#also some guy was flirting with me on a bus

[pishifuzul]

it's always precum this precum that nobody talks about postcum and how ANNOYING it is what do u MEAN I'm still leaking that was half an hour ago!!

[bouncybongfairy]

Hello! Could I request some dark smut with Lip? I can also be more specific if you'd like! No worries if you don't want to write it! Also I just found your blog and love your writing! 💕

Fucked Back Into Reality

Lip Gallagher x Fem Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Lip, hadn't talked to you in a couple of days. After having several conversations about this reoccuring problem, you decied to give him the cold shoulder. He reminds you why doing this is a riskey game.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Rough Smut, Brat Kink, Masocism.

Ref Account: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It’s a bitterly cold day in Chicago’s south side. The type of cold where everyone at school is more concerned about staying warm than fashion. You were walking to school, both your parents left for work before you woke up. The school was too close to home for bus services so walking was really the only option. After trying to get in touch with Lip for the past two days, you were now on strike from being nice to him. You weren’t ignorant, Lip had a lot going on at home which meant his undivided attention was rare. Sometimes you wished he would just shoot you a text like: hey super busy day, love you / shits been crazy, talk to you when i can. Having this conversation in the past, you weren’t going to bother having it again. It surprised you to see Lip sitting on the front steps of the school; early which he never was. You started walking up the steps, he stood up and flicked his cigarette bud into the snow. 

“Hey,” he said, you just looked at him and kept walking to your locker. 

“Oh come one, you’re ignoring me?” he asked, leaning up against the mental lockers as you emptied your things into the locker. 

“Seems familiar doesn’t it,” you say, referencing him not reaching out for the past couple days. 

“Yeah but mine was accidental not bratty,” he chuckled. Maybe it was because you haven't eaten or smoked that morning but that comment enraged you. Slamming your locker and walking toward first period, leaving him in the hall. 

Just your luck to have chemistry as the first class of the day. The teacher took 20 minutes to calm the class down. Kids play fighting with each other or flirting in the back of the room. Groups of students in their cliques, not paying any mind to the instructions given. You felt bad for the teacher, I'm sure she thought an education career would help so many teens. Only to be placed in one of the most poorly funded schools in the state. You didn’t feel too bad though, it only meant less work for you. Lip liked the fact that you cared about your grades, that you had a plan after highschool. As stupid as Lip was acting, you also liked how smart he was. You complained about it alot but you liked how he didn’t fall for your little tricks and games. He doesn’t chase you, or let you push him over. Most guys were just so emotionally unintelligent, not to mention Lip was more mature when it came to sex. The last couple guys you were with didn’t even talk while you fucked. Didn’t know what foreplay was or understand a woman's body. Lip had a really good understanding of when to be gentle or rough. When he would whisper things in your ear it always felt so natural and smooth. There were times when your stomach would randomly flip when thinking about the nasty things he’d told or done to you. Maybe part of the reason you had some animosity towards Lip was because you had been sexually frustrated. For the past couple weeks you felt like you were practically throwing yourself at him and he wasn’t in the mood. Of course you respected that, you just missed him was all; maybe a specific part of him. At lunch he came up to you from behind and hugged you. Still feeling quite stubborn, you allowed it but acted like you didn’t care. 

“You still mad?” he whispers into your ear which makes your skin break out with goosebumps. He slides his hands down from your waist to your hips.

“I know we haven’t talked but I’m here now, let’s ditch for the rest of the day,” he said, pressing his lips against your neck. As much as you wanted to give in and agree, you still wanted to make a point. Pushing his hands away, you grab your backpack and walk away without acknowledging him. If he wanted to brand you as a brat then you’d give him his money's worth. 

It was the last period, and everyone was waiting for the bell to ring. Some kids just left when they were ready and the teacher didn’t care. He just sat there, staring with cold dead eyes at his computer. Daren was consistently trying his best to spark conversation with you, all he talked about was how he ran track but he was trying his best. The heaters were blasting inside the school because it was snowing. The classroom windows were wet with condensation which made you feel sticky. Becoming overstimulated you decide to leave early, excusing yourself and walking out. Daren followed you into the hallway, 

“Hey I was wondering if you wanted to stay after school and watch me practice? Maybe I can take you out after, or something?” he asks. 

“Oh sorry I can't. I actually have a ton of homework so, maybe next time?” you say walking away, happy that you’re avoiding the rush of people flooding out the front gates. 

Normally Lip would walk you home but you didn’t see him. Your willpower that was fueling your grudge was weakening. Pulling your phone out of your pocket and seeing if he texted you; he didn’t. Looking back you were feeling silly about your actions because look where they led you. It was really cold, snow sticking to your hair and eyelashes. Once you finally got home, Lip was waiting on the porch which took you by surprise. You went to greet him, this is when you noticed he looked angry. He didn’t even say anything to you, even after opening the door and letting the both of you in. 

“How’s Daren?” he asks, once you both get to your bedroom. 

“What?” you asked confused. 

“Well you talked to him all last period and even after you left,” he said, sitting on your bed and lighting a cig. 

“Okay first of all, I only talk to him for like two seconds. He asked me to watch him practice and I said no,” you defend yourself. 

“That’s two seconds more than you talked to me today,” he remarked. 

“Lip that’s not even fair,” you say, which made him smirk and shake his head as he took a drag. 

“Do you even hear yourself? ‘tHat’s nOt fAiR’ whining like a baby who didn’t get their way. Why were you so offended that I called you a brat even though you’re acting just like one,” he said.

“What are you trying to scare me?” you ask while laughing.

“Trying?” he asked rhetorically. 

You rolled your eyes and started to change into comfortable clothes. While you were only in your bra and underwear, Lip came behind you and ripped the lace material of the panties. You gasp and go to turn around but he presses you against the closet door. Intertwining his hand into your hair, gripping it so tight strands of hair were being pulled out. His dick was extremely hard and feeling it pressed against your ass immediately excited you. Moving your head slightly so he can start kissing and biting your neck. His breathing was hard and with his chest pressed against your back, you could feel his heartbeat. As he marked your neck, whimpers and moans were escaping your mouth. 

“Since you were feeling so brave today let’s hope you keep that energy,” he growled into your ear. 

“You gonna try and teach me a lesson?” you asked with a patronizing tone.

He chuckled and led you to the bed by your hair. Your heart was racing, your sexlife was by no means bland however, this was the first time he was this rough. It felt like the two of you were breaking the rules or something. Like discovering new and daunting territories. He reached his hand down and started feeling you through the hole in your panties he made. He let out a moan once he felt how wet you were. 

“You are such a fucking slut, good to know being put in your place is all it takes for you to soak your panties,” he said, letting go of your hair. 

He sat up onto his knees, instead of fully stripping his clothes, he just pulled his dick out of his zipper. Rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your chest was pressed against the mattress but your ass was pressed against his shaft. You start to rock your hips back and forth against him but he starts spanking his hands against your ass. The pain was so bad it burned, you thought he’d stop after a couple times but he kept going. Wanting to show you were handling the smacks, you try your best to take them without complaint. He was unrelenting and you finally begin to squirm away, which seemed to humor him,

“The more you fight and squirm, the more I wanna fuck you,” he said, running his nails down your now bright red ass. 

“Fuck just do it already then,” you whine, in response he spits at your face. 

“Cum slut’s don’t speak unless spoken to,” he said, pushing himself into your twitching and leaking pussy.

The feeling was enough to make your eyes roll back. After weeks of Lip blue-balling you, the sensation of being filled by him was pure bliss. He was going at a painfully slow rate, pulling himself fully in and out of you after every thrust. As pleasurable as it was, you’d do anything to get him to speed up. Unable to rock your own hips, you kick your feet a little in protest. This made him laugh and slow down even further. He grabbed your wrists and pressed them against your lower back, taking full control of your body. You were dripping down both thighs and tears pooled in your eyes. You were at your limit with his teasing, tightly clenching around him. He pulled out and flipped you onto your back, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Tears had stained your cheeks and your hair was in complete disarray from being yanked and pulled. He crawled on top of you and started pushing his tip in and out. You were bucking your hips up, tears coming back as he teased relentlessly. 

“You’re sensitive here? Perfect spot to abuse huh?” he asked sarcastically, using one hand to smack his cock against your pussy.

In your own little world, trying to cum with what little friction he was giving you. He finally stops and instead wraps his hands around your neck. Then starts pounding into you, slowly tightening his grip over time. You were feeling dizzy and foggy, letting out a moan every time his length fully pressed into you. He was grunting and groaning, a couple beads of sweat dropping onto the bed from how much he was exerting himself. The closer you got to your orgasm the tighter his grip on your throat became. Your face was bright red and a wheezing sound came out of your mouth with every inhale. He seemed to be hummored by this and started to mock you. 

“Can’t breathe? Good,” he chuckled. 

The mixture of degradation and the fast paced abuse on your cunt was enough to send you over the edge. Shockwaves of pure pleasure began to ripple throughout your body. Legs trembling and eyes rolling back. He was chasing his own climax, seeing and feeling you cum around his cock was enough for him. Rutting into you with no regard for you, as if you were nothing but a toy for him. Seeing how he turned you into such a slutty mess made him feel feral. It wasn’t until he was fully finished that he removed his hands from your neck. After a small coughing fit, you began to come too. Lip was already up, using his shirt to clean you up. Pulling your hair out of your face and into a messy bun. You were half dead, completely exhausted and worn down. He laid down next to you, rubbing your back and whispering affirmations into your ear. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to be as close to him as you could. 

“I’m glad I could fuck the attitude out of you,” he said, as you fell asleep.

[typing-catastrophe]

jealous!ford x reader headcanons

pre relationship:

depending on his current mood and state of mind, his reaction to someone showing romantic interest in you ranges from:

1) heartache,

feels like he doesn't deserve you, that he isn't good enough for you, he's not your type and also he is too old for you

self-esteem on the floor, feels like a kicked puppy seeing you flirt with someone else

over 2) mild annoyance; 'what's so interesting about them?'

what could they possible give you? why are you even talking to them, you already said you aren't interested in them

to 3) almost hostile towards the other person

all in all just one big mess of feelings

he's not good with them okay

confused and frustrated by his emotions; spends a lot of time overthinking them, in order to rationalise and understand them

too insecure and doubtful to tell you about his feelings, but too easily agitated to not be jealous when someone comes up to ask for your number

tells himself he has no right to feel that way, and yet...

in relationship:

protective and maybe a little possessive. maybe a bit more than a little. okay, a lot

definitely a lot more than he shows

(related to the first points pre-rls) very rare reaction: amused. god complex activated. who do they think they are? do they really think you would be interested in them? tch, please.

when he sees a guy flirting with you, he will come up behind you, put his arm around your waist and stare the guy down

the scene where he intimidates the bus driver, just to any shady guy who won't leave you alone.

insecurities, so soo many of them

'You could have anyone you want. Why would you wanna be with me?' *

that man was bullied his entire youth, never had a proper relationship and holds so much trauma and shame - it's the glue that holds him together at this point

ford is deeply afraid to loose you

through something supernatural or otherwise dangerous yes, but also trough some stupid mistake on his side and interpersonal problems

he is afraid he will mess up one day. then you will start seeing him as someone not worthy of your love and find someone better

it is one constant battle between his low self-worth and his god complex/admittedly somewhat inflated ego

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: longer piece with this trope will follow soon(ish), stay tuned :P poor ford, doesn't know how to feel his feelings appropriately (same dude, same) * 'jealous' by eyedress

[ipushhimback]

Hi!! I had an idea/request if you say.

Driver x Interviewer!Reader where the driver flirts a lot with them and makes their life slightly difficult but not bc they want to but bc they’ve been painfully in love with the reader for as long as they can remember. Ending is up to you!!

I wanted this to be based off RedBull!Sebastian Vettel like 2010-2011 but idk if you write for him. So any driver would be okay☺️

thanks @gguk-n for the request i really had so much fun writing this! i hope you like how i wrote it <3 but look!

pairing: franco colapinto warnings: none words: 1.3 k summary: you’re an f1 interviewer and franco has a crush on you…

You sprinted to the area where you would interview the drivers as you didn’t hear your alarm this morning - again - looking at your phone to read the notes your boss sent to you. The information contains which drivers you’ll be interviewing and what the most important questions to ask are.

”No fucking way!”, you exclaimed as you stopped in the middle of your little sprint. 

Franco Colapinto was on the list. He was going to drive this race weekend as Pierre broke his arm just about an hour again. 

It wasn’t as if Franco wasn’t a nice guy. He definitely was but he’s been flirting with you since the middle of the 2024 season when he stepped in for Logan at Williams and it has gotten extremely annoying when he started flirting with you in the cafeteria, at food trucks and even in interviews at some point!

You weren’t the only one he flirted with, you saw the interviews of other women being flirted with, and yeah, Franco was charming but when he flirted with you it was different. It didn’t seem like he just joked around. It seemed like he actually wanted to go on dates with you. You really appreciated it. Maybe it was even cute but after the fifth time rejecting him it just got annoying as fuck.

Shaking your head in disbelief you started running again. You couldn’t afford to be late to an interview if you didn’t want to be fired. 

“Y/N!!!!”, you heard a voice behind you. 

“Franco. What do you want? You’ll only be the third driver I’ll interview today…”

”Yes, I know. But look. I brought coffee for you. It is the one you always have. I guess. Wow your legs look so good in that dress with those shoes!.”

You just stared at him because that - bringing you your favorite coffee - was just adorable. But Franco must have seen your face, that was still grumpy thanks to the stress of overhearing your alarm, and immediately stressed. 

“Oh no. I brought you the wrong coffee, right? I am so so sorry. Should I get a new one? Which do you want? I can also bring tea or hot chocolate instead? Or alcohol?”, he said and you just got even more confused. Alcohol? It was only 10 in the morning…

You honestly didn’t have the energy for anything so you just turned around to walk away but stopped after only 3 steps and turned around. You walked back to Franco and grabbed the coffee he was still holding in his hand. Now you again turned around to walk away again. For real this time. 

The first drivers to be interviewed that day were Oscar Piastri, who was an amazing warm up thanks to his calm personality, and Lando Norris, who thank god was also still as tired as you so he was also calm and not like Franco, full of energy. 

Then it became serious. You saw Franco sprinting in your direction so you took a few deep breaths so you wouldn’t throw him in front of a bus. 

“Y/N!!! I am ready! Ask me anything! But first, I have another coffee. Did you like the coffee before? I also have a sandwich for you. But I didn’t make it myself. But I bought it myself. I saw you order it last time at the food truck.” 

Honestly you were really starting to believe that Franco was stalking you. This wasn’t normal. Someone who works with you shouldn’t know this much about your eating habits. Or drinking habits. Or any habits. And those compliments you got way too often from him? His record was seven compliments on a single day. And yes, you did count. 

“Uh… yeah… thanks… Let’s just start the interview, Franco”, you told him though he now looked a little sad while he was still holding the sandwich in his hand. You started feeling bad for him and you had to admit you really wanted to eat that sandwich so you grabbed the sandwich from him.

”Can we now start the interview?”, you repeated and you saw Franco’s face light up again.

”Ok. Just ask. I will answer it all”, he said enthusiastically as he took the mic you were handing to him. 

“So. Now that you are going to replace Pierre for at least the next five races, what are your goals for these?”, you asked him the first question.

”Definitely try to score points and proving I am a good driver so that I have good chances of getting into a team next year. And not just as a reserve driver”, Franco said and you couldn’t help that he was a little nervous as his accent, that got even stronger, gave him away. 

“Do you think you’ll get along with Jack well?”, was your next question for the two years younger driver.

”I certainly hope so. It is important to me and I think for him too. We will see. But yes I hope we will. Of course there is always somehow a rivalry. You want to beat the others to proof yourself but I think we will get along fine off the track”, the Argentine answered patiently, still grinning his signature grin. “You look really pretty today, by the way. Did you style your hair differently?”

“Ok.” You just said ignoring his compliment - you had to be professional - and just asked a couple more questions before the interview was over and Alex Albon, Franco’s former teammate, and Williams driver, was already waiting a few steps away, grinning like he had just won in the lottery. 

“Alex! What is going on? You got pole position for the race?”, you asked him, laughing. Alex has always been one of the drivers you got along best with. He never judged you when you came into F1 as an interwiewer at the age of 21. The last two years he has always supported you. 

“Nope. No pole position. Nothing going on”, he said but you didn’t quite believe him as he looked like he was trying not to laugh. You just hummed though and looked confused. After you turned back to grab a bite of your sandwich you looked even more confused as you saw Franco still standing there. 

“Franco? You can leave? The interview is finished”, you told him and sighed. 

“Oh… oh yeah. Sorry. I’ll leave”, Franco said running off as fast as he managed. 

You shook your head and turned back to Alex. 

“Come on, Albono. Your turn. Grab the mic.” 

Alex didn’t move. Not even a millimeter. 

”You really don’t realize it, do you?”, Alex said smirking. 

“Realize what? Can you just give me a little more information? I cannot read your mind yet. Haven’t learned that. If I had I wouldn’t be here asking y’all questions when you can’t even answer half of them”, you said somehow annoyed. 

“Y/N… I really love you but sometimes you are really an idiot. He brings you your favorite coffee. He brings you the sandwich you always order. He even makes sure you drink enough water!”

“Exactly! He can be so annoying! I just want to do my job and he is always there! It is as if he- oh…”, you stopped in the middle of the sentence. 

Alex just laughed and patted your head. 

“Looks like you finally used the thing in your head called brain.”

”I am such an idiot”, you said facepalming yourself. 

“Yeah sometimes you really are”, your friend just said. ”And now?”

”Now I don’t think he is a stalker anymore… All he did was just because he liked me! I guess I’ll have to talk to him. Tell him I am not interested.” 

***

An hour later you were finished with all the interviews and went to the Alpine garage where you found Franco almost immediately.

His face lit up and he grinned at you. 

In the end you didn’t walk out of the garage feeling sad because you rejected him but with a date in your calendar for the next day… 

a/n: i loved loved loved writing this it was so much fun! idk when i will manage to post next bc i have 4 exams plus the first part of my finals in the next 3 weeks so pls be patient! tags: @strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicqlivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss / @bravo-delta-eccho / @rue-t / @mayax2o07 / @alexanderachillesisgay / @maviesamour / @suhchenjun / @pippyth3hippy / @sweate-r-weathe-r / @joannaln4 / @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy / @aleatorio1234 / @anayaverse / @htpssgavi

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 9

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, alcohol, barely proofread Wordcount: 3.7K A/C: HEY BABIESS here's chapter 9 but SOME DISCLAIMERS - this fic does not follow the official irl Dallas Wings game schedule before someone comes at me. ALSO this is so short i am aware but next one will make up for it i promise <33 ily guys please send reactions again bc i miss those and they're my favourite ever <333 OK ILY

-

Before London

“Zari! Zari, come sit over here,” Trey’s voice yells as I enter the plane, walking behind Paige ready to head back to Dallas.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself, making the blonde in front of me chuckle.

“I gotchu,” she whispers, clearing her throat before her voice rises above the crowd’s. “I need some help with the gameday vlog! Sorry Trey!”

The man’s face falls, watching closely as Paige allows me to pass her to slide into the window seat. 

“Thank you,” I say under my breath passing the blonde, the smell of her deodorant comforting me as it enters my nose. Paige smirks, sitting next to me and pressing her leg shamelessly against mine. I want to press back. But I need to remember our rules. Friends.

Walking into the bus for the airport many eyes had been fixated on me. Since my panic attack yesterday I had been feeling off, not quite right. Wearing the tight, uncomfortable clothes I had packed seemed like a nightmare, so Paige had lent me her hoodie for the flight home. For the first time my coworkers had seen me out of work clothes, which made me feel a little uneasy. Paige could tell, always smiling at me reassuringly when I began to feel unsure.

“You look good in that hoodie,” the blonde next to me grins as I buckle my seatbelt, eyes watching my each move. I give her a warning look. She only chuckles, raising her hands defensively. “Yooo, in like a friend way.”

“Okay,” I laugh softly, buckling the seatbelt. From the corner of my eye I notice the blonde’s eyes locked on me, a slight smile on me.

“Soo, do I get to drive you again?”

I laugh softly, feeling a familiar ease with the girl return. Since our talk yesterday after I freaked out both our moods had miraculously lifted. 

“You want to drive me?” I ask amused. 

Paige nods with that familiar grin I’d missed so much. I’m so enveloped in her presence I don’t even notice the plane beginning to take off.

“Bro I love driving you,” she admits. 

“Really?” I ask. Almost embarrassingly needy.

Paige leans back in her grey Nike tech, resting her head on the seat. “Yeah Iz,” she hums. “Best part of my day.”

I look at her for a moment, meeting her eyes, feeling butterflies grow in my stomach. No, just friends Zari. I quickly look away, gazing out the window noticing we’re about to take off. Before I can even ask, the blonde is gripping my hand hard, sending jolts of sparks up my arm, thumb rubbing my skin soothingly. 

-

“Shirley temple, thanks,” I say to the brunette bartender, her dark eyes quickly finding me in the middle of the other players lining up along the bar. A wide smile spreads on the girl’s face as she takes my order, beginning to make it in front of me.

“You sure that’s all you want?”

The bartender is flirting, I can tell. She’s got that spark in her eye, that sweet grin on her face, that tells me she wants me. It tempts me for a moment, the idea of taking her to my hotel room and working her all night.

“What are you drinking?” Izzie’s voice interrupts my thoughts, the girl completely forgotten the second she enters my mind. Her hand grabs my forearm and instinctively I wrap it around her lower back pulling her to the bar.

“A shirley, whatchu want?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off her. The bartender huffs, continuing to make my drink eyeing the both of us but I don’t even notice. Izara looks so unbelievably stunning, in a brown halter neck top and a leopard print skirt, makeup flawlessly done but hair left naturally wavy - rare for the girl. There was an ease in her demeanor the past few days since we’d become friends again. And truthfully, I felt the exact same. Our game against Liberty had been a clear loss but at least I got a few shots in. I wasn’t overthinking the ones I missed anymore.

“A dirty martini. But I can pay for it myself Paige.”

“Shut up,” I laugh, ordering the drink for her and letting the bartender work, looking around the club. Some of the Liberty players had asked us out, and after a game that wasn’t a huge flop, I had been quick to agree, inviting Izara and the rest of the media team out with all of us.

With an easy coolness I pay for the drinks, tipping really well as I always did which seemed to cheer up the pretty bartender a little. 

“Thank you,” Izzie’s sweet voice whispers, sipping on her martini and stirring it. I wanna tell her she looks beautiful, especially in the dim lighting of the club, the purple hue painting her skin. But I’m not sure if it’s too much, so I stay quiet.

“Paigeee!” Stewie’s voice rises over the crowd as she passes Arike, Lala, Lou and others, greeting them with a wide smile.

“My Husky,” the woman smiles, hugging me with one arm. “I think you owe me a drink since we won.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Bro with the way you were flopping the second I touched you I think you owe me one.”

We laugh together, when I realise Izzie is just standing there, staring at us two.

“Oh yeah, this is Zari,” I hum, my hand wrapping around the dark haired girl’s waist without much thought.

“My brother’s such a fan of you,” the girl grins, shaking hands with the woman. Stewie smiles and nods.

“He’s got good taste. Nice to meet you,” she chuckles, quickly ordering a beer before returning to the conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me you got a British girl Paige?”

Izara and I burst into laughter, my hand quickly falling from her waist. A touch was okay, but I shouldn’t linger. A look was okay, but gazing wasn’t. There was a fine line between friendship and more that I was learning to tread carefully. But the urge to slip was there, bubbling beneath the surface constantly. But anything was better than not having Izzie in my life. My best friend in Dallas.

“Bro, no we’re not together,” I laugh, watching as Izara covers her mouth while giggling. There’s a hint of the faintest blush on her cheeks, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. “She’s our social media girl.”

“Oh shit, my bad,” Stewie laughs. Zari waves her off with ease, shrugging. 

“Here you are!”

Trey interrupts the conversation, grabbing Izzie’s arm with a tight grip and pulling her closer. My hand falls off the girl, and I can’t help the flex of my jaw as I watch the way the man is intruding Izara’s personal space. I don’t even know why he had to come. I think he should’ve just stayed at the hotel. Why did he think anyone wanted him here? I sure didn’t.

“Oh hey,” Izzie chuckles as Trey throws his arm around her shoulder. It angers me. What angers me even more is that the dark haired girl doesn’t seem to mind. She remains still, sipping her martini, popping an olive into her mouth speaking to Stewie with ease. About what I couldn’t tell you. They almost look like a couple. I wanna kill him.

“So where’s Marta?” I ask Stewie, trying to refocus my attention.

“She’s at home with the kids, you wanna go sit down somewhere? It’s so loud here and I wanna catch up.”

I glance at Iz whose back is fully turned on me now, engaged in conversation with the brunette, brown eyed man. I think he’s 2 inches shorter than I am. That makes me happy.

“Yeah lemme get another drink first.”

-

After four martinis I can feel the way I’m losing control over my gaze. My eyes were stuck on Paige, sitting between Stewie and JJ, sipping on her drink and throwing her head back as she laughs. She looks stunning, in a slicked back bun, black denim shorts ripped on her thighs and an oversized t-shirt, silver chains dangling on her chest, diamond studs glimmering in the purple light of the club. My sight couldn’t move from the way Paige’s veiny hands are wrapped around the glass, her complexion tan from the Dallas sun of early summer.

“I could live here for sure… Like start a family here and shit,” Trey is speaking my ear off as always. If that man was good at something it was talking without needing a single reply. So I let him blabber. Not that I’m paying much attention to what he’s saying, mind far too wrapped on the blond sitting in the far corner.

“You want kids?”

This snaps me out of my tipsy thoughts, my head turning to the man. “Huh?”

“You ever want kids?”

Really not a conversation I want to have right now. Or ever with Trey. Why is he even talking to me about this? 

“Uh, yeah, I do,” I murmur and down my martini, letting it burn my throat satisfyingly. I don’t wanna think about it, about the life I gave up when I left Jasper. How even if I had a horrible husband at least I’d probably be pregnant, I’d be a mom soon. It was the one thing I had always wanted, to be a mom. Now I felt lost, worried I might never find that person for me - to have children with. I couldn’t bear to imagine it.

“Yeah?” Trey grins, revealing a row of white teeth. “How many?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I chuckle awkwardly, putting my glass down. “Three, I guess.”

The man gasps, his hand grabbing my arm in excitement. “Me too! I want all boys. I could see you be a boy mom.”

I disagree so hard I can’t even fathom what’s coming out of his mouth. I always wanted a girl, more than anything. Trey clearly did not know me at all.

“Girl she’s so hot…”

I hear the two bartenders whispering to each other behind the bar. I snap my head towards them and notice both of the girls glancing towards, who else but Paige, and blushing.

“I know I’m straight but like… For her?” The red haired girl giggles. I roll my eyes, feeling annoyance rise to my chest, making it heave.

“Go ask for her number, she wants you for sure.”

“You think?”

“She was looking at your ass earlier.”

I feel hot in the face, angry, for whatever reason. I try to clear my throat to get their attention, to order another drink and partly to stop the conversation. But they don’t hear me.

“Fuck, okay, I’mma do it. Wish me luck.”

I watch as the red haired girl walks to the table, holding a tray of drinks I guess the group of girls ordered, obviously swaying her hips from left to right in an amplified way. Surely she was delusional, it would be stupid of Paige to be getting with random bartenders as famous as she had become.

It’s as if they move in slow motion, the girl leaning down with a bright smile placing the tray of drinks on the table. Paige’s blue eyes flash as she looks the bartender up and down and flashes that smug, flirty grin I knew much too well. The girl exchanges words with Paige, though I can’t hear over the thumping beat playing loudly. But from the looks on Stewie’s and JJ’s face I can tell it’s something flirty. The blonde digs her phone out of her pocket and allows the red haired girl to type what I assume to be her number in it.

“What can I get you?” The second bartender asks, as I lean against the bar, eyes sharp and watchful. I don’t hear her. I feel my face turn red, a strange frustration swelling up inside me. I wanted the girl to get away from Paige, my Paige.

“Zari? You tryna order?”

“Uh what?” Suddenly I snap out of my head as Trey taps me on the arm. The bartender is staring at me with expecting eyes. 

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks, her voice overly sweet. I decided I didn’t like her either, because why had she egged the red girl on?

“Uh, just a vodka soda, please,” I mumble, digging for my wallet.

“I got it,” Paige’s familiar, low voice murmurs from behind me, sliding her card smoothly to the bartender. I feel her front press into my back as she reaches over, the heat of her body making my mind spin.

“Thought you already got your drink,” I huff, and it comes off much more rude than I intended.

I feel the blonde chuckle soundlessly, her warm breath teasing my ear. “Need a straw,” she says, grabbing one from the holder set up on the bar. I feel irrationally upset, even more so now that she had paid for my drink. The moment it’s handed to me I scoff a quiet thanks, pushing off the bar and walking away with urgent steps. Paige is persistent as always, following close behind me like a puppy.

“Yo you good Iz?” She asks. The alcohol was hitting me, making my brain stupid and inconsiderate, words spilling from my lips before I could think them through.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Paige scoffs loud, still following at my heels as I hurry around the club aimlessly, trying to shake her off. I should know that was impossible with the blonde.

“What’s your problem?” Paige asks. I roll my eyes, but don’t answer. Frankly I don’t know what the answer is. I search my brain, looking for any valid reason or excuse for me to be mad. Because I couldn’t deal with the answer being that I have feelings for her. I just couldn’t.

“Nothing, just leave me be.”

Paige grabs my arm, stopping me and holding me still with ease and flipping me over to face her. My green eyes circle the walls of the club as we stand on the edge of the dancefloor, lights flashing purple, pink, blue, avoiding her gaze, her ocean eyes.

“Iz, what the hell is going on?”

I scoff again, shaking my head. “You’re being stupid. Flirting with random bartenders. You’re famous like actually famous. You need to be smarter Paige.” Good excuse. I almost believed it myself.

Paige furrows her brows, taken aback. “Bro, huh? Whatchu talkin about?”

“The girl you idiot!” I’m speaking with my hands now, flailing them everywhere, forcing the blonde to let go of me. “If she goes to the press it’s gonna be everywhere!”

“Who cares? I did nothin’ wrong! I’m single,” she argues back. She’s right. I was gonna lose this fight.

“Shouldn’t you focus on getting your game right first? Maybe that’s why you haven’t been doing as well, you’re unfocused.” It’s a low blow. I don’t even mean it. I knew how in her head Paige was about her games recently. I regret it the second it leaves my mouth. I should never drink again.

Paige goes silent, and raises her brows, kissing her lips with a bitter smile. “Wow Iz, fucking wow.” And she turns around and leaves me standing there alone.

-

“Hey, everyone’s start is hard. Don’t get in your head about it. You’ll find it.”

Stewie’s been staring at me staring at the floor and moping for the past ten minutes, sipping on my drink and biting my nails. Her words are so sweet that I don’t have the heart to tell her that my game is the absolute last thing on my mind. I’m still trying to comprehend the conversation between me and Izzie, the attitude she was giving me and wherever it was coming from, because I had no idea. I cross my legs, huffing and nodding as if to acknowledge Stewie’s words, though my head was filled with images of Izara’s stern face, the way she rolled her sharp eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, the way her voice sounded once she got angry. Everything about it had turned me on, insanely much. I’m really in it huh?

“Unless you’re Miles, now that girl’s been hooping,” JJ chuckles. Stewie nods with a smile, agreeing.

“Yeah she’s had a good start this season.”

JJ gets up, looking over at us two. “Anyone want another drink?”

I shake my head, still working on the fruity concoction I had ordered last. Once we’re alone, Stewie turns to me, studying my face.

“You good?”

I shrug, leaning back on my seat.

“Ohh, it’s a girl huh?” 

I grin and nod. “Always is.”

Stewie nods and looks around, watching the way my eyes glared over Izzie who was sitting next to Trey, looking at everything but me.

“It’s the British girl huh?”

“She’s…” I murmur, taking a sip of my drink. “She keeps me on my toes I’mma say that much.”

“Uh oh,” the woman laughs, clearly expecting me to keep talking. It works, the drinks making it easier for me to open up.

“Nahh, I’m playing. We’re just friends. But now she acting crazy over how I’mma ruin my public image or some shit by getting a girl’s number,” I groan. “Like she was forreal upset.”

Stewie listens with a small grin, nodding and glancing between me and the girl I was staring, my chest aching to touch her the drunker I got.

“I see that basketball IQ doesn’t translate to real life huh?” She asks. I don’t understand what she means. Reading my confused expression Stewie continues. 

“I don’t think she wants to be just friends. I think she’s jealous Paige,” Stewie nearly laughs at my ignorance. I’m about to get defensive, knowing this was a ridiculous thing to say. Why would Izzie, who wanted us to be friends, who kept rejecting me time after time, be jealous over me? But there’s no other reason, no other motive for her actions that makes sense. Izara is jealous over me.

-

I enter the women’s bathroom, trying to mull it over in my head. Had I had it wrong this entire time? Maybe Izzie had feelings for me, the same kind of feelings I had for her. She was just better at hiding it. The girl was always cool, calm and composed. Of course she was good at hiding it. It only makes sense. I walk to the sinks, watching my reflection in the mirror when Izzie opens a stall door, heels tapping on the marble of the floor as she walks to the sinks.

Her green eyes lock with mine in the mirror, her face still hard and stubborn. She’s not gonna talk to me, her gaze swiftly moving to the sink where she’s washing her hands diligently. Fine. If she won’t I will.

“Hey,” I say. Without looking at me she responds.

“Hello.”

I approach the girl, stepping closer to her. I needed to talk to her, I hated the coldness between us, even if it hadn’t lasted for longer than the past hour. Every minute we spent not together felt wasted to me.

“You thinking about heading back to the hotel soon?” I ask in hopes it would be enough to show effort for reconciliation. Instead she furrows her dark brows, turning to me.

“What you’re not gonna go home with that girl then?” She crosses her arms, green eyes even more vibrant in contrast to the black lining her waterlines. Not reminding me as much of the deep dark green of the forests back in Connecticut, but more so like the bright green of the first blades of grass pushing through the dead ground in the spring.

She continues before I can answer, face scrunched up in annoyance. “You know what, all those girls you bring home too, it’s so inconsiderate. It is so loud, it drives me insane! You should think of your neighbours once in a while, you know!”

Stewie was right. She’s jealous. Actually jealous of me with other girls. An involuntary grin begins to grow on my face, as I gaze down at the girl, loving the way she was a couple inches shorter even with heels. Thankfully the bathrooms are empty besides us two, because I’m too euphoric to even check.

“Honestly, it’s just being a bad neighbour and-” Izzie stops talking, noticing my expression, scoffing. “Why are you smiling?”

“You want me to stop?” I ask, my voice teasing.

“I- wh- pardon?”

My grin falls, expression turning serious, my voice turning low and genuine. “If you don’t want me with anyone else just say the word.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as she takes my words in, cheeks beginning to redden as she comprehends them and what I mean.

“N-no it’s not that,” Iz murmurs, barely able to hold eye contact with me. “It’s just. So loud sometimes.”

I nod, stepping closer to her, our fronts nearly touching, electricity between us tingling, sending chills all over me.

“I’ll stop.”

“No Paige, you don’t need to. I don’t care about who you sleep with.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my gaze stuck on her face as her lips part to let out a shaky breath. She feels it just as much as I do.

Izara shakes her head slowly, never breaking eye contact. 

“Are you sure?” I ask, tongue swiping over my lower lip.

We stare at each other for a while and I can tell the dark haired girl is thinking it over, considering every detail before admitting to something that might end in a mistake. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, the door to the bathroom opens, a group of women walking in. I quickly avert my gaze, Izzie doing the same as I take a step back and clear my throat, feeling the burn between my legs return in a painful, desperate way.

Izzie takes a deep breath, turning her back to me as she dries her hand wordlessly. I watch her, her shiny black hair and the way it swings in the air, her long neck and jaw, the sharp slope of her nose.

As the girl takes steps towards the exit, walking past me I grab her arm carefully, but sternly, pulling her close.

“I mean it Izzie. Just say the word and it’s done. They’re gone. Just a word, ma."

Iz breathes heavy, looking at my face with heavy lidded eyes before nodding. I let go of her, my fingertips burning where they had touched her skin. The girl exits the bathroom, leaving me on fire, a tingling in my lower abdomen making me dizzy.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter@thaatdigitaldiary@pb524830@bueckersfive@lupinqs@sierrale8ne@d3arapril@lovegalor333@avvwritesstufff@rosemariiaa@bueckers22@taylynbueckers44@unadulteratedcyclepaper@rizzlerbuckets@wosolipa@bridgetloveswomen@paiges-1vur@slut4uconnwbb@xxloveralways14@bueckersbitch@janaelalfysblunt@omg-imtumbling@angryflowerwitch@ohbueckers @ohmybueckers

[ablobwhowrites]

Tell us more about parent reader🙏 I don't why but I picture to look like season 2 jayce y/n job being an inventor. Is THE both heroes and Villains are thirsting for. The poor daughter 😭

parent y/n just trying to make a living to live in a comfortable place for his daughter cause like dude. His daughter is sick of it cause she doesn't want to wait for a hour home alone or with a babysitter every time cause his work keeps him over time and y/n probably works as a writer at the newspaper company Clark works at maybe but I don't know you guys can decide. But yeah his daughter is just sitting home have her apple juice and watching SpongeBob until y/n comes home cause like being in school at Gotham is stressful cause you got villains that could throw your school bus over a bridge (but gets saved by a hero but still) but very villain has a rule that y/n's daughter doesn't getting hurt. Also love the thought of the penguin doing like some penguin shit and leaving parent y/n (and detective y/n) nice rocks and pebbles just like penguins do with pebbles. Leaving them at y/n's door and y/n always picks it up cause it's pretty rocks and shit and having no idea what this means.

Y/n's daughter: "I don't want you near my dad. Can I pay you to just not flirt with my dad for a week?"

Catwoman: "oh yeah, what will you pay me in? Penny's? Or maybe some quarter-"

*y/n's daughter pulling out a whole roll of 5,000 dollars*

Catwoman: "JESUS KID, WHERE DID YOU GET THAT MONEY!"

I like the thought of y/n's daughter just getting some kind of monthly allowance from Bruce to let y/n go on a date (also she somehow found out he's Batman so that's also something. But she will never tell) plus flash once tried to pick y/n up but bro failed cause y/n had his earbuds in and didn't hear a word of those cheesy and bad pickup lines flash tried to say. Plus he got a offer to work at Lexcorp as a secretary but mysterious that email has been erased. (definitely was not a certain man in a costume that's fights crime in the night erasing the message or anything)

Plus parent y/n always tries to put his daughter first before anything, bro hasn't dated in a long time like bro is a single parent trying to have his kid have the best life (he is also very concerned with the amount of money he is getting for this secret admirer/s. But hey at least he can pay rent and have a lot of money left over) but over all he tries to have his daughter have a good childhood with what salary he has.

(anyways hope y'all like me yapping about these new y/n ideas but you guys can request more cause I love yapping to you guy plus I might be cooking with detective y/n , ex villain y/n and parent y/n. But please drink water and stay healthy guys)

[steddieas-shegoes]

uh oh, feelings

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event 'it's complicated'

rated e, 18+, minors dni | 4,512 words | cw: open ending, steve/gareth sex | tags: established steddie, NOT cheating they're all super cool and fine with this, eddie watches, virgin gareth, first time, bottom steve, top gareth, blowjob, anal fingering, anal sex, left open on purpose because i'm insane and might continue it

also on ao3

◼️⬛◾▪️◼️⬛◾▪️◼️⬛◾▪️

“Dude. You’re making me sad.”

Gareth groans. “I don’t care. I feel pitiful.”

“That’s ‘cause you are,” Eddie pushes his shoulder. It’s playful, but there’s a hint of actual annoyance in it and Gareth doesn’t want that. “There’s, like, a whole crowd of women out there who would fuck you if you asked.”

“I don’t want the whole crowd of women. I want one woman, maybe two.”

“You’re not going from zero to two. So knock down your expectations a little,” Eddie starts. “Also, just throwing this out as an option: plenty of men would be interested in you, too.”

“Yeah? Like who?” Gareth scoffs.

It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it. He has. Plenty of times. More often than he’d ever admit to anyone, especially Eddie.

“I dunno. Steve?”

Gareth blinks once, twice.

“Steve who?” He only knows one Steve and that Steve is very taken by the man hounding him about his virginity right now.

Eddie throws the pillow he’s holding at Gareth. “My boyfriend, Steve! ‘Steve who?’ Fuck, dude, how many Steves do you know?”

“I dunno! Sorry for not assuming you want me to sleep with the love of your life I guess!”

“Everyone wants to sleep with Steve,” Eddie shrugs as if he’s cool with everyone wanting to sleep with Steve.

“Not everyone,” Gareth insists, but he’s not actually sure. Steve is the hottest guy they know. “I don’t think.”

“But you do.”

Gareth stays silent. This feels like a trap. He doesn’t think Eddie would get pissed or anything if he admits it, but he doesn’t want Steve to find out.

“It’s okay if you do. Steve would totally fuck you.”

Gareth’s mouth drops open. “He would not.”

“He would,” Eddie nods. He’s smirking like he’s teasing, but Gareth thinks he’s actually being very serious right now. “Ask him.”

“I’m not gonna ask your boyfriend if he’d fuck me!”

“Don’t ask him outright!” Eddie throws his arms up. “Jesus, no wonder you’re a virgin. Flirt with him, see if he flirts back.”

“Is this some kinda fucked up friendship test?” Gareth stands and starts pacing. Steve will be on the bus any minute and there’s no way he should hear any of this conversation. He’ll cut off Gareth’s balls for even suggesting he cheat on Eddie. He’ll hang them out the tour bus window while Gareth dies on the floor and post an ad for a drummer at their next stop. “Or are you testing Steve? I’m not gonna be a part of that, man. Steve loves you and I’m not getting in the way-“

“Dude. It’s not a test. Get it out of your system and then maybe you can focus on something other than your miserable state of existence,” Eddie walks to his bunk and Gareth is reminded immediately that they’re all sleeping on the bus tonight. Eddie’s plan isn’t gonna work.

“It can’t be tonight,” Gareth is surprised at his own words, shocked that he’s apparently entertaining the idea of fucking Steve. Getting fucked by Steve? “Is Steve a top or bottom?”

Eddie laughs loud enough to make Gareth flinch.

“You’ll find out soon.”

~~~

Soon is two days later, when they finally have a two day break so they can stay in a hotel. None of them stray far, always choosing to be in adjoining rooms and getting room service instead of trying to go out. It’s just easier; no worrying about being seen by fans or trying to book enough security for them to stay safe.

Goodie and Jeff are in the hot tub downstairs, probably trying to pick up chicks, so naturally Gareth is sitting in Eddie and Steve’s bed while they finish their dinner. He’s not worried about being a third wheel, especially not since Eddie told him that Steve would fuck him. He’s still not sure he would.

“Steve, you’ve taken most of Hawkins’ virginity, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, huffs a ‘smooth’ under his breath. Steve doesn’t even flinch. He finishes chewing, swallows, and sits back in the rolling chair he insisted on staying in while he ate.

“I wouldn’t say most. A good chunk,” Steve smirks. “Why? Trying to take someone’s virginity?”

“Yeah. Mine.”

Gareth slaps his hand over his own mouth. He feels absurd. He feels like he might puke. He thinks his heart is trying to escape his body via his throat or maybe his ass. He’s unsure if gravity is involved at all, actually.

“You’re a virgin?” Steve chokes on nothing. “Eddie, you didn’t tell me he’s a virgin.”

“I didn’t know you needed to know this about my best friend,” Eddie laughs, ignores the way Gareth is watching them with wide eyes.

“I can’t believe I couldn’t tell,” Steve is shaking his head, looking more disappointed with himself by the second. Gareth isn’t sure what to make of it. He thinks he’s supposed to feel ashamed, but he doesn’t. Not yet. “I can spot them from a mile away.”

Eddie snorts, but doesn’t comment. He’s stuffing his face with his dinner, and Steve’s eyes are focusing on Gareth in a way he isn’t familiar with from anyone, let alone…Steve.

“Uh…how exactly do you know from looking at someone?” Gareth dares to ask.

“Oh, it’s easy. I can’t tell you, but you might figure it out soon,” Steve answers, shoving another bite into his mouth and then standing up.

“How will I figure it out?”

“Because you won’t be a virgin anymore.”

“O…kay?”

There’s no way it’s this easy, right? There’s no way Steve is offering to fuck him and there’s no way Eddie’s just okay with it.

“Eddie, what’s your color on this?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks between them for a moment. “Green,” Eddie smirks. “But I’m watching.”

“Watching what?” Gareth knows what. He can’t believe it’s happening, but he knows.

“You cool with fucking me? Or do you prefer me fucking you? I’m good either way.”

Straight to business it seems. Gareth is chubbing up a little already. What the fuck is going on?

“Yeah, uh.” Gareth swallows around his nerves. He performs in front of thousands of people every night. He can fuck Steve Harrington. “Yeah, I can fuck you. That’s good. Cool.”

Steve raises a brow, looks to Eddie, then back to Gareth. “Is it because he’s gonna watch?”

Gareth shakes his head. He’s fine with that part. Honestly, it might help keep him from throwing up if Eddie’s there. Eddie’s seen him in every state of undress, and every emotion, and he trusts him more than anyone else.

“Is it because it’s me?” Steve steps closer. Gareth’s asshole tightens. It happens when he’s nervous, okay? It’s like fight or flight, except no matter what he chooses, nothing’s getting in his asshole or out of it.

“I mean, it’s not not because it’s you. I’d be nervous about anyone. I guess it’s just…like you do realize that you’re with Eddie, right?”

Eddie and Steve both laugh and it makes Gareth feel dumb.

“Yeah, I do. I love him a hell of a lot,” Steve finally says. “And he loves me a lot. And we both love you and want you to stop moping.”

“You’re not in love with me though?” Gareth has to clarify. He loves Eddie, and he loves Steve, but not like that.

“No, dude,” Eddie exclaims. “Neither of us wanna make you a third. You just need to get over this thing in your head that losing your virginity is the end all be all of your life or something. I can’t stand the face you make anymore. Steve’s sick of me complaining. We love you in the way where if we have to see that face anymore, we’ll bury your body on the interstate so.”

“Right. Okay.” Gareth nods because that makes sense. It’s hard to figure out how this is gonna work later on, after he’s seen Steve like this, after Eddie’s seen him like this. “So, we’re doing this.”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. He gets close enough to pull Gareth into him, kisses the corner of his mouth as a test.

It’s a little weird, but that’s because he was under the impression they wouldn’t kiss. He assumed this was a get in, get out situation. Get the job done and move on. He didn’t expect it to be soft.

“C’mon,” Steve whispers as he pulls back, smiling encouragingly at him. He takes his hand and leads him to the bed. “You know how to get me ready?”

Gareth nods. He’s messed around with himself plenty of times to know what to do, what feels good, what’s too much. He doesn’t know what Steve likes, but he can figure it out as he goes.

Steve takes his shirt off. Eddie groans.

“You look so good,” he groans. “I wanna touch you, too.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Not now. Let Gare have this, baby.”

“He can…he can touch you. If you want,” Gareth says. “I dunno if I want him to touch me, though.”

Eddie’s hand goes to his chest dramatically. “No? My nimble fingers aren’t good enough? Fine!” He smirks. “I’m good just watching. This is for you. I get to touch him all the time.”

Steve is slipping his pants off quietly, letting them have this moment.

“Normally, I’d make you take my clothes off, but I think you know how to do that,” Steve teases. “Unless you’re unfamiliar with this model of jeans.”

“Levi’s?” Gareth takes his own shirt off. “Half my closet is thrifted Levi’s, dude.”

And then they’re both standing in just their underwear. Gareth’s in boxers that he doesn’t remember washing in his last round of laundry, and Steve’s standing there in the tightest gray underwear Gareth’s ever seen, already half-hard.

His dick is huge. Like, way bigger than Gareth’s, maybe also Eddie’s. He’d need to see them both at once to compare, but-

“We’re gonna use colors, even though it’s not a scene, okay? Just so you’re comfortable. Red is stop, yellow is pause, green is good. Use them anytime. If Eddie sees something I miss, he’ll ask you randomly, okay?” Steve pulls his underwear off.

He’s just…naked. Comfortably standing in front of Gareth with his dick out and leaning to the left, getting harder the more Gareth watches him. Who knew Steve was into being watched?

Gareth drops his boxers and he is fully hard. Achingly so. His dick pulses when Steve’s eyes drop down to get a look. Steve’s lips curl up into a smile.

He walks up to him, drops to his knees, and gets his hand around the base. Gareth’s breath catches.

Steve licks a stripe up his dick, sucking the head into his mouth before he takes him all the way down.

“Jesus,” Gareth moans. He’s got pretty good stamina when it’s just him. His dick is sensitive, but he knows how to edge himself. He kinda likes doing it on nights when they’ve got a hotel. He can shove his face into the pillow and get himself close four, five, six times before he shakes apart. He doesn’t know if he can hold back with his dick leaking down Steve’s throat. “Do you not have a gag reflex? Fuck.”

Steve smiles around him somehow, and Eddie is trying hard not to make noise, but Gareth can hear him huffing a laugh against his hand.

Steve pops off for a moment, looks up at him with a grin. “You can touch me.”

Right. His hands immediately go to Steve’s hair, threading through the locks and pulling him in again. He’s under no impression that he’s in control here. He’s just gonna try to keep both hands on the steering wheel while Steve hits the gas pedal.

His fingers tighten when Steve’s tongue swirls around his tip. Steve moans. The vibrations are enough to make Gareth’s legs feel weak.

“Shit. Bed, bed, bed,” he’s saying as he tugs Steve off of him and to his feet. He crushes his lips to Steve’s, any lingering doubt in his mind that this was gonna ruin their friendship long gone. He’s gonna fuck Steve and make him feel good, and Steve’s gonna return the favor, and then he’s gonna keep annoying Steve for the rest of time.

He could throw Steve on the bed, but Steve’s faster. He pushes Gareth down on his back, straddles his hips, and pushes his hands above his head.

Shit, that’s hot.

“How am I gonna get you ready if you have my hands way up there?” Gareth is nothing if not a little shit.

But Steve is also a little shit.

“You’ll figure it out,” Steve’s ass is brushing against his dick and he’s trying not to think about how it will feel inside him. But the more he thinks about not thinking about it, the more he realizes he’s gonna be inside Steve very soon. His restraint is flying out the window and up the street.

He feels Eddie’s eyes on them, but he’s decidedly not thinking about what he might be doing. If it were him in Eddie’s shoes, he’d be jacking it relentlessly.

Gareth is pretty strong. Like, he plays drums every day. Got used to lugging equipment around before they had people who did that for them. Started lifting weights occasionally when no one was watching. He likes being strong, he likes the way his muscles ripple when he’s beating the hell out of his snares and cymbals, angry but beaming from ear to ear.

He likes the way Steve moans when he throws him off of him, switching their positions in less than two seconds.

He doesn’t feel the need to say anything. Steve’s blushing, a pretty pink color across his face and neck, and his lips are swollen from sucking his dick and biting his own lips. Seeing Steve like this is life-changing.

It’s not a falling in love moment, but it’s a moment where he can see why Eddie did.

There’s always a certain charm floating around Steve, and it shifts now, while he’s under Gareth. It’s brighter, damn near blinding. Steve’s glittering gold, intensely blazing as Gareth’s hands run down his chest and sides. He adjusts so he’s sitting between Steve’s legs, pushing them back.

He hears Eddie groan from a few feet away. He’s ignoring it.

“You guys have lube?” Gareth asks.

Eddie throws a bottle on the bed.

“Thanks.”

Stupid of him to assume they went anywhere without some. They fucked like rabbits. He’s pretty sure if Steve could get pregnant, he would have had at least two accidental babies by now.

Gareth stares at the bottle in his hand.

“Still green?” Steve asks quietly.

“Yeah, sorry.” Gareth opens the bottle and uses entirely too much. It’s a different brand than he uses, and he’s nervous, and he can feel two sets of eyes watching his every breath and it’s- “Yellow.”

Steve sits up and takes the bottle from him. He hears Eddie step closer for a moment, as if he’s gonna try to fix it even though he isn’t technically involved in any of this.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, soft, careful. Unlike any way he ever talks to Gareth.

He kinda hates it. He likes when Steve’s a bitchy know-it-all to him. He likes when Steve gets frustrated at the way he pretends to be dumber than he is about band stuff.

“I just need a minute, I think,” Gareth admits. “This is a lot.”

“Okay,” Steve waves Eddie off and places both hands on Gareth’s face. It’s intimate. It blocks the outside world from view. It feels like it’s just them right now. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you wanna stop. It’s not me, it’s you.”

Gareth snorts. There’s the bitchy Steve he’s always loved.

“I don’t wanna stop. I just realized I’m fucking my best friend’s boyfriend while he watches and it’s taking me a second to wrap my head around that being a normal thing,” Gareth explains. He’s ignoring the way Steve’s dick is rubbing against his. He said yellow, so they have to stay paused until he’s mentally good to go. He knows that much.

“Should Eddie not watch?” Steve asks. As if Eddie would allow Gareth to fuck Steve without being there.

“No, that’s-” Gareth sighs. “I don’t care if he watches. It’s just a lot.”

“Yeah. You’re doing good, though.”

The praise sinks deep into his skin, courses through his veins. He isn’t able to hold back a whine. Holy shit, where did that even come from?

Steve looks thrilled.

“Oh. Well, this is interesting,” Steve says around a smile. “Didn’t think it would go like this.”

“Like what?”

Gareth feels unmoored. Something’s shifted. The entire room feels darker, heavier.

“Stevie, be nice,” Eddie says from a chair. Gareth didn’t even know there was a chair in the corner.

“I am being nice,” Steve doesn’t look away from Gareth. “This is just shocking information and I’m taking it in. Learning. Growing.”

“What information?”

“We won’t do anything with it tonight. But we’ll talk about it after. You gotta stay safe if you decide to try anything with someone and I won’t let someone hurt you.”

“Try what?”

“Later,” Steve pats his cheek and lays back again. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m right here. Take your time, honey.”

The name feels like honey, dripping between them and making them sticky. Gareth wants to lick the word from Steve’s mouth.

Gareth watches as Steve puts his hand on his own dick, lazily stroking to keep himself hard. He can’t look away. A bead of precum falls, drips down his length until his thumb swipes it up, rubs it into his skin.

He licks his lips.

His fingers ghost over Steve’s hole.

“Good?” Steve asks, breathless.

“Green,” Gareth answers as he slides a lubed-up finger into him.

He’s tight, but there’s really no resistance. Steve’s relaxed. Gareth’s relaxed.

Steve rocks back into his touch, eyes glassy as he silently begs for more. It’s easy to read him when he’s like this, wanting more, being greedy in ways no one else ever sees. Steve’s a giver, the least selfish person of all of them, but not now. Now he wants.

Now Gareth is gonna give.

He’s three fingers deep when he manages to find Steve’s prostate. It’s easier on himself, he realizes. He’s spent years figuring out what makes himself tick. He has to watch every rise of Steve’s chest, every twitch of his brow, every bite of his lip. This is finding what makes someone– Steve– feel good, and doing it so they find pleasure.

Gareth sees why they fuck like rabbits.

Steve’s back arches off the bed as he flicks his fingers just right, rubs until he’s sure Steve’s gonna squirm right off the bed. Eddie’s barely even a thought in his mind right now, but he can feel his gaze. He’s making sure Steve’s taken care of, and he’s making sure Gareth doesn’t need to back out. He’s taking care of them in the only way he knows how.

He wants to hand over the reins. Steve’s taking what he’s giving, but he wants him to take more.

He doesn’t know how to verbalize that without sounding desperate.

But something switches between them and Steve seems to just know.

He’s an intuitive guy.

Steve sits up, waits for Gareth to remove his fingers. He pushes Gareth back on the bed, so his head is resting at where the sheets have gathered at the foot.

He straddles him again, throws his hands up above his head again, smirks again.

“Condom?” Steve asks.

Gareth knows from his mom, from health class, from Eddie, from Steve he should say yes. If this were a stranger, he’d say yes.

But this is Steve, who insists on everyone getting tested every three months like clockwork, who has only slept with Eddie for the last six years, who would never even ask if he was at all concerned about their safety. He’s letting Gareth make the call on something that’s normally important. It’s not a test, it’s just Steve letting him have control.

“Can we do it without?” Gareth’s voice is barely more than a whisper. He’s shy. Why the fuck does he feel shy?

Steve nods, soft smile taking over.

“But never do it without with anyone else unless you’re in a committed relationship and both clean,” Eddie says from the chair, ever the mother hen.

“Yes, dad,” Gareth rolls his eyes.

“Don’t call me dad while you’re fucking my boyfriend,” Eddie says.

“I’m not fucking him yet,” Gareth’s words end in a whine as Steve slides down on his dick. He’s so fucking tight, Jesus Christ on the fucking cross. “Holy shit. Is it this tight all the time?”

Steve breathes out, halfway laughs, halfway trying to not whimper.

“Eddie usually does four fingers first,” Steve says. It doesn’t even feel weird to hear him talk about what Eddie normally does.

“Should I have done four?”

“No, honey. Three is good,” Steve leans down to kiss him.

Gareth’s stomach flutters.

He’s inside Steve. His dick is in Steve’s ass.

Steve lifts his body up, falls back down. He holds onto Gareth’s chest, thumbs at his nipples, finds a rhythm.

He knows Steve is athletic, has always been that way and probably always will be that way. He’s got endurance that no one can match, probably not even Eddie. He’s stronger than Gareth by a mile, and it shows when his thigh muscles tighten and relax as he rides Gareth into the mattress.

His pace picks up. Gareth’s hands hold onto his hips, but he’s not really doing anything. He’s just along for the ride.

What a ride it’s been.

“Fuck, yes, there,” Steve gasps suddenly. His legs start shaking. Eddie makes the most high-pitched whine Gareth’s ever heard. It’s a lot all at once and his brain is dumbed down to processing how good he feels and nothing else. “Fuck me, honey. Harder.”

It’s ridiculous how easily he goes along with Steve’s demands now. Normally, he fights him on everything just to be annoying.

But Steve wants him to go harder and he wants what Steve wants.

His grip tightens against Gareth’s hips and he plants his feet against the bed for leverage. If Steve’s wants to get fucked harder, then Steve’s gonna get fucked harder.

“Shit, yes, feels so good,” Steve pants.

Gareth doesn’t know if he’s always like this or if he’s playing it up a little to make him feel more confident for whoever he fucks next. Either way, Steve’s making this a hell of a fun time.

“Is it good for you, honey?” Steve asks.

How he remembers to ask is beyond him. Gareth can’t do anything but nod and moan. He feels sweat beading along his forehead and neck. He doesn’t do this much work unless he’s on stage.

“Tell me how good it is.”

Gareth whimpers. He didn’t even realize he could make that noise.

“So good. So tight, Steve, shit,” Gareth is moving faster now, and he’s really not sure how it could feel good for Steve at this point, but Steve’s eyes roll back in his head and he comes all over them.

He’s impossibly tighter through his orgasm and it brings Gareth to his own peak. He’s shaking through it, not even sure what he’s saying. His hips stutter and stop and he’s filling Steve up with his cum. It’s already dripping back down his own dick, making a mess on the hotel bed.

Steve is brushing his hair out of his face, kissing his jaw, whispering about how good he did. It’s helping and also making it harder to keep this from getting complicated.

No one warned him about the attachment. He figured it would be fine, he could get off with Steve and then they could pretend it didn’t happen or joke about it. He’s crashing from a high he’s never experienced and he’s realizing how stupid he was to think he could ever look at Steve the same.

“Shit, Eddie, come here,” he hears Steve say, but he doesn’t really feel anything anymore. He knows he’s not inside Steve anymore, which kinda sucks. He likes the warmth, might already be a little addicted to it. “It’s okay, Gare. We’ve got you.”

Strong arms wrap around him, familiar in the way they don’t hesitate to pull him close. Eddie’s always been a cuddler, and he’s always known how to hold Gareth when his head’s too loud. Right now his head is silent, but his arms provide the same comfort.

A warm washcloth is on him and he blinks his eyes open to see Steve cleaning him up. Eddie’s behind him, holding him against his chest. He’s fully dressed and Gareth is not.

But he just fucked his boyfriend in front of him, so he guesses this is probably fine.

Eddie’s humming something. He doesn’t recognize it, but he’s still feeling a little out of it.

“Hey, honey,” Steve is next to him now, his hand on his chest. “You with us yet?”

“Mmm,” is all he can reply with.

“It’s alright. Take your time.”

A few minutes pass. He feels less like he’s having a crisis about feelings for Steve and more like he just got fucked within an inch of his life.

It’s a good change.

“Hey,” he says.

Eddie’s arms tighten around him. Steve smiles.

“Hey, bud,” Steve says, and it makes Gareth laugh.

“What happened to honey?” He jokes. But he did kinda like it. More than he probably should.

Steve gently smacks his chest. “I was making you feel special, jackass.”

Gareth sighs. “I know. I did.”

Steve has his underwear back on, but nothing else. Gareth can feel his thigh brushing against his. He’s a hairy son of a bitch.

“Was it good?” Steve asks.

“It was great. Thank you for doing that for me,” Gareth hates how his voice sounds now, a little broken, scared.

“You don’t have to thank me, Gare,” Steve says, careful and calm. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”

“It’s true. Steve’s a stubborn bitch,” Eddie butts in. “Can’t get him to do anything he doesn’t wanna do.”

Gareth giggles, ducking his head down. He still feels a little delirious, maybe a little too sleepy for this conversation.

“You wanna stay with us tonight?” Eddie continues.

“Can I?”

“‘Course you can, bud. Need me to get you anything?”

Gareth shakes his head. He just needs sleep. Maybe in the morning, once he’s separated from this a little, he’ll have some coffee and a bagel and he’ll get over this feeling in his chest that’s trying to override the adrenaline of finally having sex.

He doesn’t know what to make of it right now.

But one thing his mom always says is to sleep on hard feelings. If it’s important, it’ll be there in the morning, and it might make more sense.

He sure hopes so.

[sweetvoidstuff]

Game, Set, Match

Jungkook x Reader | Fluff | Friends to Lovers | Playful Flirting | Competitive Gaming | Party Vibes | Slow Burn | First Kiss

Summary: What starts as a lighthearted Mario Kart tournament at your party takes an unexpected turn when Jungkook—undefeated champion and effortlessly cool—ends up losing a bet to you.

Masterlist

Wordcount: ~4400

The party hums with a comfortable warmth, the kind that settles deep in your bones after a few drinks and good company. Laughter spills from the kitchen, where Jin and Namjoon are locked in a debate about whether a burrito counts as a sandwich. The scent of popcorn and something vaguely sweet lingers in the air, mixing with the faint trace of someone’s expensive cologne. The apartment isn’t overly big, but it feels alive—people leaning against countertops, sprawled across the couch, legs tangled over armrests and coffee tables as they settle into easy conversations.

You're perched on the arm of the couch, cradling your drink, one knee tucked up as you talk with Hoseok. He’s always been one of the most animated people in any room, his laughter infectious, his gestures big and full of life.

It started with small talk—how Jin had somehow managed to destroy a blender last week.

"How does he melt a blender?" "We still don’t know."

But then, somewhere between one sip and the next, the conversation shifted to video games. In a moment of honesty (and possibly, slight tipsiness), you admitted something that had Hoseok howling with laughter.

"I'm serious, Hobi," you whine, lightly slapping his arm. "I am so bad at Mario Kart. Like, I think I might be the worst player to ever exist."

Hoseok howls with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. "No way, no way. I've seen some pretty terrible players. But—" He squints at you playfully. "You do have that kind of ‘press the wrong button at the worst moment’ energy."

You gasp, placing a hand over your chest in mock offense. "Rude!"

"Wait!" He holds up a finger, grinning “Are we talking bad as in ‘occasionally forgets to drift’ bad, or bad as in ‘drives off the track every five seconds’ bad?"

You groan. "Hobi, I’m talking ‘Forget which character I’m playing as and drive into a wall for thirty seconds before realizing' bad. ‘Get stuck in a corner and not know how to reverse’ bad. ‘Use a mushroom boost at the exact worst possible moment and yeet myself into a pit’ bad."

Hoseok practically wheezes. "Oh my God. That’s painful."

"I know!"

Then, his eyes gleam with mischief. He cackles, nearly doubling over. "Okay, okay—wait. I have an idea."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh no."

"No, hear me out!" He’s practically vibrating with excitement. "We should test this. Like, scientifically. We should hold a Worst Mario Kart Player Tournament and find out once and for all who the absolute worst player is."

You blink.

Then, slowly, you grin.

"Hobi, that’s… that’s actually brilliant."

And just like that, the idea takes hold, growing legs of its own. People overhear and chime in. Taehyung calls dibs on the controller with the drift issues, swearing he can feel when a game has bad karma. Jimin, already perched cross-legged on the floor, claims he’s “not that bad” but is fully prepared to throw Namjoon under the bus as the worst player. Jin—forever chaotic—claps his hands and announces that there will be penalties for the worst of the worst.

But as things move toward setting up a place and a time, your eyes drift across the room—toward him.

Jungkook.

He’s lounging near the coffee table, looking effortlessly relaxed as he sips from a beer bottle. His hoodie is slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his tattooed arm. He laughs at something Yoongi says, the sound low and warm, and something in your chest tightens.

You shouldn’t be watching him.

It also didn’t help that you had a crush on the guy.

But you are.

Yet somehow, he catches you looking.

And he smirks.

You quickly look away, heat creeping up your neck, and focus on the plan instead.

XXX

Tournament Night

Your living room is an absolute disaster zone.

Snack bags, soda cans, and beer bottles litter every surface. The coffee table is buried under a mountain of chips and candy. Your TV screen glows with the unmistakable, cheerful chaos of Mario Kart 8 Deluxe.

Around you, the contestants lounge in various states of confidence. An elite lineup of players who are proudly terrible.

People settle in—Jin is dramatically sipping a drink, already claiming that if he loses, it’s because "the game is rigged." Namjoon is nodding sagely, despite admitting that he hasn’t played in years. Taehyung is half-sprawled on the floor, watching the screen with lazy amusement. Jimin scrolls through his phone, casually leaning against Yoongi—who watches with mild amusement, nursing a drink.

You clear your throat, standing in front of the group. Controllers are handed out like weapons before a battle

"Okay," you announce, pointing at the assembled group. "Alright, listen up! This is the Worst Mario Kart Player Tournament. The goal? To figure out who is the absolute worst at this game. If you are even remotely good at Mario Kart, you are disqualified."

Jin, reclining dramatically on the couch, sighs. "Finally, a tournament made for me."

"I can’t tell if that’s sad or impressive," Namjoon says, shaking his head.

"Both," Yoongi mutters, already lying back with a controller in hand.

Taehyung raises a hand. "What if I occasionally get second place?"

"Out."

Jimin snickers. "What if I always lose, but it’s because I’m playing with one hand while texting?"

"Acceptable."

Yoongi lifts his head. "What if I’ve never played before?"

"Perfect," you declare, writing his name down.

You’ve gathered a solid lineup of contenders, each boasting about how terrible they are. Everything is set. You’re already hyped. Only Hoseok is missing, but then he walks in with a plus-one.

And it’s Jungkook.

Jungkook, who strolls in with his hands in his hoodie pockets, eyes scanning the room with mild amusement. Jungkook, whose name you have definitely heard whispered in hushed tones when it comes to Mario Kart.

Your stomach drops.

You narrow your eyes at Hoseok. "Hobi."

Hoseok grins, entirely unrepentant. "What?"

You give him a look before turning to Jungkook, who’s standing in the doorway, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. He looks amused, glancing around at the setup before raising an eyebrow at you.

Jungkook chuckles, settling onto the couch. "So... what exactly am I walking into?"

You cross your arms. "A tournament for the worst players. Which means you—no offense—should not be here."

Jungkook tilts his head, feigning innocence. "Who says I’m good?"

"Oh, I know you’re good," you deadpan. "I’ve heard the stories. You're basically a Mario Kart god."

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Jungkook here. Jimin and Taehyung both could be decent players, but Jungkook was in a totally different league. It also didn’t help that you didn’t want to embarrass yourself more than necessary.

Hoseok chimes in, grinning. "C’mon, just let him play! It'll be fun!"

"Fun for who?" you mutter under your breath, already dreading the inevitable humiliation.

Jungkook shrugs, reaching for a controller. He’s settled on the floor near the coffee table, one arm resting on his knee as he watches the screen with an easy confidence that makes your stomach flip. He’s dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, but somehow still manages to look unfairly good. His dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, and every so often, he runs a hand through it absentmindedly. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up, revealing the ink on his arm.

You are watching him – again.

Because Jungkook—competitive, effortlessly talented, devastatingly attractive Jungkook—is also insanely good at Mario Kart.

"I’ll go easy on you guys."

Spoiler alert:

He does not go easy.

XXX

The tournament begins.

And it is chaos. It’s a train wreck from the start.

Jin, who insisted on playing Peach, screams dramatically whenever his kart spins out and somehow manages to fall off the same track three times in a row. Namjoon keeps ramming into walls like he’s personally offended by them, while muttering something about "bad steering mechanics." Taehyung is laughing so hard he can’t even steer properly. Jimin and Hoseok are actively throwing the game just to see if they can out-lose each other.

And then there’s Yoongi.

Who, true to his word, has never played before.

At one point, his character is just driving straight into a wall. No reversing. No attempt to fix it. Just… endlessly pushing against a corner.

Yoongi, who genuinely has no idea what he’s doing, has somehow managed to drive backward for an entire lap without realizing. "Wait," he mutters, squinting at the screen. "Why am I still on lap two?"

"BECAUSE YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!" the entire room yells in unison.

Hoseok is practically in tears at this point. "I swear to God, I have never seen anything this bad in my life."

Meanwhile, Jungkook—your unexpected guest of honor—leans comfortably against the couch, his controller held loosely in his hands. He’s effortlessly weaving through every obstacle, drifting like a pro, dodging red shells like they’re beneath him. While everyone else is in absolute shambles, Jungkook is so far ahead that he might as well be playing a different game.

And the worst part? He isn’t even trying.

It’s a massacre.

The moment the race ends (Jungkook: 1st place. Everyone else: a mess), Jin slams his controller down. "This is so unfair," he groans. "He's not even breaking a sweat!"

Jungkook leans back, smirking. "What can I say? It’s muscle memory at this point."

"Can you, like, turn your skill level down?" Taehyung asks.

Jungkook pretends to consider it. "Hmm. I told you I’d go easy."

"You sandbagging liar," Jin accuses.

"You have cheat codes built into your brain," Jimin whines.

"Bro," Taehyung groans. "You lapped us. That’s not easy."

Jungkook just laughs, all doe-eyed innocence and zero regret.

The next match is even more chaotic. Jin is yelling about how Peach deserves better. Namjoon, deep in concentration, is still ramming into every possible wall. He mutters something about “unrealistic steering mechanics,” even as his kart gets stuck in a corner for the third time. Taehyung has somehow found a way to sabotage himself and still look like he's having the time of his life. Hoseok and Jimin are loudly conspiring against each other, and Yoongi? Well, Yoongi is once again stuck in a corner, looking like he’s contemplating life choices.

Then Jin, ever the dramatic one, slams his drink down. "Alright! Loser of this round has to chug a mystery drink of our choosing."

"Absolutely not," Namjoon says immediately, shaking his head.

Hoseok, already grinning, shakes his head. "Too late, it’s happening."

Jungkook perks up. "Oh let’s make a bet!"

The room groans in unison.

"No," Taehyung says firmly. "You’re too good. You’re banned from bets."

Jungkook blinks. "What? Why?"

"Because it’s not fair," Jimin argues. "You’d never have to do a punishment."

Jungkook crosses his arms, looking genuinely offended. "This is discrimination."

"You’ll live," you tease, nudging him playfully.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, feigning exasperation—but when he looks at you – bickering with his friends about penalties and bets, there’s something else in his gaze. A flicker of something mischievous, something playful. He wants to be part of the ridiculous fun, to be included in the messiness. He wants to lose just once, if only to be in on the joke. For the first time tonight, he doesn’t want to be the best.

Instead, he wants to be in the game with you.

The next round starts, and you are locked in a vicious battle with Jimin for seventh place.

"Move, Jimin!"

"You move!"

Seeing no other choice, you actually kick him.

"OW!" Jimin yelps, jerking sideways. His character immediately veers off course, tumbling into the abyss.

"Did you just—" Jungkook stares at you, scandalized. "Did you just physically assault him for an advantage?!"

You shrug. "It’s called strategy."

Jimin groans. "I’m pressing charges."

"Don’t be dramatic."

Jungkook lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "You’re ruthless."

Your stomach flips.

As the night continues, Jungkook keeps trying to throw matches, but his muscle memory betrays him. Even when he goes easy, he’s still effortlessly clearing laps ahead of everyone else. It frustrates him in the most amusing way.

At one point, he leans toward you, voice lower, more conspiratorial. "What if I fake a loss?"

You snort, giving him a side glance. "You? Purposely losing? I highly doubt you’re capable of that."

Jungkook grins. "Think I need an incentive?"

You pause mid-button press, the weight of his words settling in. The way he’s looking at you—mischievous, daring, and maybe a little flirty—sends warmth curling through you.

"What kind of incentive?" you challenge.

Jungkook tilts his head. "The loser of the next match gets to make the Winner do anything they want."

Your breath hitches. "Anything?"

He smirks. "Anything."

The game starts, but your concentration is completely shot. It’s hard to focus when Jungkook is right next to you, radiating heat, his knee brushing against yours every so often. You’re painfully aware of every glance he sneaks your way, the amused curve of his lips when you miss a drift, the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his controller like he’s barely trying.

And the worst part? He isn’t trying.

You catch him purposefully slowing down at certain turns, missing item boxes he’d normally snipe with pinpoint accuracy. At one point, he even steers himself into a banana peel that was ridiculously easy to avoid.

"You’re not slick," you mumble, nudging him with your elbow as your kart zooms ahead of his.

Jungkook laughs under his breath, unbothered. "What? I’m playing fair."

"Bullshit," you scoff. "You just drove off the map."

"Maybe I just suck," he says with a casual shrug.

You give him an unimpressed look. "Jungkook, you literally lapped Jin and Namjoon earlier. You don’t suck."

Jungkook just grins, completely unrepentant. "Guess I’m having an off-game."

Around the room, the others are deep into their own races, the air filled with a chaotic blend of laughter, shouting, and the occasional smack of a pillow when someone gets hit with a shell. Jin, sitting cross-legged on the couch with an exaggerated pout, is dramatically lamenting his ongoing streak of failures.

"How am I this bad?" he wails as his character spins out yet again.

Namjoon, who has been quietly determined to not be the worst player, nods sympathetically. “It’s okay, hyung. I think I just accidentally threw a banana peel at myself, so you’re not alone.”

Jimin and Taehyung are locked in some sort of personal war, laughing hysterically every time they knock the other off the track. Yoongi, still somehow managing to drive backwards half the race, barely reacts when his character falls into the abyss again.

You steal a glance at Jungkook, pretending to adjust your grip on the controller. His eyes are fixed on the screen, but there’s an unmistakable smirk playing at his lips. He looks completely at ease, his long fingers moving fluidly over the buttons. His hoodie has slipped off one shoulder slightly, revealing a hint of collarbone, and—God, is it hotter in here, or is it just you?

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus on the race.

Jungkook is trying to lose, you remind yourself. He’s letting himself get hit by stray green shells, purposely bumping into walls like a rookie, and even gasping dramatically every time he falls behind. But somehow—somehow—he’s still hovering dangerously close to the front of the pack.

But then, something happens. Something neither of you expected.

You’re having a good round.

A really good round.

For once, you’re not bumping into every wall like you have a personal vendetta against them. You’re hitting drifts at the right time, picking up useful items, not launching yourself off cliffs every ten seconds. You might not be winning—but you’re actually playing well.

And Jungkook notices.

His hands tighten slightly around his controller. His eyes flicker between the game and you, and his grin falters.

Oh no.

He realizes, right then and there, that if he keeps intentionally losing, you might actually beat him.

And Jungkook Jeon does not lose.

Not even for a bet.

Suddenly, he stops messing around. His kart speeds up, taking turns with the precision he’s actually capable of. He starts landing trick jumps, expertly dodging obstacles. It’s not full power Jungkook, but he’s no longer handing you the win on a silver platter.

"Hey—!" You shoot him a look, realizing what he’s doing.

Jungkook just smirks. "Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?"

You grit your teeth, your competitive side kicking in. "Oh, it is so on."

The final lap approaches. It’s a tight race—somehow, you’re in fifth place, a personal record, while Jungkook is naturally in first place. The finish line is in sight.

Then—chaos.

A blue shell whizzes across the screen.

Jungkook barely has time to react before it slams into him, sending his kart flying into the air. The others erupt into cheers and laughter as his character crashes down, losing all momentum.

And then—your moment of glory.

You have a red shell.

With a wicked grin, you release it. Just as Jungkooks character is in third place – just before you.

The shell finds its target immediately—Jungkook, still recovering from the blue shell disaster. His kart spins out again, just meters from the finish line.

Your character zooms past him, securing third place.

Jungkook?

Fourth.

You slam your controller down, victorious. "YES!"

Jungkook blinks at the screen. Then slowly turns to you. "Did you just—"

You smirk. "Looks like you lost."

Hoseok, Jin, and the others lose it. Laughter echoes through the room as everyone reacts to the unexpected outcome.

"NO WAY," Hoseok shouts, clutching his stomach.

Jin wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. "Justice. Finally, he’s been humbled!"

Jungkook, still staring at the results screen, exhales a small laugh. "Guess I did."

But the way he says it—the way his gaze flickers to you, something unreadable behind his eyes—sends a shiver up your spine.

XXX

The rest of the night is filled with more games, more snacks, and an absolutely absurd amount of trash talk.

Jin, determined to prove that his losses were nothing more than “horrific luck and sabotage,” insists on several rematches. Each one ends worse than the last, until finally, he throws down his controller and dramatically flops onto the couch. “I was not meant for this cruel world,” he laments. “How is it possible to hit every banana peel?”

Yoongi, who has been curled into the corner of the couch for at least the past hour, gives a slow blink. "Skill."

Namjoon is muttering something about gaming algorithms, staring at the results like they personally wronged him. “I swear, these things are designed to keep people like me from succeeding. It’s rigged.”

Jimin, having somehow secured the most snacks out of anyone, grins from his perch on the floor. “Hyung, you drove off the track five times. That wasn’t the game. That was you.”

Hoseok cackles, still high on the energy of the night, while Taehyung lounges on the floor, rolling an empty can between his hands. The apartment is a mess—a graveyard of snack wrappers and soda bottles, controllers scattered across the floor, a few blankets abandoned over the arm of the couch. The TV screen still displays the final results, your miraculous third-place finish frozen in time like a trophy.

And Jungkook?

Jungkook is still grinning.

But it’s not the usual, overconfident smirk you’re used to seeing from him—it’s something lighter, something unfiltered. He’s always been the effortlessly cool one, the too good at everything guy. But tonight?

Tonight, he’s comfortable.

There’s something different in the way he moves—loose-limbed and relaxed, at ease in a way you’re not used to seeing. His hair is a little messier, the hoodie slipping slightly off one shoulder as he leans back, beer bottle still in hand. Maybe it’s the warmth of the night, or maybe it’s the fact that—for once—he wasn’t the absolute best at something. But it does something to you, watching him like this.

Something dangerous.

You shove that thought away as the night begins to wind down. One by one, people start saying their goodbyes. Yoongi is half-asleep already, Jin dramatically announcing that his defeat has physically aged him, and Namjoon mumbling something about how he needs to study the mechanics of drift timing. Jimin stretches with a yawn before grabbing his jacket, Taehyung trailing after him with a lazy wave.

Eventually, it’s just you and Jungkook.

And he lingers.

You don’t point it out, but you notice.

He helps gather empty cups and bowls without being asked, stacking them neatly on the counter as the TV screen dims to its new default screensaver—the results of the final game, your third-place finish frozen on display like some kind of cosmic joke.

Jungkook leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching you with that signature smirk—except there’s something different about it tonight. Something more deliberate.

“You know,” he finally says, voice light, “I never claimed my win.”

You freeze mid-motion, fingers tightening around an empty soda can. Slowly, you turn to face him.

“…What?”

Jungkook tilts his head, feigning innocence. “The bet?” He shifts his weight, his smirk deepening. “Loser gets to make the winner do anything they want?”

You blink.

Your stomach flips.

“Pretty sure I placed fourth,” he adds, eyes glinting with something unreadable while looking from the screen saver back to you.

You scoff, though your heart is hammering. “You’re seriously calling that in?”

He pushes off the counter, stepping closer, slow and deliberate. The air changes—something warmer, heavier settling between you.

“Wouldn’t you?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. He’s too close now, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of whatever cologne he’s wearing, something woodsy and warm. Your pulse thrums beneath your skin, and it’s almost irritating how effortlessly he affects you.

You try to sound unbothered. “Depends. What exactly are you asking for?”

Tilting his head slightly, “I could ask you to do something ridiculous. Like, I don’t know… make me a five-course meal.”

You let out a breathy laugh, pausing mid-motion as you gather some snack wrappers. “Pretty sure that’s more of a punishment for you.”

His smirk deepens. “Depends. Are you a terrible cook?”

You narrow your eyes. “I’ll have you know I make excellent instant ramen.”

Jungkook chuckles. His movements are slow, deliberate, like he’s testing the space between you. “Alright,” he says, “then I’ll change my wish.”

You arch a brow. “Oh?”

He takes another step forward, closing the gap between you, his voice lower now, more careful. “Go on a date with me.”

You blink.

The air shifts.

“…What?”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers over your face, reading every flicker of confusion. His hands slide into the pockets of his hoodie, but he doesn’t retreat. If anything, he looks amused by your reaction.

“What’s confusing about that?” he muses.

You search his face, as if waiting for him to break into laughter, to reveal it as some kind of joke. “I just—” You huff out a breath, crossing your arms. “You could’ve asked for anything, Jungkook. And you want a date?”

His lips quirk. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You falter.

It’s not that you think you’re unworthy of Jungkook’s attention. But he’s… him. He’s effortlessly cool, universally liked, the kind of guy who doesn’t need to ask for attention—it just happens to him. You, on the other hand, spent the entire night proving that you were possibly the worst Mario Kart player alive.

“…I just didn’t think you’d be interested,” you admit.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, something fond playing at the edges of his expression. “Funny,” he murmurs, gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up. “I actually wanted to ask for a kiss.”

Your breath catches.

His voice is quieter now, softer. “But I didn’t want to come off too strong.”

You hesitate for only a second. Then, before you can think twice about it, you tilt your chin up, challenging.

“You should just try,” you say.

Jungkook doesn’t waste another moment.

He steps in, closing the space between you with a confidence that makes your stomach flip. His fingers skim your waist—not pulling, not forcing, just there, grounding, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. But you don’t. You lean in just as he does, meeting him in the middle.

The first brush of his lips is slow, testing, but the moment you sigh against his mouth, Jungkook deepens it. His hand splays at your hip, his other fingers grazing along your jaw. It’s not hurried, not rushed—he savors it, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’s willing to admit.

You barely notice the way your fingers grip his hoodie until he makes a quiet sound against your lips—a small, pleased hum that sends warmth curling through your spine.

When he finally pulls back, it’s not by much. His forehead hovers close to yours, breath still mingling with your own. The smallest grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“So?” he murmurs. “Was that too strong?”

Your pulse is thundering, your knees still weak, but you somehow manage to smirk. “Eh. I’ve had better.”

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. “Liar.”

You laugh softly, still catching your breath. And then—because you can, because it feels right—you press another quick, teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away.

“Help me clean,” you say, turning back toward the mess.

Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Then, just as you start moving, he exhales dramatically.

“For the date,” he says simply.

You pause, turning to look at him again.

His grin is soft but mischievous, his head tilted slightly like he’s challenging you to argue.

A slow warmth spreads through you, sinking deep, settling somewhere in your ribs.

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you.

And then, laughing under his breath, Jungkook finally helps you clean—grinning the whole time.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Pretzel Chocolate

Hi guys!

This is a request I add some days ago, I know it kind of the same background as @alessiasfreckles current story. But I asked her before and she kindly accepted it. So thanks to her too ♥ (Go check her work, it really is amazing)

It's a little less sweet that what I usually write with Wally, but I hope you will like it.

TW : Accident, Loss memory, Angst but happy ending

______________________________________________________________

Clearly, you didn’t expect that when you innocently get in your team’s bus back to London. Like your girlfriend Lia, you’re a footballer and that’s how you got to know each other. You quickly fell in love with the Swiss girl and after some very disturbing flirting attempts on your part, Lia saved you from humiliation by asking yourself for a date. You agreed and the rest is history.

You were sleeping peacefully in the front of the bus when the accident happened. Most of your teammates had gathered in the back for a wild game cards, allowing you to catch up on your sleep peacefully. Over time, you get used to falling asleep with Mackenzie’s Australian-sounding curses when she loses, Kristie’s happy exclamations, or Katrina’s laugh.

You have no memory of the accident, you don't know why and how the driver ran straight into a pole, throwing you out of your seat under the violence of the shock and putting you at the top of the list of wounded with a vital emergency when help arrived.

Lia was at a team bonding and will remember perfectly when Mackenzie called Caitlin shortly after the accident, in shock of what had just happened. She will remember the blood that suddenly left her ex-girlfriend’s face and the horrified look she gave her. She will also remember that she needed to be told things three times so that the information was anchored in her brain and that Leah was more reactive than her, taking her to the London hospital where you were having your operation at that moment.

She will also remember the relief of learning that you are alive, but the distress of not knowing when and if you will wake up. Nor in what state. But she will also remember the unfailing support of Leah and Lotte who kept her company in the waiting room for hours.

********

When you regain consciousness, the first thing you face is a blinding light that make you close your eyes again quickly. You hear different beeps around you, whispers of voices and the sound of a chair being dragged on the floor that makes you open your eyes instinctively.

You are this time facing the faces of several people, who look at you attentively. One of them is dressed all in white, a man of about fifty years certainly who slowly approaches you by looking at you carefully.

"Can you hear me?"

You nod, bitterly regretting your gesture when your vision is blurred and a pain awakens in your skull. You wince and moan in pain, your eyes flickering when one of the two women in the room takes your hand in hers. She seems to be on the verge of a panic attack or passing out.

"Where am I?" you ask, difficulty articulating.

"At the hospital in London. You had a traffic accident two weeks ago. Do you remember?"

"No…" you frown, searching your mind for any information.

"It’s normal" the doctor assures you with a smile, noting a few words on his notepad "Can you tell me today’s date?"

As he looks up at you, he must feel the fear that begins to take hold of you. The hand on yours tightens around yours, but you are quickly diverted from this by the professional who talks again.

"What year are we?"

This time, you're way more scared. You know nothing about it. You are unable to be even close to the reality.

"It doesn’t matter, everything is fine. Tell me the closest memory of today that you have.”

"I…"

It’s the nothingness in your memory. You turn your brain upside down, without being able to get anything out of it.

From the corner of your eye, you see the two women exchanging a look, without you being able to understand what it's about. And, when you realize that you cannot give your own identity, it's panic that takes hold of you.

A few hours later, you finally come to yourself again. After your panic attack, the doctor gave you a sedative that sent you into the clouds. You come back to yourself, but your memory is still lacking, despite all the different stimuli tried by the doctors. Aside from getting annoyed and tired, it doesn’t change anything. And it's finally when one of the two unknowns women asks them dryly to leave you alone that it stops. You are grateful to her, you hope that the look you cast at her speaks for you.

You have no memory of your love life, your past, your present or your family. The doctors warned your parents who came immediately, apparently not living very far from London. You learned in the meantime that the two young women in the room are respectively called Lia and Leah, the pronunciation being the same, it confused you a few seconds. But when the brunette mumbled that she was nicknamed Wally, you decided to go for it too. You found out you were friends, Leah showed you some pictures to prove it.

Other friends came to visit you, including Mackenzie who came with a photo album so you could list the people who mattered to you. Lia is very often at your side, discreet, almost mute. You’ve noticed that her eyes get wet sometimes and then she apologizes before leaving your room in hurry.

"She cares about you and is worried" Mackenzie answered kindly at your questions.

"I think I care about her too, even if I don't remember. Seeing her sad make me sad" you mumble.

Mackenzie smiles at you, squeezing your hand in hers. She was in the accident as well and only got out with a slight concussion. Most of the players (you learned that you were a professional footballer) got away without serious injuries. There's only you.

You learned that you play football, like most people who come to see you at the hospital. And you’re playing pretty well. You play for West Ham but also in the England national team and you even won the Euro in 2022. Unfortunately, you are without a screen for many more weeks. So, Lia came back to see you once with photos of the event. You pose there beside Leah and other people who also came to see you. Beth, Alessia, Lotte and many others.

But you don’t remember that either.

********

Staring at the clock on the walls of your room, you wait for time to pass. Leah and Wally are supposed to come see you and you can’t help but feel some excitement at the thought. You appreciate when Lia comes to see you, she is calm, gentle and always very attentive to your needs. You seemed close before your accident and it’s probably stupid since she’s in a relationship with Leah, but you want to find back the bond you had.

"Hi there!" cheers Leah, entering your room soon after.

She carries Swiss chocolate and some flowers. She put the old ones in the trash to put the new ones on the table. You look at her, lying in your bed, a little bit tired. You had exercises to try to have your memories back all the afternoon, but it didn't go well.

"Thank you, Leah" you answer, slightly smiling. "Are you alone? Where is your girlfriend?"

"My girlfriend?"

Leah frown, looking at you. You frown too, you know you have a bad memory, but you saw both interact together.

"Well... Wally?"

"Wally? She's not my girlfriend" Leah laughs. "She's one of my best friends though."

"Oh... I thought... You look close."

You shrug your shoulders and you see Leah sitting on the chair next to your bed, tilting her head on the side while looking at you.

"We are. But in a friendly way"

She smiles at you and you smile back. You feel like she want to ask you something but didn't. You don't have anything to remember, so you try to work on your intuition to guess things. And you usually are very good at this. But you didn't insist, something else coming in your head anyway.

"We... We only were friends, you and me right?"

"Yes" laughs Leah "Don't get me wrong, you're very cute but..."

There is no but, because Wally is entering the room at this moment. She looks at Leah with a special gaze, making the blonde looking a little bit uneasy.

"Hi" you say, trying to dismiss the tension you don't understand.

Lia's eyes are coming on you and her face softened, giving you a small smile.

"Hi Y/N"

Her accent is special, you asked her where she's from the other day and learn that she's from Switzerland. After that, you asked one nurse what Switzerland looks like and she came back with a travel-themed magazine, the principal subject being Switzerland this month. You didn't ask Lia if you already went there, sometimes she looks so sad about your situation that you want to cry too.

She comes to kiss your cheek, before giving you the chocolate Leah was caring.

"Swiss chocolate. It's your favorite."

You look at the package with curiosity, turning it in your hands. Milk chocolate with pretzel in it.

Your loved ones have been instructed to give you secondary information about your tastes, preferences or things you like. But they must not give you information that you have not looked for yourself before. That’s why you don’t know anything about your love life, some of your past too.

You remembered some things, like how you hate artichokes so much or what your bedroom looked like when you were a teenager. Maybe you should have left this information behind when you think about the number of posters of all kinds that covered your wallpaper.

After hesitating, you open the tablet to take a square and eat it. It's not surprising that it's your favorite, the flavor is exceptional. As you enjoy your chocolate, a picture dances before your eyes. A living room with a fireplace located right next to a TV. The wooden floor is light and there is a coffee table between the sofa and the TV.

"Do I have a fireplace in my house?"

Leah and Lia exchange a look, and it's finally Leah who answers you with a little sorry smile.

"No, you live in an apartment.”

"Oh…"

You sigh softly, a little disappointed. You don’t realize that in Lia’s eyes looking at you, there’s hope for the first time since your accident. You strive to engrave this vision in your mind to forget as little as possible.

Lia sitting next to you, you instinctively seek her hand, mixing your fingers with hers. You realized a few days ago that the feeling soothes you and since Lia doesn't seem disturbed by this kind of gestures, you don't deprive yourself of it.

********

"Did Lia come to see you?"

You look up at Alessia, who has come to keep you company for the day. Her eyes are placed on the chocolate bar opened on your bedside table and a smile decorates her lips. Apparently, your chocolate tastes seem to be known to everyone.

"Yeah, she was here earlier with Leah."

You repost the crossword book that Alessia brought you, as well as some Spanish specialties received by Lucy, with whom you also play in the national team. You are apparently close to her too, but since she plays in another country and you aren't allowed to use electronic devices now, you haven't been able to exchange much. She wrote you several letters though, telling you about her dog, her love life and her life in Barcelona. That’s probably what you’re talking about when you call. It took you several days to answer something in writing, your concentration being still difficult sometimes. But you managed to do it.

"I thought they were together. Lia and Leah"

Alessia looks at you with an expression that mixes surprise, tenderness and fun.

"Many fans thought they were together before they denied the rumors. You remembered Leah’s ACL, right?" asks Alessia before continuing when you answer positively "Lia was very present for Leah at that time. I guess it brought them closer."

You nod thoughtfully, playing mechanically with the pen you always have in your fingers. You did remember Leah’s injury, which kept her away from the World Cup you apparently competed in last summer. You have a few images in mind, like kangaroos you saw with Ella or a laugh when Mary showed you a video of Alessia traumatized by a turkey.

You miss those moments we stole from you, and you can’t remember them. It’s frustrating and it makes you very sad sometimes. You wish you could get your life back, but it’s not working right now. Your parents come to see you regularly and show you photo albums of you as a child, with your brother and cousins. You seem to be numerous and you seem to be in the youngest of this generation.

"You’ll remember, Y/N" Alessia says gently, putting a hand on your knee.

You give her a little smile before you nod. Yes, you will remember. You have no choice.

********

Several things have been put in place to help you regain your memory. You have a medical treatment to take every day, you have psychotherapy and hypnosis sessions and you also have a sports routine to respect. This last thing isn't a bad idea since you are a professional footballer and if you want to get your life back, you must stay fit enough.

Sometimes you are accompanied by one of your friends, and today it is Mackenzie who helps you to return to your room. No release date has been given to you, but according to your doctors it will not be long. You don't know where you will go however, it has been highly recommended to you not to live alone for the moment. You didn’t have the guts to ask anyone. You would like to ask Lia if she would accept to host you for a while, but for a reason that you cannot determine you retreat every time you are about to ask her the question. And it’s been a few days now.

So, you are fucked up when the doctor comes back to see you in the room after your shower while you and Mackenzie watch a game on television.

"Did you find someone to have you when you left the hospital?" asks the doctor.

You feel yourself blushed and you see Macca’s face turning in your direction.

"Um… Mackenzie, I haven’t asked you this yet, but if you’re okay, I thought about you?"

Just a beautiful liar.

"Oh… yes, of course. I thought… whatever. Of course, my guest room is at your disposal."

"Thank you" you answer with a slight smile.

The next day, when Lia comes to see you and you tell her that you are going to settle for a while with Mackenzie, it would be hard not to see her face fall. You don’t understand the pinch in the heart that it makes you, but she recovers quickly, making sure that she is very happy to learn that you are better.

"Will you keep coming to see me? At Macca's?" you ask, almost timidly.

A few seconds pass during which she looks at you intensely, before nodding.

"Of course. If you feel like it"

"It would make me very happy."

She smiles at you, but with that sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes, before diverting your attention to the newspaper she brought you. You listen to her read you the latest news and you decide to offer yourself a new square of chocolate that Lia brought you, that you save with precious care. Barely in your mouth, you feel a new image coming before your eyes, pushing Lia’s voice in the background.

You’re in the same living room with the fireplace and the TV is on this time. There is a presence beside you and you hear a laugh, a laugh that gives you a strange sensation in the hollow of your belly. When you open your eyes, Lia doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. But these images caused a question in your mind and you interrupt the reading of the Swiss.

"Lia?"

"Yes?"

The brunette raises the nose of the newspaper with a curious air, looking at you attentively.

"I just… don’t take this question for what it isn’t, but I’ve never heard you laugh since you came to see me."

"It’s not really a question" ended up answering Lia after long seconds of silence.

She’s not wrong and you bite your lip, looking for the best way to put your point of view in a better light.

"I just don’t want you to feel obligated to come here, if it weighs on you. I love your presence here, but if it’s too heavy for you…"

"No. It’s important for me to come and see you."

Your eyes cross for a few moments and you only see sincerity in the green eyes of your interlocutor. You end up smiling and holding out a hand that she doesn’t hesitate to grasp. Only then do you notice the ring she’s wearing on her finger. It’s not an engagement ring, but the kind of ring you get for duck fishing at the fair. You find it strange that Lia is wearing something that is quite suitable for children.

"What is this ring?" you ask curiously.

It reminds you something, but you feel like you’re looking for a needle in a fog. Lia seems to have understood, since she looks at you briefly before answering you.

"What do you think?"

You bite your lip, searching again and again. Lia gives you time and unlike the exercises you do for your memory, you feel no pressure. Lia exudes kindness and the way her thumb caresses the back of your hand helps you a lot.

"I gave it to you."

You leave the ring colored rainbow to focus your eyes on Lia whose face is suddenly radiant. You don’t remember all the details, but you do remember the decor around you when you take out this plastic ring from its paper packaging. And of your insistence on putting it on Lia’s finger, the latter accepting not without rolling her eyes.

"Yes, it’s you" confirms Lia in a soft voice despite the excitement that seems to have gripped her.

"I don’t remember when it was" you mumble in an apology tone.

Meanwhile, Lia got up from her chair to sit on the mattress of your bed, on which you are sitting too. She always have her smile, a real smile this time. And when she affectionately passes her hand through your hair, you feel like butterflies in the hollow of your belly.

"It doesn’t matter" Lia gently says "It will come back. I know it."

You want to kiss her suddenly. You wonder what sensations her lips might give you. But, before you can answer this urge, knocks are made at the door of your room, letting in Katrina, Clara and Harper.

"I’ll leave you with your new guests" decides Lia.

You’re having a hard time covering up your disappointment, even though you’re happy to see Harper.

"I’ll see you tomorrow before we leave for Manchester." Lia informs you before putting a kiss on your head.

********

"Why does Lia looked sad when I told her I was going to live with Mackenzie?"

You are walking Leah Mom's dog with Leah, during a rather cloudly afternoon. You doctor asked you to stay in shape and because you're not ready to go back to training, you do as much as you can to move. You go to the stores walking and your coach sent you bodybuilding and endurance exercises to do every day.

Leah looked at you for some seconds, before answering you. You know you were friends before your accident, but you don't know if you talked to the other a lot. Still, you feel safe with her. You know you can talk to her.

"I feel like you already know the answer for this question."

You bite your lip, looking at Bella running after ducks. And Leah running after Bella soon after, trying to protect those poor ducks. When the blonde come back next to you like nothing happened, she pats your arm.

"Talk to her. Wally really cares about you and I'm sure she misses you"

"She said she will still come to see me. But she never came" you mumble, without looking at Leah.

You don't understand. You thought you were close and Lia's absence made you realize that you maybe have like a crush on her. Which is stupid, why in the world would she have interest in someone broken like you are? But you still miss her.

"She's going to kill me for saying that" Leah sighs, pinching the base of her nose, before looking at you "She thinks you are developing feelings for Macca. Like romantic feelings"

"What?! That's the stupidest thing I ever heard since my accident."

Well of course Mackenzie is sweet and you understand why she was your best friend before and you really like the idea that you can still have that after all that. Of course, you don't know her like Caitlin or Alanna does, but of all your teammates, she's the one you’re closest to.

Leah shrugs and call Bella to going back home.

"Like I said, talk to her."

You hum for any answer, your hands stuck in the pockets of your jogging and the brain turning a thousand an hour. It’s only after saying goodbye to Leah on her doorstep that you realize that it doesn’t explain why Lia would stop seeing you if you were really in love with Mackenzie.

She’s watching a movie with her own girlfriend when you come back home. Since they have been waiting for you to eat, you sit at the table with them and try to stay focused on the discussion, but your mind is elsewhere. You are relieved to have the opportunity to find the calm of the guest room, in which you decide to offer yourself a new piece of chocolate offered by Lia.

You were disappointed to find that no other square allowed you to remember other things as the first two times. This is the last squares you have left; you will have at worst the excuse to want extra chocolateif you need excuse to contact Lia.

Lying on your back, on your bed, you swallow the last chocolate crumbs you have left, your eyes fixed on the ceiling.

But, while you don’t expected more, a new flash comes dancing before your eyes.

The same living room, the same television, the same fireplace and the same laugh. Except this time when you turn your head, Lia is sitting next to you. She looks much happier than you’ve seen her since you opened your eyes. And the way she looks at you… Like you’re the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

When the image dissipates, you blink several times.

You remember.

Not necessarily in every detail and in order, but you remember.

You remember Lia, how much you hate that nickname of Wally that others give her, your relationship, your first kiss and the long weekend she took you to Switzerland.

You remember.

Your hands shaking, you’re getting out of bed. You’re as wrinkled as if you’d been running a whole game. Other memories are jostling in your head, but the only thing you want now is to go see Lia.

"I’m going to Lia's!" you shout at Mackenzie down the stairs.

You barely take the time to throw your coat on your shoulders before going out and slamming the door. When you see the rain falling on London, you congratulate yourself.

********

It’s with frowns that Lia picks up her phone some time later. There’s basically no reason for Caitlin to call her so late.

"Hello?"

"Lia? It’s Caitlin… Listen, I’m calling you from Mackenzie, she doesn’t have your phone number and uh… Did Y/N make it to your house?"

"Y/N? No? Why would she be at my house?"

Other voices are audible behind Caitlin and there are different noises before Mackenzie’s voice sounds in the phone.

"She left my house almost two hours ago, without her phone, telling me she was coming to your house."

"She’s not here" Lia replies, standing abruptly on her couch, feeling panic take hold of her. "Why did you let her go by herself?"

"I thought she ordered an Uber or something. But without her phone…"

"Do we call the police?" asks Lia.

"They will laugh in our faces" replies Katie’s voice, which is apparently there too.

It’s not surprising if Mackenzie went to see Caitlin. But this is probably not the time to ask these questions.

"I’ll go get my car and do some research in the neighborhood" Lia decides.

After deciding to do the same and giving herself directions not to turn in the same places, Caitlin and Lia hang up their phones before starting to look for you.

For your part, it’s not very glorious. Persuaded to find the way back to Lia’s house now that your memory has returned, you have dug into the streets without thinking too much. Except that you suddenly had a hesitation, then another and a third, which eventually led you to no longer know where you are. Or where you’re from.

To top it off, it’s still raining and you haven’t taken your medication to fight your chronic headaches since the accident.

Long story short, you are now in tears, sitting on a sidewalk of an unknown street, in the rain.

Finally, while she had lost hope, Lia sees your silhouette sitting out in the light of a lamppost. Her cry asking Leah, who came to the rescue, to stop, gives her a start of cardiac arrest. But the blonde obeys and Lia hurries out of the car, running in your direction.

You jump suddenly when someone sits next to you, your first reaction being to get as far away from that person as possible. But you realize quite quickly that it’s Lia and anyway she doesn’t leave you much choice by squeezing you suddenly in her arms. Hard.

“God, are you ok? What happened?” Lia asks, taking your face between her hands to look at you.

“I thought I can remember where you live, I needed to see you but then I got lost and I didn’t have my phone with me.”

“Why didn’t you call me?!”

Lia raised her voice a little and you flinch, but the Swiss woman seems to regret it as soon as it happened. She takes you once again against her, her arms firmly tightened around your body. It makes you feel safe. You’re tired, exhausted to be honest. But you know you still owe her an explanation.

“I wasn’t sure you will take my call. You said you will come to see me, and you didn’t even if I’m at Macca’s since almost two weeks now, and…”

“I’m so sorry” Lia cut you, looking at you with tears in her eyes. “But I just… I couldn’t.”

“It’s ok” you breath before staring deep into her eyes “I remember.”

A silence passes. Lia is looking at you, too.

“What?”

“I remember. My past, my childhood memories. It’s you who have a fireplace in your living room. I remember you, mein Schatz. I remember us.”

After that, it went a little chaotic. When Lia starts to cry for good, Leah almost gets out of her car, but then she see you both kiss and she understands. She takes her phone to ring Caitlin and let you some minutes before taking you both back in her car. She drops you at Lia’s, giving you one big hug before leaving you.

********

Hours later, you’re in Lia’s bed after a good hot shower. Lia gave you some fresh clothes and you can’t stop smelling them. They smell like her, like your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend who is actually looking at you like you will disappear at any moment. You can’t blame her though, so you just grab her hand and take her against you to kiss her.

“Why didn’t you tell me everything?” you mumble after the kiss.

“They didn’t want me to. They said it would be too much for you or that you won’t remember everything if we told you the truth. Your brother fights with the doctors against it, but he didn’t have the last word. I should have fight against it too, but I wanted what was the best for you, and they were the doctors, so…”

Lia shrugs, her head on the cushion, still looking at you. You can’t imagine what she went through.

“It must have been so hard for you” you whisper, stroking lightly at her face

“It was. But I knew I had to do if I wanted to have you back at some point. But then after you choose to go to Mackenzie’s and I kind of freak out. What if, even if you remember in some days, you realize that you’re in love with her and not me anymore?”

“I don’t. She always had been my friend, nothing more. It has always been you, since we crash your team” you add with a smirk.

You met Lia during a friendly game between Switzerland and England in 2022. Leah Williamson had made the presentation between you and since then you never stop talking. She asked you on a date after two weeks of texting, you said yes and everything went great since then. Even if you’re a West Ham player dating an Arsenal one.

“I thought you were with Leah, the first days after the accident” you confess at your girlfriend.

Lia frown, looking at you oddly.

“Why did you?”

“Dunno. You were like always together, but I understand now. I’m glad Leah was there for you.”

You are confident in your relationship. Even if the fans seems to like Lia and Leah together, you trust your girlfriend and your friend deeply. Plus, you’re kind of a fan of their friendship. Maybe people would find strange that your girlfriend went to live with another girl like Lia have done when Leah was injured, but you didn’t. You know how good Lia’s heart is.

“I love you” Lia whispers, before kissing you.

You smile against her lips and she doesn’t let you the time to answer before kissing you once again, hard this time. You let her. You still can tell her how much you love her later.

_________________________________________________

It’s way longer than I thought at first 😅

[fanficsandstuffgod]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ competition ｡𖦹°‧

fem!reader!soccer x baseball!schlatt

College sports can get competitive, but... not normally against your own school.

heads up, this is based in a random uni so what i say goes! ha! also im aussie so if i get the american talk wrong, don't come for me 😓

reader

I was perched on the kitchen bench, legs swinging off the side, casually juggling a ball with one foot. In one hand: my phone. In the other: a Monster. Balance, baby.

Uni was solid. I’d made the soccer team—no surprise there, I’ve been kicking a ball since nappies. With that came free student housing, so long as I could juggle classes, training, and showing up for every match. Wasn’t worried.

The best part? The whole team lived together. One shared unit. Pure chaos. The fun kind. The kind that gets loud at 3 a.m. and somehow still makes it to 8 a.m. lectures. Mostly.

Then there was the baseball team. They were part of the chaos too, whether we liked it or not. Apparently, they’d been drinking tonight. Not that anyone warned us.

Kenzie—our keeper, serial flirt, and absolute menace—had briefly dated one of their guys. Kent, maybe? Kyle? Who knows. That little drama already put a crack in our teams’ friendship. And then, last week? It split wide open.

We’d clashed over the team bus. Both squads had games on the same day. One bus. No compromise. Voices rose. Someone threw something. Then someone else threw hands.

“Come on! Just give us the damn bus—what’s your team even good at?” some lanky guy said, aiming it straight at me.

I raised a brow. “Sorry?”

“You fuckin’ heard me, broad.”

Nah. That was it.

I swung first.

No regrets.

Schlatt

I was leaning against the back of someone’s beat-up car, half-heartedly nursing a warm beer, watching the boys around me get progressively more plastered. They were cracking open cans like it was a competitive sport, shouting over each other, tripping on absolutely nothing, and laughing like idiots at jokes that weren’t even jokes.

Honestly? It was kinda hilarious.

“Oi! Lads!” And there it was. Kyle.

The only Brit on the baseball team, and somehow both the loudest and saddest man in a three-mile radius. He was halfway through his fourth breakup beer, eyes red-rimmed, shirt half tucked, accent thicker than usual. Which meant: chaos was loading.

Now, I’m not usually one to get involved. I’m not one of those weird quiet kids lurking in corners or writing poems in a leather journal or anything—nah, I just prefer to speak when I’ve actually got something to say. And at that moment, I didn’t. Not until Kyle opened his dumb, brokenhearted mouth.

“Are we still pissed at those birds for stealin’ our bus?!”

A chorus of groans and muttered “fuck yeah”s broke out like we were in church and that was the call to prayer. Even I nodded. The memory of that bus fiasco still stung. Standing in the courtyard like clowns while the soccer girls sped off in what should’ve been our ride to the game? Disrespectful.

Kyle smacked his hand on the roof of the car like he’d just had a divine revelation. “Right, then. I say it’s payback time.”

We all looked at him. That look a pack of feral boys give when someone says something dumb but there’s beer involved so we’re listening.

“What if…” he swayed slightly, pointing dramatically, “…we raid their unit. Right now. With water guns.”

Silence. I blinked.

“…Filled with beer,” he added, dead serious.

There was a pause. A collective braincell trying to process it. Then someone cackled. Someone else shouted “Holy shit, YES.” And then it was on.

“AND NERF GUNS TOO,” someone screamed. “I GOT MINE IN MY ROOM!”

“USE THE SHITTY LIGHT BEER, THEY DON’T DESERVE THE GOOD STUFF.”

“NO, WE MIX IT WITH VODKA—BEER AND VODKA. THE ULTIMATE PISS COCKTAIL.”

I watched all of this spiral like a tornado in a beer can. The boys were running inside, loading up on anything that vaguely resembled a weapon. Water pistols. Nerf rifles. A damn Super Soaker someone had for some reason.

I stood there for a second, debating if I wanted to join this madness.

Then I shrugged, finished my beer, and grabbed a funnel. If we were gonna do this, we were gonna do it right.

“Let’s get stupid,” I muttered, following the chaos toward the girls’ unit like a man marching into glorious, foamy battle.

reader

I was still minding my business on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, sipping what was left of my drink, when Kenzie and Sophia came bounding down the stairs in their swimmers like they were starring in a low-budget summer movie.

“Y/N! We’re gonna hit the pool,” Kenzie called out, stretching her arms overhead. “Muscles are still fried from last night’s training.”

“Yeah, he had us running like damn dogs,” Sophia groaned, cutting her off, dramatically flopping onto the arm of the couch. “I hate stamina days.”

I chuckled, raising my can. “Let me finish this off and I’ll—”

BANG.

The front door rattled like someone had tried to kick it off the hinges.

The three of us didn’t freeze like characters in a horror movie. We just... paused. Confused more than anything. Like, was someone drunk? Locked out? Dropping off pizza with violence?

Voices—loud ones—boomed from outside, followed by more banging, and the unmistakable sound of people laughing their heads off.

Half the team came stumbling into the living room from all directions, some in swimmers, some in pajamas, all of us wearing the same “what the actual fuck” face. Nobody made a move for the door at first—we just stared at it like it was about to sprout legs and walk in itself.

Eventually, I stepped forward and pulled it open—

Boom.

The door flew the rest of the way in, shoved wide by a sweaty mass of chaos. A swarm of guys—reekin’ of beer, weed, and bad decisions—stumbled in holding actual Nerf guns and water pistols.

But they weren’t filled with water.

“Oh, what the fuck?” I sputtered as cold, foamy liquid sprayed across the room. The shrieks from my teammates were immediate, echoing off the walls as they dodged behind furniture and cushions.

They hadn’t even seen me. I was still by the door, plastered to the wall, watching them wage war on the living room like it was D-Day. The guys were too busy firing off their stupid foam bullets and beer-soaked squirt guns to notice me at all.

That’s when I clocked it.

The baseball guys.

Of course it was the fucking baseball guys.

“Oh hell no,” I muttered.

I didn’t think. I just launched.

One second I was standing there; the next I was sprinting across the room and throwing myself onto the nearest guy’s back. He staggered forward with a grunt, nearly dropping his beer-loaded water gun.

“Get off me—what the—Y/N?!”

It was Schlatt.

I clung to him like a damn backpack, fists full of his stupid party shirt. “You absolute dickhead!” I yelled, half-laughing, half-murderous. He stumbled around, trying to shake me off like I was a gremlin.

“Alright, alright! Jesus, get off—you’re gonna break my spine—”

“YOU SPRAYED ME WITH BEER, SCHLATT.”

“You opened the door!”

I didn’t get off.

In the background, someone was shouting “RETREAT!” while another girl pelted a guy in the head with a throw pillow. Someone else had turned the kitchen sink sprayer into a makeshift cannon. Sophia was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Chaos. Glorious, wet, stupid chaos.

And I was still on Schlatt’s back.

Of course it was Schlatt.

Because the universe is hilarious like that.

The same smug, snarky idiot I’d clocked in the courtyard a week ago for mouthing off during the bus fight. The same one I awkwardly tried to apologise to afterward—tried being the key word—only for him to just stare at me with that blank, unimpressed brow raise, like I was a fly buzzing too close to his head.

God.

So yeah, maybe I did subconsciously aim for him. Maybe I wanted revenge. Or closure. Or maybe I just hated how he looked good in that stupid baseball tee and backwards cap like a walking frat boy cliché.

Either way, I clung to him like a koala with rage issues, and somehow—through the beer and chaos and bodies running out the front door—I managed to twist my weight enough to take him down.

He hit the floor with a grunt, landing face-down on the carpet that now smelled like a brewery. I didn’t even hesitate—I climbed on top and shoved my knee between his shoulder blades to keep him pinned.

He didn’t fight back. Just groaned into the floorboards.

“Are you fucking with me? What was that?!” I shouted, beer dripping from my shirt, hair stuck to my face.

Schlatt, muffled by the rug: “Tactical retaliation.”

I leaned down closer. “You beer-bombed half our team—”

“Equal and opposite reaction,” he replied, still not looking at me. “It’s physics. Should’ve paid attention in class.”

I let out a strangled laugh, half ready to murder him, half ready to laugh so hard I’d choke. “You smell like a frat house toilet.”

“And you’re crushing my spine.”

“Good.”

We stayed like that for a second—me, fuming and dripping beer, him, facedown on the floor with that ridiculous deadpan calm. Around us, the aftermath of the ambush lingered: soaked cushions, empty cans, someone’s water gun lying like a fallen weapon.

“You good now?” he asked finally, voice muffled. “You get it out of your system, Rocky?”

I paused, then shoved his head gently into the rug.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “For now.”

[disappearintothegrey]

your writing is so good! If your still taking requests can you do something about being on tour with the band and there’s been some light flirting with Noah but you don’t take it seriously until one night he comes into the living room part of the bus while you are curled up reading. Instead of picking his own seat he just walks over picks you up and sits down with you in his lap. The rest can be up to you.

this is so cute!!! i had fun writing this!!! not 100% proofread sorry for any mistakes!

answering all requests in my inbox this WEEK! want to request something? message/inbox me!

want to be on my taglist and notified when i update? find it HERE <3

@tosoundlessdarkistare @lyinginbetween @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @xmads-omensx

READ BETWEEN THE LINES

warnings: none. some language.

Isabella couldn’t believe it when her manager told her she would be joining Bad Omens on tour as their merch girl. Sure, it was a small job, but it paid well and she was so excited to meet one of her favorite bands. Who could turn that down?

She also would be lying if she said she wasn’t mesmerized by their lead singer, Noah Sebastian. There was something about him that drew her to him, and it drove her insane. Because she never stood a chance, there’s no way he could ever like someone like her.

But the day that she met the boys before they hit the road, she swore she caught Noah’s eyes watching her every so often. Brown eyes locked with her blue ones, filled with mystery and curiosity. He was kind and always made sure she felt welcomed in the tour bus with the guys.

The flirting started out small. He would compliment what she was wearing, or feed her a funny pick up line. He loved to make her laugh, because to him, it meant getting to see her eyes light up…but he’d never admit that. The more comfortable she got, the more she started flirting back.

“I’m starting to see why all these girls fawn over you, Noah.” She said one night after a show, causing Noah to look at her with a cocked eyebrow

“Is that so?” He replied, throwing his sweaty towel over his shoulder

She simply nods, leaning over the merch table to look at him, “You had me wondering if it was the pyros or you making me sweat,” She winked, and she swore she saw him blush before turning away to finish packing for the night.

As for Noah, well, the moment he laid eyes on her he was infatuated. She was gorgeous, with her green eyes, button nose, and long black hair. He couldn’t deny the immediate attraction, and couldn’t stop himself from flirting and teasing her. But, he had no idea how she felt, or if she just thought he was kidding around.

Isabella was the first to head to the bus, the rest of the gang too busy trying to find late night dinner to notice her slip away. Her bones were exhausted from a days work, and she was excited to wind down and read her current book, The Butcher and the Wren. After changing into pajamas and washing up, she settled on the couch in the living room of the bus, turning some quiet music on her phone to fill the space.

She hadn’t felt herself drifting off to the sound of her music, the book in her hands becoming limp as she leaned against the couch, curling up into a ball. By the time she was in a deep sleep, the boys had returned, Noah quickly shushing everyone when he saw her sleeping.

After bidding everyone a goodnight, Noah debated whether or not he should head to bed knowing she was out there alone, and probably cold. Deciding at the final second, he turned on his feet to walk to her, taking her book carefully from her fingers and placing it on the coffee table.

Slipping an arm underneath her knees and around her shoulders, he slowly lifted her off the couch, swiveling to sit down and let her sprawl out on his lap. She barely stirred, just let out a small whine before nuzzling her cheek into his stomach as she turned over in her sleep. He couldn’t help but smile down at her, his heart thumping in his chest at the close proximity.

He spent the next few minutes rubbing her hip softly, reaching over to grab a spare blanket Nicholas had left and covering her with it. His eyes became heavy as he sat, settling into the couch himself and letting sleep take over. The last thing he remembered was feeling Isabella’s fingers touch his hand, her index finger wrapping around his.

Isabella woke up feeling rested, but when she opened her eyes to see Noah sleeping soundly beside her, she froze in her spot. Somehow they had found themselves cuddled up on the couch, Noah’s arm wrapped around her waist as his nose was buried in her neck. She tried to control her breathing so she wouldn’t alert him, clearly thinking this was some type of mistake.

But she swears she fell asleep alone last night, so how did he end up here?

It didn’t sound like the rest of the boys were up, the quiet lull of the bus serenading them as they traveled to the next venue. She shifted slightly in his grasp, turning to press her cheek against his chest, trying to soak up this moment before he woke up and got freaked out. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her towards him as he moved to his back.

She’s almost back asleep when she feels him finally stir, her heart breaking silently when she feels his head turn to look at their position. She’s preparing herself to be pushed away, her eyes squeezed shut, but all that happens is she feels warm lips press to her forehead, and Noah turns to let her snuggle in his neck.

“I know you’re awake,” He says, his voice thick with sleep.

Isabella gulps, glancing up to see him already looking at her, a small smile playing on his lips, “Hi,” She squeaks out.

“Hi,” He responds, his eyes scanning her face, “You okay?”

She nods slowly, her eyebrows furrowing together, “I fell asleep alone…how did I end up here?” She asked quietly

Noah chuckles, pushing some hair out of her face, “We came back after you had fallen asleep, and I just couldn’t leave you out here by yourself. So, I decided to join you. You were on my lap when I fell asleep, but I guess we repositioned ourselves somehow,” He jokes, but she is panicking. He can feel the stress radiating off her, touching her cheek softly, “Hey, it’s okay, Bella,” The nickname slips from his mouth, and she gasps.

“And you’re okay with this? Being this close to me?” She asks, insecurity dripping in her voice, “Because I really like you and—,” The admittance is out before she can stop it, and her eyes widen as she tries to pull away.

Noah tightens his grip, holding her in place as he tries to make her look at him, “How could you not tell I liked you? I’ve been flirting with you this whole time,” He teases, and she groans.

“Because I thought you were joking!” She huffs, and he laughs loudly at that, causing her to smack him, “Hush!”

“Bella, I have liked you since the moment I saw you. This was just waiting to happen,” He replies, tilting her chin up to look at him, “And I’d really like to kiss you now,”

She gulps, feeling like a deer in the headlights. He wants to kiss HER?? How could she say no? Wait—HE WANTS TO KISS HER!

She just nods, feeling small in his arms. Instead of speaking, Noah leans in, capturing her lips in his in a gentle kiss. She kisses back just as gently, finding her fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. He smiles into their kiss, his hands running up her back before he pulls away.

“So…” He starts, and Isabella just blushed, kissing him again before he could even finish his sentence. And he wasn’t complaining.

thank you for reading!!!!! hearts and reblogs always appreciated!! requests are open <3

[cinnamon-stixs]

It's time for another addition of 'A new episode of something cinna really likes just came out so now they have to rant about it!

(Spoilers for tadc episode 4)

-ragatha trying to teach gangle to pitch auughh

-"You're wasting your time raggy" SHUT UP

-yesss chew his ass out ragatha

-This episode was such a huge w for us abstradgedy shippers

-side tangent, I loooove gangle's voice

-Her signature catchphrase!!

-"The curse of the violent psychopath butcher!" Bro is trying SO hard

-No fr it's so funny that caine only has the human emotion capacity to equate 'mature' to 'scary'.

-THERE WAS A SUGGESTION BOX THIS WHOLE TIME?!

-Not the zooble pinata...

-THIS SCREENSHOT IS KILLING ME LMAOAOAO

-Why are bubble's and caine's tongues connected...

-NOOO KINGER SITS IT OUTTT QnQ we get like no content of him in this episode I'm so sad

-"You can shut up now! :D"

-"Being a shift manager was my job at one point" LORE?!

-As someone looking to go into the culinary service field, love the mention of non-slip shoes

-I'm such a sadist when it comes to Jax. (Also amy come get your man off the floor)

-GET MY WIFE OUT OF THERE?! THOSE ARE FUCKING 3RD DEGREE BURNS!! THAT'S LITERALLY BOILING OIL!!

-This zesty ass man.

-PUNISHMENT?! GANGLE WOAH.

-GANGLE PULL HER OUT!!

-"It's called a manic episode!" So true queen. I love how this episode really pushes the bpd allegory gangle's masks have

-"This is really weird" YA THINK?

-Zooble burning their hand :(

-I love orbsman. I also love that they can just understand him for some reason.

-Jax constantly checking the clock is so me

-"i'm addicted :3"

-High ass ragatha. Oh I love you high ragatha.

-I THOUGHT THIS WASNT A HORROR ADVENTURE

-abstrabbit crumbs yayyyyy!!!

-"Caine's not gonna do anything malicious, it's not in his nature" Just a line I wanna put a pin in.

-GUMMIGOO NOOO. HE DOESN'T REMEMBER HER IM GONNA KMS

-I can't even blame her for being so awkward. Like imagine watching your friend die and then they show up, no memory whatsoever, at your fucking job

-"She's flirting with the gummy guy." this one line is gonna spark so much ragapom and funnygummy art, i just know it.

-I love that ragatha's more honest in calling people out while high. Go off queen.

-"I wish someone would flirt with me.." I WILL!!! I WILL!!!

-The occasional cracking sounds when gangle is annoyed is SUCH GOOD FORESHADOWING

-"... Does this count as a bus?"

-GLOINK QUEEN!!!!!

-She named all her kiddddsss :(

-"well that doesn't really sound like a can-do attitude to me!" "it's not."

-"You're better when you're sad" KILL YOURSELF NOW!!

-Nothing to say here I just like this screenshot

-Gangle wanted to be a comic artist in life, but gave up on the dream.

-WHAT IS GOING ON

-"Huffing paint?! AND NOT WAITING UNTIL A DESIGNATED BREAK?!"

-"I miss my horses" Ragatha probably had horses of her own in life

-"No offense, but you're kind of annoying when you have your happy mask." You're sleeping on the couch tonight Ragatha.

-Someone get her a therapist, and I DON'T mean Caine.

-"Yeah that clock's broken." good job queen

-Why is there ANY information on gloink reproduction. And is that the sex joke goose was talking about?

-"I like.. hate you, but I don't want you to hate me" So real!! ow!!

-The little casual moment between jax and pomni, and all of the characters in this episode, makes me so happy.

-Me core

-Pomni has such a big heart I love her so fucking much.

-"Oh Ragatha.. I love her, but after a while it gets hard to tell how genuine she's actually being" THIS IS SUCH A GOOD LINE!!! I love how it shows how Ragatha is really trying her best, but she's been worn down so much over the years that they can tell her kindness is a mask, sort of like gangle's comedy mask.

-(Also gangle said 'i love her' in reference to ragatha, w for the gangle x ragatha shippers)

-real.

-I love how we get to see zooble's softer side in this episode.

-Gangle's not having a good time: the musical

-Again, pomni is just so sweet :(

-Ok but why does this ending sequence eat so hard

-EXCUSE ME

-I could go into a whole rant abt how this ending could possibly hint to all the cast being dead, and how this ending is a sort of recreation of Gangle's death, but I'm not sure goose would do that. It's a plausible theory after this episode, but i don't think the "They're all dead and living in a digital purgatory" theory fits the themes of the show well.

-Gangle chooses to be honest, even when faced with possible consequences.

-ROYALTEETH CRUMBS!!! I like to imagine Caine and Kinger went on their own little date adventure :3

-C&A logo on Caine's computer

-Family guy death pose and a reference to that one weird bootleg caine costume

-"and now I don't think anybody wants to talk to me anymore" My autistic ass relates to that a little too much

-"I still like talking to you" AHHHHHHHHHH <3

-"I always like seeing what you draw" CRYING

Overall, I thought episode 4 was really good. Probably my least favorite so far, really just because of the slower pacing. I can't wait to see what's next!!

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem! reader | part seven

summary: you and luca go to a club opening and take an opportunity to learn more about each other.

warnings: fluff, smut (18+ only), eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 5.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist

a/n: hi cuties. here is a long chapter with a whole lot of juicy content considering i've been gone all week. i'm also hard launching what luca's last name could be in this series -- something i've brainstormed with @arctvrvs and @superhoeva. there IS smut so please be respectful of it being 18+ only content.

also: mild implication on reader/mc having some kind of asian heritage, but you can super not take it that way, which is why i wrote joe's family as japanese-english. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part six | masterlist | part eight

“Cool shoes,” you say, your eyes fixed to Luca’s choice of Nikes for the night, instantly chuckling to yourself as you realize how silly the words coming out of your mouth sound. It’s like you’re a kid again, sitting on the back of the bus with her crush, trying to come up with something– anything – to say.

Luca chuckles, stealing a glance your way as he replies, “Yeah I've got a bit of a thing for them – trainers.”

“I… noticed,” you say, exchanging a look with him, your eyes meeting his as the two of you sit side by side on the train.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, there’s the coffee table book – that and you wore some to the ballet,” you explain, a blush running across your cheeks. 

“You noticed that?” he questions with a hint of amusement in his voice, only a little surprised that you’ve picked up on the little things before he’s shared them with you. 

“I notice you,” you answer, your voice quieter, yet genuine in your admission.”

He smirks. 

“And?”

“And… so far, I like what I see,” you flirt, boldly, this time. 

The right side of his mouth turns up into a small smile, and while you’re too busy reading his facial expressions, Luca’s busy finding your hand with his. You can feel it: the lightest touch that sets off butterflies in your belly, his fingers tangling with yours as you ride the train with him to Vesterbro, the humble beginnings of something good. 

As Luca continues glancing over at you, he shakes his head incredulously, letting out a small laugh in the opposite direction. 

“Hmm?” you hum, inquisitively, stealing a glance his way this time. 

“You just ehm…” he trails off, almost as if he’s not sure how to say what he wants to say next. “... you look… really beautiful tonight.” 

“Uh-, I-, Thank you,” you stumble through, deciding you’ll just accept his compliment. 

It’s not like you don’t know it – didn’t know what you were doing when you put on the barely-there lace bodysuit meant to be a lingerie teddy, that lays perfectly layered underneath your high rise pair of denim. The plunge neckline is cut deep, showcasing quite a bit of inner boob, so much of your cleavage, that you put pasties on just in case. You can tell Luca’s having trouble not ogling you as you smirk, giving his hand a confident squeeze. 

As you get off the train and back up to street level, you discover that it’s not a long walk to where the newly-opened club is located. Luca hasn’t let go of your hand and you savor the feeling of new love as the two of you walk hand in hand. 

“So explain to me again what all the drama’s about again,” Luca requests, recalling something you previously mentioned. 

“Oh it’s a whole thing,” you sigh, as you begin trying to explain yesterday’s gossip. “The guy Jesper is dating is one of the guys opening the club. I don’t think it’s serious, perhaps just a… fling of sorts, but Jesper’s ex-girlfriend who he dated for two years is a… well, she’s a bit of an influencer and it’s a whole thing because she’ll be there too.”

“Ooof,” Luca sounds, giving you a grateful hand squeeze. 

“Yeah. Any ex girlfriends we might run into tonight?” you ask, only half-joking. 

Luca shakes his head, “I doubt it. I don’t get out much.” He pauses. “Think my last serious ex-girlfriend moved to Spain a year ago or so.”

You hum in response, momentarily relieved that the likelihood of running into any of Luca’s exes tonight is low, considering it wasn’t something you’d worried about until the words were coming out of your mouth. You’re ready to wait in the line that’s formed outside of the club until you hear the sharp sound of Jesper calling your name, waving you into the club. You watch as he exchanges words with the bartender, while Luca mutters something to you about how fancy he feels about skipping the line. 

You and Luca follow Jesper down the long, dark hallway, the feeling of pulsating music and a heavy bassline undulating underneath your feet with each step. It feels more like a grungy club in Berlin than Copenhagen, but it seems like it’s what they’re going for, and you thank your past-self for choosing to wear something this sexy. While you feel out of place, at least you look like you knew what you were getting yourself into. 

“I’m glad you made it!” Jesper shouts over the loud music as he leads you and Luca to a table in the VIP area. 

“What? Thought I’d skip?” you shout back with a raised eyebrow. 

This time, Jesper leans in closer, “Thought you and Prince Charming would have a hard time leaving the bedroom now that you two are-.”

“Jesper!”

“What?” he asks with a shrug, looking from you to Luca, who sends you a quizzical look of his own. 

You send him an ‘I’m so sorry’ look before ignoring Jesper’s comment. 

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this yet,” you say, and you’re only half-joking. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Luca asks, overhearing your comment. 

“Yes,” you nod, before telling him your drink order. 

“Great. I’ll go,” he offers, though it’s more like a confirmation than anything else. He leaves the sweetest peck on your lips, earning a look from Jesper as you watch Luca disappear into the crowd. 

“Please don’t tell me you haven’t-,” Jesper groans. 

“We haven’t,” you interject, firmly. 

“You’ve got more self control than I would,” Jesper sighs, disappointedly as he shakes his head your way. 

Before you can reply, a pair of arms are wrapping around you as Mathilde’s voice follows with:

“Jesus Christ! Who said you could be hotter than me at my brother’s fling’s club opening?” Mathilde teases you, giving you a big hug. 

“It’s not just a fling!” Jesper protests at the same time as you, replying with: “It’s good to see you too, Mathilde.”

It really had only been a few hours since you closed down the restaurant for the night, but seeing the Mikkelson twins off the clock was a whole other animal. You can imagine a time, when they were both single, that the two of them could have ruled the Copenhagen social scene – two fiery forces to be reckoned with. 

“So have we run into the ex-girlfriend yet?” you ask, desperate to get the spotlight off of whether you and Luca had slept together yet. 

“Ahhhh,” Mathilde smirks. “No sign yet, but my money is on a fashionably late arrival.”

“What’s the drama? Claudio knows you’re bi. You and Sofia ended on good terms. I don’t get it,” you ask, curiously. 

“Because it’s Claudio’s big night. And I don’t want anything to fuck with it,” Jesper begins. 

“And because Jesper’s a big drama queen,” Mathilde adds, as her brother glares at her in response. 

“Who cares about how the night goes,” you chime in, from the perspective of an optimist.

“So you and Luca…” Mathilde solicits, raising her eyebrows a few times cheekily. 

“It’s good,” you guys, a broad smile spreading across your lips. “I mean… it’s really, really good.”

It’s good morning texts. And funny cartoons he sends you from the paper. And using him as a soundboard for new dish ideas.

“I’m proud of you, babe,” Mathilde smiles proudly. “For taking the leap.”

“I-,” you begin, before pausing. “Me too. I’m proud of me too.”

It’s then that you see Luca appear, just at the opening of the VIP area, headed in your direction with Emil following closely behind. 

“Hey!” you greet the both of them as they approach. While Luca has your drinks, Emil carries a tray filled with shots that you're not entirely sure you’re ready for. Your eyes widen. “Shots?”

Emil only shrugs, as Jesper corrals you, Luca, and Mathilde for a round of shots. You all pick up the soon-to-be-yours shot glasses, as Luca scoots over so that he stands closely, next to you. 

He leans in, the feeling of his lips ghosting over your ear sends a chill down your spine as he murmurs, “How much do you want to bet we’ll regret this tomorrow?”

“Oh, so much,” you answer, turning ever so slightly towards him, your lips inchest away from his. 

“To a night of letting loose,” Jesper shouts over the loud music as he begins his toast. “To old friends.” He pauses, toasting his glass towards Luca this time. “And new.” 

“Skal!”

“Skal!” you all echo as you cheers. 

“Eye contact!” Jesper orders, earning a laugh from you and another questioning look from Luca. 

Over the electronic music and flashing laser lights, you take in the sound of shot glasses hitting the table, the faces made in response to the bitter liquid, the whoops and cheers of a triumphant first shot of the night. 

You set your shot glass down on the tray along with the other empty ones as Luca asks you:

“Eye contact?”

“Yeah,” you shrug in response, taking a more flirtatious approach as you continue your explanation. “You’ve gotta make eye contact while you cheers or it’s seven years of bad sex.”

“Huh,” Luca smirks in response as you take his hand. 

“I think I’m ready for a proper drink now,” you coo, a seductive tone in your voice that Luca hasn’t heard yet. 

He likes it. Not just because it’s for him, but because he likes discovering these new parts of you, unraveling you as he goes, finding something different every time. 

And the more he learns, the more he likes you. 

He really likes you.

Luca is quick to locate where he put your drinks down right before you started taking shots. He hands you yours, then goes for his this time, raising his glass towards you. 

“Cheers,” you say with a raise of an eyebrow. 

“Cheers,” he replies, clinking his glass with yours with immovable eye contact. 

You raise your glass to your lips, taking your first sip, as Luca does the same, holding your gaze the entire time as if it’s a damn promise. Before anything can get too heated (because you swear the way he’s looking at you could start a forest fire) you hear the sound of Mathilde’s voice as she saunters over to the two of you. 

“Luca!” you hear her call out. “Come. Have a sit. I want to know everything about you.” 

You giggle, watching her usher Luca away so that she can bombard him with questions, and your heart fills with warmth. He’s here – meeting your friends, meeting your people – and you don’t even feel like running in the opposite direction. 

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

In tandem with the loud, pulsating dance music, you move your hips in a swaying motion, against the feel of Luca’s tall, broad body. You’ve got your arms wrapped around his neck and at this point, you’re quite sure you’ve lost count of the drinks you’ve had. 

That anyone’s had, really. 

“Have I told you how absolutely ravishing you look tonight?” Luca rasps, leaning down so that the sound he makes vibrates right against your ear. 

You let out a gasp, the feel of his body pressed up against yours and the sound of his voice all feel too good. 

“I think last time you said ‘beautiful,’” you tease him, playfully. 

“Why can’t it be both, darling?” he asks you, grinning down at you. 

Instead of answering, you pull him towards you, pressing your mouth to his in a passionate attempt, yet very sloppy, drunk kiss. 

Do you want to get out of here? is what you think he’s going to say, but instead, Luca pulls back from the kiss, only to lean in once more as he whispers in your ear:

“Are you hungry?”

You laugh at the unexpected question, and suddenly, it becomes apparent to you that you’re starving. 

“Yes. You wanna get out of here?” you ask back. 

“Lead the way.”

Knowing it’ll take longer than you’d like for it too, you bypass the idea of trying to find everyone to say goodbye, and skip right to the Irish Goodbye, leading Luca out of the noisy club and back out to the bustling streets that are the red light district. The two of you are blissfully drunk and giggly as you sit on the train, on the way back to your place.

You’re more than grateful that you live so close to the train station, since it’s only a quick walk back to your apartment.

“I can’t believe those girls from the train were only just starting their night’s. Can you believe it?” you ask with a giggle, as Luca follows you up the stairs of your walk up. You fidget with your keys, unlocking the door as you continue on about how you’re not twenty five anymore and tonight’s reminded you that you can barely keep up now.

But Luca doesn’t answer your question. 

Instead, as soon as you close the door behind you, he’s pressing you up against it and kissing you like he’s going off to war tomorrow. You sigh his name against his lips as you kiss him back, completely turned on by the brute force of a man as tall as him. Your head spins as you realize that he’s only just started kissing you and he’s already got you this hot and bothered. You can’t tell whether it’s the alcohol, the way his lips move expertly against yours, or the way his hands snake up your torso, inching dangerously close to the exposed skin of your plunging lace teddy. 

“Touch me,” you gasp as an encouragement, impatient with the way your nerves seem to be screaming for more of his touch.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, his large hands moving to cover your breasts, only confirming his suspicions that you’ve been braless this whole time. 

This new discovery leads to another moan from his mouth as his hands wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. Luca presses his forehead against yours, abruptly breaking the kiss, his breath heavier, more uneven now. 

“Fuck, I think I might be too pissed for this,” Luca murmurs, as you try to catch your breath, knowing that he means drunk. 

You giggle, as you admit, “That’s-. Yes. I… too am very drunk.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he starts up again, leaving a small kiss on your lips. “But I’m not sure that’s quite the impression I want to leave on you either.” 

“That’s… so respectable,” you say on an exhale, in pure disbelief of how perfect this man is. 

“Plus,” he continues, in between kisses as his lips begin to place gentle kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “When we do finally sleep together. I want you to remember. Every. Single. Thing. I do to you.”

You’re not sure whether you feel completely sexually frustrated or entirely turned on by how responsible of a decision Luca’s making for the both of you, considering the circumstances. Luca leaves a trail of kisses up your neck once more earning a moan from you as manage to get out:

“Fuck, okay. Just let me cook you something.” 

You both laugh as he agrees to the terms of your agreement. You playfully shove Luca off of you, knowing that you won’t be able to function much longer if he stays pressed up against you like this. 

“Wait here,” you order, holding up your index finger as if to say, ‘give me a moment,’ before disappearing into your bedroom. 

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

By the time you emerge from your bedroom, you’ve changed into one of your favorite t-shirts to sleep in – an old, mildly tattered Rolling Stones tee that you once bought at the thrift shop back in college. Luca’s kicked off his shoes and has found a few of your cookbooks that he’s started flipping through as you pull an amalgam of half-full frozen dumpling bags out of your freezer. With your pan on the stovetop preheating, you silently offer Luca a glass of water, before leaving a soft kiss on his lips once more. 

You put a little music on, just something soft for the background as you add oil to the increasingly hot pan. Luca hums along with the song that’s playing, cookbook in one hand, glass of water in the other, as he approaches you, making his way to the kitchen island that sits directly across from your gas stove. He settles in, placing both objects down on the counter top as he sits down on the barstool you have tucked underneath the kitchen island. 

There’s a quiet intimacy about the way you move around each other, so comfortable, so familiar, even if you’ve only just met within the last few months. The sound of sizzling hot oil as you place the first frozen dumpling down into the pan adds texture to the symphony of your evening: your choice of music, Luca’s soft humming, the way the pan slides against the coils of your gas stove as you shake it. 

“Did you grow up cooking like this?” Luca asks, breaking the comfortable silence between you. 

“Uh… yes. And also no,” you reply, cryptically, ready to explain more. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Luca says with a chuckle. “You know… when I met you. When I first came to the restaurant… I was pleasantly surprised.” He takes a beat, taking a quick sip of water as he explains himself. “It’s just that the whole fusion thing got a little tired, a little too played out, but you seem to have given it new breath… new life.” Luca flips the page of the book he’s been examining. 

“And I recall you saying something about an Italian restaurant… so the Asian inspired flavors….”

“Yeah, no, it’s a great question,” you reply, turning to look at him as you let the bottoms of the dumplings crisp up. “So my mom was a single parent – raised me solo. Growing up we ate a lot of easy things… you know, like frozen dumplings… and lots of Stouffer’s lasagnas which… you could say that that combination alone is perhaps the foundation of discovering my culinary voice.” 

You chuckle, recalling your childhood memories as you share more.

“So no, I didn’t grow up cooking with her often. We didn’t do the whole… sit around a table and make dumplings for hours kind of thing, but Mom always has a bag of ‘em in the freezer and chili oil on hand. But yes, I grew up cooking like this, more so than anything I do now.”

Luca nods as he listens, his half smile growing as you so openly share about yourself. The way he responds to you – to learning about you – only makes you want to share more. It’s all true… but it’s not the whole story. 

“Do you have siblings?” he asks, curiously. 

“Nope, just me,” you answer, before deciding that you really do want to answer Luca’s initial question. 

“I actually learned a lot of this stuff – about miso, how to make a proper dashi, how to pleat dumplings – from Joe. From his mom,” you hesitate, before pausing. 

You want to check in with Luca, searching his face for any kind of reaction, before you proceed to talk about your ex husband considering you were so close to getting naked with him just minutes ago. 

“Is it okay… if I talk about him?” 

“Yeah,” Luca answers with a shrug, as if it were the simplest answer in the world. “He was a big part of your life – of you. And I like learning about you.” 

You accept his answer, trying your best to be cool about the fact that the level of emotional maturity it takes to respond that way really impresses the hell out of you. Realizing that it’s time to add water to your fry pan you turn your back to Luca momentarily once more. You add the smallest bit of water from your drinking glass, a white hot sound filling your ears as the cooking process goes from pan-frying to pan-steaming. You cover the pan tightly with its lid before turning back to Luca. 

“Joe’s family… they’re Japanese-English, which is really where I learned to start blending my own stories into food,” you explain, with an honesty that makes you feel incredibly naked right now. “His mom would teach me very traditional Japanese recipes when we first started dating – I think it’s how she knew how to connect with me, how we got to know each other, and I was more than eager to learn. we got to know each other. I… sort of always had a thing for food, for cooking, and learning things I didn’t necessarily learn in my immediate family unit… it was cool, you know? I just, I didn’t think it could really be a career, wasn’t my priority at the time to be an artist as the full-time gig.”

“But the more I learned from her, the more I realized that it wasn’t dissimilar from what I’d learned growing up inside of my best friend’s family’s Italian restaurant. And it all just kind of… grew from there. After Joe and I got divorced, I figured it was now or never, take the leap, do the thing I always wanted to do.”

“Opening a restaurant. That was your dream?” he asks, searching for confirmation. You nod as he smiles proudly. 

“And look at you now.”

“Yes,” you chuckle, taking a breath. “Yeah, somehow I now have a whole new life and restaurant in Copenhagen.”

“You do,” Luca nods, admiration evident in his eyes. 

You take a beat because the way he looks at you sends another rush through you, and this time, you know it’s not the alcohol. 

“While we’re on the subject… What about you? What are your parents like?” you ask, shifting the spotlight over to him this time. 

“Well, like you, I grew up mostly with a single mom,” Luca replies, as a flash of recognition flashes through your eyes. 

“Mostly?” you question. 

“Yeah um..” he trails off.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t-,” you interject.

“No, I-, I want you to know,” he reassures you, a soft look in his eyes that makes you want to trust his word, as if he wants you to know him too. 

“Okay,” you say, softly. 

You’re not sure a man’s ever let you in like this before and it feels terrifying and electric all at once. 

“My full name is Luca Davies-Bernardi,” he starts. “...but I dropped the last part when I turned eighteen.” Luca flips another page over, glancing down quickly before he returns his gaze to yours. 

“My mum had me when she was pretty young. Got a bit of the short end of the stick when my dad left her and me. I was… three or four maybe? A real tosser, if you ask me.”

“Woah,” you sound on an exhale, as you listen. 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, before continuing. 

“He got another woman pregnant. Moved back to Italy instead of staying here with us. Apparently I’ve got a sister, out there… somewhere.”

You wait a beat before asking:

“And he never tried to keep in touch?”

“He tried,” Luca admits, a hint of bitterness in the way the words come out. “But I was a really angry kid. And as I grew older, I just didn’t see the point.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, empathetically. 

“No it’s-, I dunno,” Luca shrugs. “I much rather put my energy into my relationship with my mum. We’re actually quite close.” 

“Yeah?” you ask with a smile, because it really is the most darling thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Yeah,” he answers, leaning in to show you the larger forearm piece he has on his left arm. “I got this tattoo for her. She was a nurse… for most of my childhood. It’s what she had to do, so she worked a lot. I had a lot of time on my hands, perhaps why I got into so much trouble as a kid. Really put her through it till I started working in the kitchen.”

“You little rebel, you,” you tease him, with a giggle. Turning your attention back to your stovetop, you remove the lid and the pan for its heat source, before turning off the stove entirely. Giggling again you add, “You know, I’m just trying to picture it. 

“Oh, I’m sure I have a few old photos around my flat somewhere,” Luca laughs, as if it’s a promise that he’ll show you someday.

“Your mom sounds like a badass,” you sigh, making your way around your small kitchen island so that you’re standing right in front of him. 

“So does yours,” he replies, reaching for your hands. 

As your eyes take in the ink that adorns his hands and his arms, you drag your fingertips across the little designs: the A, the scotch bonnet, the nurse tattoo he got for his mother. 

“And I like them… your tattoos,” you finally say, breaking the momentary silence between the two of you. 

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, his eyes catching yours as you look up at him. 

“Yesssss. They are… very sexy,” you smirk in return, biting down on your lower lip as you run your fingertips along his inked forearms. 

“Glad you like ‘em. They’re permanent,” he preens, showing off cheekily

“Oh shut up,” you tease him as you place the gentlest peck against his full lips. 

He chuckles, pulling you in for another kiss, this time deepening it. 

As Luca kisses you, your mind wanders to his choice of words. 

Permanent. 

Of course it’s too freaking soon to think anything else of it other than this: 

If it were up to him, Luca’s not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. 

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

As the morning light trickles in through your bedroom window, it dawns on you that you are not alone. You blink your eyes open, taking in the image of the gorgeous man that lays beside you. 

The one who you ate dumplings with on your couch in the early hours of the morning. The one that fell asleep with you in your bed last night, because there was no way in hell you were letting him walk home at 4 am. The one who's making your heart race and your head spin and who reminds you that there is romance in this world. 

Yep, that one. 

You slip out of bed, careful not to wake him as you get up to pee, the massive headache a result of far too many drinks consumed last night. You tiptoe into your kitchen, filling up your glasses from last night with fresh water before heading back to the bedroom. 

“Good idea,” Luca says, as he notices the glasses of water you return with. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you ask. 

He shakes his head, “It’s alright.”

“Figured they’d be helpful considering neither of us are 21 any more,” you joke in reference to the water, as Luca sits up in your bed. 

Handing him his glass, he happily takes it before taking a few greedy sips of water. It’s a silent exchange: he hands you the water glass and you place it back on your bedside table before crawling back into bed with him. 

The way you fit curled up against his side feels better than you imagined as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, whispering a soft ‘good morning.’ 

“Morning,” you reply softly. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, or how long it takes, or who makes the first move, but one minute you’re peacefully snuggled up to Luca’s side, and the next, he’s all over you, rolling you over onto your back as he presses hot kisses to your mouth, to your neck, his hands snaking underneath your favorite Rolling Stones t-shirt as you sigh out his name. 

“Luca.”

“Yes, love?”

You repeat your plea from last night – now that neither of you are intoxicated. 

“Touch me.” 

No longer hesitant, Luca grabs at your breasts, his face buried in your neck as he sucks, kisses, leaves love bites all over you as you arch your chest up into his hands. Large hands cover each breast and you moan as you feel his thumbs graze your nipples, your breathing becoming heavier with each touch. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs into your skin, one hand making its way down your body at a smooth, slow pace. His fingers play with the waistband of your panties, and he knows that he’s got you in the palm of his hand as you’re more than impatient for him to continue his exploration. 

“May I?” he asks cooly.

You let out a frustrated moan, anticipating his touch like your life depends on it. 

“Please,” you beg, a desperateness in your voice that you’re unfamiliar with. 

“Well when you ask so nicely,” Luca smirks, cockily. 

You wish you had it in you to roll your eyes, to shake your head, to tell him to shut it, but as soon as his fingers slip into your panties, your mind goes blank. He sighs softly at the feel of you, then puts all of his energy into sliding your panties down your legs, the wet heat of you already slick with desire for him. 

“My god,” he groans, as soon as his fingers find the wetness that’s pooled between your legs. “This all for me?” 

And you don’t even have it in you to reply, letting out a loud, keening moan as his fingers slide through your folds, parting them as he explores new territory. They move up a few inches, dragging your wetness up and down your core, expertly finding your clit as you hiss in pleasure. 

“What do you think?” you bite back, letting out another moan. 

Luca smirks, watching as you writhe underneath him, enjoying the way you look at his mercy. 

“I think,” he begins, his fingers rubbing circles around your clit, earning a gasp from your mouth. “I know. That this is all for me.”

“Fuck!” you cry out as Luca pushes his index finger into you. 

The way you feel stretching around his finger elicits a moan from him too this time. 

“You’re so tight, love,” he groans, as if he’s getting off to the idea of you. 

You fall into a haze as Luca begins to fuck you with his finger. One. Then two. And before you know it, he’s moving at a rapid pace, his fingers buried deep inside of you, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that has you calling out his name while his thumb comes up to pay close attention to your clit once again. You’re on the edge, ready to come undone, the coil that’s building in your belly ready to burst. 

It’s all Luca, and fuck, and I’m so close, and yes right there, are met with groans of your name, eyes that look at you like you’re a work of art, and hands that are intent on bringing you to your climax. 

“I want to see you fall apart, love,” Luca commands, his voice low and raspy. 

And that’s all it takes for you to cum around his fingers while they work you through your climax so beautifully. You cry out his name, your eyes snapped shut as you experience one of the best orgasms you’ve had in a long time. 

“Holy shit,” you pant, trying your best to catch your breath as you come down. 

You whimper at the loss of him as he slides his fingers out of you, both hands come up to your torso as he kisses you passionately, deeply, breathlessly. 

“C’mon,” he says as he pulls away from the searing kiss, knowing that he is fully in control here. 

“Let’s get you some breakfast.”

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

a/n: IS EVERYONE DOING OK BC WOW THE SEXUAL TENSION

[gunwoos]

woo-jin x reader x gun-woo poly headcanons

sorry this is kinda short! also i've never written anything poly before so it might not be the best. i procrastinated finishing this all week cause my brain ran out of ideas but anyways enjoy 🫶

ok hear me out

u either meet them and they're already in an established relationship OR u guys r all best friends and they both realize how much they like u and how much they like each other and eventually u guys all start dating

ur guys relationship is such a fun dynamic. like ur dating both of ur best friends it really can't get better than that

u have a spot permanently reserved in between the two of them

whether ur walking down the street, taking the bus, ur in the middle of them

they lowkey fight over u (playfully) (woojin starts it 100% of the time)

like woojin asks u to come watch him at practice but u and gunwoo have plans to go somewhere and woojin is just like ??? "ur hogging her!!!"

he then proceeds to go on this long rant abt how sad and lonely he's gonna be at practice all by himself while u two have fun without him (jokingly)

all jokes aside tho u guys have a really secure relationship and are able to do things in pairs rather than all 3 of u being together 24/7

like u and woojin, u and gunwoo, and gunwoo and woojin all have ur own things u like to do in pairs and it's nice for whoever doesn't go to have some alone time

they (try to) teach u how to box if ur interested

or if ur a boxer urself even better! all 3 of u can practice and compete in tournaments together (ur gonna be rich from all the prize money u guys win together)

practices with all 3 of u usually ends up with u guys just messing around but it's fun while it lasts

trying to go to sleep with these two is chaotic to say the least. u guys all eventually end up moving in together and apartments r expensive so u guys thought it would be a good idea to just have one bedroom with a singular king sized bed in it

news flash it's not big enough for u and ur two tall ass boyfriends

like u guys try cute cuddling positions to start off but it just ends with u guys laying on top of each other and it's a mess but u guys r comfy so

woojin likes to fall asleep with his head on your chest and geonwoo likes to have your head on his chest

u usually end up with your head on geonwoo's chest, cuddled into his side with woojin behind / kind of laying on top of u or hugging the both of u. whatever position u guys fall asleep in doesnt last tho and by the time u guys wake up it's just a tangle of limbs

HOLDING HANDS. whenever u guys go out together , and especially if wherever u are is crowded, all 3 of u are linking hands

they're both protective of u. they're overprotective when it comes to danger and stuff like that considering what they went through with kim myeon-gil , but they're not super overprotective if ur talking to other guys or smth

they also don't get jealous easily. there's so much trust in ur relationship and u guys communicate really well , so they really won't get jealous unless they actually have good reason to be

if someone is like over the top flirting with u and getting touchy tho, they're both by u in an instant scaring whoever's bothering u away

they know u can handle urself but will step in if they need to

like just imagine ur at a bar or smth, u leave the table to go get the three of u more drinks and some guy starts getting flirty with u while ur waiting. ur ignoring him but the guy wont take a hint, the next thing u know both of your boyfriends are on either side of u, one has an arm over ur shoulders and the other wraps one around ur waist

the guy looks terrified and is out of there in seconds

playfighting. it's mostly just u and woojin unless gunwoo is in playful mood

like u guys start bickering about something unserious and next thing u know u guys r on the floor wrestling (he barely uses any strength obviously) and gunwoos just rolling his eyes and watching

u guys honestly have such a great relationship. u got so lucky to have not one but two amazing boyfriends who love u more than anything

nsfw under ⬇️

again, they're both tall and strong as hell so expect to get manhandled a little bit (gently tho)

like holding down ur hips while going down on u, moving ur body into different positions

the sex is GOOD. like hands down it's amazing

another thing, even tho they're both boxers, you're much smaller than they are and they're so SO gentle with u

i honestly don't think either of them would like it rough they're just so sweet and don't wanna hurt u in any way

i also don't think they'd wanna like.. be in u at the same time unless ur into that, like if u suggest it and confirm that ur 100% ok with it they'll be hesitant at first but they're just like "ok! ^-^"

like i said in the sfw hcs, u have a spot permanently reserved in between the two of them and yes that includes in the bedroom

this can go so many ways too

gunwoo behind u, leaving kisses along ur jawline and neck as u lean back onto him while woojin goes down on u

eiffel tower. (i'll write a fic abt this i promise)

with the 3 of u, the possibilities are endless

they're both so giving and like pleasuring u better than receiving (not that they don't love when u pleasure them too)

they're both obsessed with eating u out

they're both athletes, they're competitive and wanna learn and become the best they possibly can at whatever they're doing , including pleasing u.

the first few times u guys do it they'll pay attention to every detail, what u like and don't like, what u really like, what things turn u on the most, etc

by the time u guys are a few months into the relationship they know just how to please u

like the sex was already good but it's just so much better once u guys learn more about each other in a sexual sense

it also doesn't have to be all 3 of u every single time, if one of u is tired or isn't in the mood but 2 of u are, u guys can go off and do ur own thing without the other feeling left out or jealous

u guys have such a trusting relationship including in the bedroom which makes the sex even better

like i said in their separate headcanons, woojin is prob a little bit freakier than gunwoo

like i know this man at least has a pair of handcuffs and i swear by this

woojin probably brings out a more adventurous side to gunwoo (and u if ur not usually adventurous) in the bedroom and it's so interesting to see

[the-revolution-official]

Kids don't know how well they have it these days.

There was a time I remember where we were kicked out of the house to entertain ourselves from as soon as we woke up to sundown. No ifs, ands, or buts. Just kicked out. Mother didn't care about what we did as long as we stayed on the block and out of trouble. But I was trouble. I started fighting over marbles when I was ten. TEN. Playing stickball, dodge ball, and baseball when we could find enough kids was how we had fun.

Oh, and back then, there was no air conditioning. We might have had a small fan in the later part of the 30's propped up by the open window, but no. Steve and I would sneak down to the river with a bunch of the other kids and swim in it on the really hot days, or we'd find someone with a leaking water hose. Sometimes, our local fire fighters would open up the hydrants. But mostly, we stuck to the easy stuff. I'm not even going to tell you how there wasn't any texting or emails. You already know that. We had phones; sometimes they were a couple of cans with a string attached to the bottom of them. We sure had imagination back then, but that was our summers.

When I was around fifteen, I started working a paper route and sometimes Steve would come with me when he was feeling well enough. We made a lot of money for the day, throwing papers at people, but we put our earnings together to go to Coney Island at the end of the Summer. Blew all our money on the hot dogs and rides. It was a great time, even though we had to bum off someone for the bus fare back home. We did that every summer until we got real jobs as adults. Funnily enough, I worked at the docs for a while until I got fired for punching a guy in the face. He deserved it for flirting with my sister.

Then I found myself working with this handyman for a while, Jonas. He was a pretty good guy, taught me how to do everything from electrical to plumbing. It came in handy.

Then December 7, 1941 comes around.

I'll never forget it because it was cold, below freezing overnight because I was helping Jonas fix a busted pipe at some lady's apartment. We started hearing about the attack around 4:00 pm. All broadcasts had stopped on the radio and we were all speechless. I think we must have all sat around the radio for hours that night. For days after, that's all the headlines on the papers had. Up until Christmas.

Our summers of fun stopped then. I guess if anything, I started thinking about how I could do something and I could do something. I also didn't want to go to war either. Then whispers of the Draft started in 42'. I figured I'd beat them to the punch. Enlist first before the draft happened. In 1940, I registered for the draft, which was what you had to do. Every young man at the age of 18 has to register today too, but that's how it is. Go to war, your fun summers end.

No one ever told me that it would be Hell.

[missmadella]

Spiked Hearts and Stolen Kisses (Oikawa x Reader)

Welcome to my first One shot here! Please bear with me, as English is not my first language. If you notice any mistakes, feel free to let me know so I can correct them. I hope you enjoy this Story.

Jumping up from the bench where you had been nervously sitting, you threw your arms into the air and screamed for your team—Karasuno had won the final set against Aoba Jōsai! Tears streamed down your face as you ran onto the court, rushing to hug the boys who had become like family to you over the past few months.

You had joined the volleyball club alongside Yachi when Kiyoko started looking for a replacement, as this was her final year of high school. Happily, you had accepted and quickly gotten used to the teasing and playful banter among the team. You were a ray of sunshine, able to chase away even the darkest clouds, and you had been there for them when they first lost against the nearly unbeatable team. Now, you were overjoyed for them and couldn’t wait to celebrate even more later.

“We did it!” Nishinoya and Tanaka shouted through the halls, laughter erupting as Hinata crashed into the group, knocking everyone to the ground. The excitement was contagious, and everyone was basking in the victory.

But as happy as you were, you knew that where there is a winner, there is also a team that has to lose. And this time, it was Aoba Johsai.

To be honest, it made you a little sad to see the defeated expressions on Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Despite the rivalry between Karasuno and Aoba Jōsai, you had already found a way into the hearts of the opposing team’s players—especially Oikawa.

Even your first meeting was short of like a collision with the sun. Oikawa, the flirt of the century, had assumed he could charm you just like everyone else. But the moment he approached you from behind and caught sight of your stunning face, he was—just for once—completely speechless.

His brain struggled to process the beauty standing before him, and when you flashed that radiant smile, it was over. The great Oikawa Tooru—the guy who had every girl wrapped around his finger—had finally met his match. Just not in the way he expected.

When he finally regained his composure enough to strike up a conversation, you shut him down in an instant—your cheerful yet fiery demeanor catching him completely off guard. And for fuck’s sake, that was the moment he was hooked.

From then on, he made it his personal mission to challenge you, which only led to constant back-and-forth bickering. The funniest part? You had only met a handful of times, yet somehow, he couldn't get you out of his head.

He made sure you would remember him well—and you definitely did. Especially after he showed off his volleyball skills during their first match against Karasuno. You kind of enjoyed the playful dynamic between you two, but at the same time, you couldn’t help feeling a little sad for him when they lost the second match in the end.

You wished you could make him smile, even just a little, but you understood how frustrating a loss could be. Pushing boundaries wasn’t something you wanted to do.

Still, it caught you off guard when you ran into him on your way to the bus, heading off to celebrate with your team. You had gone ahead of the others since they were still stretching, wanting to bring some of their gear to the bus in advance.

And there he was—standing by the entrance in his volleyball jacket, talking to someone you didn’t recognize.

The boy, slightly taller than Oikawa, had short hair and wore a purple jacket. It was clear that they knew each other, but the moment you saw Oikawa’s face, you could tell—he didn’t like him. Not one bit.

You couldn’t stop yourself from eavesdropping on their conversation.

“You should have come to Shiratorizawa,” the taller boy—Ushijima Wakatoshi, you realized—said in his usual blunt tone. “You wasted your potential at Aoba Jōsai.”

Oikawa scoffed, his fists clenched at his sides. “Tch. And end up playing for someone like you? No, thanks.”

You could feel the tension thick in the air, and before you even realized what you were doing, your feet had already carried you forward.

“Hey.” Your voice cut through the moment as you stepped beside Oikawa, shooting Ushijima a sharp look. “That’s a pretty bold statement for someone who clearly doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘teamwork.’”

Oikawa blinked, surprised by your sudden appearance, but you could tell from the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly that he wasn’t against the backup.

Ushijima, however, barely reacted, his unreadable gaze settling on you. “It’s the truth. A setter’s strength depends on the spikers he has. Oikawa would have been better off at Shiratorizawa.”

You crossed your arms, not backing down. “And yet, here we are. He’s still one of the best setters out there—without your so-called superior team.”

Oikawa let out a low chuckle beside you, shaking his head. “See? Someone gets it.” He turned to you with a smirk, his usual confidence flickering back into place.

You rolled your eyes, but before Ushijima could say anything else, you grabbed Oikawa’s wrist and tugged him away. “Come on, genius. We’ve got better things to do than waste time here.”

He let you pull him along, throwing one last glare over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

You didn’t look back to see Ushijima’s reaction, but you didn’t really care. Oikawa didn’t need to hear those words—not today.

When you finally pulled him back into the building, your hand found his without a second thought. Your steps were quick, but Oikawa had no trouble keeping up—his gaze fixed on your back as you led the way.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement. The girl he had a crush on—the one he loved teasing endlessly—had just stood up for him. Really stood up for him. His heart skipped a beat as he replayed the moment in his head, picturing the way you had glared at Ushijima without a hint of hesitation.

His mind was still reeling when your voice snapped him back to reality.

“Oikawa, are you okay?”

He blinked, his eyes refocusing as they locked onto yours. And for a brief second, it felt like he was seeing straight into your soul.

Beautiful.

That was the only word that crossed your mind as you stared into his deep brown eyes, noticing the slight smirk tugging at his lips.

And just like that, whatever sincerity had flickered in his expression vanished.

With that mischievous glint returning to his gaze, Oikawa leaned in ever so slightly. “Oh? Were you worried about me? How cute.”

You immediately felt heat rush to your face.

Oh, this little—

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. If there was one thing Oikawa Tooru absolutely couldn’t resist—it was teasing you.

You fought against the rush of frustration, but you knew him better than he thought. You could see right through the fake mask he put on for everyone else. Over time, you had learned how to read people, and even the great Oikawa Tooru, setter from Aoba Johsai, wasn’t immune to your insight.

“Stop lying and tell me how you feel. I know his words bothered you. I saw your face.”

For a moment, Oikawa tensed, his smile faltering as his expression shifted. His eyes widened slightly, and his usual confident facade cracked, just for an instant.

“W...What are you talking about?”

He cursed under his breath, his voice unsteady as he tried to regain control.

You couldn’t help but huff in exasperation at his attempt to hide the truth, but you quickly replaced the frustration with a knowing smile, crossing your arms over your chest. It was clear he hadn’t expected you to see through him so easily.

“Don’t pretend,” you said softly, letting the smile linger. “I get it. You don’t have to act with me.”

He frowned, turning his gaze away from you as you spoke again, your tone soft and gentle, careful not to make him uncomfortable.

“You know, sometimes I think you’re just looking for reasons to push people away.”

Oikawa’s teasing grin slowly faded away when he turned back to you, replaced by a brief moment of silence. He took a small step forward, his usual confident swagger slipping slightly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice a little less playful.

You didn’t look at him, though you could feel his eyes on you, intense and searching. “You hide behind that stupid smile of yours, acting like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”

The words seemed to hang in the air between you, and you felt the tension build. You still wouldn’t look at him, not wanting him to see the frustration in your expression. “Just admit it. You’re not invincible, Oikawa.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice was quieter, more uncertain.

“I’m not invincible, huh?” He stepped even closer now, his presence looming but not quite threatening. “You really think I’m... that easy to read?”

You finally met his gaze, and this time, the usual arrogance you saw in his eyes had been replaced by something more vulnerable. For the first time, you could see a crack in his façade, and it surprised you.

“I don’t know, Oikawa,” you replied, your voice even softer now. “Maybe I just don’t want to see you keep pushing everyone away. Including me.”

He stiffened at your words, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t know how to react. His eyes searched yours, and for the first time, you didn’t see him teasing or confident. You saw a flicker of doubt, of something deeper.

“You… you really think I push people away?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now.

You nodded, your expression firm. “Yeah. You always act like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t care, but I see through it. I see the way you get when you lose, or when you think no one’s watching.”

Oikawa looked away then, his hands clenching at his sides. “You’re wrong.” His voice was hoarse, and the usual playful tone was gone, replaced by something raw. “I’m just... I don’t know how to handle it, okay?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the admission, but you didn’t say anything. Instead, you took a step closer to him, softening your gaze.

“You don’t have to handle everything alone, Oikawa.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. And then, slowly, Oikawa raised his head to meet your eyes, the vulnerability in his expression now clear.

“I’m... not used to this. I’ve always had to be the one everyone looks up to, the one who doesn’t need help. But with you…” He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly before he forced himself to meet yours again. “With you, it’s different.”

The words were tentative, unsure, but they hit you harder than anything else he’d said before. And just like that, everything between you felt different. He moved closer again, gently pushing you back against the wall. One of his hands found the wall beside you, anchoring himself as he leaned down slightly, watching you as your eyes fluttered open in surprise.

What is he doing? you thought, your heart racing as you noticed his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“Thanks, Manager-chan, for the support,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. But instead of closing the distance and finally kissing you, he pulled away, seemingly second-guessing himself, unsure if he was overstepping some invisible boundary.

Your face turned crimson, your mind and heart in chaos. You struggled to avoid his gaze, which was still lingering on you, as if trying to read your reaction. Was he really going to kiss you, or were you just dreaming this entire thing?

The silence stretched on for a few minutes before you finally found your voice again.

“What are you going to do after school, Oikawa?”

Your voice trembled slightly, the rush of your heart still evident in your words and the heat that clung to your cheeks.

The question seemed to catch him off guard, pulling him from his own thoughts.

“I don’t know, really.” He paused, looking away for a moment as if contemplating the future. “I know I want to keep playing volleyball, be the best at it. Maybe even go somewhere else, outside Japan. Argentina, maybe.”

“Argentina you say?”

Then, all of a sudden, you started smiling like it was Christmas and Easter rolled into one. “Okay, Oikawa, give me your phone.”

“What?” The confusion in his voice was clear—he had no idea what was going on in your mind. But, honestly, just getting the number of the girl he was crushing on felt like a win. So, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and handed it to you.

With quick, practiced movements, your fingers danced over the screen as you entered your number.

“Listen, I think I can help you with something. I’ll text you when I have everything for it, okay?”

“Okay?” Now, Oikawa was even more confused, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He took his phone back when you handed it to him, a smile returning to his lips.

You saved your name under a simple, yet telling label ` Oikawa’s Weakness`

He couldn’t control the short laugh that escaped his lips when he saw the name saved in his phone. You really could read him better than he thought.

“So, now I have your number, huh? Are you sure about this?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What, worried I’ll text you too much?”

His smirk faltered for a moment. “No, I just—” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual swagger. “I guess we’ll see, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Ah, there you are, Y/N!”

A voice you knew called out from behind you. Hinata rushed up to you, clearly startled to see the “King” standing next to you. He asked, his voice trembling a little, if you were okay and if he had done something wrong.

With a warm smile, you ruffled his hair and reassured him, “No, everything’s fine.”

“I’ll text you later, Oikawa!” you called back, smiling at him before Hinata gently nudged you toward the bus.

Oikawa silently waved goodbye as you disappeared into the distance.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, suddenly regretting not taking the opportunity to kiss you. “What the fuck did I do?”

“What are you complaining about now, Slowkawa?”

A familiar voice caught his attention, and Oikawa turned to see Iwaizumi approaching, an amused yet exasperated expression on his face.

“But Iwa-chan, don’t be so mean to me!”

“Shut up and keep moving. We’re going.”

With that, Iwaizumi ushered him toward the bus, and Oikawa followed, his mind still racing with thoughts of you.

______________________________________________________________

The next time you saw Oikawa was when you finally had all the information he needed. You made it your mission to support him in pursuing his dream of volleyball even after high school. You didn’t even know why. Maybe it was because you wished he had kissed you that day after the Spring Tournament, but he hadn’t, and that moment still lingered in your mind.

You both stayed in touch, though you hadn’t told anyone in the Karasuno Volleyball Club about it. He kept teasing you like it was second nature, and you couldn’t help but smile every time he sent you some ridiculous picture or told you about the cute cat he saw on his way to practice.

But he was the same, too. Every time he finished training and saw a message notification from you, he hoped it was from you—his cute manager who had crashed into his life like a whirlwind, and he couldn’t help but want more of it.

The name saved in his phone hadn’t changed either. Whenever someone asked him about it, he’d simply say that the number belonged to someone very special in his life.

Iwaizumi, of course, immediately caught on to the feelings Oikawa had for you. You were his weakness, and Oikawa never shut up about you, much to Iwaizumi’s dismay. He had never seen his best friend crush so hard on a girl before.

The only thing that could surprise Oikawa more than his own feelings was when you randomly appeared in front of him after a particularly grueling training session. The sun was already beginning to set, painting the sky with hues of red and orange. Your hair shimmered in the fading light, and once again, he was stunned by your beauty. He just stared at you, unable to hide his awe.

“What brings you here, Manager-chan?” He finally managed to tease, after Iwaizumi had hit him hard on the back.

“Iwa-chan, how dare you!” Oikawa yapped, holding his back from the sudden pain.

“Make it quick, Shittykawa. I want to go home,” Iwaizumi called over his shoulder, greeting you politely before heading for the door.

Finally, after Iwaizumi was out of sight, Oikawa’s attention returned to you. Your bright, smiling face captured him once again.

“I finally have everything,” you said, your voice filled with excitement.

He raised an eyebrow. He still had no idea what you were talking about. But instead of answering, you grabbed your phone and dialed a number.

Not even a minute passed before the caller finally answered, and to Oikawa’s surprise, you spoke to the caller in fluent Portuguese. He couldn’t catch most of what you were saying, but when you handed him the phone, he was even more confused.

“You better put your best English on the line, Oikawa,” you teased, as he took the phone from your hands and put it to his ear.

“Hello?” he answered, still a bit confused.

“Ah, hello. You must be the infamous Oikawa Tooru I presume?” came the voice on the other end.

“Eh, yes.” His accent was noticeable, but it was still clear enough to understand.

“Nice to finally hear from you. My name is Jose Blanco, and I’m the coach of Club Atlético San Juan in Argentina. Y/N told me about you and your excellent talent in volleyball.”

Oikawa Tooru was officially stunned. He was standing in the middle of Aoba Johsai High School, talking to one of the people he’d looked up to since he was a child. It was because of this man that he had decided to become a setter. He couldn’t believe his ears—he was really speaking to his childhood idol.

“Hello, are you still there?” the coach asked.

“Eh… yes, of course. I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting this kind of call. I’m a huge fan, actually.”

He stumbled a little over his words but managed to get the sentence out.

A bright laugh came from the other end of the line.

“No worries. Let’s get back to the point. Y/N sent me some games of your team, and I watched how you played as a setter. Y/N pointed out that you’re very impressive.”

Oikawa’s eyes flickered to you, still standing there, listening intently to the conversation.

“I see a lot of potential in you, and I’d like to offer you the opportunity to start playing volleyball here in Argentina. I think you have what it takes to play with the big stars.”

“WHAT?” Oikawa screamed into the phone, his voice full of disbelief.

Another laugh came from the other end of the line as the coach continued.

“I gave Y/N the forms you need to come and start playing here. I’d love to see you once you finish high school.”

“I can’t believe it. I would love to do that.” Oikawa finally said, still in shock. He could hear a clap coming from the other side.

“That’s great to hear. I’ll send Y/N the details soon for you to come, and I hope we speak soon.”

“Yes, I hope we speak soon. Thank you for this opportunity.”

“You shouldn’t thank me. Thank the persistent girl in front of you who’s been constantly bragging about your great skills. To be honest, I can’t deny anything she said.”

“Thank you so much again.” Oikawa said as the coach ended the call.

Oikawa was left staring at the phone as the beeping signaled the end of the conversation.

He was still in shock. What just happened?

“And?” Your voice cut through his thoughts as you watched him stare at your phone screen. “I can’t believe it. What just happened?”

Your laughter filled the air, lighting up the space as you observed his stunned expression. “Hehe. I never thought I’d see the amazing Oikawa Tooru actually stunned. I might need to mark that in my calendar.”

But Oikawa didn’t react to your teasing at all. He couldn’t believe it. A dream had just come true, and it was all thanks to you. He never imagined he’d get this far.

Without thinking twice, he moved at lightning speed.

His lips crashed into yours.

Your eyes widened in an instant as you felt the soft lips of the person you’d had a crush on since the first time you met him against yours.

This time, you were the one stunned to the core. The flirt of high school, the person who constantly teased you about everything, was finally kissing you.

You had waited for this moment for so long.

But before you could even react, his lips pulled away slightly. He fumbled with his words as he saw the shock on your face.

“I… I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t mean to…” He stumbled over his words, his eyes wide with panic.

He thought he had messed it all up, that he had ruined everything with the one person who, beside Iwa-chan, had always seen through his façade and supported him when no one else did.

“Y/N, please don’t hate me. I… I’m sor—”

But this time, you found your voice. With a firm push on his head, you pulled him back down and pressed your lips to his, silencing his apologies.

Without a second thought, he closed his eyes and kissed you back with intensity.

Oikawa’s lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if he was memorizing every second, every tiny movement. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, while yours found their way up to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his jersey like you were afraid he might disappear.

Your heart pounded against your chest, heat rushing through you as his fingers ghosted along your back, tracing slow, teasing circles. His touch sent shivers down your spine, making you arch slightly into him.

Then, just as you thought the kiss couldn’t get any better, Oikawa shifted his head, deepening it even further. His tongue brushed lightly against your bottom lip, testing, teasing—waiting for permission. And when you parted your lips just enough, he took full advantage, exploring you with a mix of confidence and hesitation, like he still couldn’t believe this was happening.

A small, involuntary sound escaped you, and that was all it took to push him further. His grip on you became firmer, one hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a silent promise. The other rested at the small of your back, pressing you into him like he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

His breath hitched slightly as you fisted your hands into his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him groan into your mouth. The sound sent a wave of warmth straight through you, making your knees weak. Oikawa felt it, too, because he suddenly guided you backward until your back met the cool surface of the gym wall. The contrast between the cold and the heat between you both was dizzying.

He finally pulled away, panting softly, his forehead resting against yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips as he let out a small chuckle, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

“Wow.” His voice was husky, dazed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this jealous of my past self for not doing this sooner.”

You laughed breathlessly, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm your racing heart. “Yeah, well… maybe I should be mad at you for making me wait so long.”

His grin turned wicked. “Then let me make it up to you.”

Without waiting for an answer, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another deep kiss—this one slower, more tender, but just as intoxicating.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a confession, a promise, an unspoken understanding that whatever this was between you, it was only just beginning.

And neither of you would let it slip away.

______________________________________________________________

A New Chapter: Argentina

The air in Buenos Aires was warm, carrying the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the distant hum of the city. You stood on the balcony of your shared apartment, overlooking the streets below as Oikawa unpacked the last of his training gear inside.

It still felt surreal. You had actually done it. You had helped Oikawa move to Argentina, and you were right there with him.

"Oi, Manager-chan," his voice called from behind you, playful as ever. "Are you just going to stand there looking all sentimental, or are you finally going to admit that moving here with me was the best decision of your life?"

You turned, rolling your eyes, but the soft smile on your lips betrayed you. Oikawa was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug grin playing on his lips. His hair was still damp from his shower, a reminder of the grueling training he had just finished with Club Atlético San Juan.

You sighed dramatically. "I don’t know, Tooru. You’re an even bigger pain in the ass now that you’re actually living your dream."

He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "How rude! I thought we were in this together."

"We are," you admitted, stepping toward him. "But I’m never going to let you forget that I was the one who made it happen."

Oikawa’s grin softened into something more genuine. "I know." He reached out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. "And I’m never going to stop being grateful for it."

______________________________________________________________

Flashback: The Last Year of High School:

The months after your first kiss had been a whirlwind. It didn’t take long before the entire Karasuno team found out, mostly thanks to Nishinoya and Tanaka catching you sneaking out after one of their matches.

"YOU’RE DATING OIKAWA?!"

The gym had erupted in chaos.

Hinata nearly choked on his water, Kageyama muttered something about "stupid Grand King," and Daichi had just sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting allowing this.

But what really made things interesting was the effect it had on your training matches against Aoba Jōsai.

Every time Karasuno played them, it felt like a battle of pride—not just for the teams but for you, too. Oikawa, of course, made it his mission to show off whenever you were watching, throwing in extra flashy sets just to make you roll your eyes.

"That set was unnecessary, Oikawa," you had called from the sidelines during one match.

"Nonsense, Manager-chan!" he had winked. "I just wanted to make sure you had something beautiful to watch!"

Iwaizumi had nearly smacked him with a volleyball.

Despite all the teasing, your relationship had grown stronger. There were late-night phone calls, stolen moments after matches, and whispered confessions when no one was looking. You had helped Oikawa research international teams, pushing him to chase his dream even when he doubted himself.

And when he finally got the chance to move to Argentina, he had looked at you with those deep brown eyes and asked the question that had changed everything.

"Come with me?"

______________________________________________________________

Present: Argentina

Oikawa sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "You really came all this way for me, huh?"

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. "Of course, Tooru. Someone has to keep you in check."

His smirk returned, but this time, there was something softer in his expression. "Then I guess I better make sure I give you a good reason to stay."

You raised an eyebrow at him, confused. But before you could ask, he pulled back slightly, reaching into his pocket.

Your heart stopped.

He didn’t even try to be dramatic about it. No teasing, no build-up. Just pure, raw honesty in his eyes as he pulled out a simple silver ring and held it out to you.

"Marry me."

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oikawa Tooru—the boy who had spent most of his life trying to prove himself, who had fought so hard for his dream, who had been a constant whirlwind of teasing, passion, and stubborn determination—was looking at you like you were the most important thing in the world.

His voice was softer now. "I mean it. You’ve been with me through everything. You believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. I don’t want to just share my dream with you. I want to share my whole life with you."

Tears welled up in your eyes, your chest tightening with overwhelming emotion.

You had always known that Oikawa was a handful, that life with him would never be boring. But right now, looking at the way he was waiting, nervous despite all his usual confidence, you knew there was only one answer.

You smiled through the tears, your voice shaking as you whispered, "Yes."

Before you could even blink, he was lifting you into his arms, spinning you around in excitement. "She said yes!" he yelled, like there was an invisible audience there to witness it.

Laughing, you clung to him, pressing your forehead to his. "Of course, I said yes, idiot."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "I love you, Manager-chan."

And then, for the second time in your life, Oikawa Tooru kissed you like you were his entire world.

And this time, you knew there would be no more goodbyes—only new adventures together.