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totaly-obsessed · 7 months ago

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A Lesson in Accepting

Barcelona Femení x reader

-> Despite reader's best efforts to hide her illness and join in training, a she learns the importance of listening to her body and her teammates

-> Wordcount: ≈ 1.770

-> The happiest birthday to @sleekswosobession - love you!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Oye! No chiqui - off!”

Hmmpf.

Out of all the older players, Lucy was usually the fun one. But today she didn’t want you climbing on her and she had gotten annoyed when you tried to steal her shoes. Maybe a new victim was needed for your shenanigans. But who?

Just as you started to look around for Vicky, the arm of Marta found its way onto your shoulder, Caroline now at the other side as they dragged you into the changing rooms. “Don’t even think about it.”

Music blasted through the room, with Salma by the speakers as her phone was connected to it, getting ready while swaying to her music. A quick look around made it obvious that your cubby for the day was between Frido and Ingrid.

Great.

You missed the days were you were at your rightful place between Patri and Cata, Claudia joining you after quickly changing into her kit. Those were the fun days when you had just joined the team. Fresh from Australia and full of energy and nerves Patri and Claudia had taken you under their wing.

Just two weeks later Alexia fell over her tied-together laces, just to see you laughing in a corner, hiding behind your new friends. The room had fallen quiet, everyone scared of what their captain would do.

Laugh.

Alexia Putellas, their strong and serious captain, started laughing at being tricked by a sixteen-year-old Australian rookie. Hesitantly the other players started to laugh, watching the blonde from the corner of their eyes, just to make sure that she wouldn’t get pissy at them laughing.

But now you were stuck between different adults every week, your number never hanging in the same spot, and for today's game, it was the space between two tall scandis. While they were incredibly nice, neither of them had a fable for letting you run wild - but they let you yap as much as you want. A win is a win. And at this point, you’d take anything.

Rainy games were your favorite games. You loved sliding around on the drenched pitch, tackling an opponent whenever you could, and getting your kit as dirty as possible. And that game was no different.

Sliding here - sliding there.

Mapi thought it was hilarious how you sprinted across the waterlogged pitch, stealing the ball of one opponent after the other.

“Chiqui come here and let me dry your hair, you’ll get sick.”

Irene was in mother mode, fussing over you and Vicky, who looked like the two happiest girls on the planet. Both of you had been in the starting eleven, something that didn’t happen as often. But with the weather conditions and the not-as-competitive opponent, Jona caved to your synchronized begging.

“I won’t. Promise!”

And with that, you were off again. Running outside, leaving the changing room early. Jona had been quick with his talk and the girls were just warming up and getting something to eat or massaged. But you run out to play on the field with the girls sitting on the bench.

Bruna and Jana made it a fun game, sending the ball just slightly wide every time, so that you had to be quick, falling over more than once during it.

Alexia just shook her head in amusement when she came back to the pitch, the other girls following in their captain's stride.

“Chiquitita wear a jacket for me please?” The Catalan’s English was great, even if she was too shy to speak it most of the time. Her hands held out a jacket to you, an eyebrow raised in question.

“I’ll be okay, thank you, Ale!”

And you would be okay, at least for the rest of the night - giving it your all on the pitch and giving it your all when you were the entertainment of the following movie night. Mapi had given you one of those cheap Karaoke microphones and with that, you kept narrating the movies much to everyone else's annoyance.

Mapi thought you were hilarious though. And with everyone smiling at you even if they acted annoyed, you kept going all the way until Lucy and Ona dropped you off at the apartment Barcelona gave you.

In the beginning, the Team members had been worried about you living there, all alone at only sixteen. But Vicky had been fine - she was an angel as opposed to the whirlwind of an Australian that had been added to the team with you. You would be at training most days anyway and doing stuff with the girls even on days off, so you’d be fine. Right?

Well usually you would be fine, but waking up with an itchy throat, annoying cough, and a runny nose topped by a fever, was not a funny thing.

Just like that, all your plans with Vicky for the day had been canceled. The two of you wanted to explore the city and then visit the library closest to the Sagrada Familia, but all of that went to waste now as you were trying to get rid of this cold as fast as possible.

But it turns out it wasn’t that easy. A day later you were still sick, your voice so hoarse that it was hard to understand. You had debated calling Jona and letting him know, but then Alexia and Irene would have been right when it came to you getting sick. You just needed to power through. Tomorrow you will be all good again.

After oversleeping you practically raced to the training center for gym day. Well raced as fast as you can with public transport - a mask secure on your face. You looked sick enough that strangers raised a brow at your sweaty forehead.

To your luck the changing rooms were empty, all of the girls were already in the gym, so you could change in peace, trying to take deep breaths as well as you could. Man, you hated having a stuffy nose.

The bright lights and the loud music made you wince when you entered the big space, with everyone on different equipment. You quickly explained to Jona that your bus had been late, and just by his facial expression you could see that he didn’t believe a word out of your mouth.

He knew. Fuck. But he didn’t do or say anything, just going over the plan for today with you.

The other girls tried to get a good look at you, whispering to themselves. This wasn’t the first time you had been late. Sometimes the bus really didn’t come, and sometimes you overslept. But the training staff was never too mad at you - you were a growing girl after all, and needed your sleep.

But usually, when you came in, you would go around greeting the girls one by one, telling them the crazy stories of your bus driver. Today, however, you picked out an empty corner, starting to stretch all by yourself.

When one of the trainers called for partner exercises you were quick to kidnap Vicky, who didn’t even react as she was used to your antics by now. But then she looked at you.

“You’re sick!”

“Shhh!”

With, what you thought, quick reflexes you pushed her head down so that she would lower her voice. “Don’t tell on me! Or I’ll tell Sandra.”

The young Spaniard was caught in an odd situation - realistically she knew she should tell Alexia, or at least someone - but she was terrified of the goalkeeper finding out. With a solemn nod, she gave in.

You didn’t believe her, holding onto her right hand as tightly as you could “No! "Promise me!”

“Fine. I promise. Now get your clammy hands off me please.”

Now it wasn’t just you who ran around like a headless chicken, stumbling over nothing and barely strong enough to lift any weight at all, but also Vicky, who desperately tried to avoid eye contact with someone else, whispering hushed annoyances in your ear.

“They’re weird, no?” Aitana had made her way to Alexia, who was watching the whole thing unfold in front of her. “Very weird..", she nodded.

When a break was called, you hurried off to the bathrooms, while Vicky tried to avoid anything and everyone.

But that didn’t hold on for too long, as she was cornered by Alexia, Irene, Aitana, and Ingrid. The other girls watched from a distance, knowing what was happening.

“I don’t know anything!”

“We didn’t say anything.” Irene was trying really hard not to let an amused smile crack through and instead keep up the intimidating frown.

One eyebrow went up. Then the other.

“Okay, fine!”

Alexia relaxed her face again, knowing that had been enough for Vicky to spill everything she knew.

“She’s sick.”

“Chiquitita!”

Ingrid didn’t get an answer and started looking around the facilities as quickly as she could while Aitana tried to console a guilt-ridden Vicky, telling her that she had done the right thing, emphasizing how dangerous it was that you were exercising.

They could hear you coughing before they even saw you, as Ingrid dragged you to the gym as gently as she could, nearly just carrying you.

“Ai Chiqui. What are you doing here, you’re sick amor, you need to rest.”

Alexia's soft mothering tone gave you the rest, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m sorry… Just didn’t want to miss out.” Sobs wrecked your tired body as some of your letters got swallowed.

“Shhh, let’s get you home.” Your captain dried tears after tears as she helped you out of the room and into the showers.

Jona looked happy with how everything turned out, he knew that Alexia would take care of it - her heart was soft for the youngsters on the team, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

On your way out your eyes met Vicky's. “You promised not to tell Vic!”.

“Oye, keep walking, or we’ll call Catley. I’m sure she would love to hear about your situation.” It was Mapi that nudged you, a teasing smile on her face.

Hmmpf.

"Sandra Vicky put shaving cream in your gloves!"

And with that you let your captain drag you out of the room, smiling at the chaos that exploded behind you.

After getting washed up and changed, Ale helped you to her car and started driving to her home, not listening to the whines that you wanted to go to your apartment.

“You can say it now, Ale.”

She could see you were close to falling asleep, head resting on your seatbelt.

“I told you so. Now let’s get you healthy again.”

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #barça femeni #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca women #barca femini x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona women #alexias putellas #alexia putellas x reader #mapi león x reader #mapi leon x reader #irene paredes x reader

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notherpuppet · 4 months ago

Note

What's your favorite drawing/comic part you've made so far?? If you don't mind me asking-

ooooooh this is a good question...hmmmmmmmm

well, i really had a blast creating the "let's dance" chapter so i think that just has to be my favorite au comic i was working on. it really is too hard to choose a favorite part, but i think my favorite act was of course act iii where luci and alastor are at the club and then kiss. because i'm a radioapple fangirl duhhhhh hahah

i actually had soooo much fun creating the animatics i've made. especially the one with husk and alastor competing in a jazz duel.

thanks for your question!

#answers #favorite comic

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b14augrana · 6 months ago

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Scrubber

Your first time versing Lyon was the match of your dreams

Barça Femení x teen!reader

pt. 3 masterlist

Warnings: lots of happiness and not proofread as per usual … 😁

A/N: i forgot to mention that mapi's knee is 100% functioning and not crippled in this series!!!! i’ve decided to turn it into a series because i love our hay day obsessed reader so much.

also, reader takes alexia’s place in scoring a golazo because our wonderkid needs her time to shine and what better time to shine than in a uwcl final 🪄🪄 (peep my reference in the fic to the gif im so smart)

we need a nickname for little miss wonderkid so i dont constantly refer to her as reader so plz suggest some in my asks 🥹

You were way too nervous for the final to function. You regretted eating breakfast that morning because it felt like you were about to throw it all up.

Honestly, you were even nervous to look at the players. You stood timidly between Lucy and Irene in the line, secretly hoping you never had to leave the tunnel. You did not want the likes of Ada Hegerberg charging towards little 16-year-old you.

You glanced down at the ‘NV15’ written on your wrist in black. That forever-present question of 'What would Vidić do?' loomed in your mind.

He wouldn’t be worrying about anyone on the opposition. He’d just be worried about breaking the Brexit tackle world record and keeping everyone in white as far away from the goal as possible.

The officials at the end of the tunnel signalled to both teams, which meant it was time. As you emerged out of the tunnel, walking out to the sound of a stadium full of culers, you didn’t feel scared. The cheers from all around the stadium deafened you, but also made you feel an insane amount of pride.

As you stood beside your teammates, the Barcelona anthem blasted on the speakers and the crowd became a choir as they sung the anthem loud and proud. Your attention was in the stands, looking at all the people that had come to watch. You almost teared up when you spotted a little girl and her older brother wearing a jersey with your name on it. Your name. Just having a mascot blew you away, so seeing people you probably weren’t much older than, wearing jerseys with your name on the back, was a crazy concept.

It made you think about the future. It made you hope that one day, you’d grow up to be some little girl’s idol the way Vidić is yours.

“Get ready to shake hands, (Y/N),” Irene reminded you, noticing that you looked a bit spaced out. You brought yourself back to the present and nodded, sticking your hand out to shake the long line of Lyon hands.

When Alexia asked you to bend down and hold the match day pennant, it almost felt like blasphemy. Your mouth was slightly agape as she thrusted it into your hand. “But why me?”

“My knee is no good, it’s better if I stand,” she explained.

“But why m–”

“Just hold it, nena!” Alexia laughed, getting back in the line. You crouched down, holding the pennant in one hand and bracing the ground with the other as you smiled gingerly for the camera.

As soon as the photographer lowered his camera, you sprung to your feet and gave the pennant back to Alexia. “There you go, capi!” you said happily, motioning to Renard who was approaching with their own pennant to exchange. Alexia laughed and patted you on the back, mumbling a quick ‘gracías’ before turning away.

You walked over to the bench and shrugged your jacket off, folding it neatly for one of the team management to take to the locker room later on. With one last meaningful glance at your wrist, you ran onto the field to take your position. Irene was with you in the center and Lucy covered the right while Ona took care of the left. Jona had told you to be prepared for Mapi to come on, so you kept that in mind too.

As soon as the whistle was blown, you were relieved to see that Aitana, Mariona, Caro and Salma had already gotten things under control. That gave you time to scope out the Lyon front three and think about how to handle them.

You thought about what Lucy said. ‘Don’t get hurt trying to do extreme tackles.’

At the end of the day, it all came down to instinct. When Dumornay started running at you with the ball, her feet moving too quick for you to focus on, you knew what you were going to do next had to be purely instinctual. This wasn’t the match for calculated tackles.

It was a fearless tackle. It wasn’t even much of a tackle, actually; you had just gotten to the ground right in her path and made contact with the ball first before she even touched you. When she did touch you, the top of her boot got caught on your abdomen, knocking her over. It was the consequence of her own speed and momentum.

With the ball at your feet, you did what you always did best — kick it as hard as you could and hope it goes well. You must’ve hoped extremely hard or hoped to the right deity, because the ball landed right at Aitana’s feet. Not an inch in front.

With one touch, she had beaten her marker. When Aitana got the ball, it was almost always a goal, and this time was no different; before you could even register that your ball had been kept in play, let alone found a player of your own, it had beaten Endler’s desperate hands and hit the back of the net. The stadium has the loudest atmosphere you’ve ever experienced after Aitana’s goal.

She came running to you, her arms outstretched. You threw yourself into her, hugging her tightly. The rest of the team came shortly after, suffocating you two in a big team hug. You heard some muffled voices praising you and Aitana, but you were too stunned by how quickly it all happened to even register their words. There were many pats on your back and side hugs before the game reset and you were back to your centerback position, kissing the writing on your wrist.

“Aparejo increíble (Y/N), and the pass! Magnífico!” Irene said, pulling you close and ruffling your hair (to which you huffed and slicked it back down) before running back to her position.

You didn’t actually intend to make that pass, so was it that special? Aitana did score from it, but she just has magical feet.

The match had flown by, both teams only separated by one goal at the 90th minute. Lyon were desperate for a goal. Barcelona were desperate for another. Many changes had been made, including Mapi and Pina coming on.

You watched as Diani came down the left wing and somehow managed to beat Lucy and Mapi, which meant you were going to have to try tidy up at the back and not let Diani get to Cata, the last hope.

At first, you just jockeyed. You held her off and tried to delay her, which worked; her stepovers were useless and she couldn’t get past you by tapping and running… but then she did.

She took a touch just wide of you, giving herself heaps of space to dribble up to goal if she was quick enough to retrieve the ball. The big underlying issue was, your jockeying had led you two up to the box. You could either get a card and risk her scoring from a penalty or worse — not do anything and let her put it in. You would rather break your Hay Day login streak than let that happen.

As she lurched forwards to get another touch on the ball, it was like everything was in slow motion. Time slowed down as you extended your leg and thrusted your entire body forwards, cushioning your fall by sliding on your arm across the damp grass and towards the ball. You closed your eyes as she got closer to your face, hoping that if you didn’t see it happen, the collision wouldn’t hurt as much. If this tackle went wrong, it would be over for you, for Barça.

Diani’s opening had been a gift from God himself, so you prepared yourself to see her celebrating happily, the ball rolling into the net when you opened your eyes, but when you finally did open them, the ball wasn’t in the net. Diani wasn’t celebrating.

She was lying on her chest, scrambling to get to her feet. The ball was out, discarded somewhere near the barriers as a ball boy passed a new one to Lucy to throw in. Cheers had rung through the stadium upon your last-ditch tackle, but you had been too distracted to pay attention to them. You had been too focused on trying to execute the perfect tackle that would either make or break the game.

The only thing you guys needed was another goal to really seal the deal. Lyon were getting dangerously close, you needed a goal.

When Lucy had played the ball in, you moved a bit further up the field, watching the play. You noticed Caro receiving the ball, and then you noticed the absence in the middle of the box. You scanned for Aitana or Pina or anybody, but they were all marked by figures like Renard and Carpenter or in other words, brick walls that were not letting them in any time soon.

It was all, pure, instinct. You ran– no, sprinted up the field, flailing your hands in the air. “Caro, Caro!” you screamed, motioning to the middle of the box, begging for a cross.

The cross she delivered from the right wing was set to land just in front of you. You couldn’t reach it for a volley and you sure as hell couldn’t bicycle kick it in. It was travelling fast and getting nearer by the second, but that was the advantage.

Without a second thought, you jumped up. Your body was basically horizontal in the air as you flew forwards, forehead connecting with the ball. It was a shame you couldn’t watch it shoot past Endler, burying itself right in the bottom left corner. You flew into the net as well, and the only way you realised you had scored was when you sat up and looked to your side to see the ball. That’s also the only way you realised you were in the goal.

You had never stood up faster or yelled louder. You zipped past Endler and ran down the field towards the nearest camera. Your first goal of your career couldn’t have been more perfect, so you needed a celebration to match.

Aitana appeared by your side, and as you two ran side-by-side, you pointed to the people in the stands. It was a simple but meaningful celebration; it was the same celebration Vidić had once done, and you remembered it vividly. In fact, it was one of your favourite moments.

You ran to the corner flag where the rest of your team were, and you all fell into another affectionate huddle. Lucy squeezed your side. “You’re in the wrong sport, I think you’d do well as a professional diver!” she jeered, having to yell her words over the noise. You grinned at her and hugged the woman tightly right before being instructed to reset.

The ball had barely started moving again before the referee blew the final whistle. Everyone from the sidelines jumped from their seats and ran onto the field, and the people on the field ram towards your goal. Cata booted the ball into the air and jumped on top of the big hug, and then Pina followed. There was singing and dancing and flags being thrown and tears and hugs for days.

It was happy moment upon happy moment for everyone as it all sunk in — you had finally, finally beat Olympique Lyonnais in a Champions League final for the first time in your history. You had helped beat Lyon and make history with this team, and you had won your first ever Champions League and quadruple, but you had to give credit where it was due.

You knew if you never had a role model like Nemanja Vidić, nothing would’ve happened the way it did for you against Lyon.

Being a 16-year-old girl with such a fiery passion to defend and hold it down at the back wasn’t easy. There wasn’t many defenders that played for the badge the way Vidić did. The reason you loved him so much was because he exerted such an immense sense of pride and dedication to his club, and that was the type of defender you wanted to be.

That was the type of defender you had been today.

You couldn’t believe Keira and Patri when they ran up to you saying that the officials wanted to see you so you could receive the Player of the Match award once again. Your jaw was dropped and you went red as they basically dragged you away from the locker rooms and towards the officials. Your cheeks were still red from embarrassment as you took the photo.

You learned that you couldn’t just slink away into the locker rooms after such a big match, so you spent a solid 10 minutes talking to fans all around the stadium. It was a bit awkward for you at first because most of them were either as old as Alexia or literally your age, but you figured you’d have to get used to it.

The best part about the whole day was, when you eventually got back to the locker room and picked your phone up, you had reached level 300 on Hay Day.

As if one major achievement wasn’t enough.

#fc barcelona #fc barcelona femeni #fcb femení #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso fanfics #barca x reader #futfem #football #nemanja vidić #manchester united #uwcl 23/24 #uwcl #uwcl final

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yeeterthek33per · 6 months ago

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Get Her Back (Lucy Bronze x Reader)

A/n Requested

Warning(s): SMUT 18+ MDNI, Suggestive (duh), mild jealousy (squint a lil, its fine).

The sweat was starting to feel a little grosser today.

With the heat wave ripping through England perfectly on time with your international break, it seems that training became more the stuff of nightmares with the sun unbearable on your already tanned skin.

It seems that brought out the more interesting behaviours of your teammates because they were looking for ways to distract themselves from melting into the pitch or tile flooring of the changerooms.

Even with air conditioning, the room was ridiculously stuffy, twenty-three sweat dripped female football players crammed into a single ten metre by ten metre room.

That being said, the topic of exes came up amongst the lot of you.

Even worse, your ex.

Specifically, the one alotted to the cubby next to yours as they ribbed both of you.

"Weren't you and Lucy together, Y/n?"

Your cheeks flush and you roll your eyes good naturedly.

"Yeah, and?"

The girls ooo at you, and ever the shitstirrer, you poke said girl in the leg with your sock covered foot.

"Not much to talk about."

She raises a brow, a small smirk challenging you almost, knowing well you're only poking fun at her.

"Oh, come on now, there has to be something to talk about. You were together for so long."

Scoffing, you wave them away, getting ready for a shower finally.

You'd both previously taken it in stride, having dealt with their teasing while you were dating.

The fact your relationship hadn't ended all that badly, being blamed on the fact that you were just both separate for far too long, playing on different sides of the continent, was never really your strong suit.

So, it doesn't surprise you when the cocky behaviour comes out too.

Lucy, ever the flirt, jokes quietly in your ear when the attention shifts from you to Alessia at the quiet mention of a possible new relationship.

"Not much, eh? And here I was under the impression that I was the best you've ever had."

You snort, elbowing the older woman with a small glare.

"Please, far from it, Bronze."

You had half a mind to laugh at the offended look on her face.

There was no way she believed that, but now you had to stick to your guns because you'd never hear the end of it if you'd actually told her the truth.

It does something to her because the moment you're all returning to the bus, she's planted herself directly next to you, sitting in the aisle seat.

Raising a brow at her sudden insistence on being in your presence, which, if she even notices the look, she doesn't acknowledge it.

Settling in for the two hour or so long bus ride back to camp, your earphones go in, and your head leans back to rest your eyes for a minute.

It seems you don't get very far, though, because a hand on your knee stops you on your nap voyage.

Glancing down, you confirm your assumption in saying that said hand is connected to your seat buddy.

Though it seems she's not actually even looking at you, she's talking animatedly with Millie and Rachel (*a/n I am aware shes R worded from internationals but I'm not accepting that just yet y'all*), who are sat across the aisle and one seat behind, and shes turned in a way that blocks their view of you.

Replacing your earbuds, you think she's just being overtly touchy today and you don't bother her with it, not minding too much, the warmth a nice contrast to how the last year or so being single had gone.

You wake up about an hour or so later, removing your earbuds and notice the chatter has died down a little, Daly Brightness now chatting between themselves and Lucy turned back to face the front, eyes glued to the laptop in front of her, watching a rerun of House M.D. (idk it fit)

Her hand hasn't removed itself. It seems it's a little higher than it was, thumb moving of its own accord, gently stroking the bare skin below your shorts.

With the air con blasting through the bus, her hand feels almost scaulding against you, your skin burning underneath the gentle caresses.

Whether she noticed you're awake or not, you're not sure, but if she did, she doesn't do or say anything other than leave her hand right where it is.

You can't find it in you to mind.

That doesn't last very long.

It's almost three days later into the training camp and nothing more than simple touches besides what happened on the bus has happened between you.

Although, it's like there's these little touches constantly. You know they aren't accidental. If the five years you spent with Lucy were anything to go by, you know her well enough to know there isn't ever a touch that's accidental.

She's always on alert, head swivelling when she's walking, always cautious of her hands and who's around her.

With you, there's supposed absent-minded brushes of your lower back. Her fingertips occasionally grip your arms during training rondos. A squeeze of the shoulder here and there.

She doesn't let you sit on your own like you usually do, as someone who prefers to nap quietly in the front of the bus, her hand always finding it's place on your knee once more for every day of camp.

Nothing else changes, though.

It starts to drive you a little crazy because you'd gone every training camp for a year without dealing with this.

You hadn't minded initially, but it’s getting on your nerves now.

Not because you're uncomfortable or anything.

You, reluctantly, admit to yourself that you just aren't all that over the brunette, and her touching you like this isn't helping your cause.

You're rather annoyed it's only taken three days before she's got you wrapped around her finger again, heart racing at that damn smirk on her face when you guys talk or you even just so much as glance her way.

It takes all of three days before you confront her about it.

"Okay, what the hell is with you?"

"Eh?"

Lucy had been in the middle of her rec gym session. Particularly in the middle of doing her core workout, so she'd been in a plank stance when you'd stormed into the empty gym, half startling the defender.

Still, she looks up at you from her position on the mat, half confusion, half focused frown.

"Don't you 'eh' me, you know what I'm talking about."

"Kind of busy, princess, I have no idea-"

"That! Princess! When was the last time you ever called me that? Not just that, the touching, the thigh grabs, the-"

"Look, I'm a little preoccupied, as much as I'd love to have this-"

"No, I want an explanation, Lucy."

She groans as she drops the plank, mildly annoyed she'd have to have another crack at her record later.

"Okay, you want an explanation."

"Yes."

She stands, stepping towards you with determination.

"You said I wasn't the best, right?"

"What?"

"Now you're the one pretending, y/n. You have every idea of what I'm talking about here."

Of course you do. You're not telling her that willingly, though.

"I really-

Her hands find your waist, backing you into the mirrored wall behind you.

"You said I wasn't the best you've ever had. Who else could've loved you the way I did? Who else made you shiver and writhe underneath me the way I did?"

Her voice lowers as she tilts your head to look up at her.

"Who else could make you cum the way I did? Tell me, Princess."

The way your cheeks redden only serves to egg her on. Her gym attire today was only futhering that though, sports bra and shorts, sweat sheening her abdomen, one you had once unabashedly stared at for all of your relationship.

Now, though, you fought every instinct and craving in you to glance down.

It doesn't matter because her lips curl up into a knowing smirk at your internal battle.

Spitefully, you snap back.

"What makes you think you're the only one to do any of that?"

For a second, you see her confident demeanour faulter, but it returns but a second later.

"Because you wouldn't still be so affected by everything I'm doing. Nor would you let me keep doing it. I know you, Y/n. If you'd been even mildly uncomfortable with anything I was doing, you would have bitch-slapped me back to Belford."

She's right.

You'd never tolerated anyone doing anything you didn't want or ask for, always the first to call someone out on their bullshit.

She continues.

"The fact that you're in here, yelling at me about how much I'm driving you crazy-"

"I did not say-"

"You don't have to, Princess. I know your tells, I know when you're flustered, frustrated, angry, upset, sad, elated. I know you. And you know that. The fact you're in here, now, tells me everything I need to know."

For once, you don't know how to respond.

So you don't.

You just tug her down by the nape of her neck.

Damn Lucy and her sexy ass cocky smirk and her back-of-her-own-hand knowledge of everything about you.

Damn the way her lips meet yours halfway, anticipating the move.

Damn her fingers, digging into your hips, lifting you into her arms and settling under your thighs to press you into the wall.

Damn Lucy and her ability to make you fall right back into her like she'd never left you back in Manchester.

Despite your best efforts, you never really could get one step ahead of her.

She pulls away, much to your whines.

"So are you gonna answer me honestly, or do I have to do something about it."

You play coy, a small eyebrow raise, despite the mild heaving in your chest.

"I am the best you've had, no doubt."

"Prove it."

Despite your stubbornness earlier, you'd have no qualms telling the whole world you were truly and wholly Lucy's.

You'd scream it from the rooftops.

That she was the best and only one who could fuck like she does.

Especially right now.

"Such a good girl for me, Princess. You always have been."

It's a little stuttered between thrusts, hips meeting yours with every utter of the words of the sentence.

Her hand around your throat, gently squeezing, makes your head spin as she thrusts the strap into you deliciously.

Your eyes squeeze shut, ears zoning in on her panting, the way the bed squeaks under her ministrations, the far too obscene sound of skin on skin.

The wet sounds of your own cum and arousal on the silicone toy strapped to her hips.

It's all overwhelming and only serves to send you further into the oblivion that she's got you in right now.

Your moans are loud, biting your lip to hide them from bouncing off the walls of the hotel room.

Lucy, it seems, has made it her mission to put an end to that, because her hips snap a little harder against you, and her other hand moves to play with your clit, thumb pressing into it leaving you helplessly canting your hips to meet hers.

"Bet no one else could make you cum as hard as I do."

It throws you closer to the edge faster than you expect, and your mouth drops open fully.

"Look at me."

It's a single statement from her that makes your eyes snap open to look at her above you.

She's leant over you, just about bracing herself by your throat, and the constriction just pulls you further into her.

"Good girl, I want you to watch as you cum on my cock, pretty girl."

You don't even have to ask because she's got you over the edge before you can say "Please let me cum."

Trying your hardest to focus on the rapid way her strap disappears inside you, the feeling of the head rubbing your insides and pressing into every sensitive spot inside you.

One final breathless moan leaves you digging your nails into the sheets below you, thighs quivering around her, and she lets you pull her down onto you.

There's a gentle rock to her hips, letting you come down finally, a slow to the pace she'd set hours earlier, making you orgasm over and over until now.

When she goes to pull out, you stop her.

"Don't move yet."

She chuckles softly, pressing kisses to your collarbone and neck.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

She settles back on her haunches, though, pulling back with a small groan of appreciation of where your hips are joined.

"God, you're so sexy, taken me so well, haven't you?"

You whine softly, cheeks flushing somehow further under the praise.

She slowly withdraws, dropping the strap off the side of the bed, settling between your legs once more, head level with your hips now.

"I'm not sure if I can anymore, Lucy."

"You can, baby. One more for me."

Her mouth lowers to your cunt, the sensitivity making you buck a little in overstimulation.

Her tongue laps at you, taking in every drop of you with a small breathy groan. It dips insidd you, pressing you open again before moving back to wrap around your clit and suck.

She'd missed this.

She'd missed you.

And she tells you as such once you cum on her tongue again moments later.

You're shaking around her head, hair firmly grasped between your fingers, which finally manage to pull her away from your far from overstimulated clit as she kisses her way back up your stomach, chest and finally meets your lips.

It's soft, slow, and loving, and the taste of yourself on her lips makes you whine into her.

When you pull away, she steps up off the bed, leaving you shivering under the air conditioning, sweaty, sticky, and slightly embarrassed at how quickly you'd jumped back into bed with the woman, even after a whole year gone of not touching her.

That all disappears when she reappears from around the corner with a water bottle and a damp cloth, letting her wipe you down, letting out a small wince when she bumps your clit again.

"Sorry, Princess, I'm trying to be gentle."

"S'alright."

Your words are starting to slur as a wave of exhaustion hits you.

She's coming back from cleaning off the toy and disposing of the cloth when she spots your knocked out form on the bed, splayed out on your stomach, still naked as the day you were born, snoring softly into her pillow.

A soft chuckle leaves her, and she settles back into the mattress beside you, to which you immediately cling to her form, and her arms wrap around you, head tucked under her chin.

Lucy knows she's not over you.

Truthfully, she knew the whole time.

She'd tried.

Tried going on dates.

Tried finding solace in other women but none of them were you.

All she could think about in Barcelona was how much she missed you.

Being with you, touching you, kissing you, feeling you.

Everything about you.

Even your soft, scolding tone every time she left her boots by the door in the walkway or when she accidentally left your new toy out on the bedside table for your nosy nephews to find and turn into a rocket ship. (It was still clean, fresh out of the packaging.)

That day, you'd been especially red in the face when you spotted what little Jonathan was holding and had smacked a muffled laughing girlfriend of yours upside the head.

She'd missed the days you'd drag her out on evening walks along the streets. On long drives to the water's edge in Southport.

To walk along the pier and just talk about anything and everything. Or to just enjoy the silence away from the chaos of your lives.

The way you'd always have your arms open and ready when you'd both gotten home from a particularly rough game or training session.

The warmth of your hugs after freezing games in the night, despite having been out on that pitch yourself.

She might be Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze to everyone else, but she could let her guard down around you.

That was the best thing about you, she reckons.

How easily you crumbled her tough façade.

How soft she was with you.

She always loved you for that.

She still does.

The thought unsettles her a little.

Despite the fact you're naked in her hotel room bed, cuddle into her. She’s not entirely sure what this means for both of you.

Just that she wants you back more than anything.

She'd move back to England if you asked.

She knows you would never ask her of that, but she would anyway, she decides.

You meant everything to her. You mean everything to her. Still.

When you awake hours later, still curled into her sleeping form, pressing small lazy kisses to the underside of her jaw, they're pressed with soft loving words of affirmation, knowing it's what she needs to hear, even if you hadn't declared your relationship resumed just yet.

Though, you do that a couple hours after that, with your fingers curled inside her, asking her to be yours again.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze imagines #lucy bronze x reader

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mrchiipchrome · 6 months ago

Text

Talkin' 'Bout My Girl

W.C. - 6.3 k

Warnings: throwing up ig?

------------------

Lucy’s calling, answer me, Lucy’s answer me.

Your phone blasts the annoying ringtone Lucy had created the latest time you’d met her, she’d insisted on having a unique one so that you’d answer all her calls. Spoiler alert: you didn’t answer all her calls.

Groaning loudly as your sleep is interrupted by the older woman calling you, she obviously didn’t think about the fact that you were in a totally different time zone and therefore calling you at 7 in the morning wasn’t a good idea.

“Fucking hell Luce, why’re you calling me at 7 in the fucking morning?” You can hear the way she laughs at your grumpy tone and how she sucks in a breath after a second or two. Well at least one of you was enjoying yourselves.

“Ou, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, did the grumpy wittle baby not get her 8 hours of sleep tonight?” She teases through the phone, the rustling of your sheets as you sit up echoing through the room that’s practically empty, like a hollowed out coconut.

“Actually, since you woke me up at 7, I did in fact barely even get 4 hours since Em dragged me away to a party in Connecticut, got wasted and then made me drive us both home.” This just makes the older woman laugh even more. For some reason, you thought that she’d be a bit more responsible and tell you off for going to a party, but she didn’t.

“Well that’s good then, Em is finally making you go through college the correct way, by going to parties.” You groan loudly as you stretch out the tightness in your limbs, the headache that appears soon goes away just as quickly. The floor is cold beneath your feet as you stand up from the bed, dragging your hand over your face before slapping yourself a few times to really wake up.

“Yeah, the proper college experience or something like that.” Lucy hums at your statement, her usually thoughtless brain quickly reforming to its usual state.

“Mhm, well I’ll call tonight then, don’t sleep too late.” You say goodbye to the defender quickly before she hangs up the phone, venturing into the kitchen to pull open the door of the fridge, substituting a warm cup of bitter coffee for an energy drink.

“You’re going to be my best friend the coming four years, aren't you?” You look at the ice cold can in your hand as you speak, smiling sarcastically as you pop the tab open and take a swig, the weird aftertaste of pure caffeine leaving a streak down your tongue.

“Fucking hell, why do I not have anything at home?” As you look into the empty pantry, you suddenly understand why you should’ve taken Em’s advice earlier in the week, ‘fill your kitchen up like you have a whole family to feed’. Apparently a whole family equaled a drunk Em.

Peeking into the living room, you immediately see Em fast asleep on the couch, half her body hanging off the small piece of furniture like she was some drunk dad in a movie. Her mouth is wide open and the snores escaping from between her lips are just brutal.

Her party clothes from the night before are still donning her body, the dress barely staying intact after a night of tossing and turning to find a comfortable fit on the uncomfortable couch. But at least she’s not throwing up in the bathroom, so that's a plus.

You sigh, the quiet patting of your bare feet hitting the floor reaching your ears, fingers wrapping around the discarded blanket laying on the floor beside her on the floor and pulling it up to cover her body. She shifts underneath it, mumbling incoherently at you.

“Thanks mom.” You giggle at her sleepy presumption and she grumbles before turning her back to you like a moody teenager.

“Not your mum Em, but no problem anyway.” Walking back to the kitchen, you quickly find your phone before going to look for your wallet in your room, the sleek black leather laying on the floor beneath your mattress.

“Okay, just got to swing by the kitchen again then I’m off.” You mumble to yourself, patting your sleep shorts to see that you had everything you needed with you. The old Arsenal shorts from your time in the academy and the brief time you’d spent in the first team were the first things you’d packed for your move to America.

The comfort of home you supposed.

The simple t-shirt you had on was a Harvard one you’d gotten practically the first day on campus, the small ‘sports’ being printed just beneath the massive lettering of Harvard across your chest. It’s still warm enough outside to not need a jacket, you think to yourself, the sun shining brightly in the sky.

Picking up your can when you pass by the kitchen, you quickly make your way towards the door, finding the keys to your car hanging on the small hook meant for jackets. The metal ring you put them on clinks as you pull your keys off the hook, pulling your shoes over your bare feet before you turn the lock with a satisfying click, unlocking the door before disappearing out of it. Your key turns in the lock as you close the door, effectively securing Em inside the apartment.

The nice old lady living in the flat beside your own walks out of her door at the same time you do yours, her kind smile immediately filling you with a comforting warmth, her grandmotherly energy enveloping you fully, almost transforming you back into that little kid who would sit and wait for your gran to read a bedtime story.

“Hello dear, what are you doing up so early?” Her southern accent makes her words almost unintelligible, but you understand them either way, nothing was worse than drunk Em trying to speak. The large Newfoundland dog wagging his tail beside her yaps excitedly as he notices you, his entire body wiggling.

“Oh I’m off to the bakery to get some pastries, Em got really drunk at a party yesterday and I don’t have anything for breakfast, so bread and pastries it is.” She looks amusedly at you, despite only having been neighbours for about two or so weeks, it was like the older woman had seen both you and Em grow up the entirety of your lives.

“Yeah that does sound like Em, don’it.” You laugh along with her, walking closer to pet Bubba who jumped at you as soon as you were close enough for him. “Bubba, no, you know we don’t jump on people.”

Laughing at the gentle giant, your hands soon tangle in his soft fur, giving him a bunch of kisses.

“Oh Mrs. Peters, you know it’s his fault that he gets so excited, he’s just a little baby.” She rolls her eyes fondly at you and her dog, a simple tug of his leash making the fluffy dog go back to his owner. Moving towards the stairs you quickly turn back to ask her;

“Mrs. Peters, do you want anything from the bakery?” She smiles but shakes her head, signaling that she doesn't want anything, before she enters the elevator and disappears from your line of sight.

You hum the tune to the song playing in your headphones as you walk down the stairs quickly, arms nearly tied to your body as you make your way down to the bottom floor of the building. The last step is one you jump over, walking over to the door that opens almost automatically and exiting the building completely.

The rays of the brightly shining sun hit your face as soon as you step out into the warm weather, Frank Ocean’s soft voice floating through your headphones as you walk, the wind blowing onto your exposed arms.

It wasn’t often that people would just walk through the neighbourhood just to appreciate the scenery, to appreciate the nature and the small things that often seemed unimportant when living in such a fast tracked life as you did.

But you couldn’t just ignore the beauty in the simple things, the beauty in the small flowers growing along the road, the beauty in the gravel crunching under your feet as you walked, the warmth of the sun against your skin and the cooling effect of the wind.

It was all so beautiful, the calm and simple beauty.

You could find beauty in everything you saw, if you knew where to look for it, the soft smile on the mother’s face as she watched her toddler climb on the structure, the bird chirping as you pass it by, the old man sitting on a park bench.

The world wasn’t as bad as people thought it was, they just hadn’t looked at it the right way.

The chime of the bell hanging above the door takes you back to only hours before, when you’d been at the diner with the divine girl, Nika. God, she was the embodiment of beauty, Aphrodite reborn as a human.

The local bakery is well known among students, professors and newcomers alike, everyone knows about the bakery with the best pastries in the whole of Boston. Knowing that, it’s not even close to surprising when the line to the register reaches across the room, looking up at the menu of sorts to see what you want to pass the time.

There’s music flowing out the speakers, covering the low sound of people speaking to each other with its instrumental cling. You didn’t mind it though, it made everything just feel more real in a sense, there was no telling why, you don’t even get a chance at trying to figure it out as your phone starts ringing again, though this time it wasn’t Lucy’s voice ringing out, instead it was the infamous song of Arsenal, The Angel aka North London forever.

“Lee, to what do I owe the pleasure of a call? Did Spurs win?” You were both Arsenal through and through, but you always liked to tease her about her being a Spurs fan, the arch rivals of Arsenal being one of the things the older woman hated the most.

“Thank god, they didn’t win. No, I’m just calling to check up on you, ask how you’re settling in and all that.” She tries to be nonchalant in her tone, but having known the blonde for as long as you had, you knew that there was something more to it. Thankfully, the line’s length has barely changed since the second you walked in, so there’s plenty of time to figure out what she’s playing at.

“Leah, what do you really want? I know you as well as you know yourself.” When you hear her sigh you pump your fist in the air triumphantly, getting more than a few judgy looks and glances from the people around you.

“Well, Jordy and I are having a bit of an argument right, and as our unofficial kid we need you to settle this.” You nod before you realize that she can’t see you, quickly replying verbally.

“What’s the arguing about?” She almost cuts you off with the speed at which she responds at, the smallest giggle to her tone giving you the impression that the matter at hand wasn’t as serious as she’d first made it out to be.

“Who do you think Blu loves the most?” Giving it a second before you answer to give the illusion that you actually thought about it, you can almost imagine the smile on her face, thinking that you’re going to back her.

“Neither of you, Blu loves me the most.” Leah lets out an offended gasp at your statement, and you can hear Jordan’s laugh in the back for a second before a playful slap can be heard. On your side of the line, only a giggle can be heard with the simple murmuring of day to day life in the background.

“That’s only because you give him so many treats.” The blonde groans at you, but you just smile smugly in return, not that she could see.

“It sucks to suck doesn’t it, Lee.” The line of people in front of you gets smaller and smaller with every passing minute as people order, with there only being around five or so people in front of you now.

“Well I wouldn’t know much about sucking, right Jord?” When you finally catch on to what she’s insinuating, you gag, not even caring that there are tens of people around you who can hear.

“Ew, I don’t need to know about what you two get up to in your spare time.” The sentence is whispered, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more than you already had. “Listen, I’ve got to go, I’m about to order some pastries for me and Em so I’ll call you back later.”

By now you’re nearly at the front of the line, about to get what you came for. But they didn’t seem to want to end the call, nor the teasing they were putting you through.

“Ooh, does your girlfriend want a sweet breakfast?” If the two could see you they’d guaranteed to be laughing their heads off, the look of pure disgust on your face simply hilarious.

“Em’s not my girlfriend, even the thought of that is just like ew.” You shudder when you think about it, the girl had quickly become one of your closest friends and to even entertain the idea of being with her romantically was just gross.

“So you’re just buying her breakfast platonically?” Rolling your eyes at the conversation, you quickly plaster a smile on your face as you reach the counter.

“Hi, I’d like four croissants and a caramel coffee.” The cashier’s name tag reads ‘Amelie’, the girl looking at you confused as if she doesn’t understand what you’re saying. The women on the other side of the phone snicker and if you weren’t raised the way you were, you would’ve hung up by now.

“A caramel coffee? You mean a caramel macchiato?” She questions dryly, like she really doesn’t enjoy her work.

“Yeah let’s go with that.” You pull out your wallet from your pocket, fishing the card out whilst trying your very hardest to not drop the phone sitting in the space between your head and your shoulder.

“That’ll be 14 dollars.” Blipping your card against the side of the maschine, the transaction goes through without a problem thankfully. You smile at the girl again as she tells you that your order will be ready soon, and as you walk over to sit down at a table you can hear the kissy noises they’re making.

“Did you two just collectively decide not to hear me say ‘me and Em’, the idiot got wasted last night and I don’t have anything at home, courtesy of that drunk idiot. So me being the great friend that I am, decided that it was better to get breakfast than having to deal with a hangry and hungover Em.” You can hear the way they let out sounds of realization, understanding what you mean.

“Hey, why didn’t you bring us treats when we were hungover?” Leah asks, apparently offended that you hadn’t done this for them.

“Well, you two never took me out to parties so I never knew when you were hungover.” Despite them not being able to see it, you shrug absentmindedly, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t get to go with them.

“Fair enough.”

“Listen, I’ll call you back later, I’ve got to carry everything home and I only have two hands, so.” The two say goodbye before hanging up, and you slip your phone back into your pocket as you walk up to the counter, taking the paper bag with you as you walk out into the warm weather again.

The walk back home is just as peaceful as the walk to the bakery, maybe the usual Boston had decided to take a break for just a day. Well whatever it was, you were thankful for it, your sleep deprived mind couldn’t handle much more than it already had.

When the lock clicks and you open the door, you’re met with the sound of groaning coming from the kitchen. Taking off your shoes at the entrance, you hang your keys back on the designated hook before you move towards the kitchen.

Peeking around the corner and into the kitchen, you quickly find the source of the noise. Because Em was standing in the middle of the room, banging her head against the counter clearly in quite a bit of pain.

Why she was hitting her head against the counter then, you didn’t know, it’s completely irrational. But if that’s what she wanted to do then you’d let her, it wasn’t really any of your business.

“Em? What are you doing?” She looks up at you when she hears your voice, her gaze murderous, her hands in her hair, massaging her head like it was the last thing she’d ever do.

“Oh, grumpy you’re finally home, where have you been and why did you let me drink so much last night?” She groans out from between clenched teeth, your laugh filling the room pitifully within seconds at her words. It is funny after all, it was Em herself who insisted on drinking last night and her suffering the consequences of her actions was hilarious.

“I was out being an amazing friend and getting us both some breakfast.” You place the bag on top of the counter, almost right in front of Em’s face, but when she makes the motion of grabbing the bag and consuming the contents, you snatch it from the counter.

The older girl whines at your actions, her head coming down against the marble countertops again, the repetitive thumping annoying you more than you’d like to admit.

“Listen, I didn’t spend 14 dollars just for you to throw it back up. Off you go, get ready and for god’s sake please do not throw up in my living room.” Putting your hands on the back of her shoulders, you gently lead her all the way out of the room and into your bathroom, sitting her in front of the toilet before going back to the kitchen. “Oh, I talked to Luce earlier, she wants to thank you for making me ‘experience college the right way’.”

Emma lets out a groan that sounds like a hybrid of a hawk getting piped and the death whistle, was getting praised by THE Lucy Bronze really worth the terrible hangover? Only Em could answer that, and she was currently hanging over the seat of your toilet, puking her guts up.

You can hear Em flushing and then moving to the sink, turning the tap on and taking some into her mouth, swirling the water around. Her bare feet slap disturbingly against the wooden floor as she makes her way towards the kitchen, your back turned towards her as she comes up behind you, her arm slinging around your shoulders.

“Wait, Luce? Luce as in Lucy Bronze? Lucy Bronze, the three time Champions League winner?” You shrug at her, turning back around to face the rest of the kitchen with Em hot on your heels.

“Yeah, I mean knowing her is not impressive.” Em’s wide eyes suggest a different story, her hands coming up to lay on your shoulders as she shakes your body back and forth.

“Wait, you know THE Lucy Bronze?” Taking her hands off your shoulders, you push the coffee cup into her free hand and a croissant into her other one. She nods thankfully before she hops up and sits on the counter, the small bag being placed between your bodies as you sit beside her on the counter.

“Did I forget to tell you that? And also why would she call me if we didn’t know each other?” Your eyebrows knit together, thinking back to all the conversations you and Em had over the past two and a half weeks.

“UH yeah, how do you know the best defender in the world?” The brunette girl slaps your shoulder playfully, studying your side profile out the corner of her eye. You look back at her in the exact same way, a small almost unknown smile on your face.

“Our mums knew each other, I’ve known Lucy since I was in diapers. And besides, I wasn’t the only one out here hiding family.” Raising your eyebrows accusingly, the girl beside you gives you a look of perplexion, not understanding what you mean by the statement.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her feet swinging off the edge, nearly smacking against your cabinet doors every time.

“I mean your scary older brother that you never told me about.” You say matter of factly, pointing at her with a ‘you know who I’m talking about’ look. The ‘ahhh’ sound that escapes her lips when she realizes who you’re talking about sounds out through the kitchen, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Oh, Cal? Cal’s not scary, he looks like the rat from flushed away. Oh and that reminds me, you have to come with me to this dinner he invited me to next week. No way I’m third wheeling all night long with him and his latest girlfriend.” The snort you let out is involuntary, the American girl’s description of her brother very vivid, and hopefully correct. It wasn’t like you’d seen her brother ever before, so you didn’t actually know what he looked like.

“Yeah sure I’ll help you feel less single, but no hand holding and no pretending to be together.” You look at her pointedly, making your point totally clear, no fake dating, that never turned out right. Em nods her head as she shrugs, as if to tell you ‘fair enough’.

“No way that I’d go out with you anyways, you’re far too grumpy for my liking. Maybe you can set me up with one of your mates in England.” Her hand covers her mouth so that she doesn’t laugh at your horrified expression, clearly you’re disturbed at the mere thought of Boston Tea Party part two happening if they ever broke up.

“One Boston tea party is enough mate, we don’t need another.” The sip of coffee that Em had just taken covers basically the entirety of your kitchen in a single second, the girl beside you spitting it out in surprise. “Em, come on. I’m not cleaning that up just so you know.”

Jumping down from the counter, you nearly slip on Em’s newly spit out coffee, only escaping the sticky mess by a millimeter. Her laughter clings out through the apartment, and Em makes sure to let you know that she’s sorry by telling you through her bouts of laughter.

“Look under the sink, you’ll find what you need under there.” The sound of the cabinet door opening can be heard from where you’re standing in the middle of the living room, picking up all the various things littered around the space.

“Girl, why do you have everything under here except paper towels?” The brunette calls out for you, and you shake your head in amusement at her, there was no way that Em hadn’t thought about looking in any other cabinet than the one she had her head stuck in at the moment.

“Look in the compartment above, see if you’ll find them there.” You get the confirmation that she’s found it when she lets out a short ‘aha’, you can almost imagine the way her head hits the corner of the sink when she gets up, the loud ‘fuck that hurt’ being very telling.

“You okay?” Looking around the wall in the direction of the kitchen, you see Em sticking her hand out, the thumb sticking up telling you that she was fine.

It didn’t take as long as either of you had thought to clean the kitchen up, only a few minutes and even less to clean the mess in the living room. Soon enough, the television was turned on and the two of you were sitting in silence watching the looney tunes.

“Do you think the duck piped the rabbit or is it the other way ‘round?” Em questions, her tone completely serious, as if she wasn’t asking the craziest question ever.

“Uh I don’t think Bugs Bunny piped Daffy Duck.” Looking at her incredulously, she only responds with a shrug, her theory about the two cartoon animals being shot down almost immediately.

“Well they do have sexual tension that’s for sure.” She states matter of factly, pointing at you like you would agree. Spoiler alert: you didn’t agree at all.

“Mate what goes even on in your head?” You ask her, looking at her as if she belonged in a mental institution. Em scratches her head nonchalantly, stretching out her legs and placing her feet in your lap. “Do you not have anywhere to be?”

“Like where?” She asks, her words coming out mumbled as she’s biting her nails, chewing on the bits before she spits them out. When she looks at you she sees the judgemental look on your face, stopping what she’s doing with no real sense of urgency.

“I don’t know, maybe at home? Do you not have like a hundred plants that need to be watered?” She springs up from the couch, running to the entrance where she puts her shoes on before she shouts out a quick ‘bye’ and runs out the house.

“What is she on?” You laugh through the sentence, the pure hilarity and absurdity of most situations involving your newest best friend making you laugh more often than not.

With Em being in and out of your apartment practically every day, the week leading up to the dinner with her brother and his ‘newest�� girlfriend passes by extremely fast, feeling more like a day than a week.

“Em, what am I supposed to wear? Is it like a fancy restaurant or more chill?” You shout from your room, Em changing into her clothes in the living room. The clothing hangers click against each other as you look through the clothes you’d managed to put up over the past few weeks, many different button ups and a few normal t-shirts.

“You’re asking me this 10 minutes before we go?!” She shouts back, surprised that you’re not already finished dressing yourself and getting ready, seeing as you were the first one out the house normally.

“Yeah, I just realized that I never asked you what to wear.” You shrug to no one in particular, seeing as you were the only one present in your room.

“Didn’t your parents take you to a bunch of dinners with their clients?” Em’s voice carries through the walls, especially with the woman coming closer and closer to your door.

“I’ve been to a fair few, but in my defense I’ve always had stylists helping me so putting together outfits isn’t really one of my strong points.” Pulling out a few items of clothing, you hold them up so that they’re almost exclusively in your line of sight, looking to see if they’d match.

“Fair enough, it’s not too fancy, just wear that linen shirt and some of your fancy pants.” She peeks her head into the room, looking at where you’re standing in your jeans, seemingly debating whether to wear the simple white button down or a Harvard t-shirt.

“Trousers?” You raise your eyebrow cheekily at the brunette, a small teasing smile on your face.

“Yeah yeah, you know what I mean.” Emma rolls her eyes at you whilst you place the two articles of clothing back into your closet, the hangers clicking easily against the pole they’re hooked on.

“I do, I just like to annoy you.” Hearing the door click closed, you pull the linen shirt off its hangar and pull it over your head before you unbutton your jeans and pull the ‘fancy pants’ over your legs. Buttoning up the various buttons on the slacks, you quickly tuck your shirt in before opening the door and tapping Em on her head as you pass her.

“Shut up man.” You look back at Em when you reach the entrance, picking out your fanciest pairs of shoes to show her.

“Those look good?” She studies them for a second or two before nodding diligently, pulling on a pair of relatively fancy shoes too.

“They’re better than your beat up sneakers at least.” She shrugs at your offended look, almost telling you that it’s only fair since they are beat up.

“They still have at least two, three years left in them alright. There’s no need for new ones if they work just fine.” For the second time that day, you take your keys off the hook in the hall, letting Em walk out the open door before you so that you can lock everything up.

“Are we finally taking your car?” She asks, seeing the little metal key on your keychain with hers nowhere in sight. Normally you were insistent on taking hers as your baby was almost priceless, a reminder of home that you’d come to love over the past week, seeing as you’d gotten it shortly after signing your first professional contract.

“Yeah, I need to impress your brother, right?” Smirking cheekily over your shoulder, you see Em smiling widely at you as the lock on the door clicks closed, waiting for you to follow her into the elevator.

“Can I-” She starts off, the cool air in the lift making the hair on your arms raise, the skin becoming all prickly like that of a goose.

“No.” You can see the way Em pouts almost like a petulant child through the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest as she glares at you.

“You don’t even know what I was about to ask you.” Raising a single eyebrow at her, you look down at her through the corner of your eye, like you did more often than you were willing to admit.

“No, but I do know you and that’s enough, no one other than me will ever drive my car.” The late afternoon sun glows bright orange like hot coals as the two of you step out into the humid air, the garage not too far away from the building’s entrance. Picking out the right key, you quickly unlock the door before pulling it up, revealing the gorgeous red ‘67 Mustang that Em always wanted you to drive.

The girl in question wolf whistles when she sees the car, a hand coming up to shelter her eyes from the sun beaming into them, moving towards you with slow steps. Walking into the garage, you motion for the other girl to open the door on the passenger side as you plop down into the driver’s seat.

You don’t have to feel around for very long to find the ignition, as you push the clinking keys in, smiling satisfied as the motor revs up loudly. Applying a small amount of pressure to the gaspedal, it’s not long until you’ve navigated your way out of the garage successfully and pulled onto the main road.

Pulling the seat belt over your body as soon as you’ve made it out to the main road, you waste no time in pulling your sunglasses out of their compartment and putting them over your eyes so as to not get completely blinded by the sun.

“Okay, give me the rundown of your brother, likes and dislikes, hobbies, aspirations, all the basic knowledge apart from him looking like the rat from flushed away.” Tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, you peek down at the phone that’s currently giving you directions for the restaurant, the beautiful nature almost mesmerizing.

“His full name is Callum Adam Whitmore, he’s 23 years old and he plays basketball for UConn. He likes sports, hitting on anything that has a pulse, pretending he knows how to play the guitar and pretentiously explaining movies. He dislikes losing, being told no by our parents and me on a few occasions. Hobbies are partying and gaming, aspires to go to the NBA. That’s all.” Em lists, giving you all the information you need to adequately make the assumption that Callum Adam Whitmore is kind of an arse.

“Well he sounds…nice?” There’s no denying how questionable you sound, clearly not believing the words coming out of your own mouth. Em looks at you over the tops of her own glasses, giving you a skeptical look.

“No he doesn’t, he’s an ass and to use the correct terminology, a fuckboy.” Em pushes her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose, turning the knobs on the inbuilt stereo for it to start playing music, ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations flowing softly out the speakers.

“Sing with me grumpy! I’ve got so much honey, the bees envy me, I’ve got a sweeter song, than the birds in the trees.” She sings loudly, her hands gesturing for you to join her in singing as you shake your head, a small smile on your face at her antics. “Come on, sing it man! I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way?”

Finally relenting at the last second possible, you join the older girl in song happily.

“My girl, my girl, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl.” Tapping along to the beat just as the last note of the song rings out, you pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, effectively ending the little karaoke session you were participating in.

“Holy shit man, that went so fast.” Em pats your shoulder as you pull into a parking space at the corner of the big parking lot, taking the keys out of the ignition before you fold your sunglasses and place them back into their compartment.

“Perks of having a really fast car.” Waiting from the brunette to step out of the car, you don’t waste a second in locking up the extremely expensive piece of machinery. You take a second to fix your hair in the rear view mirror, even though you don’t really know why, there wasn’t really anyone in that restaurant to impress now that you knew that Em’s brother was a total ass, but your instinct told you to.

“Can you hurry up?” The girl in question asks from her place in front of the restaurant door and you send her a sarcastic smile in response, half running half walking up to her.

She doesn’t say anything as she pushes the door open, in fact she doesn’t say anything until you two reach the hostess stand where she tells the worker the name of the reservation.

As the worker leads the two of you over to the table there’s a million different thoughts running through your head, why were you nervous? Why did it feel like your stomach was about to explode? Why were there so many tables in the restaurant?

You only really tune back into the real world around you when Em pinches your side, her head turned towards a table with a man sitting alone, presumably her brother. The man stands up and walks around the table to reach your side, bringing your friend into a familial embrace, before he turns to you and sticks his hand out.

There’s no avoiding the sense of deja vu you get from the action, remembering the girl from the party almost a week ago who’d done the exact same thing, but then again it was the most common form of introducing yourself.

“Cal Whitmore.” His voice is on the deeper side, not Darth Vader deep but definitely on the deeper side of the spectrum. His calloused hand grips onto yours in a confident handshake, fingers gripping onto yours harder than needed, which fits the cocky description Em had put forth.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You smile staley at him, the man moving back to his side of the table as you pull out the chair for the girl beside you, only sitting down when she’s settled.

“So, where’s your darling date Cal?” Em asks her older brother teasingly, looking around the restaurant like she’d appear just out of anywhere.

“Calm yourself Em, she went to wash her hands.” He leans back in his chair cockily, his eyes glued to the backside of one of the waitresses passing by like some horny teenage boy.

“You know what, he does kind of look like the rat from Flushed Away.” You lean in closer to Em as you whisper, studying the man’s face carefully and noticing increasing similarities between the stopmotion rat and the tall man.

“Em, what the fuck, have you been telling people that I look like the rat from Flushed Away again? I don’t look like the fucking rat from Flushed Away, stop telling people that.” He looks at the girl beside you in disappointment, his thin lips turning down quickly. Well that was until a sweet voice cut in, a soft hand with fingers adorned with rings placed on his shoulder, moving down to his chest softly.

“What has she done now?” That accented voice was familiar, and as your eyes trail up from the stranger's hand to her chest and then lastly to her face you soon realize why it was so damn familiar. The careful upwards tug of her lips to the slight curls of her hair and the furrow in her brow, there was no denying that the girl standing before you was someone you recognized.

Fucking hell, you’d just taken your best friend’s brother’s girlfriend out on a date a mere week before meeting him officially. You were officially fucked.

#woso #woso x reader #lionesses #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #leah williamson x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #nika muhl x reader #nika muhl #uconn wbb #wbb x reader #10/10 series

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wosoragebaiter69 · 10 months ago

Text

forgotten about you

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: i just know alexia turned off the tv during the game 😭

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You wake up, today is what could be described as a neutral day but it’s still your birthday nonetheless. You didn’t want to leave your bed, but you had to. Your family never really celebrated your birthday, only really caring about your brother and his dreams.

Even if it wasn’t the best day for you, a small part of your mind hoped that someone would wish you a happy birthday, at least Alexia anyways. It’s not like you told them though, the Barça instagram page would probably announce it.

You go through your regular movements of the day, traffic is light and you make it just in time.

Walking through, the admin wishes you a happy birthday, you smile lightly saying thanks and continuing to walk into the change room. However when you’re there it’s the same as any old day, it breaks your heart a little but you wouldn’t tell anyone that.

You’re quieter than usual walking to your cubby, it isn’t much of a change considering you’ve been one of the quieter ones since you joined barca, preferring to only be loud late at night when blasting music in your car.

It’s when even Alexia comes in and doesn’t say Happy Birthday that you feel even more hurt than before, out of everyone who would know, you’d just hoped she would. It’s not her fault though, you didn’t tell anyone. Why would she?

Training seems to be a blur, you miss the looks your older teammates give you at certain points. You’ve essentially become someone with no emotions which has somehow made you have a great session. Which in all honesty did not mend your shattering heart, no matter the praises the coaches had given you.

You make an effort to miss everyone after training and head straight home, you didn’t shower and just got up and left ignoring your confused teammates. No matter how much of an introvert you were, you’d always make time to say goodbye. It was a sign to everyone else that something had happened.

You make way to your car and drive off straight away, inevitably you end up sobbing halfway through. Unable to keep your emotions inside.

- - - - -

In the locker room, when you were gone there was silence. A pondering in the air of sorts. Mapi breaks it.

“Is she ok? She’s usually quiet but this… she’d at least say something.” Her statement lingers in the air, no one knowing what to say.

“Oh shit.” The unmistakable voice of Lucy Bronze cuts through the tension.

“Qué?” Many voices say at once. Lucy turns her phone around and shows the birthday announcement from the Barcelona Instagram page.

“How did we not know? Why didn’t she say anything?” Alexia sounds heartbroken, she cares for you deeply and to miss something so important is heartbreaking.

“I’m not sure.” Ingrid’s voice cracks and it looks like she’s about to cry.

Alexia is quick to regain her composure.

“Ok, we messed up. But, we can make this right. In the time I go to her house, talk and get her to come out, you all should do something. Plan a party and we’ll be there in like 1-2 hours. Got it?” The girls nod, seemingly ready to organise something not too big but enough to make up for what they didn’t know.

“Ingrid do you want to come with me?” The captain asks the Norwegian who nods, saying farewell to her girlfriend and teammates. You were very close with her, she took you under her wing a lot and you looked up to her.

- - - - -

You’re crying on your couch when there’s a knock on the door, thinking it’s preachers you ignore it, hoping they’ll leave. Only, the noise gets louder so you wipe your tears and trudge slowly toward the door.

Upon opening, Alexia and Ingrid immediately wrap you in a bone-crushing hug.

“What’s this for?” You say, you thought they’d forgotten about you.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, we’re sorry we didn’t know it was your birthday. We’ll make it up to you.” At Alexia’s words you start crying again.

“No Ale, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have expected anything. I didn’t tell you guys.” You say, feeling slightly bad.

“Elskling, no matter what we should’ve known, were your teammates and we didn’t even do any digging to find it. We made no effort before when we should have. Don’t ever feel like you should dismiss it. It obviously means something.” At her rant, you seem to understand her words as they compute in your mind.

“We did bring you something though nena. One from me and one from Mapi and Ingrid. Then we are going for a drive, ok?” You nod gratefully and get ready for what the two are giving you.

“Here you go.” Ingrid is first, she gives you two small boxes. You open the first one and it’s the Miss Dior perfume you’ve wanted for ages but haven’t ended up getting because you were too busy.

“I- thanks Ingrid.” You beam, she smiles softly back and points to the other one, you open it up carefully revealing a Dior charms bracelet. Your mouth opens wide.

“This is… thank you so much!” You place it down wrapping Ingrid in a hug.

“I’m glad you like it, I heard you said Dior was your favourite designer so I just figured.” It seems your broken heart from before was sealing up because she remembered something you’d told her weeks ago.

Alexia watches the interaction, smiling and happy to see you happy. Not the shell of a person you were at training because they forgot.

Luckily for her and Ingrid, there was a mall on the way to your house with many shops which would definitely satisfy what they needed to get you.

After speaking to Ingrid, you turn to Alexia who is also grinning and hands you a box.

“Aquí.”

You unwrap it, it’s quite big and heavy. When seeing the contents your eyes widen.

“Is this…” She nods her head, smirking. It’s a PS5, Alexia had been pretty strict on no video game consoles considering she wanted you to have a healthy sleep schedule.

“I didn’t think you’d ever allow it- Thank you Ale.” You bring her into a hug before unwrapping it fully and staring at the three things you had received in awe.

“Come on, get dressed we have places to be.” Alexia pulls you from your staring, you get dressed pretty quickly and you’re out of the house in 15 minutes.

- - - - -

You arrived at Patri’s house a little later and walked inside. The rest of the team were there, balloons everywhere and most importantly a cake with 19 on it being brought over by Frido.

Everyone’s singing and your face heats up at all the attention, feeling warm because of the love you’re receiving at the current moment.

When the singing dies down the Swede whispers to you softly.

“Make a good wish kid, it’ll be great.” You nod blowing out the candles and get given a knife to cut down the middle. It’s a pretty plain cake, but if you’re going to be honest you always loved when cakes weren’t so detailed.

The rest of the evening went by in bliss, people apologising and overall having a great time. Yes, they might’ve forgotten. But, they knew their mistake and made this the best birthday you’d ever had.

—————————————————————————

Finally wrote this.. I took too long to write it i’m sorry anon

can you tell what designer i like? (miss dior smells so good i feel rich when wearing it)

anyways i literally need to stop eating original kebab, like it’s so good and taking too much of my money PLEASE

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader

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lxkeee · 9 months ago

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A rrequest if that okay. I want Lucifer x Angel daughter figure!Reader. Like before he fell, he had a share close bond with a child angel who look up to him like a father figure (she does look up to the other angels like they're uncles and aunt for her too but Lucifer is closer). Like sharing his ideas with ideas, teaching her to fly when she was a still a newborn, helping her with her powers (I vote for ICE POWERS ❄️), doing hobbies together like art. Kinda like Morgan x Tony Stark or like Scott Lang x Cassie

Her personality : Shy, kind, dreamer too but reserve, well-behaved, sensitive, and never like cussing

And aafter he fell in hell with Lilith, she was alone in heaven, growing up to be a well mature messenger of heaven .

While in hell, Lucifer tell the tale of a small angel who could have been her sister

What do you think, is it a good story

IT'S BEEN SO LONG

—PART ONE

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Adopted! Fem angel! Reader [platonic!]

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

genre: fluff and cute

notes: will be making a male version of this. Someone remind me.

PART TWO | NAVIGATION

“Luci, throw me up again please!” a childlike voice giggles and Lucifer smiles, his angel wings fluttering behind his back. In his hand is a small angel, no older than six, a bright smile on her face, a small halo above her head. Chubby baby cheeks he just wants to squish forever.

The older angel chuckles softly, “Alright, alright... 1, 2, 3, and up we go!” he cheers, throwing the small child up in the air making her giggle loudly, her small wings fluttering behind her back in excitement and Lucifer effortlessly catching her. Soft and gentle chuckles escaping his lips as he places a gentle kiss on the child's forehead making the small girl laugh, a childlike giggle escaping her lips.

She was one of the recently created angels and the older angels are tasked with watching over one child. Lucifer, one of the older angels was tasked to watch over a little one and he was paired up with this sweet child. He needs to guide her and make sure she won't have any trouble living in heaven.

“Luci,Luci!” the small girl calls out to him excitedly in his arms, Lucifer raises an eyebrow and looks down at the smaller angel that's on his arms.

“What is it little [y/n]?” he asks softly, booping her nose with his pinky finger. A small giggle leaving the girl's lips.

“Look! Look! I can do this!” [y/n] says with a small giggle, showing her tiny chubby hands to him and slowly it glowed a pale blue and accidentally shot him a blast of snow... To his face.

Laughter was heard coming out of the smaller girl's lips as Lucifer stood there in shock. Still caught off guard by the snow attack on his beautiful face.

Regardless, he wasn't mad. It wasn't strong yet to hurt him but boy, it was so cold. He was amazed that the child's powers have already developed at this age, he can tell she'll be strong in the future.

Using his hands, he wiped off the snow from his face before chuckling as he looked down at the laughing girl that was in his arms.

“Meany little lady, shooting me with snow.” he says with a small pout making the smaller girl giggle, “'m sorry, I was supposed to make a snowflake...” she murmurs softly and apologetically.

Lucifer smiles softly and ruffles her hair, “It's fine little [y/n]. You didn't mean to.” he says with a smile, making the girl's frown disappear as she returns back to smiling brightly at him. Lucifer eventually helped her in slightly controlling her powers and the girl managed to finally create snowflakes.

Lucifer started calling her 'Little snowflake.'

And [y/n] eventually started calling him dad.

All throughout her life, she spent it underneath her father's wings. She shared the same beliefs as him, as his influence.

She was just 11 years old when her dad fell from grace.

The small child sobbing and cried in Michael's arms, as she watched Lucifer falling down and away from heaven. Lucifer crying silently as he watched his daughter's crying face, her tiny arms reaching out to him but Michael held her back. They don't know when they'll see each other again.

She was later on educated why he was cast out of the heavenly city, she didn't fight or argue with the higher angels, choosing to be obedient while deep down, believing that her father was a good man and still is.

She was taken underneath Gabriel's wing, the older woman guiding her how to use her powers.

But she misses Lucifer, her dad. She misses his warmth and comfort.

She grew up to be one of the most powerful archangels. Both she and Gabriel are God's messengers.

Timeskip. The reader would be somewhere around 27,000 ish years old but looks like in her early twenties.

[Y/n] chokes on her tea as Gabriel announces the news to her, the tea splashing out of the cup. Thankfully not spilling on the important documents that are on the desk in front of her, they were in the messenger office doing paperwork.

“Excuse me? Adam is dead?” [y/n] asked in disbelief and the older woman nodded, “Apparently.” Gabriel says with a shrug.

It has been millennia since then, where she has last seen her father. She grew up without him but his guidance continues to guide her all throughout her life.

She grew up to be a strong and mature woman, has risen up the ranks, a rank below the Seven Virtues.

[Y/n] places down the cup of tea on the table before looking at her mentor, Gabriel.

“And you're telling me because?” [y/n] asked with a blank expression, already fully prepared for a new job to be placed on her shoulders. Gabriel deadpans at her, “Unfortunately the exorcists failed to bring his body back here and we don't have any detailed report on what happened and I want you to go down there to do those things.” Gabriel explained, a hand on her hip.

[Y/n] deadpans back at her, “Do I look like Hu Tao to you or something?” she asked and Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her, confused who this Hu Tao is.

“Who?” Gabriel asked with a confused tone, “Tao.” [y/n] answers seriously.

(10/10 comedy right there)

Gabriel still couldn't understand her, please someone end her misery.

“Anyways, I want you to go down there okay?” Gabriel says sternly, [y/n] sighs very loudly.

“I am not a funeral director nor a press. I am a messenger of God!” [y/n] says a deadpan, her lips pressed in a thin line. Gabriel sighs. How did Lucifer manage this kid?

“Besides, why do we need to bring his body back here? Can't we just leave it there to rot or something? Dude is finally where he belongs.” [y/n] asked flatly with a raised eyebrow, Gabriel sighs once more. She was not amused.

Eventually, [y/n] didn't get to escape the new responsibility as she was pushed into a portal by none other than Gabriel, a portal to hell.

In hell, specifically the pride ring. An angelic portal can be seen opening at the red skies of the city. The portal closing briefly after a figure emerged from it. The phenomenon catching and sparking the interest of the hell dwellers.

[Y/n] sighs softly as she falls, falling backwards making the tip of her wings pushed in front by the pressure of the wind. Closing her eyes for a few moments, she could recall the day Lucifer, her dad fell from grace.

Is this what he felt during that day? She asked herself before opening her eyes, turning her body so she could face the approaching fiery red grounds of hell, extending her wings to its full size, fluttering as she finally stabilized herself and kept herself afloat.

Once she was close to the ground, she straightened her wings so she could dive faster.

Landing on the ground roughly but gracefully, a crater formed underneath her shoes where she landed. Extending her arm in front of her, a golden hologram forming above her palm.Time to look for that damn body.

In the distance, up in a small hill was a hotel called Hazbin Hotel.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @kaurochika @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523

#lxkeee answers #lxkeee updates #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader

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akitasimblr · 1 month ago

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and this is the finale of mad about dodo! MAD started on the 10th of june and i think we have come a long way! i hope all of you enjoyed the BC, i sure did! the first round was a blast for me in terms of gameplay - i love the chaos, i admit it! 😆 and i grew too much attached to all the contestants and at this point i wish i could marry them with all my single harpers so they would all appear in the family tree <33

@demonicrosebush lucy was a true player. she was graceful since day one and no deserted island will take that off of her. her late night jokes by the fire will be remembered by all contestants too <33 lucy did develop some romance with both martha and daisy flores so... who knows!!

@panicsimss tempest, another pixel that owns my heart! i absolutely adore her and her paranoid trait. who also love her are alejandro and anselme, these three are besties for life!

@jonquilyst quiet and kind lucian was probably the contestant with more friendships! he was dear to everyone, and particularly to me 🤍 oh and maybe hazel too, with whom he developed some kind of romance *wink wink*

@changingplumbob shay was a favourite of mine since day one. she's fun, she's bold, she's awesome! and both lucian and eleina agree with me!!

@mdshh daisy... i love to look at her, hope you don't mind me saying. this girl was never afraid to get her hands dirty, she played hard but fair! i actually like that of all contestants, it was with lucy that she developed a stronger friendship :)

@tipsy-clouds my dear sierra! i have a bittersweet feeling about her second place because she really had a great chemistry with dodo. also interesting to note is that araminta and sierra did develop a beautiful friendship so i hope this softens any broken hearts 🤍

@ethicaltreatmentofcowplants araminta, the first sim to be submitted to this contest and the last to stand <33 araminta went through this challenge with elegance. she won dodo's heart with grace and... a very bold first impression outfit, am i right? 😏🤍

to you and to the other contestants' watchers, my deep gratitude for sending and trusting me your sims, for following their silly adventures, for engaging daily with my posts, you have no idea how that kept me motivated! thank you for being part of this and be sure that all contestants will forever be part of my harpers lives. you were all amazing!

🌴previous | the end🌴

#mad about dodo #orlando harper #araminta hearst irsay by ethicaltreatmentofcowplants #sierra mitchell by tipsy clouds #daisy darling by mdshh #shay mcclain by changingplumbob #lucian vinca by jonquilyst #tempest graves vatore by panicsimss #lucy celeste mayfair by demonicrosebush

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sageteapost · 5 months ago

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Hi! i saw you write for ffxv and read the dating drabbles you made and wanted to request more expanded hcs for Noctis if thats okay? Like what else would come with dating them, love language, jealousy level and maybe even tropes if that's okay- pls feel free to add or change anything to this broad request 💀 tysm in advance and stay safe 💕

❝Hmm, I see...❞

authors note: ABSOLUTELY ANON!! Could always write more about Noct haha. And no worries, I've been cooking for a long time about this.

cw + tags: Mostly fluff! Gets spicy for like, a split second, but that's it. Not proofread, sorry for any typos! [Established relationship. GN! Reader.]

summary: A more expanded list of dating headcanons about Noctis from this post!

As for love languages, Noctis is tied with physical touch and quality time. Surprisingly, he's a big cuddler and very affectionate. At least in private. He's a bit shyer about it in public especially with the title of Prince and trying to keep proper images sometimes, but he's much more open about it during more intimate moments.

Kisses, cuddles (just be prepared to deal with how he becomes a koala), the whole thing. Just as long as it's all in the safety and comfort of being at home.

He's actually kind of playful with his affection. It's actually a bit more different than from what you'd might expect.

And if he's feeling like it, he can be handsy. At first, he's very shy about it, but slowly grows more comfortable and wilder.

Very soon, you'll have to deal with a sleepy prince who loves to nip at your neck sometimes.

Like I said in the previous post, Noct loves spooning. Not only does he sleep better, but he loves your body heat.

I think he's the type of guy to absolutely cover himself in blankets to feel nice and toasty, but also loves to blast the AC so it's freezing (me).

So, if you like sleeping toasty with weighted blankets as he spoons you, you're in luck.

As for how Noctis deals with jealousy, it's more on the quieter side compared to someone like Gladio. But definitely still enough to stand up and say something.

However, he's not the type of guy to immediately jump the gun if anyone started talking with you. He trusts you. It's only when they get a bit too close or try to be handsy is when he'll step in.

By confronting them, he doesn't make a huge spectacle about it. He'd simply just whisk you away. Maybe make a quick snide comment on how you're taken or just make up an excuse to say you're needed somewhere else.

Noct makes it quick. Either because it's the royal status that prevents him from doing too much or the fact, he's not super into making a huge spectacle out of things.

This may fall into some of the things you'll have to deal with in dating him, but it's not really the fear of losing you to someone else but more of the feeling that maybe he's not good enough for you. How you deserve someone else who isn't riddled with anxieties or the heavy duty he carries on his shoulders as the future king of Lucis.

Noct will become extra cuddly and clingy afterwards. Gently kissing you everywhere as if to reassure himself that you're there.

But what really helps him and makes him feel better, not just after moments of jealousy, is when you tell him those words.

'You're good enough', 'you're worth every single second of each day,' and 'I love you, regardless of who you are and the burdens that may follow you.'

ANY of those words of reassurance or a variant of them will make him melt.

Come now, the man has had very little chances where he could choose what he wanted for his own sake and happiness, and you reassuring him that he's deserving of it makes him over the moon.

#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ request approved #ffxv x reader #noctis caelum x reader #noctis x reader #noctis lucis caelum x reader #noctis lucis caelum #noctis lucis caelum x gn reader #noctis x gn reader #ffxv noctis #ff15 #ff15 noctis #ff15 x reader

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cinebration · 1 year ago

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Too Slow For Me (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader) [One-shot]

Premise: Of all the bars in all the world, Jake had to walk into yours.

Tagged: @abaker74, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @the-romanian-is-bae, @b-bradshaw, @alldaysdreamers, @bat-luna-cat, @solo2leo, @lucy-sky

Warnings: none

Gif Source: topgundaily

When you were hired to work as a bartender for Penny Benjamin at her bar, you thought nothing of it. The Jake Seresin you knew, while an up-and-coming hotshot flyboy, would never make it to TOPGUN, not with his mouth and his inability to play well with others. Working in the bar would be safe, you were sure of it.

Until a year later when Jake walked through the door.

A shock of surprise blasted through you when you recognized his face across the room, heard the familiar sound of his voice. Like suddenly being doused in cold water, you shivered and felt your heartrate skyrocket.

There was nowhere to hide. As the only bartender on duty, you were obligated to stay behind the bar. You couldn’t run even as Jake crossed the room and headed directly to you.

Trying to quell the mounting panic in your chest, your skin suddenly unbearably itchy as sweat broke out beneath your armpits, you forced yourself to stay calm.

He stopped at the bar and leaned his forearms against it. “Two beers.”

He flashed a pearly white smile.

You felt as though you’d been punched in the stomach. Nodding jerkily, you faced away from him to find two beers and pop off their tops, your face burning.

He didn’t remember you.

You handed him the beers and wordlessly took the money he slapped down onto the countertop, everything within you screaming as you fought back the hot tears pushing insistently at the back of your eyes.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, winking. “What’s your name?”

You quietly gave it to him. A faint crease rumpled his smooth brow.

“Don’t I—”

“Can I get two beers and a boilermaker?” another patron asked, raising their voice over Jake’s.

“Sure thing,” you answered with false cheer, scurrying away with relief to fetch the man’s drinks.

As Jake walked away to join his buddies, he glanced back over his shoulder as though to catch your eye, but you studiously avoided his gaze. Bitterness and pain flooded you as you kicked yourself for being stupid enough to think that working in a bar that catered to Navy pilots wouldn’t make you cross paths with him again.

Maybe, you realized, you had wanted to this happen. Maybe you had wanted the chance…

When you first met Jake, he was fresh out of flight school and hadn’t earned his call sign yet. You hadn’t recognized that his confidence was arrogance and his ego was outsized even for an Navy pilot. You couldn’t see past the charm, his grin, and the mischievous green eyes.

You never expected Jake to even look at you. He seemed to like girls faster than the jets he flew, and you were decidedly not one of them. As you once half-heartedly joked with your mother, you were invisible, particularly to anyone who looked even half as handsome as Jake.

So when he approached you one night, teeth gleaming and eyes glittering in the soft lighting of the bar, cozied up to you, and invited you out to dinner, you could hardly believe your luck. You pinched yourself more than once through the night, so surreal it all felt.

He took you to a middle-grade Italian restaurant that was better than getting pizza and beer but not very extravagant. You didn’t mind, preferring the food to the heavier, richer foods of high-end restaurants. The conversation was stimulating, Jake’s charisma out in full force and the banter crisp and light-hearted. You had never quite so clicked with anyone as you did with Jake that night.

As the evening wound to a close, you were excited to see him again. Before you could say as much, he leaned in toward your ear and whispered, “Why don’t we get out of here?”

Your heart plummeted. Swallowing thickly, you pulled away and muttered, “I’m not…I don’t think so.”

He frowned. “Why not? I thought we were getting along great.”

“We were—are. But…not on a first date.”

He stared at you, the glimmer in his eyes fading. Shaking his head, he exhaled heavily. “You’re too slow for me, sweetheart.”

And he left you standing there, cheeks burning and your stomach roiling.

You hadn’t eaten Italian since.

The night crawled. You exerted all of your energy trying to avoid looking in Jake’s direction or focusing on his voice as he crowed with his friends over winning shots at the dartboard or the pool table. You served drinks and faked smiles at everyone else that came up to the counter.

When the evening waned into the early morning hours, all that remained were Jake and his friends. You could hear the individual tick of the second hand of the clock over their laughter and raised voices, itching for it to be two a.m. so you could kick them out.

“Last call,” you finally yelled with relief.

Jake immediately sauntered over. You wanted to kick your own teeth out.

“Last round of beers for us,” he said, leaning against the counter.

Nodding, you counted heads and proceeded to collect the beer bottles.

“Don’t I know you?”

You froze, your heart thumping painfully in your chest. “No,” you answered. You popped open the first beer.

“Nah, I definitely know you”

You tried to pop off the caps faster, working furiously to hand them to him.

“Wait a minute…” He leaned forward, scrutinizing your face as you handed gave him the last of the beers.

“That’ll be thirty dollars.”

“You’re that girl. Italian dinner, no after party.”

Your cheeks burned. Ducking your head, you tapped the bar. “Thirty dollars.”

“Where’re the beers?” one of his friends called. “Hurry up, man!”

“How’ve you been?” Jake asked, frowning slightly as he dug around for his wallet.

“Why would you care?” you muttered, snatching the money from his hand. You scurried away from him to the opposite side of the room, hiding behind chores.

The group left before you had to kick them out at two. Relief made you slump into a chair with your head in your hands, your stomach slowly relaxing and releasing the knot it had been holding for hours. Somehow, Jake remembering you—or rather, how he had remembered you—was worse than him not recognizing you at first.

You took your time wiping down the tables and booths, stacking the chairs atop them so you could run a quick vacuum over the floor. The chores helped relax you, though bitter sadness lingered tartly in your mouth.

You locked up, debating how to tell Penny that you were quitting, and strode across the sand to the parking lot—where Jake and his friends had set up a stunt course with orange traffic cones, daring each other to do better as they screeched through the obstacle course. Cones went flying as each one clipped corners too hard or fumbled gear changes, the clutch grinding like a creature in the throws of pain.

You hesitated as you watched them, as you watched Jake laughing at his friends’ failures. Leaning against your car, you watched waited for his turn.

Climbing into the car, he revved the engine like he knew what he was doing and took off, burning rubber on the asphalt as he navigated the course. He clipped one cone, then two, before spinning out as a third snagged in the wheel-well.

Everyone laughed and talked shit as Jake climbed out of the car with a sheepish grin on his face. He shrugged it off and said, “Nobody can make this course, man.”

You pushed off your car, tossed your purse into it, and strode across the asphalt to Jake. He sobered as you approached, wariness diminishing the humor in his expression. You held out a hand for the keys.

“I wanna try,” you said.

A quiet ooooo rippled through the group.

“No offense,” he began.

You tore the keys from his hand.

“Uh, knock yourself out, I guess.”

“No way,” someone else said, shaking his head as you passed him to the car. “What’s a civilian gonna do? Total our car!”

You slipped into the driver’s seat and adjusted it before slamming the door shut, blocking out the naysaying crowd’s voices. Inhaling deeply, you glanced at the obstacle course, committing it to memory.

How’s this for fast? you thought savagely.

Kicking the car into gear, you shot forward into the opening of the track. With practiced hands, you shifted seamlessly through gears, the clutch almost purring with relief at not grinding. Coming up to the first pinched turn, you tore around it easily, the rear bumper of the car missing a cone by mere centimeters.

The thrill of the speed rushed through you, making the crowd and the circumstances drop away. You tore around the next turn, looked ahead to see that two scattered cones were a threat to your wheels.

Without hesitation, you slammed on the brakes, sending the car into a slide. Yanking the gear shift into reverse, you pivoted the car into another 180, sliding through both cones and whipping around to finish the last leg of the course.

You streaked through the other side, not a single cone touched in your wake.

Cheers thundered in the silence of the night as you killed the engine and exited the car.

“Un-fucking-believable!” someone shrieked. “Did you see that!?”

The only woman in the group was grinning, a “Niceeeee” hissing past her lips.

Jake trotted up to you. “That was—”

You tossed the keys at his chest. He had to scoop them off the asphalt as you strode across the parking lot to your car.

“Hey, wait a minute.” He hurried to your side. “I want to talk to you.”

“What for?”

He blinked. “I want to buy you a drink, catch up.”

You stopped abruptly, adrenaline still flooding your veins. You stared him directly, the first time you had been able to meet his eye all night. He took a step back under the force of your gaze.

“Why?”

“Because…you’re interesting.”

“I was always interesting, dipshit. You just didn’t stick around to find out,” you snarled.

You took off to your car, leaving him standing there. He tried to catch up, but you were too fast for him.

#Jake Seresin x Reader #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin imagine #Hangman x Reader #Hangman #Hangman imagine #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin imagine #Glen Powell x Reader #Glen Powell #Glen Powell imagine #Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun Maverick #TGM

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bumblebeehug · 2 months ago

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A Way Into Your Heart

Summary: After a friendly night out, Natsu and Lucy connect under the street lights. Notes: I just wanted to write about them kissing. I have no other excuse for not writing on my last nalu week fanfic - I just wanted them to smooch for ten pages, so that's what I did! Ao3

***

Lucy was feeling hot. She was currently mushed between a fire dragon slayer and a very sweaty Ichya at the bar. The Fairy Tail guild had been invited to yet another event that they didn't deserve to go to. Even if they helped save Christina from getting destroyed by enemies, the town beneath the flying ship hadn't been as lucky. Still, Blue Pegasus were persistent that they had to thank Fairy Tail, so here they all were, crammed into a semi big pub in the outskirts of Magnolia, drinking and celebrating yet another victory.

"You okay?" Natsu leaned towards Lucy and whispered in her ear. The blast of hot air made Lucy sweat.

"It's weird that he doesn't smell bad," Lucy complained, adding a slight nod towards Ichya. As she glanced towards him she noticed that he was flaring his nostrils and bending towards her. She could only cringe. "He's smelling me…"

Natsu poked his head forward and gave Ichya a menacing stare. Sadly, Ichya was far too drunk to care. When Natsu's tactic to scare him away didn't work, he slid off the bar stool and pulled Lucy away.

"That creep," he muttered, placing a protective arm over Lucy's shoulders. "How hasn't he gotten locked up yet?"

Lucy let out a small giggle.

"It's not against the law to be weird. Plus, he's dating my great grandmother, he can't be that crazy."

Natsu huffed in response.

"Don't brag 'bout having a weirdo family tree."

Lucy stuck out her tongue. No matter how close they got, or how long their friendship lasted, Natsu would never stop calling her that. She wouldn't be surprised if he wrote R.I.P. Weirdo on her headstone one day.

On another note, Lucy was craving a new drink. She had only gotten halfway on her previous one since Natsu pulled her away, so after some coercion she got him to pay for her new one.

"I'll get us some seats," she said, pushing him back towards the bar, along with a small prayer that he wouldn't get carried away and confront Ichya. That could only lead to the fire alarm going off, best case, or worst, the bar turning into ashes, which would definitely ruin the festive mood. After scanning the tables she noticed a table for two where one guy had fallen asleep. The many empty beer glasses in front of him indicated that his night out was coming to an end. Lucy threaded over to him, careful not to bump into anyone with a drink in their hand. A sticky dress wasn't pleasant.

"Excuse me, sir?" Lucy spoke loudly in hope that he hadn't fallen asleep just yet. After a couple of pokes he finally looked at her. "Sir, could my friend and I use this table?"

The man looked like he was going through the worst kind of drunk — the kind where he'll wake up the next morning in a bush with his pants halfway down, wondering why his lip is hurting and soon learning that some other drunk guy tried to pierce it with a safety pin. He had left a puddle of drool on the table in front of him, and it was obvious that Lucy's words didn't connect. They had gone in through one ear and out the other. Still, she tried again, being sure to keep her distance, just in case.

"Could we have this table?" She shouted this time, finally hearing her own voice over the myriad of others. That seemed to go through to the man as well.

"Y-yearh…" he slurred, slowly standing up from the chair, knocking down multiple glasses in the process. Good thing they were plastic and not glass. "Hu… here ya' go sweetie…"

Lucy smiled politely as thanks. She wasn't exactly scared of drunk people — most of them were quite kind, and she knew that if anything were to happen, she'd have two guilds and all her spirits to back her up. Still, she preferred to not start a commotion. Natsu didn't have a reputation for staying calm and collected when people bothered her.

Luckily the guy left before Natsu came with the drinks. The table itself was disgusting, but it was nice not having to sit all crammed in between people in the bar. Besides, a waitress was quick to spot them, wiping down the table and bringing the used glasses with her.

"One pornstar martini for you," Natsu said, placing a pretty reddish orange drink in front of her, "and a whiskey on the rocks for me." Lucy smiled brightly.

"Thanks!" She picked up the rounded martini glass and held it up. "Here's a toast then, for a free drink!"

"And for finding a table," Natsu added, picking up his glass as well.

"And for Christina!"

"And toast to another victory for Fairy Tail!"

"Hear hear," Lucy said, giving Natsu's glass a small clink before finally tasting her drink. It was a delicious blend of sweet passion fruit, mixed with vanilla vodka and a splash of lime. She let out a squeak in delight — few things made her happier than an alcoholic drink where she couldn't taste the alcohol. They may be dangerous, but she saw no joy in consuming drinks with that bitter spiciness. "This is delicious! What's it called, did you say?"

"Pornstar martini!" Natsu leaned slightly over the table to ensure that he was heard.

"What a vulgar name…" Lucy muttered under her breath, confirming to Natsu that she had heard him. It sure was convenient that he had that excellent hearing — way less shouting. "How was yours?"

"Pretty good," Natsu said, "wanna taste?"

Lucy couldn't resist the offer. She knew she wouldn't enjoy it herself, but after drinking with Natsu for a few years, she learned that different whiskeys had different tastes. Some were quite sweet and fruity, others had nutty notes. With a tiny sip from this glass, she learned that he had gotten his favourite kind — the one with spicy and smoky notes. She made a face.

"Bleh! It's your type of drink, alright," she confirmed, sticking out her tongue to lessen the strong taste. The most she could enjoy whiskey was if it was as a highball or a whiskey sour — she avoided straight on the rocks as the plague. Luckily, she always had Natsu to drink them for her if she was served any.

"What an ugly face!" Natsu laughed, snickering at her scrunched facial expression.

"It's unnatural to be calm after drinking something like that," she countered with a sour face, trying to hide the smile in the corner of her mouth. "At least my drink resembles something edible instead of sharing more similarities with gasoline than a drink." This time Natsu was the one to poke out his tongue.

"Let me taste yours then," he dared her.

"Fine." She slid her drink over, watching him take a sip.

"Too sweet," Natsu said, contorting his face to further prove his point. "It's just sugar! Makes my teeth feel icky."

"It's not just sugar! It's fruity and sour and has that perfect amount of vanilla flavour to it. Don't pride yourself in having uncultured taste buds."

They always ended up bantering like this when they shared drinks, but Lucy found it to be pleasant banter. The kind she remembered when she woke up the next morning, earning a giggle, thinking of all the fun retorts that had been said. She knew that Natsu shared her sentiment, not letting his soft facial expressions go past her. Even when he tried to rile her up by blowing raspberries and feigning annoyed sighs, she could see how his eyes were squinted together into a constant smile. She never felt like she had to second guess their friendship.

Four drinks and three shots later, they decided it was time to head back to Lucy's apartment. Natsu wasn't as much of a lightweight as Lucy, but even he felt the effects from having one too many vanilla vodka shots. Plus, the constant blush on Lucy's face and her jokes that were gradually getting flirtier were enough for Natsu to close the tab for the night.

He stood up from his chair and swiftly helped Lucy up as well. She was still giggling at a joke she had said ten minutes earlier and was swaying like crazy once she stood up. As the pub was still crowded, Natsu held a tight and steady arm around her as they made their way to Makarov and Bob's table. Even though he'd never let anything bad happen on the way home, he felt like it was good to inform them that they were leaving.

"Natsu," Lucy called out, squirming around in his grip around her, trying to face his ear. "Doesn't Master Bob's head look like a chestnut?" She whispered silently, making sure not to be heard by anyone other than him. When her lips accidentally brushed against Natsu's earlobe he felt a violent shiver – a pleasant, but violent shiver throughout his body.

"I wouldn't tell him that though," Natsu answered, leading to a new fit of giggles from Lucy. After all, he agreed with her statement.

After giving the supposed responsible adults a heads up, Natsu could finally lead Lucy out of the premises. The cool night breeze was heavenly after having breathed the same air as at least a hundred other drunkards for hours. Some fresh air was precisely what Lucy seemed to need as well, since she sobered up quite a bit from just stepping outside. She was still clearly loopy, but at least she wasn't laughing like a crazy person anymore.

"Finally, some air!" Lucy exclaimed, stretching the one arm that wasn't glued to Natsu's upper body. He still hadn't let go of her – for all he knew, she could have been too drunk to walk straight. Though as soon as he noticed that that wasn't the case, he lightened his grip around her, settling for resting his arm over her shoulder. That way she wouldn't be out of reach if she stumbled and fell.

"Our friends really know how to party," Natsu said with a big grin. He really loved having fun with everyone – it was an unparalleled bonding experience in his eyes.

"Yeah they do," Lucy giggled, resting her head against Natsu's shoulder. "By the way, who won the shot contest before?"

"Cana 'fcourse."

"But she wasn't in the contest," she puzzled, furrowing her eyebrows in an attempt to piece it all together.

"You think she cared 'bout that?"

"Ah, of course not."

They continued walking in silence for a while. The pub they had been to was on the opposite side of Magnolia, though luckily Lucy's place was pretty much right in the middle. They hadn't walked on this side of Strawberry Street in a long time – last time must have been back when Lucy, Natsu and Happy had just formed a team and Natsu and Happy had taken her sightseeing in the city. Most stores and pubs were between Fairy Tail and Lucy's apartment though, so on this side there were mostly residents. Still, the river was as thrilling as always to a drunk Lucy. She managed to slither her way out of his grip four times, attempting to balance the ledge. Natsu, however, absolutely couldn't let her do that. He wasn't sober enough to tend to her like he usually could, so the risks were too high.

"Come on," she whined after being caught again, giving the o an emphasis. "I've never fallen in, you know that!"

"Yeah well that's 'cus I always catch ya'!"

Before Lucy could slip out of his half embrace for the fifth time, Natsu took a firm grip of her hand. Rough in his motion, he brought their hands up in front of her face, making sure she saw him holding on tightly.

"I'm not letting ya' go this time." His eyebrows weighed heavily on his eyelids as he tried to emphasise his annoyance with her. Of course, he wasn't actually annoyed, but if he looked like he was joking, Lucy would just giggle and continue struggling. He'd gone through this before.

Lucy wasn't blind. She saw the smirk in the corner of his mouth, but she decided to follow his lead this time.

"Fiiine." She quickly stuck out her tongue at him before she looked forward again. They had already gotten quite far, they'd be home in just under ten minutes.

It only took a couple of steps before Natsu softened his grip around Lucy's hand. With the new motion range she'd received, she swiftly changed the position, braiding her fingers into his. Another couple of steps and she felt a soft caress against the back of her hand. Natsu's rough, warm thumb, rhythmically moving. His hand was warm, she noticed. Well, of course it would be. It was Natsu after all. She rarely held colder hands, other than Levy's now and then when they were sharing excitement over a new book arriving in their library. Levy's hands however were small and soft, nothing like Natsu's. She was once again made aware of the fact that he wasn't just another girlfriend she hung out with – he was a man. Broad shoulders, big square hands, feet several sizes bigger than hers. Most days she wore heels, but when they were in her apartment, only socks on their feet, she noticed that she had to bend her neck a little bit further back when talking to him. He wasn't the tallest man, but he was over half a head taller than her.

Even with the cool breeze outside she felt her cheeks getting warm. She'd blame it on the booze if he asked her, but she knew very well that she was getting flustered. Natsu was a really cool guy after all, chiselled features and fierce, fiery eyes.

To distract herself she started swinging their hands. It started out mild, but soon enough she noticed Natsu was in on it and the swinging motion rapidly became comically big. Since Natsu didn't hold back on his strength he almost lifted Lucy up in the air on the upswing.

"Eeeek!" Lucy's high pitched shriek left Natsu in a fit of snickers, though he stopped swinging his arm.

Lucy had to find her balance again. Even if she wasn't wearing her highest heels, the ones she wore were thin and extremely wobbly on the cobblestoned path.

"To think that you'd be the one who would try to throw me in the river, out of all people," she teased, leaning her weight on him.

"Thought ya' wanted the lesson," he countered, leaning back. He couldn't help but love Drunk Lucy's cravings to be physically close. She never declined holding his hand or hugging him when she was tipsy, hell, she usually begged for cuddles. Though, to be fair, he hadn't exactly tried to hold her hand very often while sober, either, so she wasn't the one to blame for that.

Just then Lucy saw a familiar brick wall in the distance, dimly lit up by the sparsely placed street lights surrounding the area.

"Hey, we're home!" She started picking up the pace, eager to wash up and surround herself with her warm blankets. Soon they were in front of the building, and Lucy started digging for her keys in her purse. She just managed to get the key into the door before she turned around to say something to Natsu.

As soon as she spun her head around though, she got stopped in her tracks. Whatever she just wanted to say flew straight out of her head. He looked gorgeous. His hair was a bit messy from the long night, and his usual styled bang was hanging down over his forehead. The light from the street lamp behind him, made his hair lit up like a halo around him. And his face, she couldn't recall a time he had looked at her this softly. His lips were curved into a gentle, mild smile, and his eyes were practically sparkling. For a second it looked like he was going to say something, but it seemed like he had stopped himself mid thought. Instead his head tilted the slightest to its left, gaining an observing gaze. He was thinking of something, and she couldn't quite tell what.

Lucy looked like a puppy, Natsu realised. Her eyes resembled gemstones, glimmering between a deep chestnut colour and a lighter amber tone. He could stare at them all night, though, sooner or later she would probably want to go to sleep. For now though she had this questioning look to her. She was smiling, but her eyebrows were slightly raised, as if she was inviting him to ask her anything – tell her anything. He almost felt dizzy looking at her, her hair was giving this golden sheen, her skin looked airbrushed with that pinkish blush on the apples of her cheeks. She was angelic. Before he had noticed, he was hovering slightly over her. Had he gone a centimetre closer their noses would have bumped together.

Suddenly he got this urge. A question he had to ask her, something he'd never let pass his lips if he had taken one less whiskey tonight.

"Can I kiss you?"

The air between them stood still. In fact, they could swear the time stood still as well. Lucy was processing his words, and Natsu was waiting for an answer. A yes, a smile, even half a nod would suffice. And there it was. Lucy had wetted her lips.

She barely had time to take a breath before Natsu crashed his mouth against hers. For some reason she was surprised – she thought the moment had called for a soft, fluttery kiss, but soon her surprise was drowned in awe. After all, this was her very first kiss. She wanted to be in the moment. The initial crash had been the most forceful part. Natsu quickly adapted, moulding his lips against hers with a soft motion to it. One of his hands had been cupping her cheek when he first brought his face to hers, and now his other hand was on her waist, pulling her entire body closer to his.

Lucy, who felt like she was melting under his hot touch, was quick to wrap her arms around his neck in an attempt to hoist herself up, getting tangled up in his scarf. His mouth was burning hot, but just cool enough for her not to want to pull away, and at the edge of his lips she could feel his stubble scratching her. How could they have waited so long to do this?

She hadn't yet gotten the hang of breathing while kissing yet though, so soon she had to pat out. While panting for air, she noticed that Natsu was still bent over, giving light pecks on her cheek, continuing down, kissing a trail along her jaw. As he neared her ear he gave her a nibble, earning a giggle that could easily have been confused with a gasp to someone with an untrained ear. She could feel her entire body tingling, every fluttery graze from Natsu's lips leaving her with goosebumps. Did he know the effect this had on her? That she couldn't help but to get confused about what their relationship was currently. What were they doing?

When Natsu noticed that Lucy had catched her breath, he picked his head up from being buried in her neck. The eyes he earlier had compared to a puppy's glimpse, were now darkened in a seductive gaze. Her rosy, now plump, lips were slightly parted as an aftereffect of her panting, and he suddenly had to know what they tasted. They looked so soft, no – they were evidently soft, so certainly they had to be sweet as well. Her lip gloss, though smudged from him having mushed it around, made her look appetising.

Once again Natsu closed their distance, though this time he left his mouth slightly open. He just wanted to see if those lips really were as sweet as they looked. Lucy, who still was in a daze, having closed her eyes to invite him to further action, suddenly became aware of what he was doing. Natsu's tongue brushed over Lucy's bottom lip. She could feel her heartbeat pick up – she had never felt another person's tongue on her mouth. That didn't mean she didn't like it: if anything she wanted to do the same to him. Lick him, see what sensations he could give her, what she could give him.

On accident, Lucy's tongue met Natsu's. She was about to retreat it back into her mouth when she felt Natsu's tongue enter her mouth completely. The bodily reactions she had to his action was like nothing she had ever felt before – hadn't she known better, she would think she was about to get eaten. Devoured by the lust that had taken over their brains. Natsu tasted like smoke and whiskey, and she wondered if he could feel the aftertaste of the drinks she had had as well. Lucy quickly decided that she couldn't just be on the receiving side. She brought her hands to his head, did a combing motion through his hair that almost stopped Natsu in his tracks, and when he no longer dominated their combined mouthspace, Lucy pushed forward her own tongue. She started exploring his mouth, examining every single part of that grin that she found in all her happiest dreams. This was Natsu, no frowns, no barriers, nothing that kept space between them. They were melting together into one.

Natsu had been caught off guard when Lucy's slender fingers started combing through his hair. A motion he had always connected to being soothed while motion sick, was now edging him on, giving him the extra courage to go all in. As Lucy's tongue searched around in his mouth, feeling the sharp canines with its tip, Natsu started sucking hers in retaliation. Kissing reminded him of sparring, in a way – a balance between fighting for the upper hand and learning to give up when the other clearly was winning.

Their arms had been flailing around for the past five minutes, tugging and pulling at their partner. Lucy was busy holding on to Natsu's shoulders, sometimes trailing down to rest on his chiselled chest, but mostly finding themselves back around Natsu's face – cupping his cheeks, getting her fingers tangled up in his soft hair, drawing small circles on the back of his neck, all things that made Natsu feel like he was going insane. How could her soft touches have such huge impacts? But he absolutely wasn't complaining, he was soaking everything up, wanting to remember every detail. He was totally wrapped around her finger.

Lucy shared his sentiment, as Natsu's hands had been trailing down her waist, sometimes staying there in a massaging motion, sometimes going down further to grip her hips. Then she found him going back up again, cupping her face, bringing her so close that not an atom could pass by. She was obsessed. He was pressing his entire body against her, even putting a leg between hers, resulting in a very embarrassing moan from Lucy.

This entire time that they had been kissing, Lucy hadn't heard a single thing, being so wrapped up in their actions and in her own headspace. When she suddenly let her voice out, it was as if the bubble that had been around them burst. She could only take another few seconds of their smacking and panting, before she had to pull away.

"Oh my god, Natsu," she breathed, taking in the scene of the man in front of her. He, too, was panting, but had the air of being able to continue for eternity. His eyes looked even darker than usual, like they were in this limbo of determination and lust. He seemed to be waiting for her to continue talking. "We're still outside."

She almost smiled when she heard how stupid she sounded. Being outside wasn't the problem – kissing her best friend in a drunk haze was. Natsu seemed like he hadn't even considered the consequences of what they were doing. He just smirked as he answered.

"Then we'll go in." His voice was huskier than it had been earlier this night. Like a switch had flipped and some instincts were speaking, deep from his soul. Those words were all it took for Lucy to swing the port open from behind, falling back into the dim hallway that led up to her apartment's front door. Natsu immediately kissed her again, while simultaneously struggling to get the keys out of the keyhole. When he did manage, however, he didn't hesitate a second to hoist Lucy up so she was straddling his lower stomach. Lucy was quick on the notes, wrapping her legs around him so she wouldn't slide down when he carried them up the stairs.

As soon as they went through the door and threw off their shoes, Lucy jumped down from him. The kiss, that had been deep on their way up – lots of tongue and saliva, was interrupted as she took his hand and headed straight for the bed. Natsu was walking slightly behind, worshipping the sway of her hips and her sculpted back underneath that flowy red dress. He would have kneeled, hadn't he been following her footsteps towards his version of heaven – Lucy's bed, with Lucy in it.

The apartment wasn't big, so it took ten steps to stand in front of the bed. Lucy turned around, and Natsu's breath was once again taken away. He wanted to treasure her like gold, yet at the same time he wanted every piece of her. He wanted the privilege to touch her, feel her, know her. And as Lucy's lips turned upwards into a smile, he knew that she was allowing him. So he brought her face close again, accidentally bumping their foreheads together, like they had done many times before, and then he closed his eyes and gave her the softest peck on her lips he could manage. Their first kiss, outside of the apartment, had been rough and clumsy, experimental even. Now he just revelled in being allowed to feel those soft, warm lips that had been plumped up by his own doing.

And after that first peck, he gave her one again. Then a third time. Then he slowly brought them down on the bed, and then Lucy took the lead again. She figured that they could do a mixed style of kissing – no major tongue events, no extra saliva, but also no pecking. She held her mouth half open, sort of closing off any attempted entrance Natsu might want to do with his tongue, and instead softening her lips and tongue, making the make out style deep, but gentle. Natsu was of course quick on the notes and followed her lead, liking the mood it set between them. No crazy panting, no feelings of rushing, just them, there, kissing.

Now, even if Lucy could have done this all night, she realised something important. More important than the half-way relationship they had created this last half hour. Yes, she realised she was lying in bed with outdoor clothes. The realisation made her still, prompting Natsu to pause the kissing. He was still hovering over her, though their legs had tangled together, and now that he wasn't kissing her he realised Lucy's skirt had ridden up quite high. He swooped her sweaty bangs to the side.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"We have to strip," Lucy said, crawling out of his grip and up, walking to her dresser.

"What?"

"Oh, Natsu, come on. Think! We've been to the pub in these clothes, it's disgusting!" Before Natsu could even register the fact that she first of all hadn't implied what he thought she implied, and then register that he had to change out of his clothes, Lucy had switched her dress to a night gown and taken off her jewellery.

"Right," he mumbled, surprised that Lucy was so composed, despite their situation. He certainly didn't feel composed. "Are my sweatpants in the drawer?"

"Yeah," she said, picking them up and throwing them on the bed. She wanted to brush through her hair before going to sleep – it helped it stay tangle free during the night.

Natsu took off his scarf and unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing. He didn't mind undressing in front of Lucy, but after tonight he felt like it was odd. His life had just changed for the better, yet they still had to eat, sleep, brush their teeth, go to the toilet – change clothes. It would be much better if he could just kiss Lucy non-stop, for eternity.

As he changed out of his dress pants and into his sweatpants, Lucy took a glance at him. He looked like a God with his physique, the perfect muscle definition and the tan he had left from the summer – she wanted to feel every crevice. Normally, she would have shaken off the thought and made some tea to cool her head off, but with alcohol in her blood and with the current situation, she allowed herself to be bold. She snuck up behind him, though she knew he could probably hear her footsteps. With a soft touch, she felt the dip where his spine was buried with muscle – starting at his neck and slowly following it down to his lower back, stopping once she felt the curve change from convex to concave.

She had never seen him this turned on. The entire room felt electric, and when she looked up from his back, she saw that he was watching her in his peripherals. It only took him a second to turn around and lock himself to her lips, and this time she was practically thrown onto the bed. He was eating her, lightly pulling at her bottom lip until he once again dove down in her mouth. If the previous kissing had been gentle and kind, this was the heavy stuff. A string of saliva connected their mouths when they pulled apart for a second, like it was telling them to get back in again. And they obeyed.

Natsu's hands were roaming Lucy's body, no longer stopping at the friendly zones. Her nightgown showed so much skin that he would have thought she wore it to seduce him, hadn't he known better. Luckily, that meant easy access to grab a handful of her ass, earning an airy moan from Lucy.

She, too, was busy feeling Natsu up. She consistently held him close to feel as every muscle on his back was working. When she felt company at his groin being rubbed up against her, she once again felt her voice slip out, though this time she stifled it by clawing at his back. That only seemed to edge him on more though, since the accidental rubbing started feeling more intentional.

Natsu started kissing Lucy's neck again, though this time he didn't leave dry, fluttery kisses, but rather a wet trail of saliva as his tongue travelled down towards her collar bones. Lucy felt like she was floating – he was warm, made her sweaty, yet he gave her goosebumps like he was paid for each shiver, searching everywhere on her body to earn a new one. As he settled on a spot right below her collarbone, just where the flesh of her breast started, she felt a sucking sensation. He was grabbing the skin in the area with his teeth, and Lucy wasn't sure if it was painful or the best feeling ever – perhaps a mix of both.

"God, Natsu," she breathed, feeling her voice waver as one of his hands held her waist tight.

Natsu, who must have decided that his hickey was finished, hoisted himself up. Lucy suspected he was having a hard time holding himself back, the sheen on his temples and his puzzled eyes giving it away. Without a word they seemed to have agreed to take a breather, Natsu leaning himself against the window while trying to compose himself, Lucy throwing her legs over the edge of the bed to gather her thoughts as well.

Though the silence was loud now that the room wasn't filled with their smacking and panting, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was ambiguous worst case, which Lucy didn't associate with bad.

"Look, I…" Lucy started, turning her head to face Natsu's. "I don't have any condoms."

Her face immediately turned red once she said it, and she regretted having turned to look at Natsu's reaction. His eyes widened and his mouth fell agape – had her implication been that horrible?

"Now that'cha mention it, me neither."

He laughed. Slowly at first, but when Lucy joined in they fell into giggles. It wasn't the end of the world, so there were no hard feelings. Though Natsu had a hard feeling that he had to deal with… He'd have to do it quietly in the bathroom before they went to bed.

Lucy turned around properly to look at Natsu again.

"I think we should… talk. About this." She looked serious again, but not in a stern or menacing way. "It's not that I don't want to do it. I do." Her face was blushing, but she continued speaking. "I just don't think it's a terrible idea to wait. At least until we're sober?"

Natsu nodded. Of course he could wait, he wasn't exactly fond of the idea of going all the way when they were this drunk and naive. He wanted her to feel into it, for her to be able to call their first night special.

"Yeah, let's do that. Should we go brush our teeth?"

Lucy let out a tired giggle.

"Yeah, I need some water as well."

As soon as they went back to bed, they realised that they didn't want to stop kissing just yet. After all, once you got the hang of it, it turned out to be easy to replicate.

#bumblebeehug writes #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fairytail #nalu fanfiction #nalu fanfic #fairytail #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fic #fairy tail fanfiction

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maxsimagination · 10 months ago

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𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 - 𝗹.𝗯𝗿𝗼𝗻𝘇𝗲

summary: champions league final vs. lyon, a version where they win.

𖦹 masterlist

𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬 of the finals for the women's champions league and i was super nervous. it was barça versus lyon and i had been selected to be in the starting eleven. i could never have imagined that i would ever be here, soccer was my dream when i was a kid, and now here i was. 21 years old, almost 22, and already playing a finals match.

from the moment i signed with barça, i knew this club was it for me. it was everything i had ever imagined and more. my teammates were amazing and they felt more like family than anything.

lucy was the first person i met at barça, she showed me around and introduced me to the rest of the team. we got along like a house on fire, the whole team was rooting for us when we finally got together. that was almost a year ago, and to say that lucy was nervous because of the age gap was an understatement.

it was a laughable matter to me because i had assured her that her age only made her that much more attractive to me. along with her abs. she had grinned down at me with a cocky expression in response to my words.

all these thoughts flowed through my mind as we drove to training. ona and kiera met us when me and lucy walked in together, exchanging fist bumps and hugs. there was an air about the team, something like confidence but with a hint of nerves. i must have been the only player that was actually freaking out, i was still new and much younger than some of the other girls.

i knew soccer but this is the finals we were talking about. lucy must have been able to sense the tension in me, because she came closer to my side and wrapped a hand around my waist.

"we can do it, you can do it." she whispered in my ear. it was like our mantra, a chant we whispered when we were nervous. i smiled up at her, so thankful i had her by my side. "thank you, luce." "okay lovebirds, let's go!" ona yelled out, herding is out of the changing rooms.

i just laughed at her antics and walked out with them. we got going immediately, jonatan had us going hard, but not too hard as to wear us out for the game in a couple of hours.

——

we had just gotten to the stadium we'd be playing at, there was no one in the stands at all, they'd cleared it for an hour so we could warm up in peace. everyone else had their own pre-game rituals but the only one that i took on was laps around the field. i had my airpods and my music so it was a perfect fit.

i took off around the track, music blasting in my ears. it was a calming sensation, just running with nothing else going on around you. it helped me focus.

i kept running, until it was almost too much, finishing my warmup and stopped over by lucy, who was sitting on a soccer ball and fiddling with her water bottle. and she called me weird. "hey. you ready to crush lyon?" "fuck yea." she stood up to tower over me and the whole team was ordered off to the change rooms.

the fans were starting to trickle into their seats, and soon it was a full house. every seat booked out. my nerves were at an all time high.

everyone was almost ready and i put on my lucky boots, lucy had gotten them for me for my birthday last year and i'd won every game in them since. finally everyone lined up in the tunnel, ready to run out.

a hand on my back that i knew was my girlfriend, reassured me that we could do it. we could hear the commentators announce our team, and we started jogging out onto the field. everyone made it out and we all got into positions. the starting whistle was blown and we were off.

——

it was half time, and the score was 1-0 to barça. with me and kiera in the mid field and lucy and ona defending, we were almost impossible to get through. kiera had gotten the ball from lyon, racing up the field and passing it to me. i took off and weaved my way towards the goal. their goalkeeper saw me coming and i knew i didn't have a clear shot.

kiera was there so i shot it back over to her, she kicked it forward but it hit a defender, ellie carpenter. she managed to get it away from the goal, but not far enough. i got it back again and booted it straight towards the net and it went in.

first goal of the game and i was elated. i ran down the field, straight for lucy, who caught me when i jumped towards her. we were now getting ready to head back out there for the last half. lyon was getting more aggressive, violent even. the weren't afraid to push, shove, trip or pull.

they tried everything to score a goal and eventually they succeeded. it was wendie renard who kicked it in, assisted by vicki bècho. i was getting pissed off now too. we just needed one more goal and we were in the lead.

it was the 60th minute of the game and i had the ball, racing down the field again. i was so close, and i had a clear shot, but just as i was about to kick, there was a shooting pain in my left leg. i fell to the floor and turned to see selma bacha run off with the ball.

she had sunk her cleats into my leg on purpose. the medics came running on to inspect the damage and what needed to be done. lucy was right by my side the second i went down.

eventually they helped me off the field and subbed patri on so they could ice my leg properly. i sat on the sidelines for a solid 15 minutes and did warmups to make sure i could go back on. they called aitana off so she could get a rest and i ran back on.

my teammates all gave me high fives as i ran past, happy i was back on. we only had another 15 left in the game before it went to extra time so i was desperate to score another goal.

we were so close to getting the ball back and when we did it was alexia, our captain, who was streaking up the field. not surprisingly, lucy was close behind her, and so were me and kiera. alexia couldn't get a clear shot so she passed it to me then to kiera. i moved further back on the field in case it rebounded again.

kiera still had the ball and was trying to play it around the lyon defenders, but they weren't easy to break. she kicked it back to lucy who took the chance to score and shot it straight into the net.

i was overjoyed and ran back up the field to where lucy was, screaming "that's my girl!" and just in time too, the last minute ticked over and the ref called it game over, we won. i slammed into lucy and she almost lost her balance but held onto me anyway.

i was probably more happy than she was, based off of my reaction. she had saved the game and scored the game-winning goal. all of our other teammates ran to us, including the ones on the sidelines and we all had a group hug.

it was the best experience ever, winning the champions league and scoring a goal in the final game. and i did it with lucy by my side.

——

the ride home was amazing, everyone was so happy and lucy had the happiest expression i'd seen. we made it back to our hotel for the night and everyone immediately went to their own rooms, they were that tired. i refused and tagged along with lucy to her room so we could celebrate together.

we were comfortable together, lying on the bed in each others arms. i had drifted off into my own world just thinking of the huge accomplishment both me and her had achieved.

"what are you thinking of over there?" lucy's voice cut through my daydream. "you." i had a cheeky grin on my face to tease the older woman more. "oh really?" her eyes were sparking with desire as she turned on her side to face me. i shrank underneath her intense gaze.

"what about me, love?" i couldn't even get any words out, my throat had gone dry. lucy took things into her own hands and leaned forward to kiss me. it turned into an heated make out, our tongues battling against the other. she won that match and i opened my mouth to deepen the kiss. when we pulled apart, she only uttered one thing before diving back in.

"that's my girl."

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine

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bloodywickedvamp · 2 years ago

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Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six? Part 2

Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael

Series Masterlist

Summary: Michael and Reader continue their argument off the boardwalk for some privacy. Michael tries his best to explain, but it’s Michael so you can imagine how well that goes. Interrupting vampires say wha-?

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: angst, arguments, cursing, lil rough grabbing of reader, blatant disregard/disrespect for readers own opinions (looking at you marko), vampires and their isms.

Hello all! I'd like to start by saying thank you so so SO much for all the love and support I received on part 1. I truly was not expecting that and it warmed my heart and made me so happy to know you enjoyed it! I love you all and hope you like part 2!!

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Our? I barely had time to register or retort back at the presumptuous claim before Michael grabbed my hand and stormed off to the beach, steam basically pouring out of his ears.

“Michael slow down, you’re going to rip my arm out of its socket!” I screeched trying to gain his attention, to no avail. He just kept speed walking his way down the stairs of the boardwalk till our feet hit the sand, his pace nearly causing me to stumble.

He made a hard right and pulled us both underneath the boardwalk. Now far from the people above and the drunken beach goers littered around campfires producing noisy chatter and blasting music. We’re shrouded in almost complete darkness with the faint lights from the busy stalls and flashy rides peaking through the wooden slats high up.

The tension in the air still lingers from before. To his credit, he does try to calm the heaviness we’re both feeling, albeit for different reasons, as he stops walking to face me and rubs his hands up and down my arms. It’s nice, reassuring even. But I won’t let it deter me. I won’t fall for those deep brown eyes that can suck you in so easily with a simple look and a slight tilt of the head that make him seem remarkably innocent and angelic. Like anything he does couldn’t possibly be from any fault of his own. No matter how much I want to give in and let any number of the excuses he’s already fed me slip past his lips and wrap my mind in a warm blanket of faux vindication.

I can’t, I won’t. My mind slips back to the look of sorrow on Lucy’s face earlier today. The fear I saw as the first few tears pricked her eyes before being pooled together with the back of her palm, an attempt to recollect her fading front of the strong, single mother she was recently thrust into. The utter confusion of what was happening to her eldest child paired with the obvious frustration of helplessness she exuded while I grabbed her shaking palms in encouragement and solidarity. Silently telling her she wasn’t alone, we would be navigating through unknown territory together. Vowing to come out the other side unscathed and bring our former Michael back with us.

I won’t fold or be persuaded by pretty words and empty promises of ‘I’ll do better’ or ‘I’m not acting different, the move has us all stressed out that’s all it is’ and one of the more recent, harsher comments like ‘I’m too busy to talk right now and I can’t deal with this, geez, cool it with the paranoia’.

I’m pulled back to the present when he finally starts talking. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” as I’m pulled a little closer, strong calloused hands still soothing my upper arms. Chest rising and falling as he takes in the air around us in deep breaths. A look of calm starts to encompass his visage, like one would do after smelling their favorite scent for the first time in a long time.

“So you’ve said.” I can’t help but throw a little more lip his way.

“You weren’t paranoid when you tried to call me out all those times. I’ve been a complete ass to everyone- to you.” He admits more willingly than before. I finally see a sliver of truth after weeks of the exact opposite. “Something happened to me…something I’m still trying to figure out. I couldn’t tell you, I didn’t want to, I was scared you’d be in danger. Of what they might do if you knew.” His eyes speak volumes over the vagueness of his speech. The same fear so recently shown to me mere hours ago is mirrored within his own.

Reaching out to cup his check in my palm, I implore him to continue. Beg him to fully tear down the wall hiding the truth, after the initial crack in its foundation. “Michael, whatever it is, whatever you got yourself into - let me help you. We’ll figure it out together, like we always do.” Affection passes through the heady mix of emotions swirling around his face as he leans into my touch. Showing that’s all he needed to hear from me he shuts his eyes for a second and nods his head yes, signaling to the both of us that he’s ready. Ready to let me in once more, ready for my reaction, ready to let me help him, ready to obliterate that damned wall he’ll never have to put up again.

“Those guys from the boardwalk, they’re not normal. The first time we hung out they brought me back to their place, a cave at Hudson's Bluff. The whole time going back and forth between fucking with me and making me feel like I could be one of them, like I belonged. After a while they offered me wine, told me to drink and I actually would be one of them. It’s like they were offering me something no one else could. So I did and ever since then I…” He exhausts, pausing for just a moment to squeeze his hands on my arm and hip grounding himself.

“Baby.” whining slightly before continuing. “It wasn’t wine that they gave me…it was blood, David’s blood. They’re vampires and they turned me into one. Told me I’m only a half and to complete the transition I have to make my first kill.”

I’m unmoving, shocked at the words revealed to me with a sigh from his lips and the weight lifted from his shoulders. There’s really only one thing I can think to say though.

“How fucking stupid do you think I am?” I quickly admonish him, a look of worry in response to my vehemence as he realizes I didn’t believe his tall tale. After thinking I finally got through to him I can’t believe he’d try to pull something so unbelievably stupid as this. I’m half expecting him to start laughing and saying ‘got you babe’ like i’m just some big joke to him.

“I’m telling the truth I swear on everyth-”

“No Michael I’ve had it I’m so done!” I scream in his face trying to rip myself from his grip, but he doesn’t let up. His hold only grew tighter in a panic to keep me still. “Let.Me.Go. Now.” I try again pulling and thrashing but it’s like he’s suddenly gained the strength of a hundred men and I can’t seem to move either of us to get away.

He suddenly grabs my face forcing me to look at him and whispers with all sincerity “I didn’t want to do this, I’m so sorry but you have to believe me. Please don’t be scared.” Faster than my brain can comprehend, he shifts. His face morphs into something I’ve only ever seen in movies or the occasional nightmare. The bones within his face move beneath the skin, forehead protruding past its normal position as his eyebrows are suddenly gone from sight, glowing yellow eyes stare back into my own, long and sharp looking fangs poke out just over his bottom lip begging to pierce through skin.

“Oh my god” is all I can seem to whimper out from what I just witnessed. How is this possible? This can’t be real. Suddenly very aware of myself I freeze in his hold, breathing no longer a concept I’m familiar with. That’s when he bolts into action as he hears my heart pounding within my restricted torso.

“It’s okay please please don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you I’d never ever hurt you my love.” Michael professes as he slightly releases the hold around my waist with one arm and completely lets go of my face only to slide down towards the middle of my back with the other.

Before a response can be given by either of us, we’re no longer alone. Peaking over Michael’s shoulder, just behind him stands the four boys from before staring, if it weren’t for the cherry red glow of the end of a cigarette I probably wouldn’t have seen them. Michael bristles though, like he knows they’re there without having heard or turned around to see, maybe he somehow does know. As if he can sense things in a way I can’t or anyone else for that matter.

“Michaelllll” David tauntingly says. Finishing off the cigarette before he flicks it from his grasp landing with a silent thud somewhere in the sand, smirking towards our entangled form. “You’re not speaking ill of me and my boys are you?” He goads through that final puff of smoke. With all eyes on me, now knowing what they are, what they did to my Michael, a wave of dizziness rolls over my body and I’m forced to release the air I've been holding in so as to not pass out.

“Let’s not start throwing out accusations, you willingly drank, accepted our offer. Pointing fingers doesn’t change that. Trying to make us look like the bad guys to keep them away? It won’t work. You’ll have to learn how to share, like a good boy.”

With a deep grunt of frustration from the boy in front of me, my back is suddenly pushed into a wooden pillar, not enough to hurt but still able to pull a gasp from deep within my chest.

“They’re MINE!” Michael seethed at the four. His large hands held on either side of my head taking in deep pants from my neck. Still behind Michael but now closer than they were before the rest of them seem to go a bit rigid. The tallest of them continues to walk further towards us, an unreadable expression plastered on his face that I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of, yet it seems to be glued on the looming figure above my own and in turn me.

“Dwayne” David stops him in his tracks just before he can reach out and touch. “Don’t worry, Michael won’t hurt them, at least not on purpose or on our watch. He’s freshly turned so even the bond between mates can’t overpower that insatiable need to hunt, to feed that we all have at the beginning if provoked far enough that is. Which is why it’d be in your best interest to stick with us Michael. You’ll need to learn how to control your urges, with a little time and a healthy diet you’ll be just like us.” He clarified, more so for Michaels and my own benefit rather than any of theirs it seems.

I glanced their way, still wanting any information they’d be willing to provide. I’m only able to stutter out “M-Mates?” I see varying degrees of smirks and giddy smiles from them at my sudden curiosity.

Dwayne speaks up first as his attention turns solely onto me with a much softer look than before. “Vampires have mates, they're like soulmates. People destined to be together, mind, body, and soul. They fully complete each other.” Almost cooing the new information my way.

“Alright cheeseball, way to lay it on thick.” Paul piped up with a laugh towards the boy as he walked over to sling his arm around his shoulders. Tacking on “but it’s true” throwing a wink and a few eyebrow waggles suggestively.

“Michael is your mate.” David affirmed before Marko readily finished “and you're ours.” Gloved thumb shoved between his teeth covering a sly smirk on that contrasting angelic face he adorns.

Fluttering my gaze back to the boy in front of me, I see his features have gone back to normal. No more teeth or glowing eyes from him. Sharing a confused look I realize he’s also been left in the dark on all of this as well.

Michael turns around to face the group for the first time since the initial intrusion. Chest puffed up and eyes blazing into David, “No.” is all that falls flatly from him.

David lifts a single brow in retort. “You can’t argue with fate Michael. You may not like it but there’s nothing you can do about it and now that we’ve all had the pleasure of meeting we aren’t letting them go.”

“You aren’t letting me go?” my voice dripping with sarcasm and incredulity while mimicking his previous words back to him.

Regaining all the confidence I had from earlier I feel annoyance and anger start to bubble up inside. I still have no idea who these guys really are, besides their names and the fact that they’re actual, literal, real-life vampires! They have no right to make demands of Michael or I. No ground to stand on in my book - no matter the ‘supernatural claim’ they apparently have over me. Fuck this, fuck all of this.

“Does anybody care what I think?” the words tumble from my mouth with a scoff of disbelief. I step out from behind Michaels protective guard towards his left side so I can see them all clearly. Not hiding the disdain I feel towards the situation - towards them. Unwavering defiance on full display while crossing my arms over my chest. “Since you’re talking about me like I’m not even here and don’t have a say in what happens, I thought I’d ask.” Glancing around for their reactions. Dwayne sort of cringing as the words resonate with him. Realizing how this all must sound from my perspective. Paul shooting looks at the others like he’s silently asking any one of them to ‘speak the fuck up - I got nothing’. David, still as calm as he has been the entire time, doesn't let on to what he’s thinking, just a small held tilt while holding my gaze like he’s studying me.

“Course we care sweetheart.” Marko says honestly, though not seeming all that apologetic. “Though let’s be real, we can keep up the back and forth all night long, but at the end of the day the outcome’s still the same. You belong to us, all of us…including Michael.” Emphasizing his name with an exaggerated eye roll.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” protested through gritted teeth.

“Sorry to burst your bubble but you do.” He counters back. His fingerless gloved hands starting to get a little twitchy.

“I’m with Michael by choice, not because he claimed me as some prize or declared some weird, forced...vampy ownership over me.” Finding myself getting twitchy as we both refused to give in.

Marko's eyes quickly flash that same vibrant yellow as Michaels. But they’re gone just as suddenly. He clearly isn’t used to not getting what he wants.

Michael sticks his arm out in front of me as a barrier between the curly haired blonde and I. David fixes him with a look I can only assume is a warning to stand down.

David resumes the reigns by steering the conversation himself. “I would have worded it differently, but Marko is essentially right. We don’t want to force you into anything, so give us a chance to prove ourselves.”

Michael answers before I can with a quick “prove yourselves? what’s that supposed to mean?” My thoughts exactly. I take hold of the arm he’s outstretched and intertwine our fingers, with a small squeeze for comfort.

Ever the quick thinker, so I’m learning, I can briefly see the gears turning in Davids mind on how to ease the atmosphere and remedy the small tiff Marko brought on, before he’s already producing a solution like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Let us take you on a…date. Get to know us without all the hearsay.”

For what seems like the thousandth time this evening Michael and I are shocked by the response. And then my brain starts jumping from one idea to the next at a million miles an hour. Thinking, analyzing, cursing over all that’s happened since I initially stepped foot on the boardwalk and up until this very moment.

I’ve never been the type of person to back down when it comes to the one’s I care about most. I would do whatever it takes, throw caution to the wind and deal with the repercussions later if it meant I could alleviate how devastating the world can make us feel sometimes.

Without fully contemplating the gravity of the situation and, regretfully, without the chance to discuss it first with Michael, I can’t seem to bite my tongue before the answer comes seemingly out of nowhere.

“Okay…I’ll do it.”

🖤 Taglist 🖤

@britany1997 @faefairi3 @princessmads1820 @1nternetvampire @itsyoboysparkel @nataliewalker93 @thelostone91 @misslavenderlady @ursatanicbunny @warrior-616 @charlizekkelly @ghoulgeousimmaculate @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @the-faceless-bride @wickedsandwich08

#bloodywickedvamp #the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #michael emerson #michael emerson x reader #poly lost boys x reader #poly!lost boys x reader #tlb 1987 #lost boys x gn reader #david tlb #paul tlb #dwayne tlb #marko tlb #michael tlb #michael emerson x gn reader #x gn reader #the lost boys x gn reader

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cherubispunk · 10 months ago

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BARK! BITE! BLEED! (PART I) - FWB!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

summary: being without is always easier when you don't know what it is to be 'with'.

a note from Lucy: heyyyy! hows it going? yes...im back with another series. Those of you waiting for cherub, its coming. I promise. hand over my heart and the other on the bible. but words have a funny habit of not wording so...tale please take the humble peace offering of slutty fwb!frankie and please dont bite my fingers off.

playlist | moodboard

wc: 5742 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n, slight noncon voyeurism, thin appartment walls, mentions of cheating, obsessive behaviour, frankie is obsessed and it is very unhealthy, toxic relationships, heavy religious imagry (come on, is this even a surpise when it comes to my writing?), age gap but not bombastic sorry chloe (reader is 21, Frankie is 27) - though not mentioned in this part, graphic smut, could be considered dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (do i need to spell it out to you not to do this?), creampie, biting, its not vore!!!! but there is something inherrently sexual in the themes of metaphorical consumption, softdom!frankie, scratching, gore imagry in the sense of a hunter prey type of thing? More of lu being dell, batshit insane, blurting words onto a google doc and praying ot makes ense when being blasted out into the void.

series m.list | m.list

“At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is merely a bitch. True power lies in those who don't just bare their teeth, but make you bleed when they sink in.”

Frankie was a quiet man. He would always keep to himself. Never usually stuck his nose in anyone's business unless it was for their own good. Stayed in the four walls of his own apartment he rented close to the barracks. He’d made one friend in the entire complex. You. His next-door neighbour. The only thing he knew before prying was your last name on the buzzer out front. From there it was waiting. And watching. Frankie had an obsession with observing you from his kitchen window every time you came home from work at the bar. Stood in the shroud of shadow and sheer curtain. He dug his claws in and clung to each passing conversation in the hallway, or the laundromat down the street whenever coincidence let you pop up there too. Stored each part of you that you trusted him with in his mind for safekeeping. Often caught himself staring at a particular pair of red lace panties whenever you did your laundry.

There was one small, tiny little problem in all of this, however. Lisa. He supposed he should thank her really, because without her, he would have never moved out of the barracks in the hope of starting a life for them. He would have never met you. It was convenient, reasonably priced and he could excuse poor plumbing and heating for the fact it was close enough to his work that he didn't have to wake up any earlier than 5:30. But Lisa…oh, Lisa was Machiavelian. A conniving woman, with her heart set in thick ice, and a cold, unforgiving grip over what was hers. It made him wonder what he saw in her in the first place. Maybe he was blinded to everything but the curve of her face, or the pout of her mouth and the pant of his name as it passed her parted lips. Or there was some morbid fascination he had with her teeth as they bared to his skin and bit down. Tearing him to shreds. Either way, there was something to live for when being ripped apart by her. Something to distract from the sounds of pleasure that seeped through paper thin walls at night. Your pleasure. At the hands of a man he felt nothing compared to and knew nothing about. So he’d roll over and fuck out his frustration on the woman he hated but chose to stay with until she left him for another.

Another day, another ache. Another pain cramping in his lower back as Frankie inched closer to thirty and still no happier. Twenty-seven, a stable-ish job…and what else in life to show for it? He was bitter. In no place to want the company of another unless only for the night. Except tonight he was alone again, pressing his key into the lock, twisting it open, closing the door behind him. And then waiting…listening. Anticipating the drag of his hand south over the plane of his abdomen to under his boxers where he’d tease himself to the sound of you with another man. The pretty whimpers you’d let slip under the weight of another man's skin and bone, and the pleasure flooding the gaps of your synapses.

Only this time there were no cries for more. No whimpers, or moans. No. These sounds were shouts. And anger ignited you as you rampaged through your apartment on the other side of the wall, getting dressed as Mark, the man you’d wasted months on, chased after you in pursuit of your forgiveness.

“Who do you think I am?’ Frankie heard through the wall, pressing his ear to cold plaster with bated breath. Your voice was shrill, seething with the intent to carve into Mark’s skin with an onslaught of verbal mutilation. Have the words mark him with bleeding, weeping shame. “No, really? You think I’d never figure it out, Mark? Am I naïve to you?”

He slipped out of bed with careful stealth: Followed the sound of your voice through the wall, walking with his ear pressed to it before the sound of your front door opening made him jump, stepping back for a second. He blinked, once, twice…then raised his hands to plaster again and leaned closer, ears straining to hear what was now distance shrieking from the hallway outside. Which he followed to his front door. Listening intently behind the wood.

As he held his breath until his lungs burned in his chest, something flared up in Frankie. A desperate, wanting, starving need to swoop in. Be your knight in shining armour. The words were stuck in his throat, and if he wasn’t careful, they would choke him blue. But if he knew even a shred about you, it was that you’d hate that just as much as whatever it was Mark had done to you to have you tossing him out in the early evening. You were a private person. A woman who never appreciated prying ears or eyes. You avoided all his questions about your past whenever he asked. Swerved him off topic and into the hedgerow before he had a chance to blink and realise he had the backhand of whiplash. And if he let it slip once that the walls were thin, there was no telling where your quick mind would jump to next. Frankie never knew why or what made you so guarded. But he imagined one day you bit the hand of god and he stopped feeding you.

Frankie’s heart was thumping to the beat of his anxiety in his throat, making it harder to swallow the lump it formed, clammy palms pressed to the cool wood with the rest of him.

“You’re a sick man!” He heard, followed by a thumping of something being thrown, then a yelp out of Mark as Frankie guessed he was dodging whatever it was you threw his way. Shoes, maybe? Something else? “A coward! So get out. Don't call. Don’t come knocking. And tell your fucking wife!”

A shuffling of ashamed feet. A slam of your front door. Clattering around behind shared walls. Then silence.

It was five minutes of silence. But it felt like the seconds within those intervals were put on the rack and stretched in torture. Five minutes that he should have used to step back from his door but didn't. He just prayed there was more of you to have to himself for a second.

Then the descent of knuckles came beating down on his door. Causing his heart to jolt out in his chest then plummet into his stomach. Twisting his insides into knots that made him sick with intrigue. He took a step back. And a breath. Then waited a second before opening the door to find you stood there in a silly little lace hemmed tank top and sleep shorts. Your hair dishevelled and cheeks flushed. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words stuck to the backs of his teeth and the roof of his mouth like soggy, claggy toffee. So he shut up, grateful you cut him off first.

“We’re having a bonfire. So whatever shit Lisa left here, bring it with you. My door will be open. I’ll be on my balcony.” And you left him with nothing but that. Stomping back down the hall in a flurry of your anger.

Frankie stood there, feet practically glued to the floor, fingers curling in on his palms as his blunt nails pressed into already calloused flesh. And an image of you, teeth bared to him like Lisa’s once were, appeared in his mind. An apparition of hurt, torment and his own vulnerability. But it was too late. His feet moved before his mind could and he was already collecting the things of his ex-girlfriend who had wronged him time and time again, stuffing them into his arms in a bundle of broken memory, anguish and lingering hurt.

He found you standing by a metal bin of a man's belongings. The odd t-shirt, pictures of your face next to his, smiles happy and bright with the joy of a relationship you never expected to cave in. In your hand was a packet of cigarettes you'd told him in the passing of a hallway’s conversation that you’d quit, but evidently not. And a crumpled, misshapen box of matches. In the other was a bottle of Whiskey. The brand Mark insisted on liking and you’d bought him for a birthday present. A present he’d never receive because he was as dead to you as the day was long.

“I thought you quit.” He said, trying to start a conversation that hit a dead end pitifully quickly.

“Toss it on.” You mumbled dismissively with a jerk of your head to the pile, eyes glued to Mark’s belongings, washing down your bitter words with an even more bitter swig of drink.

Frankie complied wordlessly from there, dumping the contents of his arms on top of the photos and clothes, stepping back while you poured a generous amount of the liquor on top. A seasoning of fuck you not farewell to the people you’d shared your life with and would thankfully never cross paths with again. He took the bottle from you when you pressed it into his chest, taking a drink and grimacing at the taste. It wasn't smooth. It was almost sour, with a kickback that burned too much to be pleasurable as it passed down the column of his throat in a thick swallow. His thoughts trickled in from there as he read the label and glanced at you. He wanted to get you drunk. Get you to slip up. Let yourself be taken for once.

You both watched, deadfaced, as you struck a match, used it to light a cigarette and then tossed it in the bin as memories curled up under heat. The alcohol setting the blaze up in a satisfying roar of good riddance.

He thought it was a little strange. How you’d come to him. Yes, you were friends. But the type of friend that only ever conversed between life events. In the empty limbo of hallways and laundromats. Not burning things on your balcony in the hope the heat will melt your heart back together, It was a little late for that. Stone doesn’t melt. And the two of you had hearts of set concrete from the turn of events you’d experienced. Encased in the cage of bone that would no longer open to another unless broken in two and forced apart. So you slid down the brick wall, knees bent to your chest while you smoked. The flame flickering a violent xanthous, ochre and scarlet.

He joined you on the floor, passing back the bottle. The two of you side by side, and it only just occurred to Frankie how lonely he was now. But how terrified of intimacy he was. Intimacy of a level deeper than skin/ The both of you wordless, silent as the decaying dead of night. Only the crackle of fire between you and a sniff for your nose as the evening air nipped it and made it run. So to distract yourself, you condemned your tongue to bad liquor, chasing it with a drag of your cigarette and a grimace,

“God, this is shit.” You scoffed.

“Not a hard liquor gal?” He chuckled, turning his head to glance at you out the corner of his eyes before the flame had his eyes attention again.

“More of a wine person, really. But even I can tell this is shit.” And you gestured to the bottle in your hand, reading over the label and sighing.

“Yeah,” he sighed, inflicting another taste upon himself when he took it out of your grasp. “It is.”

Silence again. Not awkward for you who preferred your own company to others, but for him, who had been watching you begging for an in, it was clawing at his insides like a starved animal would at the walls of its enclosure.

“So…” He drew out, and you had to bite back an amused smile.

“What?”

Frankie found himself staring in trance at your side profile, with the same fascination you honed in on the flickering flame. He thought in silence for a second. Asking himself the same question.

"How long did you date Mark for?" He asked. The name made him grimace as if it tasted sour in his mouth. Like he had to spit it out with disgust in every syllable for fear of it burning.

"Six months." Another awkward, off beat pause followed as he nodded. Then asked again.

“Did you love him?”

"No." You said flat out. But your words were honest and brutal to the man you let in then kicked out.

Frankie found himself suffocating a sigh of relief in his own ribs. They pinched slightly with an attempt of something profound to be felt. Like a child who had stumbled upon a strangely twisted shell at the beach. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

You turned to him, tilting your head. But Frankie couldn't tell if it was annoyance or respect for the bravery he had on asking you such personal questions. "What is this? Keeping Up With The Kardashians?"He held up his hands in quick defence, backing down.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

"There isn't anything to know except for the fact I'm pissed off." You muttered. “And I figured you would be too, considering the argument I heard a couple nights ago through the wall of my kitchen."

Frankie felt his face go pale, then heat up in the apples of his cheeks. "Oh. So you heard that?" The way your cigarette smouldered as you spoke was the only movement on the narrow balcony. So you did know the walls were thin. It made him wonder what else you knew. If you knew how he strained to listen through plaster and drywall each night.

"Oh, I heard it alright.” You smirked, finding sick pleasure in the way he seemed to squirm. “Something about Lisa finding you...'dull behind the eyes'." Frankie watched as you rolled your eyes and doubled back on your standing in the argument, "If you're going to insult someone, at least be creative about it. ``Give them a good reason to cut it loose." You were like a pendulum to him. But one that spun in clockwise, then anticlockwise circles, instead of oscillating back and forth. Unpredictable in a way that both horrified and intrigued him.

"Dull?" He had to laugh in disbelief, "I am not dull."

You smiled to yourself at that, leaning your head back against the brickwork. Ready to shatter his lie with a flick of your sharp tongue. "You are dull, Frankie. You get up. Go to work. Come back. You do your laundry every Sunday— and I know that because so do I. Your car is always in the exact same spot next to mine. Without fail. Now, you can put all down to ‘strict military regime’, but the bitter truth is," You looked him in the eye, your cig hanging from your lips as you showed him the satisfied grin pulling at your mouth, "you are dull. We all are. We work, we grind, we cry because we work. You ache to the marrow and you get stabbed in the back. And you're begging on your damn knees to bite the hand that feeds you. But if you do, then you starve.”

Frankie had never had his own fear served to him by such a beautiful devil before. And he wished, with all he had left in him that Lisa hadn’t taken or ruined, that you were wrong. It made him want to cave into himself to protect what little he had left. Snarl like a wounded bitch as he held back from others to lick his wounds. Maybe offer it to you and beg you to take it off his hands. But how could he argue when you were practically holding up a mirror to his own eyes? "I hate that you're right." He said in solemn downcast bereavement. And watched the cloud of smoke float silently in front of your face to obscure the very mouth that let him have it in such careful, exact slicing words. The blade of your knife was sharpened to a paper thin point. Now stained with his body’s red.

"There are very few things I'm wrong about. Regardless of that, it's a simple formula and easy to understand.”

“And what is it?” He asked, but regretted it for he knew his heart might not be able to take much more. Not that he showed it. This whole exchange his brow hadn’t folded into a single crease.

“Two things in life are certain: Death. And taxes. You work to pay your taxes, and you die from working."

"That's a pretty pessimistic way of looking at things."

"Life is pessimistic." You shot back with amusement, intently staring in a fixed trance at the pile of burning memories. The last warmth it offered was metaphorically and literally its own destruction. Irony, as Frankie pointed out to himself in his crawling mind. "It crucifies you, and burns you...until you curl in on yourself at the corners and turn to ash."

The conversation had reached a level of solemnity he hadn’t expected, but he’d be a liar if he didn't admit to sinking his claws in yet again. His teeth might come next if you gave him the sweet chance.

You were quiet after that. Both of you were. The remnants of a fire that symbolised how Mark was no longer relevant in your life, and neither Lisa in his. If he thought Lisa was machiavellian, the word had new meaning now. But like with her, it drew him in and snared him into blissful trance. It was the type of blind faith you pin to a deity in the sky. The type that you never see but are forced and gaslit into believing because it's shoved down your throat from a young age. You were not his savour. He knew that in the pit of his very existence, the eye of the storm in his gut.

He would be crucified by you.

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

"Aw." You pouted in mock appreciation, pressing a hand to your chest. "Thank you."

Frankie afforded himself the pleasure of laughing at that. As cynical as it all was, it was real. You had just dared to say the quiet hushed parts out loud for him to digest. Though he felt like he was choking on it more than swallowing it. Regardless, he pushed it down to find confidence in himself and prod further.

“You keep doing that.”

“What?” “That.” Frankie pointed to all of you with a gesture absent of any direction, as if it was obvious. He watched as you tilted your head and scrunched your face a little. That crease in your brow…how it would haunt him in future. He felt like the prey. He was torn between wanting you to hunt him slowly so he could feel something at your hand, agony or not. Or asking you to do it quickly so he doesn't have to pursue through the bitter aftertaste.

“I’m not following.”

“You do this thing…where you turn conversations on their head. I feel like I'm getting whiplash.” He forced out a chuckle to make it seem like he was playing through with humour. But his words were genuine under the lace disguise of jest. You really did confuse him. You had his string of thought in knots. Complicated ones. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed at the question. “You’re trying to figure me out.”

“Why shouldn’t i?”

"Because I'm not the distraction you need." You bit, almost like a warning. And Frankie would have listened if he wasn't so hellbent on breaking in. No matter how hostile, how feral, he'd take the time to tame the caged, battered, abused animal.

“Maybe not.” He agreed, twisting his upper body to face you. It’s important to understand that what Frankie felt wasn’t love. At least, not how he’d experienced it in the past. This was an infatuation birthed by the fruit of lust forbidden to act upon until now. “But you’re the one I want.” With those words came a darkness in his eyes. The kind that reminded you of floods and tempests in biblical art. You were that tempest, with swollen grey clouds and a hammering of thunder ringing in his ears. Laughing as you crashed him onto rocks while he swam helplessly with little energy to the shore. Only to be shoved back with another crushing wave that cut through flesh and met bone with a chill like ice. “Just because we’re sad and miserable, doesn’t mean we have to give up a good time.” His instincts were buried before. Rolling in their grave at the chance to touch you. So he pressed his palms to the lid of the coffin and pushed. Reaching out to trace a delicate line along the angle of your jaw. His eyes were drawn to the soft plush of your lips and how they parted ever so slightly. “I want a distraction, baby.”

He had you where he wanted you. And the liquor mixing thick with your blood had inhibition slipping through your fingers. His breath was hot on your lips. Needy to be paid attention to.

“Would it be worth my while?” You challenged, ignoring eye contact for now. Instead looking to his lips for the lies.

“You don’t think I could satisfy you?” He smirked, lifting your chin with a single thick finger curled underneath and the pad of his thumb swiping slowly over your bottom lip. “I’ll do better than anyone else could.”

“Sounds like an awful lot of confidence you have there. At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is just a bitch.”

Frankie chuckled at that. A deep rumble that rattled the bones that protect the hollow hole in his chest. “Come on…let me have a taste.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He took the silence and the glimmer of ‘i dare you’ in your eyes, pressing his lips to yours to consume you. Devour you whole. They took their time in sinking together and suctioning your lower lip into his mouth. Then his tongue dared to venture forward past parted lips to lick into your mouth and taste the backs of your teeth.

First, you let go of trepidation to take a hold of him. The roots of his hair and the back of his neck, fingers curled like talons. After, you let go of all else. The thoughts scratching the back of your skull, the headache that blistered before by the inferno calmed down and you were forced to focus on him alone as he took a handful of your hips and lifted you up to his lap to roll into him like a steady tide.

You pulled him by the collar of his shirt to your room, clothes left in a scattered flurry along the way. Breadcrumbs to pick up later and either regret or laugh at. He unhinged your jaw to let slip your airy moan as his hands travelled south to meet the seam of your cunt. All else fell into place when he circled your clit with two fingers to start the first loop of the knot in your belly. A warmup for the act of sin, and need, and wanting. Whatever god there was should have never been prayed to in the first place. And Frankie knew it now that he was damned to hell from the first parting of your thighs for his wandering hand. His teeth were ready for sinking as he gathered your legs and hooked them over his shoulders to walk open mouthed, spit decorated kisses down the trunk of your navel. Pressing his nose into your mound. The must of your cunt making his eyes light up as he stared at the bob of your throat when you swallowed sharply. Head rolled back to the pillow. His tongue glided into your folds for the first lick. Making a hot wet stripe of a path from your asshole to your clit. He used the tip of his tongue to circle it and glide lover to curl into your quivering hole. Drawing out the taste. The beckoning gesture of his tongue gathering your taste in his senses. A thumb following suit to roll the bud of your clit under it, his nose clumsy as it bumped into it too. Obsessing over the tang of your arousal, thick in shine over his lips the scruff of his chin.

Your thighs clamped over his ears that were red. The heat made your own skin burn. Dark curls of his hair whispering against their insides as he continued to devour you from the seam. And your orgasm– it burned bright after the first fizzle. Made your eyes scrunch closed as he pulled it from you with hand and tongue. What was used for his words had yours spilling from parted lips like a puppet. A vessel for him to carry pleasure through. It had you toppling over into oblivion. The abyss.

With bones brittle and hollowed like a bird you were fine to be dead weight as he ascended your body again. Folding you in half with your legs still bent over his shoulders. He traced the jut of your collarbone with the blunt edges of his teeth. How he wished they’d be sharp to sink deeper. But you were grateful as it would be easier for him to not draw blood and see the inside of you ran red like all the others. It was easy to not be human. It was easy to not show emotion and weakness.

“Feel that?’ he panted against your goosebump pebbled skin, and you nodded. You did. It was the promise to feel desired and not broken. And not maimed beyond repair by another person you let in. Another person you built yourself up to prepare to love, to only have the rug pulled from under your feet and the brickwork clatter to the ground. It was the same promise to him. And the desire that ran thick in his blood made his pulse thrum heavy under its weight. Its intrusion hot under his lust scorched skin.

“Yeah.”

“Imma make it go away for you, baby.” he promised with a kiss to the hollow of your throat below its column, between your clavicle. And it was anything but empty. It was full. And round, and swollen with something deeper in his ribs that ached to be let loose. Breathed to fill you too. “I’ll make it all go away.”

His hips pressed flush to yours and the drag of neatly groomed hair sent a shockwave through your clit and up your rattling spine. Vertebrae by vertebrae. Setting off blazing fireworks in your mind for just a second before he started a slow drag. It was a stretch that stung. But pain was comfort if it had pleasure hot on its heels like an obedient dog. Ironic how you feared men like him, who seemed so eager to please and let themselves in uninvited. But you took it willingly this time because you needed to forget for a single second about the heart that bled under flesh and bone in the cage of your ribs.

His cock was thick, full and curved up into the part of you that you couldn't have reached even if you tried. He slotted into your heat like he was meant to stay there. And that alone made you want to scream for him to give in and not relent so you could be ignorant to the way it seemed divine. The roll of his hips kicked up in pace and soon he was hunched over you. Strong arms rippled with muscle from brutal training since the age of eighteen bracing himself on either side of your head. The feeling of him curling his hips into you made you burn. It sent a tumble of a moan from your lips through the breathless pant of his name. A name he never thought you'd call in the tangle of your sheets. But the burning need to give you what he had wanted all this time ate at him. It ripped the flesh fresh off his bone and left him bleeding into you.

Frankie’s eyes misted over when the chain that hung from his neck slipped over your chin and you bought the metal of his dog tags between your teeth. Biting down. It feels better biting down anyway. And the cool of the metal on your hot tongue made your head swim. Looking him in his eyes and daring him deeper. So his lips pressed into a firm line, and your nails raked down his back to leave raised red lines in their wake. Tracing new paths over the old map of scar tissue. Marking new land and territory. The air between you hung heavy with the heat of exhales. And blew with the shared moan you indulged in when it coiled in your belly. The cradle of your hips accommodated his cock as it stretched the tightness of your walls. Your slick arousal giving way to fluidity of otherwise rabid motion. Starving.

When on his tongue, you were alive. Inside you he breathed again with the clutch of your cunt around him. Warm and beating, and thrumming quickly like a hummingbird's wings. A squatter temporarily camped up in the crack between two ribs. Where thick muscle shuddered with breath. You believed something in you was worth loving. But you also knew for it to be found you'd have to be flayed alive.

The crash of his hips into yours aided in the symphony of sex, and filled the four walls painted but void of personal belongings. If he were on the other side of them he'd be jealous. But now he was here, he was alive. Beating hearted and thriving. And any god, saint, angel or divinity could watch and weep as he finally had what he wanted. What he might have needed in order to restore his humanity that lay dormant for so long. He was trying to crack you open so he could lick up what lay inside you. Gather it up in his arms like the greedy wolf, lambs gore, blood and flesh, between fangs of his lower jaw. Have the muscle pulsing between his teeth. But he wouldn't. So for now he'd settle for the flesh on show. The mound of your panting breast that he pressed into his open mouth. The flat of his tongue pressing greedily to your nipple. Before his lips pinched together and pulled the left pert. Switching to do the same for the right. Not leaving an inch of you untouched. Because he had his chance now. And who knew when he'd get another. So he relished in what he was spared and he would take it with him to the grave. Dream of it on his deathbed if this killed him. Or if something else did. Regardless. This would run through his mind until his last heavy and troubled breath.

“That's it.” he murmured into your breast. “Take it. Take it, baby. Take me..”

Your back arched, strung tight like a bow ready to fire. Spine curled up into the heat of his mouth and he bit down again on the swell of your breast. Wanting to take its entire weight into his mouth and have it rot and smear into his tongue. The fizzle of nerve endings reached the tips of your curling toes. The heels of your feet digging into the planes of his scapula to press him closer in the burning of your young orgasm.

“Come on. Let me see you come.” Frankie demanded in a breathless growl as he stared you down with his eyes. The hue of his irises almost devoured by black of pupil. Your jaw unhinged to let rip a silent scream. Feeling that sharp coil snap, and a numbness fill your aching core before your toes curl in pleasure. He helped you ride it out with his cock fucking into your tight weeping cunt while you sang out his name in a chorus of moans, whimpers and cries. Letting go utterly as a rush filled you, lighting you up like dry kindling under your skin. The pulsating of your walls around his length had his hips faltering for just a moment, twitching within your sopping cunt. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he let out a deep guttural groan, closing in on skin with teeth again. Spilling inside you, the mix of your slick with his cum painting you white like the searing heat of pleasure between you. He leaves the last of his load with you by fucking it deeper. Three, sharp, punctuated thrusts.

He lay flat above you while he awaited the comedown from his catharsis. The tingle down his spine sputtered out in a haze of slowburn afterglow. Eyes closed and face buried into the crook of your perspiring neck. Panting together. Hit tongue forgot for a second to shape your name the way it sounded, but with a sharp inhale, the air surged his mind.

“I suppose this is the part where I leave?” He mumbled, pulling back from your skin. His time had come and ended. The two of you now sat back to the world of hallway and laundromat limbo. He sighed through his nose when you nodded. And he did the same, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Frankie gathered his clothes up, putting them on slowly one by one. Drawing out the ache of being alone again by lingering in your presence.

“Come back tomorrow.” You said. Not asked. He nodded, still facing the door. Then twisted the handle and left an empty space in your apartment where he had once been.

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