmth in her gaze was new; it held an unexpected softness that made your chest tighten slightly.

“Yeah,” you replied quickly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone as you shoved your phone deep into the recesses of your bag. “Just tired.”

Alexia studied you for a moment, her brow slightly furrowed in concern, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she offered that signature smile of hers, bright, infectious, and impossibly charming. “Dinner tonight? A few of us are going out.”

You hesitated, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over you. You were acutely aware of what this invitation could spell out—more time spent close to Alexia, infused with her teasing laughter and those lingering looks that made your heart race. Despite the swirl of apprehension, you found yourself nodding, the corners of your mouth lifting in an awkward smile. “Yeah,” you said, the word escaping as a soft agreement. “Sounds good.” 

As Alexia turned to walk away, her laughter trailing behind her like a melody, you let out a slow, deliberate exhale. You leaned against the cool metal of the locker, the weight of the day and your mixed feelings pressing down on you.

This was fine. This was friendly. This was nothing.

The problem was, Alexia didn’t let up.

On and off the pitch, she found ways to insert herself into your orbit, offering to run extra drills with her, sitting next to her during team meetings, and walking alongside her after training. And every time, there was that look, the one that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You regretted saying yes almost immediately.

Dinner with the team was intended to be a simple outing, a chance to unwind and bond over good food and drinks. Yet, the moment Alexia stepped into the bustling Barcelona restaurant, the atmosphere shifted. You should have sensed the impending chaos and politely declined the invitation, preferring the comfort of a quiet evening at home. Instead, here you were, surrounded by a vibrant mix of teammates at a long, rustic wooden table, laughter and lively chatter enveloping you like a warm embrace.

The aroma of grilled seafood and roasted vegetables wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful toasts. But amid the joviality, your thoughts were consumed by the presence of Alexia. She sat so close that every subtle movement caused your arms to graze against each other, sending a jolt of warmth through you. Her laughter rang out, bright and infectious, drawing everyone in, but for you, it was a reminder of the tension layered beneath the surface. You should have called Lucia, sought the solace of familiarity, and anchored your heart where it truly belonged. Instead, you played along, trapped in this delicate balance of camaraderie and unacknowledged longing.

“You don’t drink?” the blonde asked, raising an eyebrow as you stuck with water while the others sipped on glasses of wine. You smiled faintly. “Nah, not really my thing.”

“You’re always so serious, chica,” Alexia leaned in slightly, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “Ever thought about letting loose?”

You met her gaze, trying to ignore the way your heart thumped harder. “I’m plenty of fun,” you arched an eyebrow, “just…in my own way.”

Alexia smirked, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The rest of the team was oblivious to the tension simmering between you two, caught up in their own conversations. You did your best to focus on the food, the chatter, anything but the way Alexia kept looking at her as if she was trying to figure her out.

Without any hint of hesitation, Alexia leaned closer, her breath gentle and warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You know,” she whispered, her voice low and inviting, “if you ever want to talk about whatever it is you’re keeping locked away, I’m a really good listener.”

You froze in place, your fork paused mid-air, a piece of food forgotten as her words sank in. Alexia pulled back slightly, a playful, innocent smile dancing on her lips, but behind that façade, you sensed a deeper intention. She was observing you keenly, prodding and probing, pushing the boundaries to see what lay beneath your guarded exterior.

And the worst part? It was working.

The night stretched on, and you found yourself relaxing more than you intended. The conversation flowed easily, and you were reminded of how much you truly loved being here. How much you loved the game, the city, the team.

But every now and then, Alexia would say something, touch your arm softly, or glance at you in a way that made your thoughts spiral into dangerous territory. By the time you left the restaurant and the team spilled onto the lively Barcelona streets, you felt like you were walking a tightrope. 

“You heading home?” Alexia asked casually, falling into step beside you as you walked through the city. 

“Yeah, early training tomorrow.” You nodded.

Alexia smiled knowingly. “Always responsible.” 

“Someone has to be.” You shot her a look. 

You walked in silence for a moment, the cool air wrapping around you both like a gentle shroud, before Alexia broke the stillness. With her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, she spoke in a softer tone, almost as if she were sharing a secret. “You know, I get it. Keeping parts of your life to yourself.”

You stiffened slightly at her words, glancing at her with curiosity and caution. “Do you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah,” she replied, her gaze drifting to the ground ahead. “People expect things from us. Sometimes it’s just easier to keep certain things private.” She paused, taking a deep breath as if the weight of her confession lingered in the air. “But…it can get lonely too,” she added quietly, her eyes flickering with a hint of vulnerability.

You contemplated her words, the significance hanging between you like unspoken truths, debating in your mind whether to share your own feelings. After a moment's hesitation, you finally responded, “Yeah,” your voice low and reflective. “It can.”

As they approached the intersection where their paths would diverge, Alexia paused for a moment, an indecision flashing across her face. She looked up at you, her eyes glimmering in the soft glow of the streetlights. “Well,” she said, a small, almost hesitant smile forming on her lips. “Goodnight, chica.”

“Night, Alexia,” you replied, your voice slightly strained as you forced a smile back at her, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you.

With that, you turned away a little too suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest as you walked briskly down the street. Each step felt heavier than the last, the sounds of the evening fading into a dull roar in your ears.

Once you finally arrived at your apartment, you slumped down onto your bed, the familiar comfort of your room juxtaposed against the storm brewing inside you. Your gaze fell on your phone, which lay silently beside you. An unread message from Lucia caught your eye, its simple declaration striking a chord deep within: I love you. Call me when you’re free.

A sigh escaped your lips as you ran a hand through your hair, frustration and longing intertwining in a tangled mess of emotion. You loved Lucia, you truly did, but the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings hung in the air around you, suffocating yet inescapable.

You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, your phone resting on your chest. Lucia’s message glowed softly in the dark, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond just yet. Your mind was still tangled in the evening, in the way Alexia looked at you, and spoke to you.

This isn’t a problem, you told yourself. I’m just overthinking it.

And yet, you knew better.

You sighed, finally picking up your phone and typing out a quick reply:  I love you too. I’ll call tomorrow, I promise. Training ran late.

A lie. A small one. But it was easier than explaining why she hadn’t called sooner.

[goldenhazelnut]

Chasing The Calm || Max Verstappen

summary: When a young, determined intern crosses paths with Formula 1 champion Max Verstappen, their connection defies expectations.

Your heart raced as you walked through the paddock. As an intern in the Red Bull communications team, being part of the Formula 1 world was a dream come true. At just 21 years old, you were the youngest on the team, always trying to prove you deserved to be there.

Max Verstappen, on the other hand, was your opposite. At 27, he was already a four-time world champion who seemed to have lived a thousand lives at Formula 1’s relentless pace. Your paths often crossed, but only in fleeting smiles or quick “thank yous” in passing. Until that night.

After another long workday, you were sitting in one of the common areas, reviewing some notes. The paddock was nearly deserted, save for the sound of approaching footsteps. When you looked up, Max stood there, watching you curiously.

“Do you always work this late?” he asked, his voice calm, marked by his distinct Dutch accent.

“Not always,” you replied, trying to maintain a professional demeanor. “Just making sure everything’s ready for tomorrow.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Always so dedicated. Shouldn’t you be out enjoying the night? You’re young; you’ve got the energy for it.”

You laughed softly, trying to hide your nervousness. “Maybe. But it looks like you’re still here too, so I could say the same about you.”

Max smiled, a genuine one. He pulled out the chair beside you and sat down—a move you didn’t expect. “Fair enough. I guess I’ve spent so much time here I’ve forgotten what a normal night feels like.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, a rarity amidst the chaos of paddock life. You could feel his gaze on you—not invasive, but thoughtful, like he was trying to piece you together.

“So,” he began, breaking the silence, “what brought you to Formula 1?”

“It’s been my dream for as long as I can remember,” you admitted, resting your chin on your hand. “I love the sport, the competition… and I wanted to prove to myself I could get here, even being younger than most.”

Max nodded, as though he understood more than he let on. “I get it. When I joined, I was 17. Everyone said I was too young, that I wasn’t ready. But I think that just made me want to work harder.”

Your eyes met his, and you realized that despite the differences in your age and experience, there was something you shared—a determination to prove yourselves.

“You’re different,” he said suddenly.

“How so?”

“You’re… calm. Most people who are confident talk a lot, try to prove they know everything. But you’re quiet. It’s… refreshing.”

Your throat went dry. You hadn’t expected him to say that, but something about his sincerity made you feel at ease.

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m still learning,” you said with a small smile. “And maybe because I think there’s more to gain from listening than talking.”

He let out a soft chuckle, low and genuine. “You know, I think you’re right.”

A Few Days Later

Your encounters with Max became more frequent. He always found a reason to talk to you—a quick “good luck” before a press conference or a casual “How’s it going?” during a break.

One evening, as the sun dipped low, painting the paddock in warm tones, Max called you over for a conversation. You stood together by the track, away from the buzz of activity.

“You know,” he began, leaning against a safety barrier, “I should probably tell you to stay away from me.”

You frowned, confused. “Why?”

“Because this world is messy. My life is messy. I’m not exactly the kind of guy who can offer you stability.”

You crossed your arms, trying to mask the sting of his words. “And what makes you think I want stability?”

He blinked, caught off guard by your response. “Most people do.”

“I’m not most people,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what I’m afraid of. You’re different. You’re... honest, and grounded. And being around you makes me forget the chaos. But that’s dangerous—for you and for me.”

You stepped closer, your voice softer but unwavering. “Maybe I don’t mind a little danger. Maybe you shouldn’t decide what’s best for me.”

His eyes searched yours, conflicted but vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Then let me find out,” you said, offering a small, reassuring smile.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Max hesitated, then reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, his expression tender yet uncertain.

“You’re stubborn,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Maybe,” you replied. “But so are you.”

He laughed softly, the tension easing slightly. “You’re going to make my life even more complicated, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” you teased. “But isn’t that what makes it worth it?”

Max shook his head, a mix of exasperation and admiration. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you pointed out with a smirk.

He didn’t reply right away, but the look in his eyes said everything. Slowly, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“Just promise me one thing,” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t regret it.”

You smiled, your heart pounding but your voice steady. “I won’t. Will you?”

For the first time, Max didn’t have an answer. Instead, he kissed you, the world around you fading away as you both took the first step into something neither of you could predict but both of you craved.

[signanothername]

I– I need to ask.

HOW DO YOU DO THIS?? Like, share your thoughts with everyone. Because I've been working on my universe for about three years now, AND I STILL FEEL LIKE IT'S NOT READY. At the same time, I’m still afraid to share these things...

So. How do you do it?D:

Alright my answer will seem a bit harsh and/or cruel, but know that I mean it in the most kind, genuine, and gentle way possible, i just don’t know how to word it any other way

With that in mind

Anon, you’re never going to be ready to share it, and the fear will always linger, you will never be 100% confident of what you share

And that’s ok

Again, I know that i make it seem super easy, but I promise that I’m just as afraid to share my ideas as anyone else (I’m a perfectionist, and that also contributes to my fear to share things)

It’s just, I think of it this way

I have an idea, and I got two choices

Either

1- I keep overthinking it, and succumb to my worries and fears when it comes to my idea, and keep my ideas with me, never to see the light of day

Or

2- I acknowledge that I’m afraid, acknowledge that my idea might not be perfect or ready, acknowledge that there might be flaws that I will probably notice later and even feel stupid about it, and still share my ideas anyway regardless of the voice in my head telling me to “wait a little more”

I usually go for choice number 2

The art and writing process is complicated, it’s so not easy to write something and feel ready to share it, no matter how much time it takes, you will never ever feel truly and utterly ready to share it, you’ll have that worry in your mind that maybe it’s stupid, or incomplete, or inconsistent or whatever else

And guess what? Sometimes, the worried voice in your head is completely right

But what matters is how you tackle it

Even if you share an idea, remember that you can always change your mind about it, you can absolutely go back and say, I don’t like that idea anymore and so I’ll remove/ change/ replace it

Ideas are never set in stone, you change and grow as a person as so do your ideas, they grow and change with you as you learn more and more, and sometimes they don’t, they don’t change at all, and that’s ok too

You can’t keep worrying about whether the story or idea you’re working on is ready or complete, because all you’re going to do is just walk around in circles and end up never sharing anything at all

It’s ok to be worried, but you can’t let your worries control you, of course, it’s not easy to ignore your worries, but it’s better than feeling stuck with your ideas

I myself do deal with these worries a lot, most of the time i just tell my brain “shut up” and share my ideas anyway, other times my worries do get the best of me and i tend to keep some ideas to myself

But sharing your ideas is actually essential for you to actually be able to work on them and refine them, because people might start asking questions or giving really good feedback that you actually sit with yourself to think about

But what if they ask you a question and you don’t know the answer to it? That’s actually a good thing, it’ll make you sit down and think of how to connect the dots and answer it, not only does it mean you’re actually making progress on your story/ideas, but these kinda questions help you understand different perspectives and by that, you learn and grow in your writing

It’s ok to be worried and to keep ideas to yourself sometimes, but don’t let them fester, because believe me, eventually your passion is gonna burn out because you kept overthinking it to the point it became just a worry than something you enjoy doing

In fact, to give you a bit of motivation, imma actually share one of the ideas I never shared cause I was afraid it’ll be a bit stupid and out of character

And I’m very worried about sharing it, but fuck my worry I do what I want

Remember when I mentioned Dream received one gift from Nightmare, and never received anything after? My idea for that gift was an echo flower he gave Dream, and it echoes one thing “I love you”

There, I shared it ouuughh the stress of sharing it is killing me actually, but I mean I can keep worrying about it forever, or actually share it and refine it later if I wanted, I choose the latter

And your ideas are never going to be perfect anyway, but you can improve them with time, even after sharing them

That’s all I do really shzggz

So go out there and start sharing anon, fuck anxiety, you can do whatever you want, you’re unstoppable

[lvnleah]

figuring it out | beth mead.

this is a fic about a personal experience so please be kind with it <33

You’d always been the kind of person who jumped headfirst into relationships, never spending much time between them. Friends and family joked about how you were “boy-obsessed,” but it never bothered you much. It was just who you were—or at least, who you thought you were.

When you signed for Arsenal, your world expanded in ways you hadn’t expected. The team was welcoming, and you quickly found yourself surrounded by incredible women who shared your passion for football. Among them was Beth.

Beth was funny and unapologetically herself. She was one of the first people to make you feel at home in the squad. You clicked immediately, forming an easy friendship that quickly became close.

Beth being openly gay wasn’t a big deal to you. You had plenty of gay friends and teammates throughout your career, and it never crossed your mind to think about it any deeper.

At least, not until Beth.

The first time you realized something had shifted, it caught you completely off guard. You were at training, and the two of you paired up for drills. Beth cracked some ridiculous joke that had you doubled over laughing, and when you looked up, her grin was bright and carefree. Your stomach flipped.

“That bad, huh?” she teased, misinterpreting your reaction.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, you’re just—” You stopped short, unsure how to finish the sentence. Funny? Beautiful? Both felt dangerously true.

Beth tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. “I’m just…?”

“Annoying,” you shot back quickly, hoping your voice didn’t betray the chaos in your chest.

“Right,” she said with a mock glare, tossing the ball to you. “Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I beat you in this drill.”

That’s weird, you thought, brushing it off. It’s just because she’s so funny you tried to convince.

But the feelings didn’t stop. They crept in at unexpected moments—during team dinners, when she sat next to you, her leg brushing yours under the table; during training, when she scored a brilliant goal and turned to you with that mischievous glint in her eye.

You told yourself it was admiration, nothing more. You admired her skill, her confidence, and the way she seemed to make everyone around her feel at ease. It didn’t mean anything.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling match, the team gathered at a local pub to unwind. You found yourself sitting beside Beth, her shoulder pressing lightly against yours. She was in the middle of recounting some story, her hands animated as she spoke.

“And then Leah completely wiped out!” Beth laughed, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

You laughed too, though you hadn’t really been listening. You were too focused on the way her lips curved, the way her laughter seemed to fill the room.

“You okay?” she asked suddenly, catching you staring.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, looking away. “Just tired.”

Beth narrowed her eyes but didn’t push further, though you could tell she didn’t believe you.

Then came the away trip.

You and Beth shared a hotel room, and the evening was perfect in its simplicity. You ordered room service and watched a cheesy rom-com together, laughing at the over-the-top plot twists.

“That is the most unrealistic kiss I’ve ever seen,” Beth said, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen.

“You think you could do better?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Beth smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Oh, absolutely. I’d nail it.”

Your stomach flipped again, and you quickly turned your attention back to the movie.

At some point, she fell asleep, her head resting on your shoulder. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Her steady breaths and the warmth of her so close to you felt oddly intimate. And for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as straight as you’d always believed.

The realization terrified you. It kept you up all night.

You were twenty-five, surely you’d have realised you’d liked women before now?

The next day, you avoided Beth. Your usual easy banter felt strained, and when she asked if you were okay, you brushed her off with a weak excuse about being tired. But Beth wasn’t believing it.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” she asked during training, pulling you aside.

“Nothing's wrong,” you said, avoiding her gaze.

Beth sighed, her expression sceptical. “You’re acting weird. Did I do something?”

“No,” you said quickly, feeling guilty for making her think that. “No…It’s not you. I’m just…dealing with some stuff.”

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her voice softer. “But you know I’m here if you need to talk, right?”

You nodded, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to say anything more.

Back in London, you put distance between yourself and her. You threw yourself into training and found reasons to skip team outings. But Beth wasn’t one to be ignored.

She showed up at your apartment one evening with a bag from your favourite Chinese takeaway.

“You’ve been weird lately,” she said bluntly, settling onto your couch like she belonged there. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, grabbing the food and avoiding her eyes.

“Right,” Beth said, drawing the word out. “So, it’s just a coincidence that you’ve been avoiding me for weeks?”

You hesitated, the weight of her gaze making it impossible to keep up the charade. “It’s complicated,” you finally admitted.

Beth sighed. “I’m not going anywhere, you know. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Her words made your chest ache, and for a moment, you considered telling her everything. But the fear of losing her made you keep your mouth shut and just told her it had to do with an argument with your mum.

It all came to a head during a team night out.

The pub was crowded, and the drinks were flowing freely. You felt yourself relaxed for the first time in weeks—until you caught yourself staring at Beth. She was mid-conversation, laughing at something Leah said, and you couldn’t look away.

She noticed.

Her eyes met yours, and she raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a knowing smile. Embarrassed, you excused yourself and stepped outside, the cool night air doing little to calm your racing heart.

You heard the door open behind you, and a moment later, Beth was there.

“You’ve been acting so strange around me,” she said, her voice laced with concern. “What’s going on?”

The alcohol made you bolder than usual. You took a deep breath, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them.

“I-I like you, Beth. And it’s terrifying because I’ve never felt this way about a girl before.”

Beth’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you were sure you’d ruined everything. But then she stepped closer, her expression softening.

“It’s not so terrifying once you let yourself feel it,” she said quietly.

Beth’s words hung in the air, her voice steady yet filled with something deeper—something understanding. She didn’t look surprised or awkward. If anything, her expression softened further, like she knew exactly what you were feeling.

“It’s okay to be scared,” she continued, stepping closer. “I’ve been where you are.”

“You have?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her gaze steady. “A few years ago, before I came out. I was terrified of what it all meant—of how it would change things with the people I cared about. But the hardest part wasn’t figuring it out. It was not letting me feel it. I wasted so much time convincing myself it was easier to just…pretend.”

Her words hit you like a wave, a strange mix of comfort and fear swirling in your chest. You looked down, unable to hold her gaze. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Beth reached out, her hand brushing against yours. “You already have. Telling me? That’s the hardest part.”

You let out a shaky laugh, still staring at the ground. “I thought the hardest part was figuring it out.”

“That’s hard too,” she admitted, squeezing your hand gently. “But you don’t have to do it alone. And you don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

You hesitated, the weight of your emotions making it hard to breathe. But when you looked up, Beth was still there—calm, patient, and unshaken.

“Did it take you a long time?” you asked, your voice quiet.

She nodded again, her smile tinged with understanding. “Longer than I’d like to admit. But once I stopped fighting it, once I let myself feel what I was feeling…it got easier. And it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” you repeated, your voice cracking slightly.

Beth’s smile widened, a little teasing now. “You’re worth it.”

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, but Beth didn’t seem to need you to.

“Come on,” she said, tugging your hand gently. “Let’s go back inside before Leah starts a bet about why we’re out here.”

You laughed despite yourself, her words easing some of the tension. “Leah would absolutely do that.”

“Exactly,” Beth said with a grin. “And she’s terrible at keeping secrets, so we’d have the whole team asking questions by tomorrow.”

She started to pull you toward the door, but you hesitated, your hand tightening around hers. “Beth?”

She stopped, turning back to you.

“I don’t know where this is going,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “But I know I don’t want to lose you.”

Her expression softened, her fingers lacing through yours. “You’re not going to lose me. Whatever this is, whatever it becomes—I’m here.”

Her words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and reassuring. For the first time in weeks, the knot in your chest loosened.

“Okay,” you said softly.

Beth smiled, her grip on your hand firm but comforting. “Okay.”

With that, she led you back inside, her presence steady beside you. The noise of the pub seemed distant now, the weight of your fear lifting just enough for you to feel something else—something new. Something that felt like hope.

You started spending more time together, your bond deepening as your relationship evolved from friendship to something more. For the first time in your life, you weren’t rushing into love. Instead, you were savouring every moment with Beth, learning what it meant to truly fall for someone—not because you’re afraid of being alone, but because they make your world brighter.

It was subtle at first, the way things changed. You found yourselves lingering a little longer after team dinners, sharing small moments that felt big. There was the touch of her hand on your arm as she joked with you, the way she caught your eye during training, a shared glance that meant more than words could say. Slowly, you became more comfortable with the new dynamic between you. The fear, once overwhelming, now felt like something you could navigate together.

One night, after a quiet dinner at your apartment, the evening wound down with the two of you sprawled on your couch, the flicker of a movie casting soft light across the room. There was something different in the air—an unspoken tension that neither of you could ignore.

Beth looked at you, her eyes soft, a little vulnerable. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. The simplicity of it struck you, the way she didn’t need to say anything more but you felt the weight of her words.

You met her gaze, your heart pounding a little faster than usual. “Me too,” you replied, your voice matching the softness of hers. There was no rush, no pressure. Everything felt easy, and yet, there was a part of you that knew something was about to shift.

And then, without another word, you leant in. The kiss was at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, something inside you clicked. It was warm and tender, an undeniable pull between the two of you that neither of you could deny. Her hand moved to your cheek, the touch gentle as she deepened the kiss. The world outside your apartment faded, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, everything else irrelevant.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, Beth’s eyes locked on yours, a question lingering in them. “Are you sure?” she asked softly, her thumb brushing over your lips.

You nodded, the uncertainty gone as you stood up and pulled her off of the sofa. “Yeah. I’m sure.” You smirked as you pulled her to your bedroom.

The next morning, you woke up in Beth’s arms, the warmth of her body pressed against yours. For a moment, you didn’t move, just savouring the quiet, the intimacy of the moment. Your fingers traced absentmindedly over her skin, and when she stirred, her sleepy smile was the most contented thing you’ve ever seen.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, your heart full in a way it’s never been before.

You shared a quiet breakfast, talking about everything and nothing, your laughter filled the space between you. The ease of it all makes you realize just how much it felt like home.

Later, when you both got up to go to the kitchen, Beth brushed her hand across your lower back, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent warmth flooding through you, a reminder that this is real, that she’s real.

Beth turned to you as if reading your mind, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I don’t know where this goes,” she said, her voice serious but kind. “But I know I want to be here. With you.”

You looked at her, your heart swelling with emotion. “Me too,” you answer, feeling a contentment you never thought you’d experience. “Wherever it goes, I’m with you.”

A few months passed, and everything between you and Beth felt natural now—like breathing. You’d spent so much time together, both on and off the pitch, that it was impossible to remember what it was like before you met her. The bond you shared was undeniable, and to your surprise, the fear you once had about being vulnerable with her had completely faded. Beth had become your home in a way no one else ever had.

You’d kept things private for a while, just the two of you, figuring things out at your own pace. The other girls on the team had noticed the subtle changes—the way you were always paired up together, the way your smiles lingered a little longer when Beth was around. But no one had said anything, and you were thankful for that. For now, it was yours to hold onto.

But all good things, you knew, couldn’t stay hidden forever.

It started innocently enough—just a casual team dinner after a long week of matches. Everyone was laughing, chatting about their plans for the weekend, and you and Beth were sitting side by side, as usual. But that night, there was a different energy in the air, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Your teammates were more observant than you thought, picking up on every little glance you shared, every laugh that was just a bit too intimate.

Leah leaned in with a teasing grin. “So, you two gonna tell us what’s going on, or are we gonna keep pretending?” she’d said, her eyes flicking between you and Beth.

Beth froze for just a second, but then she laughed, a low sound that eased the tension. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d said, glancing at you. But her smile was too knowing, too soft.

Steph, who’d been sitting across the table, raised an eyebrow. “Come on, seriously,” she’d said, the corner of her mouth twitching into a grin. “It’s obvious. You two are practically inseparable.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest. You glanced at Beth, who was looking at you now with that same playful glint in her eye. There was no hiding it any longer.

“We’re not hiding anything,” you’d said, your voice a little too defensive for your liking. “We’re just…” You’d trailed off, unsure how to put it into words. But then Beth leaned forward, her hand brushing against yours under the table, and the simple gesture made everything click into place.

“We’re together,” she’d said simply, her eyes meeting yours with an unspoken promise. “Been for a while now.”

The room had fallen silent for a second, and then the teasing had started in full force. Leah was the first to break the quiet, a grin spreading across her face. “Well, about time! We all knew it,” she’d said, nudging you with her elbow. “You two are way too obvious to keep it a secret.”

You’d laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing as your teammates bombarded you with questions and congratulations. The teasing had been light-hearted, the kind of playful banter you’d come to love. But underneath it all, there’d been a sense of acceptance, of warmth. No one had judged, no one had been uncomfortable. They’d just been happy for you.

As the evening had wound down and the group had begun to disperse, you and Beth had ended up walking out together. The night air had been cool, and the city had been alive around you, but it had felt like it was just the two of you in the world.

“You okay?” Beth had asked, her hand brushing against yours as you walked side by side. Her voice had been soft, her usual teasing tone replaced with something more serious.

“Yeah,” you’d replied, glancing at her with a smile. “I’m okay. Actually, I’m better than okay.”

She’d grinned, a familiar twinkle in her eyes. “Good, because I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while now,” she’d said, her voice taking on a nervous edge you’d never heard before.

You’d stopped walking, turning to face her, the unease in her voice immediately catching your attention. “What is it?”

Beth had looked at you for a moment, her eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. Then, with a deep breath, she’d said, “Will you be my girlfriend?” The question had been simple, but it had felt monumental in the quiet of the night. “I know we’ve been taking our time, and I want to make sure you’re ready, but I don’t want to wait any longer to ask you. Because I—” She’d cut herself off, looking down at the ground briefly before looking back up at you. “I really want you to be mine.”

Your heart had swelled at her words, the honesty in her voice taking you by surprise. You’d always known how much she cared about you, but hearing her say it—really say it—had made your chest tighten with something new, something beautiful.

You’d taken her hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “Yes,” you’d said without hesitation. “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Beth’s face had lit up, a huge smile spreading across her face. “Really?”

You’d laughed, nodding. “Really.”

Beth’s smile softened, and her hand gently cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin as if she was memorizing the feeling of you. The moment hung between you, full of promise and warmth, and without thinking, you stepped closer to her. The city sounds faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet night.

Beth leaned in, her eyes flicking to your lips, and then back up to meet your gaze. You held your breath, the anticipation building between you, and in that second, everything seemed to fall into place.

With a smile that made your heart skip, Beth closed the distance, her lips pressing softly against yours. It was gentle at first as if testing the waters, but then it deepened, as if the world had finally caught up to what you both knew was inevitable.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling and just like that, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be—together.

[startheskelaton]

I bet you ain’t ever seen Soundwave without his helmet before XD

In all seriousness though, I like to head cannon that Sparkplug feels more comfortable/confident with her helmet thanks to Soundwave, and that Soundwave was the one who gave Sparkplug her helmet as present.

I’m sorry to ask but are you ok with me sharing my headcannons about the one spark au?

Allow me to go on another tangent.

I realized with this AU, the main core of the story is the battle between extreme selflessness and extreme selfishness, and how they can dictate someone’s actions for both better and worse.

With Sparkplug in particular, she inherited a huge amount of heroism from Optimus Prime. She dose what she believes to be the right thing, even if it leads to her embarrassing herself because she misread a situation. She wants to make everyone happy because that’s just what she feels is natural. However she also inherited a sense of self worth from Megatron. If she believes she can do something, she will not stop until she can prove to everyone she’s capable. This also makes her extremely stubborn and prone to emotional outbursts. Even though she’s been given opportunities to thrive, she rejects them because that’s not what she wants to do. However the problem for her lies within her knowing that these parts of her are inherited from her parents. And that she is mostly defined by her parents.

Selfless: “I have a responsibility to live up to others expectations because they need to know that prime isn’t gone. If I don’t jump in when I see someone possibly getting made fun of, then I might have ignored someone in need of help. I’m gonna become stronger so my parents will feel safe enough let me become a scout”

Selfish: “I hate that people see me as a replacement, it wasn’t my choice to exist. If I don’t prove I’m a good person then everyone is gonna assume I’m evil like my dad. I don’t care if I could breeze by as a medical assistant, I’m gonna become a scout to see the world and prove everyone wrong”

So this is where the Soundwave helmet comes in.

The helmet was a gift from Soundwave to a young Sparkplug. A very prideful gift but a nice one. With it, Sparkplug developed the Shatter persona. This was essentially just her, but without the burden of responsibility and public judgement. She finds herself looking up to Soundwave a lot because for the most part, he sees her more like one of his cassettes then anything else.

So she plays it up with the persona. Because that would mean all of her personality traits were inherent to her, not given by someone else. A nice temporary escape.