#a crowd quickly gathered round

[larrylimericks]

30Jun24

Cos the footy match wasn't on view, One festival set made the news: A telly on trolley (Rocks carried by Oli) — Hail the new God of Glasto: our Lou!

[srslyblvck]

── secret santa,, james potter [part one]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you become the secret santa of none other than james potter

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: ik it isn't even december, oh well, i couldn't help myself :)

word count: 1.1k

part two!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ SNOW FLUTTERED GENTLY AGAINST the tall, frosted windows of the Gryffindor common room, casting a soft glow over the cosy space. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and the air buzzed with anticipation as the Gryffindor gang gathered in a circle on the floor, laughing and sipping on mugs of cocoa.

Sirius, always the self-appointed leader of mischief, stood atop one of the squishy armchairs like he was addressing a crowd of thousands. His dark hair flopped dramatically as he gestured toward the large bowl of folded parchment in his hands.

“Lend me your ears!” Sirius announced with flair. “It is time for the greatest, most legendary Gryffindor tradition—our annual Secret Santa! The only thing that rivals this sacred event is when James hexed Snivellus’—”

“Sirius!” Lily interrupted, fixing him with a sharp glare, though the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “If you could manage to keep it PG, that’d be great.”

Sirius sighed dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “Evans, your lack of faith wounds me. I’m a model of propriety.”

Remus snorted softly from his seat on the arm of the couch. “Sure you are.”

“Can we please get on with it before Sirius bursts into a sonnet about himself?” James chimed in, sprawled out on the floor with his hands behind his head. His untamable hair stuck out in every direction, and his glasses were slightly askew. He was grinning, the kind of grin that could light up an entire room.

“You’re just eager because you’re convinced you’ll get Evans again,” Marlene teased, leaning over to flick James on the shoulder.

James shot her a mock-wounded look. “For your information, I have no such hopes. My heart will graciously accept any gift—except socks. Sirius.”

Sirius gasped. “I would never.”

“You absolutely would,” Dorcas piped up with a smirk, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“Alright, alright!” Sirius cut in, gesturing dramatically toward the bowl in his hands. “The rules are simple: pick a name, don’t tell anyone who you’ve got, and if your gift sucks, prepare to be ruthlessly mocked.”

“Sounds fair,” Peter muttered as he scratched his nose.

One by one, the group leaned forward to pluck a slip of parchment from the bowl. You waited until your turn, your fingers brushing against the cool paper as you grabbed a folded chit. Your heart skipped a beat as you unfolded it and saw the name:

James Potter.

Your eyes instinctively darted toward him. James was mid-laugh, probably at some ridiculous quip Sirius had made, and there was a mischievous sparkle in his hazel eyes. You quickly looked away before anyone could notice the heat rising to your cheeks.

Of all the names you could’ve drawn, it had to be James.

From the moment names were drawn, the common room became a hotbed of shenanigans.

“Oi, love,” James said casually the next evening as you sat near the fire, working on your Potions essay. “You can just tell me who you’ve got, you know. Save yourself the stress.”

You didn’t even look up from your parchment. “Nice try, Potter. Not happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! After everything we’ve been through?”

“I’m doing you a favour,” you said with a smirk, finally glancing up. “Imagine the disappointment if I told you someone else got you and not your precious Evans.”

His grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Who says I want Evans?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only been after her for, what, three years?”

James shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. Maybe there’s someone else who’s caught my eye.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly ducked your head to pretend you were reading your essay. “Well, whoever they are, I’m sure they pity you.”

He threw his head back with a laugh, and your stomach did an annoying little flip. Merlin, he was impossible.

The chaos only deepened as Christmas approached. James became increasingly annoying in his quest to figure out his Secret Santa, trying to weasel answers out of everyone.

“Wormtail, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” Peter said, flustered, clutching his Charms textbook.

“It’s Moony, then,” James decided, turning to Remus.

“I’m not saying anything,” Remus said calmly, flipping a page in his book. “But if you keep pestering me, I’ll make sure whoever has you gets you socks.”

“Traitors, all of you,” James declared, throwing himself onto the couch in defeat.

“I heard Sirius in Honeydukes the other day asking the shopkeeper if they could make a giant chocolate wolf. Like, life-sized.” Marlene whispered, her eyes wide with glee.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” Marlene said, grinning. “The poor clerk looked like they didn’t know whether to laugh or run.”

“Are you two gossiping about me?” Sirius asked, turning to narrow his eyes at you and Marlene.

“Always,” Marlene quipped, not missing a beat.

Sirius looked pleased. “As you should.”

You spent hours agonising over James’ gift. He was impossible to shop for—he had everything he needed, and he didn’t seem the type to care much about material things. But you wanted it to be special, something that would show you’d noticed the little things about him.

Finally, inspiration struck.

You bought him a small, leather-bound notebook, the kind with a soft cover and faint golden stars embossed on the front. James was always scribbling something—Quidditch plays, spell ideas, random doodles. It seemed like the perfect fit.

Inside the front cover, you wrote:

For all your brilliant (and slightly ridiculous) ideas. - ♡

You also found a tiny enchanted Snitch pin at a shop in Hogsmeade. It was gold and delicate, and its tiny wings occasionally fluttered when touched. You figured it was subtle enough to wear but still a nod to his love for Quidditch.

The common room glowed with the warmth of fairy lights strung around the tree, and the group had gathered again, this time with a pile of wrapped gifts beneath the branches. Sirius had, naturally, donned a Santa hat and was gleefully handing out presents.

When it was James’ turn, he tore into the wrapping paper with childlike enthusiasm, his grin widening as he pulled out the notebook and pin.

“This is…” He trailed off, turning the notebook over in his hands. His hazel eyes softened as he read the note inside, and a small, genuine smile played on his lips. “This is brilliant.”

He held up the pin, letting it catch the light, and glanced around the room. “Whoever got me this, you’ve officially got better taste than Sirius.”

“Oi!” Sirius protested, though he was laughing.

James’ gaze flickered to you for a brief moment, and your heart stuttered. Did he know? The way his smile lingered made you wonder, but you quickly looked away, your cheeks warm.

For now, you were content with the way his smile lit up the room.

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 1 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: In a world of boys, he’s an obsessed billionaire stalker. (Should I write a part 2?)

Warnings: stalker Azriel, lots of smutty fantasies, delusional reader.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel knew that he was one mad bastard. How else would he have killed his half-brothers, his sperm donor (he refused to refer to that fuckface as a father), and that bitch of a step-mother to take over the one of the largest conglomerates in the world?

He never lost sight of his goals. 

Revenge? Check.

Securing wealth and assets? Check.

Taking care of his mother? Check. 

He’d come a long way from being the illegitimate child tortured when his father and half-brothers had nothing else to do to leading the largest conglomerate in the country. 

He was tactical, ruthless, and currently madly obsessed with a woman dancing in the club like this was her moment.

From his perspective, this was the moment their lives would be irrevocably changed. 

She was like the flame of a candle with a warm glow he was now desperate to covet. She glowed only for those who observed, not for those who simply looked. 

And he was observing. Studying every inch of her like she was his personal research project. 

Her body moved way too mesmerisingly. His cock was aching now. That dress was so nicely fitted on her curves. Such a pretty dress. He noted the dress so that he could fuck her in it in the future in honour of the day their paths crossed. 

Her eyes were closed or half-open for a long time but they were now properly open. Round eyes took in her surroundings as she drew her friend closer with a hand on her waist and looked at another club goer who had invaded their space. The man apologised and moved away. 

While this woman was guarding her friend, said friend was glaring at a man behind her who was getting too close. The friend tapped the man over his woman’s shoulder and was probably screeching at him. 

When the man began frowning and saying something back that did not seem like an apology for invading personal space, Azriel stood up, buttoning his blazer, and walked over. 

The crowd was barely a bother as he immediately reached them. He glared at the man from behind his woman and her friend and the man turned away and quickly moved. 

She looked at her friend and then noticed him standing behind her. He bowed his head and fished out his phone. He quickly typed in his message and showed it to them.

I’ll ensure that he’s removed. Enjoy your night. 

He simply put his phone in his pocket and bowed his head once. Y/n said something that he couldn’t hear but from the way her lips moved, it was most likely a word of gratitude. He nodded and returned to his area on the floor above. He whispered his order to one of his bodyguards and the two women watched as the man was escorted out of the club. 

The women looked at each other and laughed. And then she gathered her hair behind her head and held it there for a few seconds. Probably to let it cool after all the sweat. 

Her neck looked like a canvas. 

His canvas. 

And he’d mark her soon.  

Once he was seated again, he received his iPad from one of his men with a report of his woman. 

Y/n. A very suitable name. He’d moan or groan that name every night. 

Aged twenty four. He was twenty eight. This could definitely work.

A few basic details about her family. Soon, his own name would be added in her biodata under the category of spouse. 

But then he caught sight of another picture with a name and the relation to her as her ex-boyfriend. 

He was now curious. 

Azriel looked at Y/n, happy and dancing with her friend and so beautiful, she made him feel something pleasant. Was this happiness?

And then he looked at his iPad and frowned. He looked at her and then at the iPad again. 

Why would someone so beautiful, perfect, wonderful, intelligent woman, ever date this. . . this. . . whatever this was? 

He sent the name of this ex-boyfriend to his contact for more information and then scrolled. 

Height, weight, medical history, social media, and. . . A notification popped up with the report on the ex-boyfriend. The more he read it, the more he frowned. 

Azriel looked up and found Y/n now joined by a few more people with whom she laughed and drank. She was so. . . he didn’t really know how to articulate his own feelings but even reading her biodata made him feel pleasant. He was calm. 

But then he looked at the report of her ex-boyfriend.

His woman probably had some vision problems because why would this magnificent woman ever date this rat?

The more he read about their connection, the more he felt the familiar black rage rising in his chest like a behemoth. 

So the lowlife had made her cry. Spoken nonsense about her. Spread rumours. And had made her feel like she was less than the woman she was. 

Oh. 

Oh.

Well, well, well. 

Somebody needs to drown in the sewer he originated from. 

He’d take care of that soon.

Y/n’s own report revealed that she was there in the club to celebrate the birthday of her best friend’s youngest sister. 

Her best friend seemed like a reasonable woman. Nesta Archeron, her childhood friend who was more of a sister and also, her dancing companion. He glossed over more details of Nesta and Y/n’s friendship and finally set the iPad next to him. 

Beautiful was probably an understatement to describe his woman. 

Now there were two new details regarding Y/n. 

She was his. 

And he was hers. 

****

Y/n had hauled her luggage out of the apartment and somehow reached the airport. She was anxious and excited for her new semester. Her last wild party was back when Feyre turned twenty one. She danced and drank and enjoyed every bit of it. 

And she had the salivating memory of the sexiest guy she’d ever met. 

Y/n had easily woken up around eight in the morning with no headaches. But a night with alcohol usually made her a little slow the next morning.

Nesta was also awake and they were brushing their teeth. Y/n spat the foam and then turned to her friend. “Remember the guy who just popped and ensured that the creep would be kicked out?”

Nesta hummed, looking as suspicious as she could with a toothbrush in her mouth and a layer of foam on her lips. 

“The ways. . . I would fuck him, Nes. He could ask me to kneel and I’d do that and thank him.”

Nesta spat some foam before speaking. “He was way too hot.”

“Hot is an understatement.” Y/n washed her mouth and then resumed. “He looked like a god.”

“Does he speak though?” Nesta splashed some water on her face before grabbing the bottle of face wash.

“Why is that relevant?” Y/n was already rubbing the face wash on her cheeks. 

“You want him to groan while he fucks you, right? You don’t want a saintly priest silent in the sheets.” Nesta had made a very valid point.

“I would not be opposed to a priest if they were that hot.” Y/n remembered that she’d seen an Instagram reel about a novel where a priest was. . . indulging. She hadn’t read the novel but the reel remained on her mind. 

“Yeah.” Nesta sighed. 

“He was probably an illusion.”

“What?” Nesta nearly shouted. 

“We were drunk and dancing and the lights were all bam! Could’ve hallucinated seeing a guy that hot since it’s been far too long since we got laid.” Y/n sighed.

“Railed. We deserve to be railed, not laid. Laid is for the romantic sweethearts who dream of fluffy blankets and cupcakes. Railed is for people like us.” Nesta was a strong advocate of getting railed and right now, Y/n really wanted to get railed. 

“When you go for that semester exchange.” Nesta began seriously. “And see if there are hot guys there. If you do find them, make sure he has a hot brother or a hot best friend.” This was a mandate. 

“Yes, ma’am." This was what happened when two girl best friends were delusional after reading so many smutty romances.

A man who looked like he’d fuck the life out of her. Y/n always thought those were only fictional men like Dante Russo, Aiden King, or Zade Meadows.

But there he was. She'd met such a man.

And no, Y/n wasn't blessed with the good fortune of being railed by that man whose sex appeal was so high she was beginning to ache by just remembering him.

She knew exactly what all she wanted. 

She wanted to be taken against a wall. To be eaten out. To have her head pushed onto the bed while being fucked from behind. 

She wanted it rough.

To be handled.

And when she was satisfied just enough to make up for months of not having sex, she'd take charge. She’d ride that man so well. 

A sudden impact reminded her that she was still standing in the middle of the airport with her luggage, waiting for an early morning flight, on an empty stomach, simply fantasising about getting so gloriously fucked by the man with whom she’d just collided. . . what?

Y/n looked around and realised that she’d collided into someone who immediately grabbed her to save her from a fall. She also realised that this was a man. A very familiar man from the club. The one she’d been fantasising about. 

With the amount of dirty thoughts that kept popping up, Y/n was sure that an exorcist would fail to get rid of the lust within her. 

In better lighting, Y/n took in his tan skin, thick eyebrows, that huge body, curly black hair, and his powerful gaze.  

This was it.

This was the face. 

This was the face. 

The one that she wanted between her legs.

She’d spread nice and wide for this man. 

“Excuse me? Are you all right?” His voice. His voice! Oh, this deep voice. Perfect. 

The thought of him groaning her name made her stomach tighten. 

Oh gods, she hadn’t had sex in so long and now an insanely attractive man was simply helping her and she was ready to fuck him right there in the middle of the airport. 

“I’m fine.” Y/n responded. “Have we met before?” She definitely sounded desperate. Y/n was ready to be hit by a plane like the pigeons in those old cartoon shows who’d crash into the window of a plane and make a funny face.  

“Yes.” He did not smile but his features definitely softened. The intensity in his gaze turned into something beautiful. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble after that man.”

“No.” She responded, a little shy. “We were fine. We enjoyed the night. Thank you for interfering.” 

****

Azriel had tracked the flight in which she would be travelling for her exchange program and booked himself a ticket. That was seven days after he’d laid eyes on her for the first time. 

Among the many things that he’d discovered about his woman during those seven days, there was nothing that explained why she was standing in the middle of the airport, dazed as if she’d seen something mesmerising. 

Under the airport lighting, he saw her. He’d reached the airport long before she did and had been standing near the row of counters which were catering to the airline they would soon be flying in. 

Azriel saw this woman walk over to the queue. She yawned and looked around. She wore her earphones and looked and smiled like she was stopping herself from laughing. 

He’d noticed that she had long hair but under better lighting, she was her curly hair and how long it was. It seemed like she’d taken good care of her hair.

That was good. 

Hair was very important. And her hair was thick and long. 

He pictured her hair wrapped around his fist while she sucked his cock. He would be sitting and she would be on her knees. 

Another image appeared with her straddling him as he sucked her breast while she rode him. A masterpiece. 

Y/n laughed a little at something else on her phone. 

It was her turn and she submitted her documents, checked in that humongous suitcase that he’d be helping her with once they landed, and received her boarding pass. 

After a while of heading towards the food court, she stopped in the middle of the airport, eyes on some decoration that was not as fascinating as her attention on it made it out to be. 

What was she thinking?

Azriel didn’t like this. 

He hadn’t seen her for seven days and now, she was not even paying him any attention. 

So he decided to take matters into his own hands and pretended to look at his phone as he ‘accidentally’ collided onto her. 

She’d recognised him. 

His woman remembered him.

He was definitely satisfied. Or not. 

Azriel just realised that he hadn’t orchestrated the collision in a manner that would allow her breasts to come in contact with his arm or chest for a second. 

A missed opportunity. 

What a sad life.

“My name is Azriel.” He extended a hand. She took it and shook his hand. Soon, it’d be his cock. Those nails would dig into his arms and back when he fucked her. Patience.  

Azriel was dressed in all black. High neck, trousers, and a blazer he held on his arm which was strategically placed in front of him so as to conceal the crotch area just in case he was aroused. He was. 

“I’m Y/n.” And then she covered her mouth as a yawn escaped her. “I’m sorry. Early morning flights are always tiring.” 

Baby curls were right beneath her ears and she gave him a sleepy smile. And for the first time, he understood how influential Y/n was. Because if he were to see that face first thing in the morning, he’d never leave his bed.

The morning sex would be so glorious. He could wake her up by eating that pussy. Her legs would be trembling on his shoulders while he feasted on her. 

“I understand.” He replied. “A good breakfast helps.”

“Haven’t had any.” She lifted a hand and waved it once. Of course, he knew she hadn’t had breakfast. His men who’d watched her apartment from the one across the street had reported no activity in her kitchen. 

“Do you have some time before boarding? We could have breakfast together.” Okay, now he was just desperate. This was embarrassing. But he wanted to spend time with her. 

“Boarding starts at five twenty. We have. .” She looked at her watch. “Lots of time. Where do you want to eat?” She looked up at him, those eyes eager. 

Azriel looked around. The washrooms came into his view. Since the cleaning staff were not here this early, he easily had fifteen to twenty minutes to eat her. The fire exit was another option. There were a few blindspots there. Or maybe underneath the escalator? 

“That place has some good coffee and spaghetti.” 

Coffee? Spaghetti? Azriel blinked at her and then looked at the places Y/n was pointing at. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

 She was talking about food. 

All right. 

Food. 

“Sure.” He looked at her. She looked a little happier at his agreement. “Shall we?” 

Y/n eagerly nodded and they headed over to that food outlet. 

A nice breakfast included some coffee Azriel’s soul needed, spaghetti, and a very happy albeit sleepy Y/n telling him about her masters program. Details he’d already known but was pleased to hear from her. He would hear more of her voice and understand more about her feelings regarding what was happening in her life. 

“What about you? You don’t look like a student.”

“Correct. I work at Umbra.” He didn’t add that he was the chairman and the controlling shareholder but that was fine. “I’m on a business trip.”

“Oh.” Her mood deflated. 

“What happened?” Umbra was a big name. Wasn’t working there something to show that he was financially secure and didn’t have any debts thereby bringing him closer to the future of being her husband? Wasn’t that enough to convince her that he had enough money so that she wouldn’t have to worry? 

He’d known enough about how Y/n wanted a library of her own in her own home. Sure, the penthouse in the city was not purchased with her in mind but he’d already cleared out a room to be used as a library. 

And the flat he’d purchased in the city they’d be flying to also had a room ready to be her library. He’d give her his card so that she could decorate it to her heart’s content. 

“Nothing.” She looked up at him wide eyed. 

“It’s not nothing.”  He pressed gentler than he’d ever been.

“Well, I really don’t know what career I want to move ahead in.” 

Oh. That was a genuine concern. Of course, he had the money in case Y/n never wanted to work. Or if she wanted to take a break before she started working. 

So they talked. They talked about her field which he had learned as much as he could in seven days and had a discussion that lifted her spirits. But Azriel knew it wouldn't take long before she fretted over it again. 

At least Y/n didn’t have to worry about being alone in that huge pit of despair over careers and futures. He’d be there to support her in any way she needed. 

“I’ll be off to the washroom, hm? Give me a few minutes.” Y/n stood up and walked away with her phone. The rest of her luggage was still at the table with Azriel. 

How nice it was to be trusted with her luggage. All after meeting her for the second time and conversing with her properly only once. 

He frowned. Was Y/n always this easily trusting? This could be dangerous. He should assign someone to follow her so that even if she trusts someone else like this, she wouldn’t be robbed. 

Azriel, having resolved that this was the only woman he’d ever marry and have any kids with, smiled faintly when she returned from the washroom. And the two of them headed over to the boarding gates.

[sun-kissy]

hi, my darling!! i love, love, your writing, and just wanted to say that i am obsessed! may i please request scarf (i can't find the emoji) 😭 with our dearest remus? the prompt would be — “is there anything i can say to make this less awkward?”

thank you so much darling! <3 and here’s a scarf for you🧣(found the emoji for you haha 😉)

mistletoe | r.l.

— “Is there anything I can say to make this less awkward?”

remus lupin x reader —★— word count 1.7k

summary: you attend your neighbour, sirius’ christmas party, where remus saves you from a bully before kissing you under the mistletoe :)

cw: fluff, mean bully cormac mclaggen, protective remus <333, reader gets panicky, sirius is a protective + matchmaker friend haha

Your eyes dart around the living room nervously, drink sloshing around the cup in your hand. The music from the speakers is booming, blaring disco lights making it hard to see much. You can’t seem to spot any familiar faces.

Sirius, your next-door neighbour and friend, was throwing a huge Christmas party. All his old friends were there too. You were familiar with them, having seen them quite a bit whenever they went over. And they seemed nice for the most part, if a bit raucous. You think you’d probably feel better around them than stranded in this buzzing, foreign crowd.

You continue taking cautious steps forward, eyes trained on the ground as you push your way through bodies of people dancing and snogging and puking and – fuck.

You don’t even realise that you’ve spilled your drink all over someone until he, not very nicely, alerts you to it.

“Hey!”

It doesn’t occur that he’s calling out to you. Your hearing is all but closed off to the noise of the party.

“Hey – you!” All of a sudden there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, and you freeze, quickly whipping around to find the source. It feels like your flight or fight mode has been activated, and you’re squirming away before you can even spot his face in the sea of people.

Breaths are loud, deafening in your ears. They might be yours, or maybe they’re those of the crowd starting to gather round. You’re not quite sure.

Your eyes land on him. The buff blonde in front of you, grip tightening around your wrist as he pulls you closer. There’s words coming out of his mouth. Spit landing on your nose. But you can’t seem to make out a thing he’s saying, phrases like stupid girl and bitch slipping through your consciousness and adding fuel to the fire of panic in your throat.

You open your mouth to apologise, though you’re not quite sure what you’ve done. Nothing comes out but a pathetic croak.

The scary man’s voice gets louder and louder. You’ve never quite seen rage in human form, but here he was. Here he was. And he was going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

“Hey, man.”

Another voice, getting closer. It’s softer. Gentler. You feel an arm around your waist, and the touch is kind enough to not make you want to pull away.

“Let go of her, please. It was an honest mistake.”

“But this bitch –”

“I said,” you can hear the hint of hardness in the nice man’s voice, “Let go.” Somehow, you know it’s not directed at you. His grip on your waist tightens the slightest bit, but careful not to hurt.

There’s a beat of silence before the harsh hand leaves your wrist. The relief is immediate, the familiar feeling of a come down after a painful high. Your skin doesn’t feel so foreign to you anymore.

“Thank you,” the kind man says from beside you, though he doesn’t sound very grateful. “I’m sure Sirius could spare you one of his shirts, if you’d like.” Once again, there’s no actual apology in his tone.

Without waiting for a reply, you feel yourself being gently steered away. You look around as you walk, spotting expressions of shock and humour and all sorts of funny feelings.

You twist your head to take a look at your saviour, feeling like your heart might stop beating all over again.

Remus Lupin. You liked him more than you knew him.

You’ve seen him a few times at Sirius’ place, spoken to him even fewer. Yet nothing but sweetness came to mind at the thought of him; all softness and pretty scars and kind smiles. You think maybe the word gentleman was made for him. Even Sirius seemed to be lovelier in Remus’ presence, which was saying a lot, because you thought your neighbour really was quite lovely already.

You’d never seen Remus so riled up before. Honestly, you didn’t think he was capable of it. There was a silly little feeling in your tummy, to know that he had gotten so worked up to protect you.

“Sweetheart,” his voice brings you back to the present. And he’s back to normal, back to the soft, calm man you so adored.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles bemusedly, though his brows are bent with concern. You realise he’s brought you to the kitchen, where there’s fewer people and more air to breathe. The feeling of his thumbs gently rubbing your wrists is almost too much to bear. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m –” you try not to shudder as the thought of the angry man comes back to you, “fine. I’m fine.”

Remus gives your hands a squeeze. “Okay. You’re okay now, yeah? I’m sorry about Cormac. He was a dick in high school too,” he sighs. “Once a dick, always a dick.”

You let out a giggle. “Really?”

He grins, a proper one. “Yeah, really. One time, James — you know James, right? The bespectacled one with the curly hair —” he continues when you nod, “— yeah, so James walked right up to Cormac and —“

“Hey,” Remus is interrupted by Sirius, breathless as he shoves past people, into the kitchen. His brows are pinched together as he pulls you into a half hug. “Hey, babe. Are you good? I heard what happened just now with McLaggen, the asshole.”

“I’m okay, really,” you squeak out as Sirius pulls you even closer. “Sirius —“

You feel your cheeks heating up when you hear Remus chuckling. Sirius lets you go from the hug now, but his grip on your shoulders is vice-like as he looks you over like a concerned mother hen. “Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t touch you, did he?”

“Well, he did, but —“

“He touched you?” Sirius sounds close to appalled. Remus is snickering now, and you feel like digging yourself a hole and crawling into it. “The bastard! I’m gonna —“

“Sirius!” you hiss, cutting him off. “I’m all good, I swear. Remus got me out of it.”

Sirius flicks his gaze over to Remus. In a split second, you know what’s coming when you see the twinkle in his eyes.

“Sirius. Don’t you dare.”

He flashes you a quick grin before turning to his friend, wiggling his eyebrows. “So, loverboy here saved you, huh?”

Remus quirks an eyebrow at you questioningly. You turn to Sirius with a pleading look; you knew he knew all about your little crush. But of course, he wouldn’t stop there.

“Did he swoop you into his arms? Catch you as you fell?”

“No…“ you mumble shyly, shoulders up to your ears.

“Well,” Sirius smirks, “He can now!”

The only warning you get is a wink, before Sirius’ hand is on your shoulder and he gives you a push.

You let out a yelp as you tumble backwards, straight into Remus.

Embarrassment washes over you as his strong arms immediately come around your waist, swiftly pressing onto your stomach as he steadies you. “Woah, woah, easy there. Are you okay?”

You blink. “I… um… I…”

The feeling of his hands on you is distracting, too much to take. It’s like your legs have turned to jelly, tongue to rubber. Words turn to dust on the tip of it.

Maybe this is how you perish, you think. You’d die of shyness in Remus’ arms; perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

A loud gasp startles you out of your reverie. Both you and Remus turn to find Sirius staring at you with his hands on his cheeks, eyes dramatically wide and mouth agape.

“Oh. My. God,” he gushes, stepping towards you. “What do we have here?”

You shoot him a glare, hoping it conveys both your desperation and annoyance. Sirius seems, or rather pretends, to understand nothing.

“Would you look at that?” he continues with a grin, chucking his head upwards. You look up to feel your heart drop.

There’s a quiet snort from Remus at the sight. Green leaves, red ribbon adorning it. Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Sirius exclaims, as if it weren’t painfully obvious.

You cringe, immediately hanging your head to stare at your hands. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and hope the red on your cheeks isn’t as obvious as you think it is.

Sirius is annoyingly loud as he continues to yap, but your heartbeat is louder.

Remus clears his throat. You blink, whipping your head upwards to find him looking at you with an apologetic smile. He rubs the nape of his neck bashfully. “Is there anything I can say to make this less awkward?”

A soft huff of laughter escapes you despite yourself. “No, I… I don’t think so.”

He grins. You feel your resolve melting into a puddle. “Kiss me.”

Remus blinks, eyes widening for a split second before his lips quirk upwards. “What?”

“Kiss me,” you breathe, hoping you don’t sound as anxious as you feel. “I mean, not because I want you to or anything —“ you laugh nervously, “— but because it’s mistletoe, and — oh.”

Remus’ lips are on yours in a moment. The squeak you let out dissolves into his mouth, hand gently cupping the back of your head.

You feel his soft hands on your waist and his sweet lips on yours and you feel like you’re falling all over again.

This is what that muggle singer Sirius loved — Elvis Presley — must’ve been feeling, you think, when he wrote Can’t Help Falling in Love. He must’ve been kissing the epitome of love itself, because you seemed to be falling into Remus, melting into his touch. If you were a fool for rushing in, then so be it. You’d be anything to taste his lips again.

Remus lets go all too soon, though you’d probably feel the same way if he let go after a lifetime. He gives you that sweet, sweet smile again, and you can’t help but smile back.

“You know, we don’t always have to be under the mistletoe to kiss.”

“We don’t?”

“No,” Remus grins, “like right now.”

He tugs on your waist, stumbling until your back hits the wall. He kisses you again, and you’re suddenly very grateful for Sirius. You’d have to thank him for three things this Christmas — introducing you to Remus, inviting you to this party, and most importantly — for that song reference.

san’s christmas sleepover

[itneverendshere]

Perhaps Rafe x Shy!Bartender reader at the country club. Maybe she was driven there and was supposed to get picked up, but shit got in the way. And she is far from home. Rafe is there that day for golfing or something and it’s her first day. He is instantly smitten and waits until her shift is over to properly ask her out, and notices she has no car to get home and gets protective

i looooved this and in my head this is EXACTLY how rafe and pogue!reader from this request met. this is the same universe, im making it canon rn

it could be you and me - rafe cameron

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.5k

Rafe slid through the crowd, heading toward the golf course. He had plans to join Topper for a round or two.

Like usual, his presence drew glances—partially because of the rumors that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Being the epitome of privilege, born into the wealth that afforded him everything, made sure that all eyes were on him, everywhere he went on that stupid fucking town. But that day, he’d been off his game from the moment he woke up.

He felt out of place, restless and mostly, bored. Every day in this place felt the same to him. The pleasures he used to get from being a kook were slowly burning out. The days had started blending together, the endless cycle of parties, and drinks had begun to lose its allure. Doing the same thing, over and over again. 

Nothing was new. Nothing was exciting anymore.

He was bored out of his mind. Golf wasn’t exactly his passion, but it was a way to pass the time, to pretend like he shouldn’t be in the office finishing whatever paperwork his father had shoved down his throat the night before. 

He needed a drink if he wanted to get through the rest of the day without breaking something.

He approached the clubhouse and noticed a small crowd gathered at the bar. It wasn’t an unusual sight—it was one of the most popular spots in the club—but something, or rather someone, caught his attention.

Behind the counter, there was someone he’d never seen before.

You wore the standard uniform of the club's staff—white blouse, black slacks, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail—but there was something about you that made him stop in his tracks. You weren’t a kook, that much was clear. And you were new. Way too new by the looks of the growing line.

You were busy, pouring drinks, smiling politely at the members, but he could tell you were nervous from the way you overdid it. It was like you were trying to make yourself small for those people. It didn’t help that they treated you like you were invisible, snapping their fingers or raising their voices to get your attention.

Fucking assholes.

He didn’t know why he felt so irritated all of the sudden. He’d done the same thing times and times again, he was no better than any of them, on a good day. But he hated watching it happen to you. He couldn’t stop staring, he felt creepy as he listed all the little things he noticed about you. Your hands moved quickly, but delicately, as if you took great care in everything you did.

You turned to reach for a bottle on a high shelf and he finally caught a good glimpse of your face—a glimpse that nearly made him drop his golf club on the spot. There was something striking about you. It was in the way your eyes narrowed as you focused on pouring the right amount of alcohol on a drink, and the way your lips pursed ever so slightly as you kept concentrating.

You were beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. He’d seen pretty girls all his life, he made sure he surrounded himself with them. But you? You were something else. 

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a genuine curiosity, to know more about someone. He didn’t think about hooking up, about asking for your number. You didn’t belong here and maybe that’s what made you so good.

The shift seemed never-ending, even though it was your first day.

Most of the club members hadn’t even bothered to learn your name —either way, you were having a hard time keeping up. 

You hadn’t wanted to take the job, but you didn’t have much of a choice. The country club was the only place hiring that summer, and you needed the money. Your friend had driven you there earlier that morning, promising to pick you up after your shift. But earlier, when you had glanced at your phone during a ten-second break, you saw a text from her saying she’d been held up—something about the car breaking down.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, shoving your phone back into your pocket as you handed a gin and tonic to a bald asshole who didn’t even bother to thank you. You were stuck here, away from home, and the last thing you wanted to do was ask one of these people for help.

Your nerves had already skyrocketed. Between the constant drink orders, the lack of polite smiles, and trying your best not to spill anything or offend any of these spoiled kooks, you were losing your mind. Being the center of attention wasn’t your forte, and being behind the bar was giving you a migraine as the members kept barking their orders, complaining when their drinks weren’t perfect, and barely acknowledging your existence.

You could feel their judgmental stupid eyes on you, like you were some sort of animal—a pogue. 

The buzz in your stomach kept getting stronger with every minute.

You wished you could just disappear, but you needed the job and so, you had no option but to take it like a big girl and get used to it. By the end of the day, your hands trembled slightly as you reached for another bottle, your muscles aching from trying to keep up with the endless demands.

As you handed yet another whiskey on the rocks to an ungrateful rich asshole, you noticed someone approaching the bar from the corner of your eye. Unlike the others, he didn’t immediately shout his order or snap his fingers. He just stood there, watching you, a slight smirk on his face.

It was hard not to recognize him—Rafe Cameron. You’d heard stories about him, of course. Everyone in the Outer Banks had. He was practically royalty, the golden boy of one of the wealthiest families around.

You hated being stared at, it made you feel even more out of place than you already did. You could feel your cheeks turning red just from that alone.

“Can I get you something?” you asked, politely yet barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Rafe leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving your face, “What do you recommend?”

He sounded amused. Like he was genuinely enjoying himself. Like he didn’t know this was your first day on the job. You knew he did because everything about him screamed Country Club boy. You hadn’t exactly had time to memorize the menu. But you didn’t want to look like a stupid in front of a kook, let alone kook royalty. 

“Uh, well, the mojitos are pretty popular,” you offered, hoping that was true.

He raised a brow, his smirk widening. “Mojitos, huh? Alright, I’ll take one.”

You nodded and quickly got to work, trying to ignore the way your hands were shaking. As you muddled the mint leaves and squeezed the lime, you could feel his eyes on you.

Jesus, what was his problem with the staring? Was there something on your face? Were you doing this whole thing wrong? It was unnerving. When you finally handed him the drink, he took it with a nod, but instead of walking away, he stayed there, sipping it slowly in front of you, like some kind of test. 

“You’re new here,” he remarked, more as a statement than a question.

You swallowed nervously and nodded. “Yeah, first day.”

He took another sip, “Not a bad start,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

Was he trying to be funny? You gave him a small, tight-lipped smile, not entirely sure if he was mocking you or being genuine. Before he could say anything else, another customer called for your attention, and you turned away to help them. 

Rafe didn’t move. Even as you worked, he stayed rooted to his seat. Every time you glanced in his direction, he was still there, watching you, not looking the least bit shameful about it. He left eventually.

By six thirty, the club was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers lingering at the bar and some late-night golfers finishing their rounds. You wiped down the counter one last time, wondering how the hell you were going to get home. You’d almost forgotten about the earlier text from your friend, but now your anxiety was back. 

You didn’t have anyone else to call and walking home alone, at night was terrifying, small town or not. You pulled out your phone and stared at it, praying for another solution to pop into your head, but nothing came.

“Come on, think…” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. It was a mess after being up in a ponytail the entire day but it was starting to give you a headache, so you took it down, hoping it would help you think clearer. It didn't.

Taking a taxi would cost more than you could afford, especially on your shitty bartender’s salary. You were pacing back and forth behind the bar, wondering how your luck had already gone down the drain on your first day working. 

In your panic, you didn’t notice someone else standing outside the glass doors of the clubhouse, watching you with a keen eye. Rafe had finished his round of golf earlier and had been hanging around, talking to a few of his father’s friends. He almost laughed at how stressed you looked but took pity on you when you almost broke down into tears right there and then.

He couldn’t have that.

You didn’t even see him walk up to the door and push it open. The sound of it swinging shut behind him startled you, and you looked up, your eyes widening as he approached you.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t move closer, just stood there by the door, giving you space.

You stared at him, still trying to catch your breath, not exactly hiding how freaked out you were. “I— I’m fine,” you stammered out. You clutched your phone tightly, as if it could somehow find you a safe way home.

Rafe bit his lip, clearly not convinced, “Y’sure about that? Cause you look like you’re two seconds away from a meltdown.”

His words, though blunt, weren’t meant to be harsh. At least you didn’t think they were, but hearing them out loud made you realize just how close you were to losing it publicly, in your workplace. You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“It’s nothing, I just…uh, I don’t have a ride home,” you admitted reluctantly,. “My friend was supposed to pick me up, but her car broke down, and now I’m stuck here.” The last part came out in a rush, as if saying it faster would somehow make it less true.

This felt like the luckiest day in his life.

“That’s it?” he asked, sounding almost relieved. “I can take you home, no problem.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the offer. “What? No, I— I don’t want to impose, it’s late, and—”

You were so cute it almost made it impossible to scold you.

“You’re not imposing,” Rafe cut you off, “It’s not safe for you to be out here alone, especially at this hour. Just lemme give you a ride, okay?”

You hadn’t imagined him like this. Speaking to you, a pogue so…normally. There was something in his voice, in the way he spoke to you, that made you pause. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding. He was just offering help. He sounded nothing like the Rafe you’d heard about.

You hesitated, glancing back at your phone again as if you might find a better solution, but you knew deep down you weren’t finding shit. There was no one else you could call, no other option that made sense. And as much as you hated the idea of relying on someone you barely knew, on a kook of all people, you didn’t feel like sleeping on the streets.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, your voice quiet as you looked up at him. You hadn’t expected him to be so tall, “But just this once.”

Rafe’s lips twitched, “Just this once,” he echoed as he gestured toward the door. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He led you to his car, a sleek, black SUV that practically screamed money. He opened the passenger door for you, and you slid inside, feeling a bit out of place. You’d never been inside such a luxurious vehicle. The plush leather seats were…something. You sat quietly, too scared to break something as he got in on the driver’s side, starting the engine with a quiet hum.

The drive started off in silence. You kept your eyes focused on the road, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were in Rafe Cameron’s car, being driven home by him. It sounded almost delusional. 

After a few minutes, Rafe spoke up “So, where do you live?” he asked, glancing over at you.

He knew you were a pogue, that was a given. But he’d never seen you around before.

You quickly gave him your address, and he nodded, adjusting the GPS on his dashboard. As he did, you couldn’t help but admire how calm and collected he seemed. It was almost unsettling how comfortable he was in situations like this—small talk with strangers, a situation that always has you squirming.  

“Thanks, by the way, I really appreciate it.”

He quickly glanced over at you, “Don’t mention it. It’s no big deal.”

Except it was. You were even prettier up close, and your perfume scent was messing with his head, if it wasn’t for the GPS's stupid robotic voice he’d be lost by now.

It was a big deal to you too. It wasn’t every day that someone like Rafe went out of their way to help someone like you. And the fact that he’d done it without a second thought, without expecting anything in return was very, very confusing. 

“First day at the club, huh?” Was he trying to make small talk with you? Oh wow. His tone was so casual, like this was the most normal conversation in the world, like you two had known each other for years, and weirdly enough, you didn’t mind. “How’d it go?”

You hesitated, not sure how much you should say. Your instinct was to lie and avoid making things awkward. “Oh, it was great,” your voice raised an octave as it always did when you tried to lie your way out of conversations, “Everyone was really nice!”

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave the road as he let out a low chuckle. “Bullshit.”

Your smile faltered. “W-What?”

“Come on,” he said, still grinning like an idiot, “I watched you get run ragged by those assholes all day. You looked like you wanted to set the bar on fire.”

You opened your mouth to lie again, but before you could stop yourself, the self righteous girl in you decided to take charge. 

“Okay, fine, it was awful. Those people are the worst. They treat everyone like shit and act like they’re God’s gift to the world just because they’ve got money.” Your voice grew louder as you vented, all the frustration from the day spitting out, “I mean, who the fuck do they think they are? Just because they can afford to spend their summers at a country club doesn’t make them better than everyone else.”

Rafe’s laughter broke through your rant, and you stopped short, suddenly realizing who you were talking to. You turned to look at him, wide-eyed, your heart sinking. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered horrified, hand covering your mouth, “You’re a kook.”

He was laughing so hard that his shoulders shook, his hand gripping the steering wheel as he tried to catch his breath. “Holy shit,” he managed to wheeze out between laughs, “You really hate us, don’t you?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I didn’t mean you specifically,” you mumbled, your face burning, “I just...I don’t know what came over me.”

Rafe shook his head, still chuckling as he pulled up to a stoplight. “Nah, it’s fine. You’re not wrong about most of them. But, y’know, not all kooks are complete assholes.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, still mortified. “So you’re not an asshole?”

“Oh no, I am,” He snorted, “Just not to you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, lowering your hands to your lap, “Good.”

You couldn’t stop staring at him. He was different than you’d imagined—more down-to-earth, less of a caricature of the wealthy villain you’d built up in your mind.

“So,” he said after a while, his tone still light, like he was holding back, trying not to scare you off, “What made you take the job at the club? Guessing it wasn’t for the stellar company.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I just needed a job for the summer, and they were the only place hiring.”

“Lucky us,” he said, and when you looked at him, he was giving you that same playful smirk. “You might be the only decent person in that place.”

Your cheeks warmed again, and you had to look away, fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. “I don’t know about that,” you murmured.

He glanced over, noticing the shy way you avoided his gaze, and his smirk softened. “I do.”

You must’ve hit your head earlier.

Was he flirting with you of all people? He was going to send you into cardiac arrest. You didn’t know how to answer, so you stayed quiet, the silence only broken by the quiet hum of the car’s engine and the GPS’s occasional directions.

When Rafe finally pulled up in front of your house, you hesitated before unbuckling your seatbelt. It felt like you had something more to say, but you weren’t sure what. He seemed to sense it too because he didn’t rush you, just turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, waiting.

You finally turned to him, “Thanks again, Rafe. For everything. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that made it hard to look away. 

“Anytime. Seriously. If you ever need anything, just let me know.”

The offer seemed so sincere, so out of character for the guy you’d heard about, that it left you momentarily speechless. He kept proving you wrong. 

“I will.”

With a final nod, you pushed open the door and stepped out, the cool night air hitting you as you closed the door behind you. You took a few steps toward your house before turning back, catching one last glimpse of him sitting there. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened involuntarily when you looked back. He'd offered to drive girls home before—plenty of times, in fact—but this was different. When you waved, he felt like a schoolboy who only got to see his crush at school and spent the entire weekends daydreaming about her. 

Once you walked inside, he leaned back in his seat, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you sitting in his passenger seat, looking so out of place yet so perfect at the same time. Like you belonged right there, next to him. There was something so refreshingly genuine about you. You weren’t like the girls he knew—the ones who flaunted their wealth, who expected the world to bend over backward for them. You were different, unpretentious, and honest in a way that made him feel like he could drop the act for once.

Like he didn’t have to be Rafe Cameron, the reckless, arrogant kook.

No, with you, he could just be Rafe. And that was something he hadn’t realized he was missing until tonight.

He was done for. He knew he wasn’t going to stop until you were his.

The thought of anyone else having you, of you smiling at someone else the way you had at him tonight—it made him want to break someone’s teeth. He had a reputation, and he knew that if you heard even half of the stories about him, you’d probably want nothing to do with him after tonight. But he didn’t care. Because there was something about you that made him want to be better, to be the kind of guy you deserved.

He could already see it—the two of you, together. He’d give you the world, everything you deserved, and more. He’d make sure you never had to worry about a thing. You were perfect, too perfect for this world, and now that he’d found you, he wasn’t going to let you slip away. 

He’d make sure of it—you were going to be his girl. And nothing was going to stop him.

[gunnerfc]

It’s Tradition | Leah Williamson x Arsenal!Reader (18+)

Summary: You have a habit of celebrating a win by hooking up with someone, but now you’re in a new country with a new club where you haven’t had a chance to explore the bar scene. Your teammate offers to keep the tradition going.

Warnings: bottom leah, top reader, oral (leah receiving)

WC: 2k

AN: short fic in honor of her birthday 🤪

You cheered softly once the ref blew the whistle, signally the end of the game. Arsenal came out with a win over United which saw two goals from you to win the game. You had signed with Arsenal recently during the transfer window and to win your first game was exciting. You quickly shook hands with the home side before you were crowded by Kyra and Vic, yelling as they jumped on you.

You laughed at their antics before you were all gathered in a huddle by Jonas who congratulated the team on the win. You tuned out your coach as your eyes locked on Leah, your eyes subtlety scanning her body. Since you joined the team, you and the blonde have had a very flirty relationship. Nothing ever happened between the two of you due to having zero time to push the relationship further. 

As your mind ran with thoughts of the blonde, you remembered you were two roommates during this away fixture. You smirked to yourself about the possibility of exploring a new relationship with the defender but you dropped your smirk when you caught her eye. You sent her a teasing wink before Jonas dismissed the team to thank the traveling supporters. You stuck with Kyra, Alessia, and Vic as you made your rounds, hoping to drag out being close to Leah.

Leah was in a similar position, her thoughts were filled with you and the many teasing comments you’ve made to her since you arrived in London. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about what it would be like to go further with you. Knowing you two would have a room to yourselves was proving the push you two needed.

After thanking the fans, the team was quick to the locker room to change and head for the team bus, everyone opting to take showers back at the hotel. As you gathered your things, you could feel Leah’s eyes on you, following your every move. When you headed for the door with Alessia, you brushed past Leah, your hand hiting hers lightly as you moved. The small amount of contact left a burning sensation on your skin, and the need for more growing.

You stayed to yourself on the bus, your thoughts full of Leah and how the blonde would sound as she moaned your name. You tried to control your breathing as your imagination took control, hoping that the blonde was not able to see your heaving chest. You sighed to yourself when the bus pulled up to the hotel, happy to finally be off the bus. It took a bit of waiting as the team took the elevators up but you were surprised to find Leah waiting for you by your door instead of going in on her own.

You offered a small smile as she opened the door for you as you both said a quick goodnight to your teammates who were still in the hallway. You groaned when you threw your things down, the roughness of the match starting to hit you. Leah tried her best to ignore the sound that escaped your lips as she sat on the end of her bed to take her shoes off. The blonde tossed them to her pile of things as you moved to get clothes out to take a shower.

The silence between the two of you was thick as neither of you knew exactly what to say. Deciding to make small talk, the blonde broke the silence as she watched you. “So, how did you celebrate a win back in Germany,” she asked, her eyes on your back.

You froze in your spot by your suitcase when you heard her question. You had a particular reputation that certainly followed you around so you knew Leah knew the answer to her question. “Um, sex mainly,” you laughed softly.

Since you’ve moved to London, you haven’t had the time to explore any of the social settings that would have been a great way to meet a one night stand. You liked to celebrate winning with great sex but since you were in a new country, your tradition was going to be broken after your first Arsenal win. You didn’t turn to meet Leah’s gaze at first but you spun around to find her eyes locked on your body.

“How do you plan on keeping your tradition going tonight,” the blonde said quietly, swallowing lightly when your eyes met.

“Not sure, I don’t think I can keep it going,” you shrugged, not really caring about continuing it anymore since you met Leah.

“You can’t break the tradition. What if it’s your good luck charm,” the defender joked, her breathing picking up slightly.

You didn’t speak as you contemplated her words, you weren't sure if she was offering something or not and didn’t want to overstep if she wasn't into it. As you opened your mouth to respond, Leah beat you to it.

“If you need someone to help keep it alive…” she trailed off, hoping you would pick up on what she was saying. 

You raised an eyebrow at her words, a small smirk gracing your features. A red tint coated the blonde’s cheeks under your gaze and at the thought of you fucking her. You sat down the clothes you had picked up, your mind focused on other things rather than a shower. You bit your bottom lip softly as you walked toward the other bed the blonde was sitting on. The defender was leaning back on her hands as her legs dangled off the edge of the bed as you made your way in between her legs. Leah sat up as she looked up at you, your eyes scanning her features as you moved a hand to push her hair behind her ear.

The sounds of heavy breathing from both of you filled the room as you traced your thumb along Leah’s jawline. You moved your thumb to trace against her bottom lip before pushing your finger into her mouth, her lips wrapping around your thumb softly. You didn’t have to tell the blonde what to do as she softly sucked on the finger in her mouth, her eyes still locked with yours.

You pulled your now wet thumb from her mouth, tracing it on her bottom lip once more. The overwhelming urge to kiss her was driving you crazy. You brought both hands to rest on her cheeks, tilting her head back slightly as you leaned down to connect your lips. Your mouths moved against each other deeply, yours easily winning control as your tongue slipped through her lips and explored her mouth. Leah moaned into the kiss and you felt your knees go weak at the sound.

You kept your lips locked with hers for a few moments before you pulled back when air became an issue. You took a step back from the blonde to lift your shirt over your head, tossing it to the other side of the room. Leah got the memo and stood from her bed to strip out of the clothes she changed into back at the stadium. Once you were both naked, you let your eyes linger on every part of her body. 

Your lips were back on hers, this time in a rougher kiss as you guided her back onto the bed and up toward the pillows. It was your turn to moan when you felt her bare chest against your own, both of your hardened nipples hitting each other. You pulled back from her swollen lips, lightly biting her bottom lip and pulling it slightly before your lips landed on her neck.

As much as you wanted to leave hickies all over her skin, you knew if you did so your teammates would have an insane amount of questions in the morning. You weren’t sure what this would do to your relationship with Leah but that was for you two to figure out on your own. You kissed down her neck toward her chest, hoping that that would be an acceptable place to leave dark bruise-like marks. You sucked on her skin here and there, pulling soft gasps from the blonde as you did so.

You made your way to her breasts, leaving small kisses in the valley of her chest before moving your lips to one of her nipples. You sucked the hardened bud into your mouth as Leah’s head fell back against the hotel pillows in pleasure. You stayed in your spot for a few seconds longer before pulling away to give her other nipple the same treatment. Leah’s gasps turned into soft moans as one of her hands tangled in your hair to press closer to her chest. 

You let go of her nipple to continue kissing down her toned stomach, leaving small nips here and there. You left a few kisses along the tops of her thighs before you were right where she needed you. You could tell she was already wet, the blonde didn’t need much to affect her. You blew slightly against her wet cunt, earning a whine from above at the cool sensation. You smirked to yourself before you placed a small kiss on her clit. Leah’s whine got louder at your actions and her hand that wasn’t in your hair shot to cover her mouth. The last thing she wanted was for whoever was on the other side of the wall to hear her. 

Your kisses became longer before you took her sensitive clit in your mouth, sucking and running your tongue over it. Leah moaned loudly into her hand as the grip on your hair became tighter with each flick of your tongue. You kept your lips wrapped around her clit as your hands moved to wrap around her thighs. You moaned softly as you tasted the blonde, the vibrations of your moans sending shockwaves through her.

You pulled back as best as you could considering the way she was pushing you closer to run your tongue through her soaked folds. Leah’s back arched off the bed as her hips rolled slightly to urge you to do it again. You laughed softly to yourself at her eagerness but complied with her requests, licking up slowly to savor the taste of her in your mouth.

You sped up your movements, your tongue dipping into her every so often to tease her. After tasting the defender, you would spend the rest of your life between her thighs if you could. You kept a steady pace as you went down on her, not wanting to rush anything and wanting her to enjoy the pleasure she was feeling. As her hips stuttered in their movements, you could tell Leah was close to coming. 

“F-fuck, please, y/n,” the blonde begged softly, her eyes screwed shut as her chest heaved.

You didn’t hold back as you fucked her with your tongue, catching every last drop of her as her back arched once more. Leah toppled over, her orgasm hitting her hard as you kept up your ministrations to help her ride out her high. You only pulled away when Leah whined at the overstimulation. 

Her hand left your hair and fell to the mattress under her as she kept her eyes closed. You moved up her body before locking lips with her once again, this kiss a bit slower than the previous one. Leah moaned against your lips as she tasted herself on your lips. 

You pulled back with a teasing smirk on your face as you watched her eyes flutter open. “My tradition is alive and well now,” you joked, earning a small laugh from the blonde. 

You let your eyes take in her expression, finding the dazed look from an intense orgasm extremely attractive. 

“But, just as a safety measure, I think we gotta go again,” you spoke with a raised eyebrow. 

One of your hands traced down Leah’s body at a slow speed, slightly teasing her. You spent the rest of the evening making sure your ‘tradition’ stayed intact, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your teammate. Maybe you didn’t need to explore the bar scene to meet people after a win, you had Leah to celebrate with now.

[struggling-with-drivers]

People Watching - Lando Norris

⋗ Pairing - Lando Norris x Reader

⋗ Summary - You've never been in love, at least you don't think you have

⋗ Word count - 2k words, fluff, [Requested by Anon]

⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, this was just a short cute idea I had on my mind after getting a request. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

You’re enjoying a nice lunch with Lando. He has a lot of things to be doing after, but for now. It’s just the two of you, a set of good friends. Your eyes wander over his face, a soft look of concentration is on his face as he tries to take pictures of you and your lunch. The way his lips are slightly strained, as he keeps fiddling with his camera. Then he rearranges your glasses, and then he puts them back, before rearranging them once more. 

“Do you need help?” You ask, a small laugh bubbling in your throat, as he can’t seem to get the shot he wants.

“No no, just keep sitting there, you look good!” He chirps up, quickly dismissing the thought of you moving from the pose he instructed you into. 

Your laugh finally makes it way past your lips, at the absurdity of the scene, your eyes close as the flash goes off once more. You don’t notice how Lando mutters, got it, nor how he takes a few more just for his enjoyment. 

“Time to dig in.” Lando scrambles to sit down and stuffs his mouth with his slightly cold food. 

You stick a bit to your food, but your gaze falls out onto the crowd of people navigating outside. So many couples are spread across the grid as all the fans gather to get a closer look at the cars. Despite your perspective from above, the thing most glaring to you seems to be all the hands clasped into others. 

“How long do you think they’ve been together?” 

“What?” Lando looks up from his plate of food, trying to follow your gaze, but he gets lost in the crowd of people immediately, not at all being able to figure out where your eyes are looking. 

“The elderly couple.” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing, as though there aren’t multiple, as though you and Lando didn’t call Max Verstappen and his girlfriend an elderly couple last weekend, despite Max barely being 2.5 years older than Lando and less than 2 years older than you. 

“Three days.” Lando says, voice full of conviction, “They actually met this Tuesday and have had the wildest sex for 3 days straight, before any of their children realise that their parents are missing from the nursery home.” 

You snort loudly, accidentally getting soda into your nose, making Lando laugh with you, as you struggle to breathe. 

After recovering from your soda mishap, you wipe your nose with a napkin, still chuckling. Lando grins mischievously, taking a sip of his drink as he watches you with amusement.

“Smooth move, right?” he teases, referring to his imaginative tale about the elderly couple. “I mean, who wouldn't want a love story like that? Beats the usual 'met in high school and got married' scenario.”

You both share another round of laughter, the casual banter making the lunch even more enjoyable.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” You sigh wistfully as you glance down at the crowd of people once more. “Not seriously. I mean, I’ve had a fling here and there, and a few you don’t know about.”

“Ouch.” Lando mocks being hurt, as he throws a piece of lettuce in your direction. Missing you completely. He’s an excellent driver, but a terrible thrower. You’re suddenly elated that he never became a handball athlete or a basketball player. 

“I just mean, I’ve never had that big grand love moment, you know. Nobody has ever done any big gestures, I’ve never had fireworks go off during a kiss. Never pictured that American suburban picket fence dream, you know?” You rattle off as Lando leans his head to the side. You can see the grin on his face before the words leave his mouth. 

“And here I thought you loved me,” he throws another piece of lettuce in your direction. It lands on your plate, and you cock an eyebrow at him, very unimpressed. “I don’t think I know anyone else that would get up at 3 am just to make the world's worst pancakes, all because it’s some pancake holiday, and I had to be out of the door at 5 am.”

The memory of that early morning springs vividly to your mind, and you can't help but chuckle at the recollection.

The night before Pancake Day, you meticulously planned your pancake surprise for Lando. You envisioned a perfect morning: the smell of freshly made pancakes wafting through the air, the joy on Lando's face as he discovered the delightful breakfast you had prepared just for him. However, the universe had other plans.

At 3 am, you tiptoed into the kitchen, trying your best to be as quiet as a ninja. Armed with a box of pancake mix, a whisk, and an optimistic spirit, you were ready to conquer the culinary world for the sake of surprising your friend.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and you moved with caution, not wanting to wake anyone up. As you began mixing the ingredients, you felt a surge of determination. This was going to be the breakfast surprise of the century. You even hummed a little tune as you worked, believing that love and effort could conquer any culinary challenge.

However, in your sleepy stupor, you made a crucial mistake. The sugar and salt containers looked eerily similar in the low light, and without double-checking, you confidently poured what you thought was sugar into the mix. Little did you know, you had just set the stage for a disastrous flavour profile.

Undeterred, you moved on, mistakenly grabbing the baking powder instead of the baking soda. As you mixed the concoction, the batter started to take on an unusual texture, but you pressed on, convinced that your culinary masterpiece was just a few flips away.

With the batter ready, you heated the pan and poured the first pancake, envisioning its perfect golden-brown finish. However, the sizzle that followed was more like a hiss, and the kitchen started to fill with an unpleasant aroma. You tried to fan away the smoke, hoping that the burnt scent wouldn't reach Lando's bedroom.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. As the smoke thickened, a piercing sound echoed through the apartment – the unmistakable wail of the smoke detector. Panic set in, and you rushed to open windows, waving a towel at the alarm, and desperately trying to save the surprise.

Meanwhile, Lando stirred in his sleep, disturbed by the cacophony of the smoke detector. He stumbled out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed and disoriented, only to find you amid your culinary chaos, smoke billowing around you.

“Ah, Pancake Day,” you say with a grin. “I thought it would be a fantastic idea to surprise you with a breakfast feast before your busy day. On the other hand, I gave you a free day off from having to sit in on a bunch of meetings.”

“Yeah, because my house nearly burnt down, and a bunch of firefighters showed up.” Lando waves his fork at you. “I doubt a lot of other people would have done that.”

“Tried to burn down your flat?” You mock him, as you flick the piece of lettuce back to his plate. 

He laughs, shaking his head. You’re missing his point, but he’s also not attempting to make it clearer for you. 

“What about when I stay up with you on the phone, because a sale is starting past midnight, but you’re barely holding it together and it’s not even 10 pm? Isn’t that an act of love?” He asks, but he leaves no room for you to answer his question as he goes back to eating. 

Lando can’t see the storm that’s slowly brewing behind your eyes, as you go over memories of your friendship. All the small things you do for each other. All the time you spend together. 

As the memories flood your mind, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The snippets of shared moments and small gestures between you and Lando become a cherished montage.

There's the time when he surprised you with a playlist of your favourite songs on a day when you were feeling down, the carefully curated mix capturing the essence of your friendship. You remember the genuine joy on his face as he handed over the playlist, completely aware of how much music meant to you.

Then, there are the instances when you stayed up late into the night, listening to his racing stories and sharing in his victories and disappointments. You recall the laughter and camaraderie that transcended the distance, making those late-night conversations a treasured part of your connection.

Lando smirks mischievously as he eyes the last bite of your dessert.

"Mind if I grab that last piece? You know I need the extra energy for my thrilling life as a driver."

You narrow your eyes at him, holding the fork protectively. "Oh, please. The only thrill you get is trying to beat me at Mario Kart."

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I'll have you know that being a Mario Kart champion requires skill and precision. It's practically a training regimen for the racetrack."

You scoff, taking a deliberate bite of the dessert. "Skill and precision? Last time I checked, you kept getting stuck in the void on Rainbow Road."

"That was a strategic move. I needed a better view of the stars," he replies with a grin, trying to swipe the fork again.

You playfully slap his hand away. "Nice try, but you're not getting this last piece. I already had to fight off your trainer once this month, because you keep stealing my food."

Lando feigns offence, placing a hand over his heart. "Are you saying I don't have the physique of a finely tuned athlete?"

"I'm saying you have the physique of someone who eats all the desserts that aren’t meant for finely-tuned athletes," you retort, 

He leans in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, at least I can burn it off on the track. What's your excuse?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I burn calories, dodging your attempts to steal my food. It's a full-body workout, really."

"Fair enough. But mark my words, next time we play Mario Kart, you won't stand a chance." Lando laughs, shaking his head. 

"Bring it on, slowpoke. I'll be waiting with banana peels and blue shells," you challenge, finishing the dessert triumphantly, savouring the last bite right in front of him. Silence falls as he starts typing on his phone, and your mind gets distracted by what he said earlier.

As Lando mentioned, the nights when he stood by you during stressful sales and business endeavours resurface in your mind. The unwavering support he offered, even when the clock struck midnight and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, painted a picture of love in the small actions.

And of course, there are the countless times when he'd spontaneously pop by with your favourite snacks or the coffee blend you adore, just because he remembered. Those little acts of consideration spoke volumes.

Lost in these memories, you realise that love comes in various forms. It's not always grand gestures or sweeping romantic moments. It's found in the everyday kindness, the shared laughter, and the unwavering support that defines your friendship with Lando.

A thought strikes you down.

Do you love Lando?

Lando glances up from his phone, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He meets your gaze, and there's a silent understanding between you. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of shared laughter, failed pancake attempts, and genuine care, you realise that love, in its purest form, is already present in the beautiful tapestry of your friendship with Lando.

An even more terrifying thought hits you as he looks at you with that soft smile and those shiny eyes. 

Does Lando love you?

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, I had a lot of fun writing this small piece, it was just pure fluff and enjoyment

[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - three.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 4,057

synopsis: you get wasted in a pub and Ghost has to take care of you.

warnings: mentions of drinking, occasional swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, Ghost being a softie

notes: I had a lot of fun writing this. Here are the main videos that inspired some scenes (potential spoiler alert): one, two

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

three.

The traditional post-mission gathering at the pub was in full swing in the late hours of the night, despite it being a Tuesday evening. The atmosphere was almost cosy and relaxed if you were to overlook the three people on the karaoke stage and the way their out-of-sync voices resounded throughout the room.

Seated at one of the tables with a glass of sparkling water, Captain Price exchanged a distressed look with Ghost, who was nursing a shot of Kentucky Bourbon. It was the captain's turn to drive so alcoholic drinks were out of the equation for him.

So he had to spend the entire night watching you, Gaz and Soap getting wasted and trying every form of entertainment the pub offered. You'd started slow with a game of darts, the loser having to drink a shot of whatever the winner decided. As the night progressed you went on to the pool table, had a break to tell stories and debate the key moments of the mission and eventually ended up at the karaoke bar, drunkenly singing to whatever songs were popular at the moment.

You were currently wedged between Gaz and Soap, leaning against each other for support, swaying and gesturing with exaggerated expressions when a new song would come on. You had lost track of the quantity of alcohol you consumed a while ago, yet everything seemed brighter and more colourful than before, so you didn't mind. You didn't know most of the songs that were playing at the karaoke bar, but that did not stop you from singing along, even if your voice was slightly out of tune. What you knew is that you were happy, perhaps happier than ever and, out of a sudden, you felt the need to express that in the loudest way possible, by taking Soap’s phone from his hands and picking the next song.

Surprised by your sudden move, Soap chuckled and gestured to the bartender to prepare three more drinks, even though he had his arm sloppily thrown around your shoulder, and was fighting a tough battle with gravitation. On your right side, Gaz was sloppily reaching towards the microphones, almost tripping over an imaginary wire. You caught him in the last second, grabbing a seat and forcing him to stay put as the first notes of the song echoed through the pub. A surge of drunken determination rushed through your veins as you took one of the microphones and turned towards the table Ghost and Price were seated at, wobbling slightly in the process.

“Captain, Lieutenant - I just… I just wanted to say this is for you. To Price - always being the helicopter, yet cool dad of the group!”. The drunken cheers of Soap’s and Gaz’s quickly accompanied your words, none of them realising how quiet the room had got. Everyone else left in the pub at that hour seemed to put whatever they were doing on hold and watch the inebriated toast with interest.

“And to Ghost!”, you went on unaware of the mood shift, your voice gaining momentum with each word, “who is always taking care of us during missions and let me fall asleep on him once! Cheers!”

Shaking his head in an attempt to hide the grin dancing on his lips, Price raised his glass and beckoned Ghost to do so too. At that moment, Simon was glad he was wearing the balaclava - he could feel an uncharacteristic blush spread across his face, not to mention that he could not control the visible twitching of his lips. The public seemed to be satisfied with the makeshift speech as a round of applause rippled through the crowd, but stopped as suddenly as it began. A familiar tune began to play in the background, and Simon almost pinched his forehead in frustration and disbelief when he saw the drunken determination and the over-confident grin plastered on your face: he had seen that expression before, it meant you were up to no good. His fears were instantly confirmed when the opening chords of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” filled the space, being quickly accompanied by the shouts and whistles coming from the crowd.

You, Gaz and Soap began swaying to the rhythm of the music, humming along to the first part of the song. Ghost was actually impressed that you made it sound nice, keeping your voices low and soft and singing in sync for once. He turned his head to Price, not surprised to see the older man had reached for his phone and was filming the trio like a proud father on recital day.

That is until the part of the choreo came. And literal chaos ensued, as the three of you began screaming because that was definitely not singing, the high notes, even stopping to gasp for air every once in a while.

"I hope life treats you kind And I hope you have all you've dreamed of And I wish you joy and happiness But above all this, I'm wishing you love!"

He did not know when he made eye contact with you, but Simon found himself trapped inside your E/C eyes. The bourbon tasted sweet on his lips, but it did not compare to the joyful and carefree expression you wore on your face as you tried to keep up with the lyrics of the song, occasionally stumbling across Johnny and Kyle who were just as inebriated and dedicated to the artistic moment as you were. The familiar feeling of warmth and comfort was once again blooming in his chest, and for the first time, he decided to let it grow and see where it would take him.

---

You hadn't meant to lock eyes with Simon, definitely not when you were singing a romantic song you handpicked for the occasion. Yet your judgement was clouded by all the alcohol you'd consumed up to that point and now you couldn't tear your eyes away from his chocolate ones. And from his soft blonde eyelashes that made your heart flutter every time you saw them- making you even stutter on the lyrics of the song that you kept close to your heart. At one point you weren't even aware of the words leaving your mouth, just going along with Gaz and Soap, the two literally putting their hearts into the song.

That was until the second part of the choreo came. And you were so into it that you all fell down on your knees, pathetically crying and shrieking the high-pitched notes that Whitney Houston handled with ease.

Simon did not even know why the three of you bothered to come to training and shooting practices. In moments like that, your voices were lethal weapons alone.

And when the song came to an end, the crowd politely applauded you, secretly glad that it was over. Price was careful to save the video twice so as not to lose it, the proud and amused expression on his face not faltering once:

"I think it's high time we took them home, don't you think?", he asked Simon in an unusual cheery mode, downing his glass of sparkling water.

Ghost could only nod as his eyes were trained on your swaying figure. You were leaning against Gaz, a drunken smile on your face as you downed the drink the bartender slid to you with a wink. For a moment, Simon was too caught up in studying the way your eyes crinkled at the corners to notice them widen in an instant as you brought up a hand to your mouth. His jaw tightened when he realised you were stumbling towards the bathroom, probably sick from one too many a drink, and subtly gestured to Price that he'd get you and meet him at the car, before heading towards the bathroom himself.

However, he slowed down in his steps when he realised he wasn't the only one headed in that direction; the bartender had already beaten him to it. Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, his fists involuntarily clenching as he noticed the man standing near the entrance to the ladies' room, wearing an almost expectant expression, his gaze directed towards the toilets. The sound of you throwing up was the only thing that could be heard against the muffled background sound of the pub, followed eventually by the rush of flushing water.

Washing your hands and face, you took a look at your pale face in the mirror, closing your eyes in defeat. It was definitely time to call it a night and find a ride home or crash on someone's couch, and you accepted the thought as you made your way out of the restroom. Yet you didn't manage to go far as a man you vaguely recognized as the bartender stopped in front of you, hands crossed over his chest in what was supposed to be a masculine stance. You internally scoffed at his posture; you have seen it all during the years you've spent in the military.

"Hey!", he eventually said, a light smile on his face. "Hello! Do you mind, I would like to go back to my friends?", you briefly asked, already trying to sneak past him.

But the man was insistent and stepped in the same direction, making you stop once more.

"Look, I just wanted to say I really enjoyed the show you put on tonight!". You raised a single eyebrow, a poker look on your face. "You and your friends, I mean!", he quickly added, blushing slightly. "And I was just wondering if you would like to stay for a drink after my shift is over and, you know, perhaps go to my place afterwards and…" Rolling your eyes in frustration, you let out an impatient sigh and tried to go past him again, only to be stopped by a firm grip on your arm.

"Look, you should really think about it-" "I wouldn't do that if I were you. She may be drunk, but she can still kick your ass in at least six different ways."

Drunk as you were, you couldn't hide the grin that spread quickly across your face as you took in the imposing figure of the Lieutenant, his skull balaclava lending him a threatening air in the dim light of the hallway. The bartender swiftly let you go, his eyes darting between you two as you staggered towards Ghost, too busy to fully take him in to take note of the hand that was softly placed on the small of your back.

"Oh, mate, I think this is a misunderstanding! I was just… but who the hell are you actually? Do you know him, darling?"

You grimaced at the unjustified use of the endearment, a plain expression of distaste replacing the previous smile. You swayed slightly, having to lean against Ghost as you mumbled something unintelligible about the toast. An unexpected wave of fatigue hit you out of nowhere, making you nestle your head against his chest, your arms weakly wrapping around his shoulders.

"I'm tired, I wanna go home, Ghost!", you murmured gently into his shirt, the vibrations of your voice sending a quiver down his spine. Yet if Ghost was affected by the unexpected display of clinginess, he did not let it show. Instead, he made a quick job of scooping you into his arms, your head nestling in the crook of his neck. Letting out a satisfied sigh, you closed your eyes and unconsciously nuzzled your cheek against the soft material of the balaclava, breathing in the scent of his cologne, your hands still clinging onto his shoulders in a koala-like grip.

For a fleeting moment, he became utterly oblivious to his surroundings, his mind consumed by the moment, struggling to make sense of the situation in which both of you had found yourselves. He didn't exactly freeze, but his brain didn't work properly either as the feeling of your breaths against his balaclava sent an electrifying jolt through him. You may have just washed your face and the perfume you wore must have faded during the night, but the subtle smell of your shampoo lingered, sweet enough to leave an impression that he knew would stay with him for the days to come. When he eventually realised you weren't alone, that the bartender was still loitering by the restroom's entrance, Ghost shrugged, remembering your previous words:

"You should have listened to the toast, mate!"

---

Carrying you to Price's pickup trunk proved to be no easy feat for Simon; he was too distracted by the hold you had on him, both literally and figuratively. It was as if his mind had turned to jelly and he could not distinguish dream from reality. And at that moment, he experienced the sensation of living within a pleasant dream, you being in his arms just as he often yearned for when trying to fall asleep in the solitude of his room.

If Price was surprised by the state you found yourself in, he showed no signs. He had just managed to secure Soap in the passenger seat, while Gaz was passed out in the back, head leaning against the window, an empty look on his face.

"I'm sorry Simon but you'll have to sit in the middle tonight", the captain chuckled under his breath as he was watching Ghost put two and two together while you were still clinging to him as if your life depended on it.

He would not be able to get in the car while also preserving the position you found yourself in, yet he did not want to give it up. For a passing instant, he actually thought of walking to your place- a weak attempt at trying to make the moment last longer. But he could feel Price's badly concealed smirk like the heat of the sun in July and he had to fight, actually fight the groan that threatened to leave him as he nudged you with his shoulder.

"Wake up, Bambi! We've got to get you home, come on!" His words reached your ears as a distant sound and instead, you chose to relish in the vibrations that resonated against your skin, letting out a small hum of approval.

"Ok means okay, come on!" "Mhm, sure…" "Y/N…" "Simon…"

Clinging on him like a koala had no visible effect on him, but you saying his name, his real name, made Ghost freeze and set his dark eyes on you. He could not control the cocktail of feelings swimming in his orbs, ranging from surprise to pure adoration, and the thought of hiding them did not even cross his mind at that moment.

Until you were both showered in a sudden burst of light, quickly followed by a camera shutter. Behind the Polaroid camera, Price did not even bother to hide his satisfied expression as he watched the picture develop with a soft whirring sound.

You, on the other hand, instantly jumped from Ghost's arms, the flash of the camera making you look like a deer caught in the headlights. You were still inebriated, as the world was spinning much more than it should have, but the drowsiness from earlier had evaporated in an instant. Shaking his head in disbelief and muttering something along the lines of "fucking hell", Ghost did not even bother to answer Soap's cheers. He just squeezed into the backseat of Price's car, seating himself next to Gaz and trying his best to ensure you would not hit your head and get in safely. And the giddy smile he got as a response was worth it.

Price was the last to get in the car. As he positioned himself behind the wheel, Ghost couldn't help but wonder where he'd hidden the Polaroid camera and the picture. Knowing the older man, he could only hope the instant shot would not be displayed in the lounging room, alongside other just as embarrassing moments.

Not that he had something against you or the picture.

He just thought that the moment was rather special, even intimate to him and that it should not be shared with all other SAS operators who spent their time in the lounging room when on base.

"You three did quite a show out there!", Price half-turned towards Soap and the backseat riders, a comic expression on his face.

"Thanks, dad!", you replied in an awfully cheery tone, swaying slightly from one side to another. You kept humming to yourself, not taking note of the awkward silence that had settled in the car.

"Bambi, did you just call Price 'dad'?", Soap asked from the front seat, his shit-eating grin being reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Do you see me as a father figure, Y/N?", Price quipped in, smiling softly at your confused expression. Simon did not even dare to glance in your direction - he knew the doe eyes were making a comeback and he was definitely not inebriated enough to handle them.

"I certainly do!"

Gaz's voice was muffled as his cheek was currently squished against the window. But the message got across and you reached across Ghost to pat his shoulder, aggressively nodding in compliance.

"And this is why", you began by raising a finger in the air as if to strengthen your point, "you are my brother, Gaz!".

Your drunken determination was almost comical to watch, but it topped when you squealed in excitement:

"Let me give you a kiss!"

"No, you won't! I'm definitely not getting caught up in the middle of this!"

Ghost's answer, more of a growl actually, was instantly followed by Soap's booming laughter as the Scot was trying to turn and face the backseat, extending a grabby hand towards you:

"I'm happily accepting your kisses if you'll let me, bonnie!", he slurred half of the sentence, his head comfortably propped on the headrest as he puckered his lips in your direction.

"No one's getting any kisses!"

----

"Come on, careful, there's a step there!" "I wanna go home…" "We are almost there, Bambi. Now, do you have your key?" "Yeah, it should be in my pocket. Let me… let me look for it…"

Murmuring to yourself, you fished the keychain and held it before your eyes, a small chuckle escaping your lips as the keys kept jingling. The tiredness from the pub was making a comeback and Ghost had to carry you inside after he managed to open the door while also balancing your swaying silhouette.

"Oh, this couch looks good!", you muttered to yourself, letting yourself fall on it.

But instead of touching the plush pillows, you felt two strong arms sneaking around your waist and keeping you partially suspended in the air. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you were aware of it, you were headed in the direction of your bedroom, a warm hand placed on the small of your back.

"You should change into something more comfortable…", Ghost muttered, frowning when you started shaking your head and slurring: "I'll do it in the morning."

He already felt like he was prying, being inside your home, in the privacy of your bedroom, so he did not push the topic and instead, knelt down and removed your sneakers.

"You should at least clean your face." He pressed on the issue, all too aware of your fixation with skincare and how you would complain to anyone on the base about the latest breakout on your face. "Mhm.." "Mhm means yes, Bambi!", he groaned in frustration as he bent down to scoop you in his arms again and carried you to the bathroom, where he laid you on the fitted furniture so that your faces were at the same level.

Ghost was no stranger to makeup removal techniques - he had his fair share of experiences he had gone through when learning what worked best for the black paint he used to smudge the area around his eyes. But he began to grow tired as well, and being in your house took him way out of his comfort zone, so he resumed reaching for a pack of makeup wipes, instead of looking for a cleansing balm or micellar water. His touch was gentle against your face, his fingers applying the suitable amount of pressure needed to get rid of any traces of eyeshadow and whatnot. There was a faint tremor in his hand when he reached your lips, but the remnants of lipstick had to be removed too.

He was not prepared for the sudden shiver that raced down his spine the moment his fingertips brushed against your lips. His breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat as he continued to delicately trace the outline of your lips, the warm and comforting sensation he'd felt before, making a return. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked at the moment, Ghost's eyes fervently searching for yours, as he rested a gloved hand against your face.

Letting out a soft sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

"Don't fall asleep on me…", Ghost hummed under his breath, involuntarily rubbing his thumb against your cheek. His gentle touch was a far cry from the deadly one that had become second nature on the battlefield.

"I trust you'll catch me", you whispered back, a delicate smile on your face.

And he did. With a tender grin under his balaclava, Ghost lifted you into his arms once more, cradling you like the treasure you were. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you back to your bedroom, each step filled with a quiet intimacy, completely new to him.

He entered the dark room, gently lying you down on the soft sheets, almost amazed at how quickly you passed out, again. Yes, you may have been wasted, completely inebriated, but you also trusted him to let him take care of you in your state.

Even if the action was foreign to him, Ghost tucked you in as best as he could, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His internal conflict was a raging storm, but he eventually let the few shots of bourbon get to his head. With shaky gestures, he peeled the mask up to his nose and brought his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss. His warm breath lingered over your face for a couple of seconds before he quietly exited the room, leaving you in a peaceful slumber.

---

Bonus scene

Sitting by himself at the small table in the kitchen, Simon lifted the balaclava up to his nose and breathed in the scent of Earl Grey, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. He could see the tendrils of steam rolling out of the freshly brewed mug, the late autumn morning sun filtering through the blinds and bathing the room in warmth and light.

After every single evening spent celebrating in the pub, you, Gaz and Soap had to take the day off and volunteer yourselves for the night watch. Ghost had grown so accustomed to the usual agitation, whether it was Gaz jogging in the kitchen for a snack, Soap casually napping in the lounging room, or you, asking everyone where they had hidden the cookies, and he was finding it weird to spend the day in relative silence and peace.

And he was so lost in his thoughts, replaying the events of the previous night in his head, that he failed to notice the private who was lingering in the doorway and looking at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. It wasn't until he reached for the milk, that he took note of his presence and gave him a questioning look. "Captain Price asked me to deliver this personally to you, sir!" The private placed a white envelope on the table, saluted and quickly left the room. Simon had no time to analyze the interaction as his eyes settled on the letter.

Only it was not a letter, but a photograph. And after double checking, he was alone in the room, Simon actually let out a small chuckle as he held the polaroid in the sunlight, his eyes softening at the sight of you cradled in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest.

taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar

[cass1dyyy]

bloody and bruised

contains: angst (not between the reader and mattheo), mostly fluff

summary: your boyfriend mattheo ends up in a fight, and you help him clean up afterwards.

warnings: injury, injury detail, swearing, reader playfully hits mattheo, mentions of blood, a nose breaking, fighting, beating up mattheo

you rush around the corner, and you scan the scene infront of you. mattheo is on the floor, on top of a hufflepuff boy who’s face is bruised badly. a crowd gathers round the violent scene, blocking your view.

suddenly, you hear a sickening crunch. the students crowded around gasp, backing away and exclaiming in disgust. some even shudder. you gasp, running forward and see the hufflepuff huddling back against the wall, his nose clearly broken and blood pouring from it, trickling down his face and off his chin, onto the marble floor.

just as you’re about go grab mattheo’s arm and pull him away, you’re launched back with the crowd, and flung onto your ass on the cold, hard floor. a large, transparent, blue circle enveloped your boyfriend and the unlucky hufflepuff’s three other friends.

the injured boy had been hustled off to madam pomfrey, leaving mattheo in the hands of these furious-looking guys. mattheo’s grave expression didnt falter though, as one threw a punch to his stomach, as he doubled over, clutching the place he’d been hit, as you watched helplessly.

then, a few punches to his face, mostly the nose, and some more to his stomach and eye. you scream out for the guys to stop, but they just smirk at you, and deliver the punches harder, as mattheo winces and groans in pain.

you start racking your brains for a complicated spell, which would break the force-field. you knew it, but couldnt think of it off of the top of your head. you were smart, but panic was set like cement in you, and your mind went blank. two boys appeared next to you, draco malfoy and theodore nott, mattheo’s closest friends. their expressions turned cold and angry.

suddenly, the spell clicked in your brain like assembling a puzzle. you figured it was because of the distraction where you noticed draco and theo, but there wasn’t time to focus on that now. you thanked them in your head and raised your wand, screaming the incantation.

A/N: i wanted to put a proper spell here, and i researched, and thought i found one but turns out it wasnt quite the right one so just imagine the spell or make one of your own!

the force field shattered, large shards of the forcefield floating down and fading once they hit the floor. theo and draco immediately pull out their wands, shouting

“petrificus totalus!”

the hufflepuffs froze like statues, as mattheo slumped against the wall, his face bloody and bruised. you rush over to him, helping him up and dragging him to the nearest empty classroom, which wasnt too far. you sit him on the teacher’s desk, while he pants and groans heavily.

“i’ll be right back, okay? stay here.” you say, rushing out of the door and into the caretaker’ filch’s cleaning closet. there were multiple of these around the school, due to the vast size of hogwarts.

you stepped in, quickly shutting the door behind you and rummaging through the shelves in the small space. the top shelf usually has the medkits and bandages and stuff, and sure enough, you found multiple medkits, bandages, plasters, anything you could ever need!

you grab plasters, disinfectant, wound spray, rubbing alcohol, and a medkit. you probably didnt need all of it, but it was just incase. you hurried out of the supply closet, paranoid that filch would turn up out of the blue, like he usually does.

you walk back to the classroom. mattheo was still in the same spot, beads of sweat dripping off his forehead. his nose was blue and bruised, blood trailing down from his nostrils.

you sigh, sitting down next to him, as you wipe the blood off of his nose and chin. then you rub disinfectant to the nose wounds.

then, you wipe away the dried blood from around his right eye, and also disinfect that.

“unbutton your shirt.” you say.

he smirks, looking at you and wiggling his eyebrows.

“not in that way you perv!” you exclaim, hitting him on his arm and giggling.

he chuckles, unbuttoning his white school shirt, as you examine the brown and blue bruises on his stomach. you frown, kissing mattheo on the cheek comfortingly. you show him a soft, but sad smile.

“there’s no blood or anything i need to tend to, but you’re definitely going to need ice.” you state, looking at him.

“okay.”

“why’d you even beat him up anyway? this could’ve been avoided.” you sigh.

“he was chatting shit about you, and my family. he’s the biggest dick known to mankind.” he murmurs, his tone laced with anger.

you place a hand on his arm, rubbing up and down soothingly.

“thanks for breaking his nose.” you say, breaking into a grin as he chuckles.

he kisses you, for longer this time, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. you break apart and he hugs you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, as he exhales.

“cmon, let’s go get ice from madam pomfrey.” you say, kissing his forehead and grasping his hand.

A/N: yes i know that the hufflepuff would be with madam pomfrey and definitely snitched on mattheo, but i feel like mattheo doesnt care and also doesn’t care about getting in trouble.. im trying to be more active and frequently posting 😊

next im going to post my masterlist and introduction x

[wonyowonyo]

Crossfire (M. Sakura X M!Reader)

A/n: heyaaa wonyo_wonyo here!!! I've missed u guys :3 anyways I got sum vacant days, free from the shackles of life so I decides to write wohoo. I'm posting this on my phone so I apologize in advance if the post is kinda scuffed. This one's a 4k word oneshot, hope yall enjoy and I'll catch yall in the next one. wonyo out!

In the bustling world of eSports, few could rival the fame of Pro-Gamer Miyawaki Sakura from Le Sserafim. Known for her sharp reflexes and strategic mind, she dominated the Valorant scene with her team. But recently, her attention had shifted to a new prodigy: a rookie male player who had taken the community by storm.

The Valorant community buzzed with excitement as Y/N, the rookie sensation, was making headlines. His gameplay was reminiscent of Tenz, combining precision with an uncanny ability to predict opponents' moves. Sakura, while preparing for her own matches, found herself drawn to his streams, captivated by his skill and charisma.

In her downtime, she would secretly watch his highlight reels, her heart racing at each clutch play. Little did anyone know, she had become one of his biggest fans.

The grand tournament was set, featuring some of the best teams in the world. Y/N’s team, Cloud9, was pitted against the reigning champions, Gen.G, in the semi-finals. The arena was electric, with fans eagerly anticipating the showdown.

As the match began, Y/N showcased his prowess with Jett, dashing through the map with surgical precision. The rounds were intense, each team trading blows, but Y/N consistently outperformed, making impossible shots and leading his team to victory.

Sakura, watching from the audience, couldn't help but cheer. Her heart fluttered with each of his plays. She was falling for him, and it was exhilarating.

The finals were set: Cloud9 versus Le Sserafim. The tension was palpable. As the teams gathered backstage, Sakura and Y/N finally met. He was charming, his confidence evident but not overbearing.

"Looking forward to our match," he said with a grin.

Sakura, momentarily flustered, replied, "I hope you're ready for a challenge."

Their banter was light-hearted, but both knew the stakes were high.

The match was legendary. Each map was a nail-biter, with both teams pushing their limits. The first match was set on Haven. As the timer counted down, Sakura’s fingers danced over her keyboard. She played Sage, anchoring the team with her healing and strategic walls.

The rookie’s team pushed aggressively. His precision with the Operator was deadly, picking off Le Sserafim members one by one. Sakura’s heart skipped a beat whenever she saw him on her screen, but she quickly refocused. She needed to keep her team in the game.

In a crucial round, Sakura found herself in a 1v3 situation. The crowd’s roar faded as she breathed deeply and clutched the round, using Sage’s abilities to perfection. The scoreboard evened out, and excitement crackled in the air. But Y/N retaliated on Ascent, his Jett plays leaving the crowd in awe.

The final map, Bind, was neck-and-neck. With the score tied, the last round would decide the victor. Y/N found himself in a 1v3 situation. The crowd held their breath as he deftly maneuvered, taking down two opponents. It was just him and Sakura now in a one-on-one duel. Sakura could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, the weight of her crush mingling with the pressure to win.

With nerves of steel, Sakura planted the spike. Y/N approached, anticipating her every move. The final showdown was a dance of skill and strategy, Sakura’s heart raced as she anticipated his moves, using her Viper abilities to outmaneuver him. The arena held its breath as she landed the final shot, securing victory for Le Sserafim.

"Congratulations,You were incredible out there." Y/N said, offering a handshake.

Sakura blushed and  took his hand warmly, her admiration for him evident. "I’ve been... a fan for a while," she admitted shyly.

Y/N grinned, "I’m honored, especially coming from someone like you."

As they shared a laugh, it was clear this was just the beginning of a new friendship—and perhaps something more.

————————————————————

In the days following the thrilling tournament, Sakura found herself constantly on the lookout for a glimpse of the rookie sensation, Y/N. Their moment of connection after the finals had left her with a fluttering heart and a newfound desire to get to know him better.

One afternoon, as Sakura was leaving the esports arena after a team practice, she turned a corner and nearly collided with a familiar face. There he was, Y/N, standing just a few feet away. Their eyes locked, and Sakura felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Sakura! I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," Y/N said, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

"No, no, it's my fault," Sakura replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I wasn't expecting to see you here."

An awkward silence fell between them, and Sakura found herself searching for something to say, desperate to prolong their chance encounter.

"I was just, uh, heading out to get a coffee. Would you... would you like to join me?" Y/N asked, his eyes filled with a hopeful expression.

Sakura felt a surge of excitement at the invitation, her heart racing. "I'd love to," she responded, a shy smile spreading across her face.

As they walked side by side, the familiar scents of the arena fading in the distance, Sakura couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation. This unexpected meeting had the potential to be the start of something truly extraordinary.

The cozy café was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation as Sakura and Y/N settled into a quiet corner. The atmosphere was casual and relaxed, yet Sakura couldn't help but feel a subtle tension between them, a palpable energy that crackled in the air.

"So, how have you been?" Y/N asked, his voice gentle and warm.

"I've been good, just... you know, practicing and preparing for the next tournament," Sakura replied, her fingers nervously wrapped around her mug.

An awkward silence fell between them, and Sakura found herself desperately searching for something to say, a way to break through the barriers and truly connect with Y/N.

Summoning her courage, she looked up and met his gaze. "I... I've been thinking about our match a lot, you know. The way you played, it was... it was amazing."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Really? I... I'm glad you enjoyed it. I have to admit, I've been thinking about it a lot too."

Their eyes locked, and the world around them seemed to fade away. Sakura could feel the energy shifting between them, the subtle flicker of something more than just a friendly connection.

"I... I'd love to play with you again sometime, if you're up for it," Sakura said, her voice soft and hopeful.

Y/N nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Absolutely. I'd be more than happy to."

As they made plans to meet up for a gaming session, Sakura couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. This casual meetup had opened the door to something deeper, and she was eager to see where this journey would lead them.

The familiar hum of gaming rigs and the click of keyboards filled the air as Sakura and Y/N immersed themselves in a friendly match. The tension between them had dissipated, replaced by a sense of comfortable camaraderie as they strategized and executed their plays.

Sakura found herself captivated by Y/N's skill and focus, the way his brow furrowed in concentration and the way his lips parted slightly as he issued commands. She couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way he commanded the virtual battlefield.

As the match progressed, their communication and teamwork became increasingly seamless, each of them anticipating the other's moves and working in perfect harmony. Sakura felt a surge of pride and exhilaration, not just from the thrill of the game, but from the growing connection she felt with Y/N.

When the final round came to an end, the two pro-gamers sat back, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange. Sakura could feel the tension building, the unspoken feelings that lingered between them.

"That was... really amazing," Y/N said, his voice soft and sincere. "You're an incredible player, Sakura."

"Thank you," Sakura replied, her heart racing. "You were incredible as well. I... I really enjoyed playing with you."

The air between them was thick with a palpable energy, and Sakura knew that the moment was ripe with the promise of something more. She felt a surge of courage, a desire to take a leap and explore the depths of this connection.

"Hey, would you... would you maybe want to grab a coffee sometime?" Sakura asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'd love to... to get to know you better."

Y/N's eyes widened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I'd love that, Sakura. I really would."

The days that followed were filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement for Sakura. Her casual coffee date with Y/N had opened the door to a budding friendship, one that she found herself eagerly nurturing. They would meet up regularly, sometimes to game together, other times to simply chat and get to know each other better.

In those quiet moments, Sakura reveled in the easy banter and the genuine connection that was blossoming between them. There was a palpable chemistry that crackled in the air, a spark that both of them seemed hesitant to acknowledge, at least for the time being.

As the next major Valorant tournament loomed on the horizon, Sakura found herself torn between her professional obligations and the growing desire to explore this newfound relationship. She knew that the competition would be fierce, and she couldn't afford any distractions. Yet, the prospect of being apart from Y/N for an extended period left her with a sense of unease.

————————————————————

The hype and anticipation surrounding the upcoming Valorant tournament reached a fever pitch, with players and fans alike eagerly awaiting the clash of the titans. Sakura and her team, Le Sserafim, were considered the clear favorites, their dominant performances in previous events cementing their status as the team to beat.

But as Sakura prepared for the tournament, her focus began to waver. Memories of her time with Y/N would creep into her thoughts, distracting her from the intense training regimen she had so meticulously followed. The more she tried to push these feelings aside, the more they seemed to consume her.

One evening, after a grueling practice session, Sakura found herself alone in the team's gaming lounge, her fingers gently tracing the edges of her mouse. She couldn't shake the sense of longing that had taken root in her heart, the desire to be with Y/N and explore the depths of their connection.

It was in that moment of vulnerability that she made a fateful decision – a decision that would have far-reaching consequences, both for her professional career and her personal life.

————————————————————

The flashing lights and thunderous cheers of the Valorant tournament filled the arena as Sakura and Y/N took their positions on the stage. The energy was palpable, the air thick with anticipation as the two pro-gamers faced off in a highly anticipated match.

Sakura gripped her mouse, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she scanned the virtual battlefield. Y/N mirrored her expression, his brow furrowed as he plotted his team's strategy. The opening rounds were a tense back-and-forth, with both players showcasing their impressive skills and split-second decision-making.

As the match progressed, the crowd erupted in applause and shouts of exhilaration. Sakura and Y/N were in perfect sync. The tension was palpable, neither side willing to back down.

In the final moments, the score was tied, and the outcome hung in the balance. Sakura felt her heart pounding in her chest as she maneuvered her agent, her mind racing with calculations and contingencies. Across the stage, Y/N was equally focused, his eyes locked on the screen as he made a crucial play.

The final round was a nail-biter, both players pushing the limits of their skill and strategy. Sakura held her breath, her entire being consumed by the intensity of the match. And then, in a flurry of action, Y/N emerged victorious, his team erupting in celebration.

Sakura felt a mix of emotions – pride, admiration, and a twinge of disappointment. As she shook Y/N's hand, their eyes met, and she saw a glimmer of something more than just a professional rivalry. The spark that had ignited between them still burned brightly, undimmed by the heat of their virtual clash.

In that moment, Sakura knew that this was far from the end of their story. The Valorant stage had brought them together, but the true connection that lay between them was something that transcended the virtual realm.

The post-match interviews and press conferences had dragged on, and Sakura found herself eagerly anticipating the moment when she and Y/N could finally steal away from the public eye. As she made her way through the crowded backstage area, she spotted him, his gaze fixed on the ground, seemingly lost in thought.

Approaching him cautiously, Sakura placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to look up, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey, you," she said softly, offering him a warm smile.

Y/N returned the smile, though Sakura could detect a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "Hey, Sakura. That was... quite a match, huh?"

"It was," Sakura replied, her voice low and intimate. "You played incredibly well. I'm... I'm really impressed."

A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air. Sakura could feel the tension building, the desire to bridge the gap between them growing stronger with each passing second.

"Y/N, I..." she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I need to tell you something."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Sakura took a deep breath, summoning her courage.

"I... I've been thinking about you a lot. About us. And I... I can't stop thinking about the connection I feel between us. It's... it's more than just a professional rivalry, isn't it?"

Y/N remained silent, his expression unreadable. Sakura's heart raced, the uncertainty of his reaction threatening to consume her.

"I know this might be... complicated," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I... I need you to know how I feel. I don't want to keep this bottled up any longer."

The air was thick with tension as Sakura waited, her entire being focused on Y/N's response. The moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, until finally, he reached out and gently took her hand, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.

"Sakura..." he began, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I feel it too. I... I've been struggling with these feelings for a while now."

Sakura's breath caught in her throat, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. The vulnerability in Y/N's eyes was a mirror to her own, and in that moment, she knew that the path forward, though uncertain, was one they would navigate together.

The air crackled with a potent mixture of vulnerability and anticipation as Sakura and Y/N stood there, their hands intertwined, the world around them fading into the background.

"I've been... so afraid to say anything," Sakura confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to jeopardize our careers, our friendship. But I can't keep denying what I feel for you."

Y/N gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes reflecting the same tumultuous emotions she was experiencing. "Sakura, I feel the same way. These past few months, getting to know you, being around you... it's been both exhilarating and terrifying."

Sakura felt a surge of relief wash over her, but the uncertainty that lingered was palpable. "What do we do now? This... this could complicate things, both on and off the field."

"I don't know," Y/N admitted, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "But I do know that I don't want to lose you, Sakura. Whatever happens, I want us to figure this out. Together."

Sakura's heart swelled with a mixture of joy and trepidation. She knew the challenges they would face, the scrutiny and the potential fallout, but in that moment, all that mattered was the connection they shared.

"Okay," she said, her voice steadier now. "Let's take this one step at a time. We'll figure it out, no matter what."

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm with you, Sakura. Through it all."

As they stood there, hand in hand, the weight of their decision hung heavy in the air. But there was also a glimmer of hope, a promise of a future that was theirs to shape, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.

————————————————————

The aftermath of the Valorant tournament was a whirlwind of activity, with both teams and players facing intense scrutiny and media attention. Sakura and Y/N had made the conscious decision to keep their newfound relationship under wraps, at least for the time being.

However, their carefully guarded secret was not destined to remain hidden for long. During a post-match interview, a seemingly innocuous question about their "close friendship" triggered a line of questioning that quickly spiraled out of control.

Sakura felt her heart race as the interviewer probed deeper, hinting at the possibility of a romantic involvement between the two pro-gamers. She glanced at Y/N, who was visibly tense, his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

The tension in the room was palpable, and Sakura knew that they were rapidly running out of time to address the situation before it spun entirely out of their control. She took a deep breath, summoning her courage, and made the decision to speak up.

"Look, the truth is, Y/N and I... we have developed a deep connection. One that goes beyond just being teammates or competitors." Sakura paused, her gaze unwavering as she met the interviewer's eyes. "We've been trying to navigate this situation as best we can, but the reality is, we care about each other. Deeply."

The room erupted in a flurry of activity, with reporters shouting questions and cameras flashing. Sakura felt Y/N's hand brush against hers, offering a silent show of support amidst the chaos.

In that moment, they both knew that there was no going back. Their relationship was now public knowledge, and the consequences, both professional and personal, would be significant. But as they stood there, facing the storm together, Sakura couldn't help but feel a sense of resolve.

Whatever lay ahead, they would face it side by side, determined to forge their own path and to explore the depths of their connection, no matter the cost.

The fallout from the public reveal of Sakura and Y/N's relationship was swift and unforgiving. The esports community, known for its intense rivalries and cutthroat nature, erupted in a frenzy of speculation, criticism, and even outright hostility.

Both players found themselves at the center of a media storm, their every move scrutinized and dissected. Accusations of favoritism, bias, and potential conflicts of interest began to swirl, threatening to overshadow their impressive accomplishments on the Valorant stage.

Sakura and Y/N weathered the storm with remarkable resilience, though the emotional toll was undeniable. They faced intense pressure from their respective teams, as well as from sponsors and league officials, all of whom were concerned about the potential impact on their brands and reputations.

Yet, amidst the chaos, their bond only grew stronger. They leaned on each other, offering support, comfort, and a steadfast determination to weather the storm together. In the rare moments they could steal away from the public eye, they would simply hold each other, drawing strength from the connection that had blossomed between them.

"I never imagined it would be this difficult," Sakura confessed one night, her head resting on Y/N's shoulder. "But I don't regret it, Y/N. I don't regret choosing you."

Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her. "Neither do I, Sakura. We'll get through this. I promise."

As they sat there, the weight of the world seemingly on their shoulders, they knew that their love would be the anchor that kept them grounded, even in the face of the most turbulent storms.

————————————————————

Despite the intense scrutiny and controversy surrounding their relationship, Sakura and Y/N refused to let it dampen their competitive spirit. As the next major Valorant tournament approached, they were more determined than ever to prove their worth on the virtual battlefield.

In the weeks leading up to the event, they immersed themselves in a rigorous training regimen, pushing their skills to new heights. Sakura could feel the electricity coursing through her veins as she honed her strategies, her focus laser-sharp and unwavering.

Y/N, for his part, matched her intensity, his gameplay reaching new levels of precision and adaptability. The two of them were in perfect sync, their communication and teamwork seamless as they coordinated their team's movements.

As the tournament began, the scrutiny and pressure only seemed to fuel their determination. Sakura and Y/N were a force to be reckoned with, their performances captivating the audience and their opponents alike.

With each successive win, the noise and criticism that had once threatened to overwhelm them began to fade into the background. All that mattered was the thrill of the competition, the rush of adrenaline, and the unbreakable bond that united them.

And as the final match of the prestigious Valorant tournament commenced. Sakura and Y/N, once fierce rivals, now united by a love that transcended the virtual battlefield, found themselves pitted against each other once more – but this time, the stakes were higher than ever before.

The world watched with bated breath as the two pro-gamers led their respective teams through a grueling series of rounds, their skills and strategic prowess on full display. The intensity of the competition was palpable, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Yet, amidst the fierceness of the battle, Sakura and Y/N shared fleeting glances, a silent language that spoke volumes of the profound connection they shared. Their teamwork and synergy were unparalleled, each anticipating the other's moves, their decisions seamlessly in sync.

As the match reached its crescendo, the score remained tied, both teams refusing to back down. It was in this moment of pure, unadulterated tension that Sakura and Y/N found their moment to shine.

With a flawless execution of a daring maneuver, Y/N outmaneuvered Sakura's team, securing the final victory for his squad. The arena erupted in thunderous cheers, the fans captivated by the sheer brilliance of the play.

In the aftermath, Sakura and Y/N met in the center of the virtual battlefield, their eyes locking in a moment of profound understanding. Y/N reached out, gently taking Sakura's hand, and in that instant, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Sakura whispered, a soft smile gracing her lips. "You were amazing out there."

Y/N returned the smile, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. "I couldn't have done it without you, Sakura. This victory belongs to both of us."

In that moment, their bond transcended the confines of the tournament, their love shining through as a testament to the belief that true triumph could only be found in the strength of their shared journey. The world watched in awe, captivated by the raw, unadulterated emotion that radiated from the two pro-gamers.

As they stepped off the virtual stage, hand in hand, Sakura and Y/N knew that their story was just beginning. The future was theirs to shape, a canvas upon which they would continue to paint the masterpiece of their love – a love that would inspire generations to come, a love that knew no boundaries.

[cntloup]

UndergroundBoxer!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader angst, violence, arguments

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

moodboard | face

You walk through the threshold of the old, rusty building. Walking alone in a neighborhood like this at night was not a good idea and you know that he would scold you, but you would shut him up with a sweet kiss and his favorite drink. That would work, right?

As you walk along the hallway, the ruckus and uproar of the already-drunk people inside reach your ears and the smell of alcohol and sweat hit your nose.

There are all kinds of people here; people you should never encounter in your life as your loving boyfriend mentions to you every night, but you didn’t budge this time. You've asked him multiple times to take you to one of his fights. You've heard various stories about how the infamous Ghost has absolutely demolished his opponent once again, and you’re finally here to see it up close.

You make your way through the crowd, trying not to get hit in the face by the cheering mob who have their hands up into fists and not to slip on the liquid which you hope is beer and knock yourself out or get kicked and stepped on. You finally make it to the front row intact and let out a sigh of relief.  

As your boyfriend makes his way to the ring, you start whistling and cheering at the top of your lungs. He still hasn’t seen you. Then his competitor steps in and your jaw drops. He's fucking huge... maybe even more than Simon. No, definitely more.

As you watch them stand in front of each other and the referee in between them, the truth dawns on you. There are no rules in the underground world. He might get severely injured... or worse. ‘FUCK! No, he won’t. He'll get out of it unharmed.’ you think to yourself and gather your thoughts, taking deep breaths as you try to calm yourself.

You go through every emotion in existence as they fight, wince and gasp loudly every time Simon takes a punch. You try to reach for him and even get inside the ring when he takes a nasty hit to the head. That's when he notices your presence and calls out your name as the security prevents you from getting inside the ring. “Oi! Fuck off! Don’t fucking touch my girl!” he shouts at them and comes to your side and takes your hand in his “It’s ok, lovie. I’m fine.” “But- but-” you can’t get the words out through your sobs as you stare at him in shock. “I’m ok. I promise.” he wipes your tears and lets go of your hand after the referee blows in his whistle and the final round begins.  

Multiple punches are thrown to the faces and heads and various limbs by the fighters, angry roars and shocked gasps are heard from the crowd. The match finally ends and Simon is introduced as the champion. He quickly starts to exit the ring after they present him with the championship belt. You make your way straight to him and you both meet halfway.

You collapse into his arms and start sobbing, finally getting the emotions out after experiencing so much anxiety and nearly having a panic attack. “It’s ok, love. Let it all out.” he repeats the words as he gently rubs your back. He knows it must have been very difficult for you to watch him not only fight but get beaten several times, some of them pretty serious.

You pull away “Are you ok?” “Yes, love. I'm fine. I've taken worse punches before. It was nothing.” “FUCK! Simon, you got hit in the fucking head. Don't try to play it down. You should get it checked out by a doctor. And don’t fucking think me knowing you’ve taken worse hits, makes me feel better somehow.” you reply angrily, your gaze throwing daggers at him. “Love, again, I’m fine-” “You don’t know that.” you cut him off. He places a kiss on your forehead and responds “Of course I’ll get it checked out. We have a doctor here. I’m gonna go into the backroom to let him do the tests, then I’ll meet you here, ok?” “Ok.” you mutter and he leaves to meet the doctor.  

You wait for him as you think about what you just saw, let it sink in that it is his job. And it wil make you even more worried whenever he leaves for a match now that you have witnessed the extent of the violence yourself.

He finally comes out of the room, dressed in his black jeans and hoodie. “It all went well. I’m fine. Really. Just a few minor injuries.” “Minor you say-” “The doctor said that.” “Ok, then.” you let out a sigh of relief.

“Wait! You didn’t walk here, did you?” he asks as he wonders how you got here since he’s got the car. “...I kind of did.” “You kind o-” he starts to get upset. He pinches the bridge of his nose and brushes a hand across his face in frustration and anger. “You didn’t take an uber? You fucking walked here? How fucking stupid are you? Huh?!” he starts getting in your face and you back away, biting your lip in fear. “I thought I told you not to fucking come in here at all. Do you ever listen to me? Why did you have to come? To see me get beaten half to death? Are you fucking happy now?” “So is this about your ego? Me seeing you in a vulnerable state as you take hits after hits upsets you? Or are you really worried about me? After watching this goddamn match which will leave a scar on my mind for sure and after almost having an anxiety attack over you, this is how you treat me?” you start to bite back. “Don’t fucking twist my words like that. Of course I’m worried about you. No, I don’t give a fuck about my ego. It's not about that at all. And watching the match was your own choice. I've told you not to come a thousand times but you don’t fucking listen!” he bears his teeth at you as he punches the wall beside your head, making you flinch at his outburst and close your eyes out of fear.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

A/N: I may or may not post a part 2 for this :')

[beanarie]

inspired by this post by @monstream theorizing that tommy will pop back up in a couple months and reveal he dipped out like his ass was on fire because he got a cancer diagnosis. (be advised: this is not about real cancer. this is tv cancer.) 1300 words.

a chance encounter

Bobby still has a blood donation appointment at First Presbyterian every two months, which he attends religiously, barring exemptions like the six months he had to skip after the heart attack. Years ago, when it started, Chimney arranged a rotation for rides, and as their team went through staffing changes, it settled to a more informal thing, whichever of them would be available verbally stepping up each time. Athena would have been the logical choice with one of the 118 as backup, but this is theirs. Buck likes it because usually he and Bobby stop for a meal and catch up, just the two of them.

On their way to the elevators, they hear applause in the next wing over, and Bobby gives Buck a little smile before they join the gathering at the back of the small crowd. He loves a bell ceremony.

A teen girl in a green hoodie that reaches her knees is blushing and stumbling over her words, flustered by the attention. "Anyway," she says, "I'm not gonna be sick at prom and I'm so effing excited." She rings the bell and pumps a fist in the air before hugging one of the nurses.

"All right," says a blonde woman holding a clipboard. "We have three more patients who completed treatment! I know, right? It's been a good week."

Buck looks down at the coffee he grabbed from the on-site cafe while Bobby was getting drained, which tastes different somehow but he can't put his finger on it. Soy milk, maybe? A sharp nudge forces him to look up into Bobby's suddenly tense expression.

"Well. So... yeah. These last few months have sucked."

Buck swings his head around and Bobby grabs the coffee out of his hand. There, acknowledging a round of polite laughter, is Tommy, dressed in a henley and flannel shirt, all in shades of blue. Buck always liked him in blue. He looks slimmer, more like the version of himself from Chim and Hen's old team photos. He's wearing a Raiders hat.

"I knew, as a firefighter who flew helicopters, that I probably didn't have the highest life expectancy. But this diagnosis still threw me for a loop."

Buck should not be here. He should not be here. But he can't convince his feet to move.

"I did some dumb things, isolated myself, assumed the worst. It was the staff here who kept--gently--smacking me upside the head, reminding me that there was still hope." Tommy ducks his head and when he looks up eyes are bright. "Thank God for them."

Buck feels like he is stuck in a column of rapidly curing cement. It started down at his feet and now his lungs won't inflate.

"Buck," Bobby hisses, tugging at his sleeve.

"Bug your city council rep to increase compensation for healthcare workers because there's no way they get paid enough to deal with my bullshit." A cluster of small children at the front of the group starts howling at the swear, and he grins, unrepentant. Buck might be drowning. "Thank you, everyone. Fuck cancer." He rings the bell and steps back quickly for the next patient, accepting good-natured pummeling from several members of the staff as everyone applauds.

The smile that settled on Tommy's face vanishes as their eyes meet. The column of cement also vanishes. Breathing hard, his pulse hammering in his ears, Buck follows Bobby down the hall to the elevators.

"Buck?"

It still sounds so wrong coming from him. Buck flinches and looks at the slowly progressing display of which floor the elevator is on. Stairs it is. "I'll meet you down there," he says to Bobby, and doesn't wait for a response.

Buck plows through the door to the stairwell, moving as quickly as possible.

"Wait! Please? I can follow for a little bit, but fourteen flights of stairs is beyond me at the moment."

Buck slows his progress down, stopping at the next landing.

"What-" Tommy takes the stairs slowly, one by one. "What are you doing here? How did you find out?"

Buck glances up. "I didn't. We just happened to be in the neighborhood. This place is our home away from home, you know?"

"Oh," Tommy says, then has the nerve to look concerned. "Is everyone okay?"

"I'm not fucking okay. Did you know you were sick?"

"When?" he temporizes. "I mean, they did tell me at one point."

"You know when," Buck says, seething, his vision growing redder when Tommy doesn't answer. "I asked you to move in with me." I was all in. You didn't have to do this alone.

Tommy finishes the last few steps and joins him on the landing. "You asked your gym rat firefighter boyfriend to move in with you. Not an unemployed puke machine with a thirty-nine percent chance of kicking it in the next five years."

"Oh my God." Buck laughs, wanting to scream at the wall. "So I'm not a newborn bisexual who couldn't possibly know what I want, I'm just a piece of shit who would drop a partner for getting sick. Or maybe I'm both."

"No, I-"

"If you say 'it wasn't you, it was me' I'm gonna start taking these steps three at a time."

"It was-" Up close, Tommy looks tired. There are lines in his face that weren't there before. "Significantly more about me and my trust issues than it was about you. Is that different enough for you to stick around?"

"You gave me trust issues, Tommy. Not just in you, or other people I might date, but in myself."

Tommy's expression is gutted. "I'm sorry. I was trying to avoid more pain in the future, for both of us."

Sparing a thought for Bobby, who hopefully settled in the lobby to wait, Buck sits on the landing, wedging himself against the wall to take up less space. "I loved you."

"I believe you." Tommy sat down next to him, almost touching because of the width of the staircase. "I shouldn't have dismissed your feelings. You're a grown man and all I can say in my defense is that I become the fucking unabomber when I get scared. Ask Howie and Hen about my years as a closet case working under a captain who got a medal for outstanding work in homophobia."

It would be so easy to pull Tommy into his arms. Just reach out.

"Buck?"

Buck swipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Please don't call me that."

"I'm sorry. I honestly felt I gave up the right to set myself apart in that way." Tommy swallows. "Evan."

Buck blinks away a fresh round of tears. "Are you okay, really?"

Tommy gestures at himself. "As you can see, I'm not going out tomorrow and running a marathon, but next week I get to start training to go back to work." He shrugs a little, smiling. "So I'm pretty damn peachy."

"What about the thirty-nine percent?"

Tommy whistles while pointing down. "It's pretty much back to whatever my prognosis was for running into fires and flying around in a tin can."

"That's- That's great." Buck's phone rings.

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt anything," Bobby says. "I just didn't want to leave without saying something. I'll get an Uber, okay?"

"No. No, we're good. I'll see you in five." Buck meets Tommy's steady gaze. "Next week, huh? Do you wanna go for a run at that park near my place? I promise to take it easy on you. Or, not easy, whichever you need."

Tommy visibly stops himself from declining. "Okay. Text me." He rises from the steps and starts for the exit door as Buck begins his way down. "Evan?"

Buck turns. "Yeah?"

"I loved you, too."

Breathing out, Buck rolls his shoulders back. "I figured. See you next week."

[youaintnothinbuta]

Could you do an Elvis x reader where the reader likes another person that is sat at a table with them and she thinks she is playing footsie with said person but finds out it’s actually Elvis and they end up going out together instead of her and the other guy.

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that all night” — Elvis x reader

Summary: Out at dinner with some friends, Elvis manages to skew your attention away from the boy you were originally interested in, and he and you seperate from the group, going to catch a picture just the two of you :)

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: none, fluff!! There may be typos sorry in advance <3

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The small restaurant was alive with conversation, the clinking of silverware against plates, and the low hum of laughter that seemed to fill every corner of the room. You were seated at a round table, large enough to fit everyone comfortably but small enough to keep the group feeling close-knit. The soft glow from the overhead lights made everything feel warm and intimate, setting the mood nicely for a meal with friends.

You strategically sat yourself across from Danny, the boy you were a bit keen on. His sandy hair caught the light every time he turned his head. You’d noticed him before, casually, in the way that someone stands out in a crowd. You weren’t too familiar with him yet, nor many of the guys. As you sat across from him though, you couldn’t help but feel a subtle pull, your eyes finding his more than once as the night wore on. Your best girlfriend sat beside you, keeping you well entertained, but your focus kept drifting back to Danny, catching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

Seated directly beside Danny, was Elvis Presley—a name that was beginning to mean something to people outside of your little group. You’d heard him sing a few times, and he’d always been part of these gatherings, but you didn’t find him to be anything special. Or so you thought.

Finally, food was beginning to be brought out, and you felt a nudge against your foot under the table. It was subtle, barely there, but it caught your attention. You glanced up, and your eyes met Danny's for a brief moment. A small smile tugged at your lips as you assumed it was his way of testing the waters.

You responded in kind, nudging back, your foot brushing against his ankle. A little thrill ran through you—innocent, playful, nothing too serious, but enough to make your heart flutter a little.

Again, you pressed, seeing if he’d play back. You felt his hand catch your ankle, the warmth of it startling you for a split second before he began to draw soft, teasing traces over your skin. Your breath hitched, almost gasping at how intimate it felt. You quickly looked up at Danny, expecting to see a smirk, a hint of recognition in his eyes. But instead, you watched him bring both hands to the table, fiddling with one of the rings on his fingers. Confusion clouded your head. Danny's hands were both clearly visible as he listened to someone's story.

You felt your stomach do a small flip as your gaze slid sideways, to the person sitting right next to Danny.

Elvis.

He was lounging back in his chair, his eyes half-lidded as he listened to the conversation, his expression unreadable, with one hand resting on his lap. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. But then, as if sensing your gaze, he looked over at you, his eyes locking with yours.

Realisation hit you slowly. It wasn’t Danny at all. It was Elvis. And with that realisation came another—maybe, just maybe, you liked it better this way.

He watched you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that made your cheeks burn. There was something in his eyes, something that told you he knew exactly what was going on. He broke contact with your skin, bringing both of his hands back to visibility.

As you sat there, trying to compose yourself, one of your girlfriends turned and gave you a concerned look. She’d always been good at picking up on your moods, and tonight was no exception. With a gentle hand, she pressed the back of her fingers against your cheek, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked, her tone laced with worry. “You’re burning up.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden attention. “No, no, I’m fine,” you stammered, trying to wave off her concern. Elvis’ was watching you still, and he seemed rather amused at the way he was flustering you.

Your friend wasn’t convinced. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smile as she eyed you. “Come on,” she said, her voice taking on a more playful tone. “Let me fix ya up.”

Before you could protest, she took your hand and gently pulled you up from your chair.

Elvis was leaning back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with merriment. There was a smirk playing on his lips, a look that told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

She guided you down a narrow hallway, past the hum of the restaurant’s main room, until the two of you reached the small, dimly lit bathroom.

Once inside, she turned to you with a mischievous grin, shutting the door behind her. “Alright,” she said, her tone light and teasing. “Let’s see what’s going on with you. You’re all flushed.”

You tried to play it off, shrugging and giving her a sheepish smile. “I guess it’s just a bit warm in there,” you said, but you knew she wasn’t buying it. She always had a knack for seeing right through you.

“Mhm,” she hummed, reaching into her purse and pulling out a compact and a powder brush. “Or maybe it’s something else entirely?” she teased, giving you a knowing look as she dabbed the brush into the powder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, though the words felt weak even as you said them.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she gently powdered your face, freshening up your makeup.

“There,” she said finally, stepping back to admire her work. “Good as new.”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, noting how much calmer you looked, at least on the outside. Inside, though, you were still reeling slightly.

“Thanks,” you said, giving her a grateful smile.

“Anytime,” she said, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur, your focus shifting entirely. Every time you glanced up, you found Elvis’ eyes on you, a silent conversation passing between you that no one else was privy to. By the time desserts came around, you were no longer thinking about Danny at all.

Everyone began to finish up and gather their things, making plans for what to do next. The group was splitting up, some heading out to another spot, others calling it a night. You were about to say your goodbyes when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Need a ride home?” Elvis asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure. But then you nodded, your decision made. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

He nodded goodbye to the other boys, holding the door open for you. The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside. It cleared your head. You glanced up at Elvis, who was walking beside you with an easy confidence.

He walked you over to a pink Cadillac. The interior was white, the whole thing looked brand new. You couldn’t quite believe it was his. Perhaps this whole music gig was more serious than you originally thought. He opened the passenger door for you, before he climbed in beside you, his presence warming the space as he started the engine.

The drive was quiet at first, with only the hum of the car and the soft sounds of the city filling the background. You glanced over at him, trying to gauge his thoughts, but his expression was relaxed, almost unreadable. After a few minutes, you realized you weren’t quite ready for the night to end.

“Elvis?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He glanced over at you, his eyes warm and attentive. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, a little nervous to suggest anything else. “What time is it?”

Elvis flicked his wrist slightly, checking his watch. “Just past nine,” he replied.

“It’s still early,” you said, the words coming out before you could think better of them.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he nodded, understanding your hint. “You wanna do somethin’ else?” he asked, his tone playful.

You nodded shyly, “Yeah.”

He grinned, turning the car onto a new street. “How ’bout the drive-in? There’s probably another picture showing soon. We could catch that.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you spoke, “sounds perfect.”

The drive to the drive-in didn’t take long, just, just a few miles out of town. When you pulled up, the large screen was already glowing with the start of a movie, and rows of cars were parked in front of it, people getting cosy or sitting on the hoods of their cars to watch.

Elvis found a spot toward the back, away from the crowd, giving you both a little privacy. He turned off the engine, and you settled into your seat as the movie played on the screen in front of you. The cool breeze brushed over you, and you felt a comfortable closeness to him that hadn’t been there before.

You both watched the screen in silence for a while, the dialogue and music filling the air. But as the minutes passed, you felt his arm slide along the back of the seat behind your head, his fingers lightly brushing your shoulder. Your breath hitched, and when you glanced at him, he was already looking at you, his eyes soft and searching.

Without a word, you shifted closer to him, your body naturally leaning into his warmth. He welcomed you into his embrace, his arm wrapping around you more securely as you rested your head against his chest. It was an innocent enough move, but it sent your heart racing all the same.

The movie played on, but you were barely paying attention now. Instead, you focused on the steady beat of his heart under your ear, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. You felt safe, content, but there was also that undeniable spark of attraction.

At one point, he shifted slightly, his hand coming up to gently tilt your chin up so you could meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, but there was a softness there too, something tender that made your chest tighten.

“You comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as his thumb traced soft circles on your upper arm.

You smiled, nodding, too nervous to speak.

His lips quirked up into a small smile, and he nodded. “Good.”

There was something in his eyes, something unspoken that made your breath catch.

“Elvis…” you started.

Then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing lightly over yours in a tentative, testing kiss. It was soft, almost hesitant.

You responded without thinking, your hand coming up to rest on his chest as you kissed him back, a little more firmly this time. He made a soft sound of approval in the back of his throat, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek as he deepened the kiss, his thumb gently brushing against your skin.

It was slow, sweet, but there was a heat beneath it, a promise of something more. When you finally pulled back, you could see the desire in his eyes, you were sure he could see it in yours too.

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that all night,” he admitted, his voice hushed.

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. “So have I.”

The rest of the movie passed rather quickly, your focus entirely on him, the way his fingers intertwined with yours, the way he would occasionally press a soft kiss to your temple or the top of your head.

When the credits finally rolled, Elvis glanced over at you. “Guess I should get you home now, huh?”

You nodded, though part of you wished the night didn’t have to end. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He smiled, but there was a hint of reluctance in it. “Don’t worry, darlin’. This won’t be the last time.”

You nodded sheepishly. He gave you one last lingering look before turning the key in the ignition. The drive back to your place was quieter, both of you lost in your thoughts, but there was a new warmth between you now, a connection that hadn’t been there before.

When he pulled up to your house, he parked the car and turned to you, his eyes searching your face. “I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice sincere.

You smiled, feeling the same. “Me too, Elvis.”

He walked you to your front door. As you stood on the porch, you hesitated for a moment, not really wanting to go inside.

He leaned down, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Elvis,” you whispered back.

As you slipped inside your house, closing the door behind you, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, not for the rest of the night.

[dddalgiiiiiii]

white hoodie unnie

eunchae x femreader

cw/ none? fluff!!

standing in the crowd of xxxx university, your voice is screaming out for le serrafim, since theyre performing!

as the evening goes on, you can’t help but notice how often you and eunchae make eye contact. between every song and intermission, her eyes always end up falling towards… you?

you can’t help but feel a little tingle in your chest whenever she looks towards your direction, a smile jumping onto your face every time.

and seemingly, other people seem to notice as well… your friends nudging your shoulder during one of their songs. “we’re so lucky! eunchae keeps coming over here!” you nod, smiling and cheering as eunchae makes yet another round towards your section of the crowd.

as the performances start slowing down and the group takes a few minutes of intermission to chat with the crowd, you realise that eunchae is standing further away from her group members.

shes crouching towards the edge of the stage, sipping from her water bottle as she scans the crowd, seemingly looking for someone. as her eyes land on you, her bright smile takes over her face as she waves, people around you obviously thinking it’s for them.

eunchae quickly gathers her thoughts though, and makes her way back over towards the center of the stage to prepare for another performance.

as the lights brighten up again, you couldn’t help but be caught in a stray beam of light, just for a second and eunchae’s gaze follows you once more, her dancing and vocals seemingly becoming more energetic after the fact.

after the last performance of the evening, all the fimmies were talking to the fans again, asking questions such as “did you all have fun?!!” and “are you studying well?!”, the crowd responding in sync with “yeeeess!”

before wrapping up, eunchae seems to have something to say, yunjin shushing the crowd as eunchae suddenly becomes shy, fiddling with her water bottle.

“seriously i think i fell in love today” the crowd of fans burst out into oohs and aahs and laughter as the four older girls were teasing eunchae.

“no, for real! it was so amazing. the lights went on and it was like she was glowing in her white hoodie!” you took a look around you and despite the weather getting slightly chilly, you don’t see many people wearing hoodies, and especially not in white hoodies.

you pursed your lips, a small smile on your face. although you realised there was a very slim chance that she was actually talking about you, you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that there was still a chance.

after le sserafim had officially ended the show and said their goodbyes, all of the students started filing out of the event stage one by one, you lingered behind a little, hating the rush of people that were trying to get out quickly.

after most of the people had left the venue, you decided to finally take your leave, looking around as you walk out, you still see many people standing around, taking photos and chatting to each other about the amazing performances that they had just witnessed

as you’re walking away, you hear a pair of footsteps running behind you to catch up to you. turning around, you’re met with a girl slightly taller than you, dressed in full black, her hood pulled over her head and a mask covering her face. despite that, your heart skips a beat as you recognise the girls bright, sparkling eyes, shaped into beautiful crescent moon shapes as she smiles at you from under her mask.

"unnie!" she grabs both your hands "come, come!" she runs backwards for a little bit, before releasing one of your hands and spinning around, making a run for it- as well as dragging you along towards what you can only think is le sserafims company minibus, your heart continuing to race even faster than before, so fast that you think it might explode if it goes any faster.

approaching the minibus, the girl releases your hand, "wait here, please?" you nod, a slightly confused look appearing on your face. noticing this, eunchae pulls her mask down, flashing a bright, toothy smile at you, her face slightly flushed, although, you couldn't tell whether or not it was from running or from.. something else. "just for a little bit, please, unnie?"

"sure.." you answer, who were you to say no to her? as she heads inside the minibus, you stand idly, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie, drawing circles in the dirt with your shoes, fixing your hair... until you hear another few sets of footsteps approaching.

turning around, you hear gasps and oohs, your face quickly heating up, seeing the other 4 girls approaching the minibus with an array of snacks and drinks in their hands. "its you!" yunjin points at you, giggling and wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

sakura smacks her pointed hand down "its rude to point." she scolds the blue haired girl, bowing slightly at you. "sorry about that, she doesn't know how to control herself." she shoots a look at yunjin who starts apologising and bowing profusely, all the while chaewon and kazuha laugh, making their way onto the minibus, crashing into eunchae who's hurriedly dashing out the doors.

eunchae lets out a squeal, obviously surprised by her two other group members standing in the doorway of the minibus, laughing at eunchae who stumbled onto the floor before helping her up, eunchae letting out an annoyed groan, "uunnniiiies u scared me.." she squats down, picking up a small totebag that dropped off her shoulder.

you watch her as she jumps off from the bottom step of the minibus, turning her head and smiling at you widely "you actually waited!" you nod once again, at a loss for words, your eyes following her as she skips over towards you, her arms swinging almost in a childlike way.

her smile is addictive, just the sight of her smiling and giggling is enough to make anyone fall in love with her. she stops a few paces away from you however, a light bulb going off in her head as she jogs over towards her other members who were engaging in conversation with each other. she reaches into her totebag and pulls out an album and a signpen, hanging it to each of the members as giggling to herself as she watches them reluctantly sign the album one by one.

as kazuha finishes her last signing, eunchae happily takes the album from her hands, making her way back over to you, the other 4 girls making their way onto the minibus. "don't take too long, we have to go back soon!" chaewon strictly reminds eunchae, who rolls her eyes and nods "okay, chaewon-unnie!"

she turns her attention back to you, a smirk plastered onto her face as she hands the album to you, but takes it back last minute. "ah! i forgot..." she leans the album against her knee, signing it for herself, along with a heart and a message.

she then stands straight back up and hands you the album, giggling and practically jumping in her spot. "okay... bye, unnie!" she steps towards you and quickly wraps her arms around you, and turns around to leave, but not before giving you a shy kiss on the cheek.

as she jumps onto the minibus, you see the other girls teasing and nudging her through the window, laughing and winking. the doors to the minibus closes and slowly drives away, eunchae waving a sad goodbye with a pout on her face, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

you smile to yourself, tucking the signed album under your arm and making your way back to your dorm room. stepping inside, you fall onto your back onto your bed, holding out the album above your face, admiring the signatures of le sserafim.

your eyes eventually fall upon eunchae's signature, and your eyes widen in surprise at what she had written along with her message "add me on line!, xxxxxxxxx" a flush spread across your cheeks as your hurriedly reach for your phone, opening up the chat platform and punching in eunchae's details.

a few minutes later, your phone buzzes with a notification "manchae has accepted your friend request", another notification following quickly after "i thought u were never gonna add me!!" a giggle escapes your lips as you respond "of course i would!" a smirk forms on your face "oh, and eunchae...", "her chat bubble appearing for a few seconds before a message replies "yes..??!??!"

"do i happen to be that white hoodie unnie you keep talking about? ;3"

"maybe>.<..."

a/n: EUNCHAE EUNCHAE EUNCHAE EUNCHAE... i keep seeing vids of eunchae talking abt her white hoodie unnie crush.... siiighhh when will it be MEEE... and like.... im so inconsistent with my posts and like... idk.. i feel bad.. but i also... am very bad with keeping up with things... and idk.. i kinda also just write when i wanna write and.. ive been busy recently w school and work n stuff T.T I WILL KEEP WRITING THOUGH but i prob wont ever have a schedule... bc i suck at time management...

[annwrites]

⸻ sons & daughters. aemond | driftmark outtake. ⸻

· pairing: young!aemondtargaryen x niece!reader · type: outtake from this series · summary: aemond reunites with you at driftmark after your family's swift departure from the red keep. · tw: underage—you have been warned. · word count: 2,319 · ꒰a/n꒱: gif

"I would perform my duty," Aemond states, looking at you over his shoulder. "If mother had only betrothed us."

You part from your siblings, walking down stone steps, hot tears running down your cheeks. You've barely had a moment free of them since father...since Harwin died.

Your mother does not want you, nor your siblings, to speak of it. So you are forced to instead sequester yourself away to lonesome corners, or to your chambers to grieve with no one to comfort you.

You do not even have Aemond to lean on now. Not since your mother also forced your family out of the Red Keep and onto a lonely island instead.

You will never call it home.

He had stared at you through the service—your uncle—the look on his face unreadable. So you had kept your eyes downcast, shifting on your feet, fighting back fresh tears as Vaemond gave his niece her eulogy. A eulogy which had eventually turned into vicious insinuations, which served only to make your stomach twist nervously.

Everything seems wrong now.

You've never felt so alone before.

You walk down a few more steps, looking behind you, and when you see that you are out of everyone's line-of-sight, you double over, sobbing into your hands.

Aemond parts from his siblings in search of you.

You've yet to speak a word to him.

The two of you have been exchanging letters since you'd left home, so he'd been most-assured that being reunited here would finally bring him the vision he's been dreaming of daily of you running into his arms once again.

Instead, you'd stared dead-eyed and lifelessly as Lady Laena's casket was lowered into the sea, like you had gone away somewhere else within yourself. And once the service was through, you'd disappeared from the crowded throngs of people gathered round.

He weaves between bodies, glancing this way and that, looking for one particularly comely face, until he reaches a set of steps leading downward and he hears a familiar, quiet cry.

He steps down them, finding you curled into yourself, shaking and crying, so much so that you gasp for air, choking on your own tears.

"Niece," he calls softly.

Your head jerks in his direction and his heart sinks when he takes in your blotchy tear-stricken face.

You quickly wipe at your cheeks with your palms. "Aemond—"

"Uncle," he says, correcting you, taking a seat beside you.

He then pulls you into his arms, wrapping his green velvet cloak around your shoulders. "It's alright. You can cry if you wish. It's just us."

Your chin wobbles and then you turn into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as sobs wrack through your body.

He is silent for a moment, rubbing his hand against your back.

"I'm sorry...about Ser Harwin."

You begin to cry impossibly harder, confirming for him the source of your despair.

"I miss you," he whispers.

You wrap your arms around his middle and he presses a soft kiss to your long brown hair.

"I am...glad we're here together. Even given the circumstances."

You nod softly, hiccupping. "Me too."

He rests his cheek atop your head, closing his eyes, feeling—for the first time since your sudden absence from the one place you are meant to call home—at peace. "I've enjoyed our letters. Hearing from you, that is. It makes you seem not so far away at times."

You press yourself to his chest.

"I hate Dragonstone," you state. "I want to go home."

He tightens his arms around you. "I want that as well."

A beat of silence.

"We should be together. We're supposed to be."

There's a soft knock at your door and you set down your porcelain doll, padding over to it. "Who...who's there?"

"Uncle Aemond," comes a quiet reply.

Just then, a lock slides free and you slowly open the door just a crack. "What're you doing?"

He glances behind you. "Can I come in? I thought...you might be lonely."

You consider for a moment, then nod, opening the door wider, allowing him entrance.

You lock it once more behind you as you turn to him. "Did anyone see—"

"They never do," he says, coming back toward you, taking your face in his hands, pressing his lips to yours.

You rear back, stumbling. "Aemond—"

"Uncle," he insists. "It's been...weeks. And we...we miss each other. I thought you'd want to."

You blink at him for just a moment, tugging nervously at the sleeves on your nightgown. "I just don't want to get in trouble. We've never...been here before. It's not like the Red Keep where we had hiding places. And the passages."

He glances around, then settles his eyes on your wardrobe, nodding to it. "If someone comes, I'll hide in there."

He looks back to you.

And then you smile softly, nodding. "Okay."

Aemond's fingers slip clumsily between your legs and he looks to you, his hand trembling as you stare up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Does...does that feel good?" He asks, his voice wavering with unsurety.

You nod, gripping the hem of your nightgown that's bunched up around your naked waist.

He nods just once in return, continuing.

You whimper quietly and his eyes flit to the door. "We...we have to be quiet, Y/N."

"I know," you whisper.

Your body jerks, then settles again and you begin to pant softly. "I...think I'm...almost. I think..."

He leans down, pressing a brief kiss to your lips, his heart hammering away in his chest.

You close your eyes then, concentrating.

He watches your features twitch and your brows furrow, your hips lifting to meet his hand. "I'm—" he pauses. "I'm glad we could. One last time. Are...are you?"

You nod. "Yes."

When you're finally overcome with that wonderful feeling neither of you has a name for yet, it's with you biting your lip and Aemond staring at the door, terrified at any moment the two of you may be caught. Even if the lock is in-place.

Part of him hopes for it, however. If you were, his mother and yours—his father, the King—would have no choice but to betroth you then. To make his beloved niece his for forever.

You glance down to Aemond's trousers, then back to him.

He blushes madly. "I...well, something happened when we were..."

You blush as well. "Oh."

It's happened before—him doing that in his pants without you even touching him. Neither of you are sure if it's normal, but he always seems embarrassed by it, so you don't dwell on it, either.

He lies back, resting his head atop a feather pillow.

You curl against his side, resting a small hand atop his chest, which he takes in one of his own.

"I love you," he whispers. "My niece."

You smile, closing your eyes, feeling content for the first time since leaving King's Landing. "I love you, too, Uncle Aemond."

When you wake, it's dark and you're alone in bed, Aemond's side now empty and cold.

You rise with bleary eyes, yawning, wanting to go in search of him.

He wouldn't have gone back to his chambers, would he? He'd told you he would stay. This was to be your one night together to talk and laugh and enjoy each other's company before being ripped apart again.

You shrug on a small robe, padding over to the door, trying to remember which way he'd said his room was.

Until you see people rushing past you in a frenzy.

And then one of your mother's handmaids spots you. "Princess," she says, voice breathless. "Come, your household has been summoned to the Great Hall."

She takes your hand in hers, leading you that way.

"Where's momma?" You ask quietly. "What's happening?"

"All will be well, Princess," is all the reply she gives.

You wish Aemond were here. You're sure he would know. He always knows. About everything.

There is much commotion when you enter the Great Hall—many familiar faces present: Queen Alicent, your grandsire, Ser Otto, Ser Criston, as well as your brothers.

Your brothers...who have blood on them and seem...frightened. You begin to scan the room in a panic then, and it is only when Queen Alicent steps to the side that you see.

And you let out a scream, many heads turning in your direction, Aemond's own shooting up—only one eye focusing on you.

Tears stream down your cheeks and you cup your hands over your mouth as you head toward him—your feet moving all on their own—until a hand pulls you back.

You look behind you to the Princess Rhaenys, and she merely wraps that same hand around your shoulder, holding you in-place.

"Aemond," you say between sobs and he merely stares back at you without a word.

Your eyes flit to his mother and she meets your gaze briefly before shaking her head, turning back to her son.

You stand behind your mother, clutching at her skirts, trembling violently, watching as blood oozes from her wrist and onto the floor.

"M-m-mama," you say quietly and Jace wraps an arm around your shoulders, shooshing you.

And then Aemond interrupts the tense silence.

"Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye...but I gained a dragon."

You let out a quiet sob, shrugging off your brother's arm, going to step away from your mother, until Aemond gives a small shake of his head and your steps falter.

He stands, taking his own mother's hand, their household exiting the room.

You stare after him, feeling empty.

You seat yourself on the balcony outside, a war raging in your young, tired mind.

You do not know who you should be more upset with.

Luke for taking Aemond's eye—or perhaps he, Jace, Baela, and Rhaena altogether for attacking him to begin with.

Aemond for calling you and your siblings bastards. He...he's told you more times than you can count that he loves you. Why would he say such things, then? Even if they are true, he's never used it against you to hurt you before.

But he himself had been hurt. So, mayhaps, that is why. He was merely lashing out. Understandably so.

Queen Alicent for harming mama. But she was angry. Her son has now been permanently disfigured. Mama would do the same for any of you.

This was not how the night was meant to be. Aemond had promised that come the morn, the two of you would break your fasts together, and then give each other a kiss goodbye.

And now...everything is ruined.

You look up then, watching as Vhagar circles the sky above, and you continue to think of him.

Aemond had, for so long, when you were much younger, seemed larger than life to you. He was older, a prince, your uncle. He seemed to know everything when you were little. You'd often toddle around, trailing after him, holding his hand, babbling incoherent nonsense before you knew how to speak, but every word he spoke to you? It was like magic.

His name had been among some of your first words. A shortened version, perhaps—'mend'—but his name, nonetheless.

You might've screamed like an utter brat at the top of your lungs once or twice when you had gone to his chambers as a little girl, when met at the doorway by his Queen Mother telling you he was busy with his lessons and could not have company at the moment. He'd been the only thing in all the world you'd ever pitched a fit or misbehaved over.

As soon as he heard you wailing for him, however, he always came—your sour demeanor quickly changing to that of smiles and giggles.

So him having claimed the largest dragon in all the world? She was meant for him to have.

And to be punished for it, and in such a terrible way... You blame yourself.

If you had been there when your siblings and cousins went to seek vengeance for him rightfully claiming her...you could've stopped things, you're sure.

What you don't know is that Aemond had left you to sleep, simply because he wanted you to have your rest and to be safe incase his plan with Vhagar...did not go accordingly. If you were ever caused harm due to his actions, he'd never forgive himself.

But if he did manage to claim her, he'd wanted to surprise you in the morn by sailing through the skies with you—listening as you laughed and screamed excitedly in his arms. As he promised you that once he was older and bigger, he would take you away, and the two of you would become husband and wife.

You would no longer have to play pretend at it then.

When will he learn...fairytales only ever exist in books.

Aemond looks behind him—behind Vhagar—as Driftmark grows smaller in the distance and he fills with regret.

He should've met you halfway in the Great Hall. Should've wrapped his arms around you. Should've...should've damned himself further by telling them all what he'd done with you as they slept.

He's sure that with so many bearing witness to such testimonies there would be no other way about it then. Your father would betroth the two of you in an instant—his mother's wishes finally overridden.

But he'd held his tongue, stayed his hand, because she'd suffered enough already—had risked all to find recompense on his behalf as she sliced into your mother's skin with that blade.

He will write to you as soon as he reaches home. Will reassure you of his love for you. Of how he thinks of naught else except you now.

But he does not know, nor you, that such correspondences...will never reach your wanting hands.

Nor yours his.

[littledreamer9211]

The bet.

A/N: Hi. This has been bugging me for weeks and I just needed to get it out. There will be a part two. Once I write it. This is barely edited or proof read but its getting late and I can barely see so I'm going to bed. Let me know what you think. If you hate it...lie to me. I'm fragile.

CW: Angst. I'm an angsty gal, what can I say. Swearing. I'm Scottish - it just comes naturally. I don't think i've missed anything but let me know if I have.

~~~~~

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x female reader. No use of Y/N.

Word count: 3716. Sorry. I like to ramble.

~~~~~

Voices drifted in from the garden through the open kitchen window, full of joy and banter. It still blew your mind at how quickly you could identify his voice in a crowd. Listening to it now as it laughed and replied with a witty comment to Benny’s latest, good hearted insult. You couldn’t hear exactly what was being said but the laughs that came in reply, you knew were at Benny’s expense.

Walking out the join the gathering with your arms full of more beers for the cooler, they were quickly taken from you with a kiss on your cheek and a playful wink. Frankie. Ever the gentleman and the love of your life. You hadn’t even seen him move from his chair to meet you before you could struggle any further with the goods in your arms. “There she is and just in time.” Benny moved to help Frankie open the cooler and take a cold one out as you turned to smile at the small group sitting on your lawn around the fire. “Glad to know what you love more Benny.” You laughed as you joined the group, allowing Frankie to gently pull you down on to his lap as he sat back in his vacated seat. His arms wrapped around your waist and his face nuzzled into your neck as he placed a gentle kiss below your jaw. “Hey you know I love you and if it wasn’t for Frankie, I’d have been the one you married,” “Watch it.” Frankie growled playfully, his face not even leaving your neck to speak. “but alas I’m left to deal with my second favourite girl…beer.” Benny shot you a wink, not even phased by the growling man underneath you. “Easy there Catfish. We all know Benny never stood a chance after you waked into the bar that night.” Pope smiled as he remembered the look on his friends face that night. Will laughed and slapped his brothers shoulder as he walked by to grab another beer. Benny just huffed and mumbled incoherent words as he took another sip from the bottle in his hands, shooting his brother daggers before rolling his eyes. “Mine.” Was all Frankie mumbled into your ear as he squeezed your waist. You hummed in agreement and turned to place a soft kiss on his lips.

Your heart skipped and a small smile of amusement lit up your face when you thought about that night. Almost 4 years ago and it still felt like it was yesterday. You had been in a local dive bar your best friend had dragged you to after your latest tinder date couldn’t even be bothered to show up at the cafe you had agreed on. Crying to her down the phone about giving up on love and men altogether, you were ready to go home and drown your sorrows in strawberry cheesecake ice cream. Thankfully she had refused to let you wallow in self-pity and rerouted you to the dive bar that you must have drove past a million times before but never noticed. She promised that unless you wanted to go home with the town drunk or old Jesse-two-teeth then you would most definitely be having a girls night. Unbeknownst to you both, a certain group of men would be meeting in town that night to raise a glass on the anniversary of their friend Tom’s death. By the time they began to appear in the bar, you were 4 rounds of tequila in and singing your heart out to Lady GaGa that you had managed to sweet talk the bartender into playing. First to walk in were the Miller brothers. After ordering their first round and finding a table at the back of the bar, they watched the in-house entertainment that was you two, whilst they waited on the others.

By the time Pope and Frankie arrived, you had managed to talk Jesse-two-teeth into a slow dance whilst your best friend did her best Coyote Ugly impression on the bar top. The raised eyebrows and amused head shakes were all they gave up as they ordered the next round and met the brothers at their booth. It wasn’t too long after that that you were first approached. The Miller boys bought your next round and Will hit it off straight away with your friend. The two of them whispering and giggling for the rest of the night. You were happy to talk with Benny and while you could admit that he was a very attractive man, he just wasn’t your type. It didn’t stop him from trying though. But once you slurred out your awful date story and drank a glass of water at Benny’s insistence he realised it wouldn’t be going anywhere and was happy to keep you entertained whilst his brother got to know your friend…better. Once the two of them returned from their ‘bathroom break’ the boys took you over to their booth to meet their friends. As soon as Frankie raised his eyes to meet you, from the shadow of his cap, you were a goner. It was like all the air had been stolen from your lungs and all you could see where his beautiful, dark, sad eyes. Of course you played it cool - well when you tell the story thats how it comes out, Frankie’s version is of course very different. And although he managed to charm your number out of you, it took him 3 weeks to get you to agree to go out with him. That first date lasted almost 3 days. The two of you just clicked straight away and have pretty much been together ever since. It took Frankie a year to propose and the small courthouse wedding took place 2 weeks later. And here you are, sitting in your back garden with your favourite boys and the love of your life. The spark between Will and your best friend was quick to fizzle out but they remained friendly enough that it didn’t make gatherings uncomfortable.

With their jobs taking them all over the world, it wasn’t often that they could all be in the same place at the same time, so nights like tonight were precious. You snuggled into Frankie as the night went on, stealing his body heat as the warmth of the day disappeared with the setting of the sun.

As the beers continued to go down well, the conversations jumped from topic to topic. The current one being Benny’s latest dating drama. “…she was insane. Like sexy insane but not the keep around kind if you know what I mean.” Scoffs of laughter came from around the fire as we listened to his latest ‘sexcapades’ as Frankie would call them. “Damn Benny, how do you always manage to find the craziest woman in every town?” Pope shook his head as he laughed and downed the last of his beer. Benny shrugged his shoulders, a smile the size of the Cheshire cats took over his face. “We can’t all be Frankie and win the bet for the best girl in town, can we?” As Benny’s words left his mouth it was like someone poured ice water over the group. Will, who had been slouching in his chair almost asleep was now clearing his throat and shifting his eyes between his brother and you warily. Pope had choked on his beer and was thumping his chest to clear it as he growled at Benny under his breath. And Frankie…it was like he had stopped breathing. The grip he had on your waist was almost painful now as he whipped his head over to look at Benny. Benny looked at the group, confused by their reactions when nobody laughed and you watched in slow motion as he seemed to realise what he had said.

You? You burst out laughing. What a ridiculous but very Benny thing to say. It didn’t even make sense. When you realised that you were the only one laughing, something clicked in your head. What had Benny said? Something about a bet. What bet? “What are you waffling on about now Benny?” You tried to sit up to get a better look at his face but the vice grip Frankie had on you meant you were going nowhere. “Frankie. Baby, let go a bit. You’re cutting off the circulation to my legs!” But Frankie didn’t move. Turning your head to try and make eye contact with him, you noticed the absolute death glare he was shooting to the youngest in the group. “What did you mean Benny? What bet?” Your eyes flicked between them all as your brain started to click onto something being wrong. “What bet Frankie? What does he mean?” “Frankie, man. I’m sorry. I’ve had too much beer. I didn’t realise she didn’t know-” Benny moved to come closer to you and Frankie but was stopped by his brothers hand on his shoulder. Will shook his head and motioned towards the gate. “I’ll take him home.” Was all Will said as he made to steer his brother towards the trucks in the drive.

“What? No, don’t go Benny,” You managed to shake Frankie’s hands from you and made it stand in front of the blonde brothers before they could take anymore steps out of the garden. “Boy’s whats wrong? What bet?” “Let them go mi amor. Benny’s just had too much to drink, doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Frankie was standing on the other side of the fire pit, his hands flexing down by his side. Pope had moved to stand at his left side. The light from the fire highlighting the stress in both their faces. “If it’s nothing bad then tell me what it means Frankie.” Your hands flew up with frustration and landed on your hips. “Will? Pope? Someone tell me what the fuck just happened.” All four men couldn’t look at you. Benny’s head was so far down that you would have to get on your knees to make eye contact with him. Will’s never left Frankie, he’d moved into protective big brother mode. Pope’s eyes were closed, his fingers grasping at the bridge of his nose in frustration. And Frankie’s killer look had never left Benny. Like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

In the silence, your brain started to tick over what had just happened. What was it that Benny had said? Frankie had won a bet for the best girl in town? Me? Frankie had won some bet to get me? “What bet Frankie?” Nobody moved. Nobody said a word. If someone was to walk in on the scene right now it would be like something out of an old cowboy western, enemies waiting for the first twitch to snatch out their pistols and make sure they’re the ones to shoot first. Keeping your eyes on Frankie, “Boys…go home.” Came out of your mouth. The tone was deathly calm. Frankie knew that tone straight away and it was the only thing that was able to make him finally move his eyes from Benny and connect with yours. It was then that you saw the shift in his features. From livid to terrified. You didn’t break eye contact with your husband as you heard the other men as the muttered and moved towards the garden gate, towards their trucks. With a final, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start anything,” from Benny, it was just you and Frankie left. Eventually you heard the start of their engines and the roaring as they took off out of the driveway.

You watched as Frankie made to move towards you but before he could take more than a step, you turned on your heels and headed into the house. Shivers raced throughout your body but you had a feeling it was more than just the cooling night air. As you crossed the threshold you heard a faint “fuck” from Frankie before his footsteps followed you.

You needed something to do with your hands whilst your mind was whirring so you grabbed the tea towel and started to dry the already dry dinner plates from the side of the sink. On your third plate you felt Frankie’s hands rest on your hips and his head rest between your shoulders. Your head drops forward, eyes closed as you gently discard the towel and plate in your hand. Your hands move to grip his, his black wedding band digging into your palm with the force of your grip. “Speak to me Frankie.” Your whisper breaks the air and you think he’s not going to answer until you hear him let out a long, defeated sigh. Twisting in his arms, your hands move to cup his face whilst your eyes search his. He looks so sad. “Please.” He moves one hand to push his cap up and run his fingers over his scalp before putting it back in place. “Fucking Benny.” He grumbled whilst moving to lean against the island counter opposite you. The move felt like he had put miles between you. Wrapping your own arms around yourself as a form of protection, from what you didn’t know, as you waited for him to say anything else.

“It’s stupid. Nothing really. I don’t know why he’s got to bring up such stupid shit when he starts drinking.” You remained silent, letting him work out what he needed to say. “I honestly forgot all about it. It means nothing.” He crossed his arms as he leant against the counter top but his foot tapped against the tiles in an angry/frustrated rhythm. Your silence only seemed to make his foot tapping worse. “Do you remember the night we met? In that grotty bar in town?” He waited for your nod of acknowledgment before continuing. “It was a pretty rough night for us. It was the first time we’d seen each other again since Tom…”

He’d never gone into too much detail of what went on during that mission but you knew enough to put the pieces together and come to the conclusion that it certainly didn’t go the way they had planned even before Tom was killed. “We thought going to that bar would be best, nobody goes there. We didn’t need anyone to see us drinking our sorrows away like that.” His hand moved to rub at the back of his neck as the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket distracted him. Pulling the device out with a sigh, he looked at the caller ID.

Without answering, he threw the device across the kitchen, not caring where it landed or the damage it would cause. As it soared through the air, you could just make out Benny’s face before it disappeared and became silent.

“Give it a rest man.” He grumbled before focussing back on you. His brow furrowed when he finally realised the closed off stance you were stood in. Eyes focussed on your crossed arms, he continued, “You were like the light at the end of the tunnel. A breeze of fresh air that I didn’t know I needed until I saw you dancing with that toothless, old goat at the bar.” A faint smile lifted his mouth as he reminisced. “I knew straight away that I needed you. As soon as I walked in I knew that I needed to make you mine some how. But Benny…” The smile wiped from his face as he thought about his ‘brother’. “Benny had his eye on you too. And you know what a little shit he can be. Especially when he can sense any hint of competition.”

He was right. Benny was so competitive that you had learned very quickly over the last couple of years to never go against him unless you knew for certain that you could win and even then he wasn’t against cheating in some way. It was all in good fun but not worth the hassle if you were being honest.

Benny having his eye on you was knew information though. You had been victim to his endless flirting more than once and you wont lie, you liked the flirty banter. It was never more than that though, after all you had Frankie. You never needed more than him.

“Well we weren’t much more sober than you were. And what started as a joking comment from Pope was blown into a Benny bet.” “A Benny bet?” Your voice came out much more fragile than you had wanted. You had a feeling you knew where this was going but prayed to anyone who would listen that you were wrong.

Frankie looked sheepish as he shrugged his shoulders, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. He wanted to make a bet about who could get the girl first. Get you first.” You nodded in understanding as you felt your heart freezing. This was going exactly where you didn’t want it to go. “Thats when he and Will made their way over to you. He was trying to woo you.” He shook his head with a soft snort. “When he realised that you weren’t interested he was going to forget about the bet but then he brought you over to the table.” He stopped for a moment and just stared at you, his throat bobbed as he thought about his next words. “When he saw I was smitten and you were too but were trying to play it cool as you would say, he wanted to change the bet. He knew he was going to lose and he couldn’t have that.”

“For fuck sake Frankie.” Your hands moved to run through your hair as you tipped your head back and whispered your words at the ceiling. You could feel your insecurities raising their heads. Insecurities that hadn’t been around for years, since Frankie had broke down your walls and taught you to trust again.

“I’m so sorry baby. I wanted to tell you from the beginning but I…I guess I got scared.” He moved to stand directly in front of you. His arms caging you in against the counter. He knew better than to touch you right now but he needed to be close to you.

“You know…if you had told me all of this from the beginning? I probably would have found it funny,” You shrugged your shoulders to seem indifferent but he knew you better than that and his close proximity allowed him to see your bottom lip quiver just slightly. “But now? It feels like our whole marriage is based on a lie. Was I just a joke to you Frankie?”

His head whipped back in shock. “No baby, never!” His words came out firm but you couldn’t hear them. Your head was being overrun by old demons. “Hey…” He tried to catch your eye but instead you moved his arm and slipped out. You moved to the other side of the island counter, needing the space between you so you could think. All he could do was watch, his mouth pursed and eyebrows crunched.

“What were the stakes?” Voice breaking, you cleared your throat and tried again. “How much did I win you in your precious bet?” “Don’t do that. You know you mean the world to me. You are my life-” He tried to lean across the counter and catch your hands but you were faster and took a step back. “-baby.” “What. Did. You. Win. Frankie.” You took a breath between each word to stop yourself from crying. It came out as more of a statement than a question.

“He - We changed the bet.” His hand rubbed across the stubble on his chin, his black wedding band almost mocking you. “He wanted to bet that…god I hate myself right now.” He was actually crying now. It must be bad. “It’s Benny. He wanted to bet that I couldn’t get you to sleep with me before the second date.”

A knife. There must be a knife that somehow ended up embedded in your chest as you suddenly couldn’t breathe. Your gasp must have been louder than you thought because before you could blink, he was around that counter with his hands on your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t realise had started to fall.

“W-we slept together on the first date Frankie.” Your voice came out broken and it only made him cry harder. “I know baby. I know.” Your hands came up to wrap around his wrists. You squeezed them before slowly pulling them off. You knew he could stop you if he wanted to but thankfully he cooperated. “So did you win?” Running your hands under your eyes to dry the tears, you stared at him expectantly. “P-please don’t do this. It wasn’t like that. Our first time was-“ “A fucking joke apparently.” You burst out. You could feel the heartbreak being overtaken by pure rage. “Mi amor. Please.” He took a step towards you again but you put your hand up to stop him. Shaking your head.

“Damn you Fransisco Morales.” The finger you pointed in his face as you spat out the words stopped him dead in his tracks. “What did you fucking win? The least you can do right now is tell me what it is I’m apparently worth to you.” With his hands on his hips, he looked down at the floor before daring to look at you again. “Please listen to me for just a minute. It wasn’t like-“

“FRANKIE!” You had never shouted his name like that before. You don’t think you have ever shouted at anyone like that before.

Your breathing was ragged as you watched him. He looked over to the window, sniffing as he mumbled something under his breath. “Wha-“ “200.” It felt like he stared right into your soul as he spoke. “$200. Thats what I would have won.”

You nodded your head as if to say thank you, then without a word turned and walked calmly and silently to your bedroom and locked the door behind you.

You didn’t even flinch when you heard what you assume was your nice dinner plates smashing against the kitchen floor.

Part 2