#but it works for literally anything! try it out

[kateschi]

two heroes, one marriage

synopsis: having stolen the hearts of fans with your teamwork and marraige, you and katsuki are called in for a joint interview.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the magazine spread featuring you and katsuki as top pro heroes has the fanbase buzzing for weeks.

power couples aren’t uncommon, but the combination of your joint success and explosive chemistry—both literally and figuratively—makes you stand out.

when you both get asked to sit down for a joint interview, it’s hard to say no, especially when the public can’t seem to get enough of the dynamic between you and your husband.

sitting side by side on a plush sofa in the brightly lit studio, katsuki bristles with impatience, his jaw clenched as the interviewer introduces the segment.

it’s a familiar scene—his fiery personality on display for everyone to see—but you can feel the underlying tension, the way his body leans subtly closer to yours for grounding.

“so, the two of you are recognized as two of the top heroes of the year, and fans are really curious to know how you manage your lives as heroes and as a married couple,” the interviewer begins with a polite smile, clearly trying to ease into the conversation.

before you can respond, katsuki’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“what the hell kinda question is that?” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he crosses his arms. “we do our damn jobs, and we go home. simple as that.”

you stifle a laugh, used to his bluntness by now. gently placing a hand on his arm, you intervene.

“what he means,” you say, casting a glance at katsuki that makes him grumble, “is that it’s about finding a rhythm. we both understand each other’s work, so we don’t get in each other’s way.”

katsuki grunts, his fiery gaze fixed on the interviewer. “she knows how to handle herself; doesn’t need me micromanaging her every move.”

despite his words, his hand finds its way to your lower back, fingers pressing into the fabric of your suit.

his touch is subtle, a quiet reassurance in the midst of his usual tough demeanor, but you know it means he’s keeping you close, watching out for you in his own way.

the interviewer picks up on the moment, nodding enthusiastically.

“it sounds like you both have a lot of trust in each other. how do you support one another with the high demands of your careers?”

katsuki clicks his tongue, clearly irritated. “support? we’re pros. we know what we’re doin’ out there.”

but just as you’re about to add something, he turns his head slightly to you, his voice dropping just enough for you to hear the change in tone.

“that doesn’t mean I won’t blow the ass off anyone who even thinks about messin’ with her,” he mutters.

you chuckle softly, nudging him with your elbow. “and here I thought I didn’t need you hovering around.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite in his tone.

his hand stays on your back, thumb brushing up and down in a way only you notice. “just ‘cause you’re strong doesn’t mean I’m not gonna make sure you’re alright.”

the interviewer, sensing an opportunity, leans in. “mister dynamight, you seem pretty protective of your wife. would you say that’s how you balance work and home life?”

katsuki’s eyes flash, his scowl deepening. “of course, I’m protective. you think I’d let her get caught up in any shit without me there to take care of it?”

his voice is sharp, but the way his arm shifts slightly to pull you closer is anything but harsh. “we don’t even need to talk about this crap.”

you smile to yourself, knowing this is as close to an open display of affection as katsuki will get in public.

his explosive personality never wavers, but there are cracks in his tough exterior that only you can see—moments where his concern for you bleeds through.

when the interviewer pushes on, asking about how your relationship works in the field, katsuki scoffs again.

“are you gonna keep asking this?” he snaps, before glancing at you, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

he sighs, trying to compose himself. “we work together ‘cause we’re a team, a hella good one at that.”

his little proud smirk makes your heart flutter. you decide to tease him a little. “oh, so you’re saying you can’t live without me on the battlefield, huh?”

his glare is immediate, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “don’t twist my words! I just—”

he cuts himself off, grumbling under his breath.

“you’re the one who keeps me in check, alright? so yeah, maybe i do rely on you. you’re my wife, and I am your husband. that’s natural! don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your husband huffs and looks away, which makes you giggle.

meanwhile, the interviewer chuckles nervously, clearly amused by the exchange. “it seems like you two have a really solid partnership.”

katsuki rolls his eyes. “damn right we do. we’ve got each other’s backs. that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

as the interview wraps up, you feel katsuki’s hand slip from your waist, but his presence lingers, as solid and steady as ever.

once you’re off-camera and away from the prying eyes of the public, katsuki turns to you, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “this interview crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “let's hope they don't cut you out like they did in highschool.”

“shut the hell up.” but despite his grumbling, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the studio.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[reiderwriter]

hi Kacie :"> it's me :"> just thinking about ''reader sitting on his face in reverse cowgirl and decides to just unbutton and zip down his pants, turning this to a 69 and somehow both of them make it into a 'who's gonna make the other one finish first' competition'' nothing much how has your afternoon been I hope you'll have a great day xx -kei

A Kei request a day keeps the chances of my going to heaven away 🙏 I <3 smut

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, use of pet names (good boy), sub(ish) Spencer Reid, munch!Spencer, oral (m +f), 69ing, rough sex, face fucking, unprotected oral sex, no plot just sex. Literally no plot.

Masterlist <3

With a cock that perfect and neglected right in front of your face, you could hardly resist the temptation to give it a tiny taste.

It wasn't like it was against the rules of your non-hookups with Spencer. He'd ask for explicit pictures twice a week, which you'd happily send for the chance to be sat on his tongue by 10pm that Friday evening, days on which cases landed notwithstanding.

Hotel rooms were very convenient hook up spots, especially the ones with free condoms and tissues on both the nightstand and by the desk chair.

Not that you ever needed condoms, really. You'd never so much as touched Spencer's cock, let alone had it inside you. He was too much of a giver to take something like that from you. His cock was always hard, always visible through his pants, but he was so focused on your pleasure, he didn't care about his own needs being met.

Spencer's tongue was your personal sex toy. You'd fucked his face multiple times, grabbing his hair and forcing his nose into the bristles of hair at the end of your pelvic bone as you ground your cunt into his wet, hot mouth. You'd laid back contentedly and let him peacefully lick and suck slowly for hours on end, cumming multiple times as he explored your sensitive parts.

You'd sat on a chair, legs spread, and let him lap up your cum on his knees, because there was nothing in the world he wanted more.

More than once, you knew, he'd walked away with cum dampening his pants, having enjoyed your moans and taste so much that he'd lost it before really touching you.

But Spencer Reid was being unfair getting you to sit on his face, to look at his big, thick cock atraining through his pants, straight on, and telling you to sit still and enjoy his tongue when all you wanted was to take him as far down your throat as he could get.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you moaned again as he nipped at your clit, tongue flicking it as you felt a familiar burn of stimulation at your core.

You were going to end up roughly fucking his face if you weren't careful. His tongue just felt too good.

You slid your hands down his stomach a bit, landing on his loose pants as you repositioned your knees.

“Spencer, that's it keep going. Good boy, good boy.”

You gripped his pants tightly, using the little bit of tension to help you arch back, pushing more of your ass onto his face than before.

But your arms, already weak from a rough day at work, slipped again pushing his pants down just one more inch until his cock could finally spring loose. You wanted nothing more than to taste it, reaching forward and looking at it intensely as your mouth watered. You didn't get closer than a breath away, as Spencer immediately stopped when your mouth almost achieved its goal.

“Fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Spencer mumbled crawling out from underneath you as he scrambled to get his cock back in his pants.

“Spencer-”

“I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I'll-”

“Spencer, slow down. What?”

You'd seen Spencer flushed with desire before, but the redness of his cheeks was different somehow now. More embarrassment than anything else.

Slowly, you crawled towards him again, trying to look as non-threatening as you could, clad only in hastily pushed aside panties and dishevelled dress. Your hand slowly traced up his thigh, and you kept it there, still for a second watching to see what Spencer would do next.

“Spencer. Why can't I see your cock?” You asked, voice low but light, almost surprising yourself with how breathy and needy you sounded.

“I… I thought you wouldn't want to see…” he trailed off, and you pouted up at him, stroking his thigh as he looked down distractedly at you.

“I want to. Can I have it now?” You asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Y/N…. It's… I've had complaints in the past, it's not…” he struggled to find the words as your hand brushed over his crotch now tracing the bulge in his pants as his head dropped backwards.

“It's not what? Big? Don't lie to me.”

“That's not it… I get… I get too overwhelmed if you do that, I get too-”

“Too….” You mimicked, dropping a hand into his underwear as his hand fell over yours, unsure whether it was to stop you or to set the pace of your impromptu hand job.

“Rough,” he said, as you firmly gripped his cock, using your other hand to free him from his pants and underwear, knocking his hand away as you ran your palm along the length of his hard cock.

“Rough?” You said, gripping the tip of his cock, teasing it until it shone with precum.

His hand fell back over yours, more firmly this time, as he met his eyes with yours.

“I didn't want to hurt you, but I get so overwhelmed if I use it that I… I get rough, I don't listen well-”

You were practically dripping listening to his explanations for not fucking you, or even letting you see his cock.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yes! It's like… Y/N, I'd treat you like a sex toy, not a person, and I want this to be good for you, too, so let's not-”

You cut him off with a rough kiss as you pressed him back into the bed, straddling his thighs as you gently fisted his cock, rubbing up and down slowly.

“I'll make a deal with you, Spencer,” you said, between gasps of air. “I'll sit on your face again, and you let me suck your cock. When you get rough, if you get rough, you'll be able to feel how much I'm enjoying it, okay?”

He nodded between kisses, words forming and melting on his tongue as his hips began thrusting into your hand, his thigh digging into your mound as he thrashed towards a climax.

“Good boy,” you said, kissing him one last time before letting go of his cock and climbing out of his lap.

His body twitched in protest, but his big hands grasped you quickly, pulling you up the bed as you eagerly went with them, losing your panties on the way as you let your dress fall around his face in an all too familiar position.

But this time, you lowered yourself down, too, spitting on his tip quickly as his tongue got to work teasing your clit slowly.

You gave him a few pumps, before lowering yourself more completely on his face, pressing your chest close to his abdomen and taking his cock slowly onto your mouth.

Spencer wasn't small, but you also weren't going to let him be a challenge. You got a few inches down before you decided to come back up again, hands still stroking the base and massaging the rest. You did that a few times before you felt Spencer's body angle up into you again.

Changing his leg position on the bed, Spencer thrust his cock up into your mouth as you forced yourself to breathe. His cock thrust up again, quickly but totally and he left it there for a few seconds before pulling it out again.

The entire time, he hadn't let up his work on your cunt. His to guess flattened out against your clit, roughly stroking that sensitive area with a precision only he knew. A hand clasped around your hips, gripping your ass kept you firmly in place on his face, as his hips bucked into you.

He got faster, wilder, and yes, rougher.

You didn't want to pull off his dick, but moving back was instinctual. He pushed you right back in with a hand on your head, fisted into your hair as he synchronised your movements, pulling your head up as he pulled his cock away from your lips, and pushing it back down when his hips snapped up.

You moaned hysterically when you came apart on his face, feeling your cum trickling down your leg as he continued to use you to get off. His to guess never stopped, even after wave after wave of your juices hit him.

The only sign of his impending orgasm was the tightening of his hands, both of them now coming down on your head, forcing you to the base of his sizable cock as your tongue touched his balls. He came down your throat and immediately releases you, spluttering and coughing as your legs trembled.

Spencer scrambled to get you on your back, pushing you upright and patting your back as you regained your breath.

“I'm sorry, Y/N, I said it wasn't a good ide-”

You pushed your cum stained tongue into his mouth, shutting him up quickly as he tasted himself, and you tasted yourself, and your tastes mingled quickly, as you climbed into his lap again.

“Spencer,” you said, catching your breath once again, collapsing into his arms.

“If I need to beg for your cock, I will. I like it rough. I-” you gasped again, feeling his cock stirring with each word.

“I very much like it when you use me like a sex toy. So… so in the future, please use all of me, and I'll use you, too.”

[bunnybeaches]

141 s/o’s love language is bicep chewing

Price literally could care less. He’s been with you for so long that at this point he’s used to it. Whether it be laying in bed or while he’s working, you’re always nomming on that bicep.

”Honey I’m almost done I promise” John adjusts his glasses as he types away at his laptop in bed. He’s been working all night and frankly you’re tired of it, so you do what you always do. Bite on your favorite chew toy, his bicep.

“Oh dove you really couldn’t help yourself could you? Give me two more minutes” John just chuckles as you chew on his arm. Seems he’s just as stubborn as you are.

Now Johnny will chew on you right back. This man has absolutely no shame. Two playful idiots chewing on each other? sign this man up!! Will absolutely get turned on by this doesn’t matter when or where.

He’s wearing that shirt. That one compression shirt that hugs everything soooo perfectly. His stupidly perfect pecs, toned abs, and god those arms. Those biceps. You can’t help but take a small bite!

“Did ye just bite me?” Johnny stares at you with a dumbfounded expression before he’s tackling you to the ground. Chewing on your arms, soft tummy and your amazing thighs. “Don’t start a fight ye can’t win my love.”

Sweet baby Kyle doesn’t even notice you being silly. Thinks it’s something you do to calm yourself down. At the market? nom. Training? nom. Everywhere? nom.

“Baby can you hand me the list please? I want to see what’s on it.” Kyle looks at you but your mouth is on the bicep of his right arm. Not even chewing your mouth just gently resting there. He stops pushing the cart and moves to stroke your hair. “You ok love? The shoppings almost done then we can go home” He lets you chew or relax your mouth for however long you need.

Simon completely ignores you. You could bite him hard and man wouldn’t even bat an eye. Just like John he’s used to his silly wife’s antics.

Simon lets out the heaviest sigh you’ve ever heard. You really were trying to watch a movie (key word trying) and you decided you needed a little snack. No not that snack, your husband’s delicious bicep. Nothing not a word or anything after you bit down. Your husband just keeps watching the movie. Nothing can get him huh?

Anon i hope i did your ask justice! i accidentally lost it whoops

[livelaughcomma]

And then it's like, completely ignoring what would actually make sense for the human psyche, people love doing work, but we like to choose it! Literally, volunteer work exists already under this permenant competition, if we remove it there is going to be MORE people volunteering not less.

Then there's intrinsic motivation worth IS more than external in most cases blah blah blah- on top of that the insecurity of constant competition, and this constructed financial dimension STRESSES people out (which is also bad for functioning as well as patience and the calm that would make people act their best)- what even is laziness again?

At this point I can't truly completely blame anyone for anything they do when money's involved because money is everything except the social dimension, and the social dimension- CHARITY is not a reliable or powerful instrument, not under this much stress, not to cope with everything on top of being ignored.

I think I honestly believe everyone is a kind, just and hardworking person given the right circumstance, and at the moment you have to luck into that. Of course we try to build those circumstances for ourselves throughout our lives, but that's so hard too. Progress is all we can do, especially when there are so many not in the right state of mind to join in, but progress is good, and the truth is current right wing backlash (as horrible and torturous and really prevention measures will have to better next time) is a sign of how far we've come, something something dialectic antagonism except these ideals, this kindness is universal and all zeitgeists (spelling whp???) will always circle back to it.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

HELP ME PLEASE

Your quinn is literally my favorite!!!!!!!!!!! Can you write him and reader!girlfriend on the phone after the stars game? Your sweet/sad quinn is the best!!!!!!!!!

Oh, you're WAY TO KIND TO ME...! 🥹🥹 Let's see what I can do!

All you had texted was, "I love you."

Incoming Call: Quinny

Quinn's broken voice in that post-game interview had killed you. The way he had looked down before answering about how he was feeling, his thoughts on Millsy's trade, and how he was handling the noise of the dressing room as the team's captain -- it was obvious how much it all was affecting him. Unfortunately, you were twenty-two-hundred miles away, and you felt powerless to help him in any form.

"Hey, baby," you said upon answering the call.

Quinn's voice was low, and it was obvious he was beyond exhausted, body and mind, "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course." Your stomach tightened like you were about to receive some bad news. You hadn't heard him sound this way before and given how the day had gone, you knew it wasn't going to be a butterfly-inducing conversation.

"Let me get somewhere a little quieter. I need to hear your voice."

To you, he sounded desperate -- like he was at his breaking point. While you waited for him to walk to wherever he needed to be, you couldn't help but worry about him -- about what had caused him pain during the game, how losing JT and the others was weighing on him, and the stress of the upcoming tournament that was just four games away. You couldn't get the sad look of his face out of your mind. When was the last time he had actually had a good day, that he was happy without nagging stresses?

"Hey Mike, I'm gonna step out for a few minutes," Quinn said, obviously not talking to you. You couldn't hear the other man's reply but it must have been favourable as Quinn would finally start his conversation with you just a few seconds afterwards.

He sighed heavily, "I wish you were here. I-- I feel like everything is out of control and I don't know what to do."

The sound of wind was intertwined with his words. You wondered if he had stepped outside the arena to talk to you, somewhere to speak without listening ears.

"I wish I was there, too," you confessed, a pain growing in your heart. "You're trying to carry too much, baby."

"I have no choice, though."

You knew where he was coming from. The title of Captain meant you wore several hats, and sometimes more than one at a time. You knew he had all of them on at once. This season hadn't been easy, and something had you believing it wasn't going to get any better.

"I know," you mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he breathed out, feeling guilty for calling you when he was feeling like he was. "I'm sorry to put this on you. I just don't know what to do. Everyone is looking to me for answers and insight, but I don't have any. I don't know how to fix the team, I'm carrying as much as I can every night. I'm asked about what's going on behind closed doors and the temperature of the room and I'm over it. It's like the media just wants to keep stirring the pot instead of letting us just work it out. Now I'm being asked about if the team rebuilds what that means for my future in Vancouver. I-- I just-- I can't-- handle everything right now." Your heart was breaking hearing him on the brink of tears. His voice was cracking and shaky. "I need you."

"I wish I was there, sweetheart. I'd do anything I could to help you."

"I love you," his voice at a whisper.

"I love you, too, Quinn."

The first whimper made you cover your mouth to keep yourself from doing the same. Quinn rarely cried, at least not when you were around. To hear him finally drop that ultra-reserved demeanour of his was crushing.

"Oh honey, you'll be okay," you tried to reassure him, but they were words without certainty, you knew that. "You're doing the best you can, and you need to realise that you need to put yourself first sometimes. You're pushing yourself too much. It's not on you to solely fix the team, Quinn, though I know you're trying. I've never seen you this way before, and I'm scared it's going to break you."

He was silent on the other end, aside from his muffled cries. You didn't need him to say anything, though hearing his voice would have made you feel better, which made you remember what he had said to you earlier: "I need to hear your voice."

Maybe he just needed you to talk to him.

"One day at a time, baby, please. Be happy where you are, and what you have. You're doing all you can, and I need you to know that it's okay to struggle, but it's also okay to be content with how things are. You know there are things out of your control, and you just have to let them work themselves out sometimes. You'll drive yourself crazy trying to put bandaids on everything. I don't want to lose you down that rabbit hole." You'd pause before adding one more thing, "I just want you to be okay."

Quietly you'd sit there and wait for a sign from him, or whatever it might be. A long moment of silence would follow your words, making you pull the phone away from your ear to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

"I miss you," he choked out, breaking the painful silence between the two of you.

"I miss you more, Quinn. I wish you were here."

"Me, too," he said, sharply inhaling, like he was trying to push those emotions back down and get over it. "Thank you for picking up everything -- the call, the pieces...me. I'd be so lost without you."

You'd shake your head, "You never have to thank me, baby. I just want to help you."

"I appreciate that," he sniffled. "I just wish I knew where to start."

"With yourself, Quinn," you said bluntly. "How are you feeling? I saw you take the stick to the head early."

It took him a few seconds to respond but you didn't mind, "I don't know, honestly. Between my hand and whatever is wrong with my leg, everything hurts. I'm tired. I'm drained. I wish I was home with you."

Everything he said carried so much weight and his emotions were so painfully honestly.

That was just Quinn.

He always spoke from his heart; wearing his heart on his sleeve every waking moment of his life. However this had a different air about it -- a nakedness. He was free to share his deepest fears with you, those raw feelings were bleeding from him with no hindrance. You appreciated that he felt so comfortable to open up like he was, and the fact that he was away from you, as well. Quinn didn't give the hint that he shared stuff like this with the guys on the team -- not like he did with you. You were different. He loved you -- you occupied a special piece of his heart like no on else did. That meant something special to him.

"You'll be home soon, baby. Just a little longer, okay?"

Through Quinn's end of line, someone was calling out to him, "C'mon Quinn-- the boy's are packing up, let's go."

You frowned hearing the empty orders, but you knew Quinn would have to end the call with you and head to the airport. There was always a sense of urgency after their games, especially the away ones.

"Yeah-- I'll be right there," he muttered, his voice dropping off at the end while he pretended to have himself together. "I'll call you when we get back to Vancouver."

"Be careful."

"I will," he paused. "Thanks, babe. For all that you do for me."

"Happy to help, Quinny. I love you."

For the first time, you heard his little giggle, "I love you, too."

[cjlouwho]

The Gift of Going Gray

When Tommy looks in the mirror, the man who looks back isn't the same one that used to be there.

Well, technically it is, but it's doesn't feel like it.

The man Tommy sees now is grayer than he used to be. He used to think about dying his hair when he was young, but he never did it. Now, his body is doing it for him.

He's excited to see what he looks like when every strand is silver. He hopes his beard matches.

He's got wrinkles and laughter lines. Marks and ripples and crevices every time he moves his face, which some may look at with hate. He sees it as a happy life well-lived. He hopes he gets more.

The hairs on his chest match his head, but they're far more sporadic. As he rubs lotion over his pecs, skin a little less willing to stay moisturized, he wonders if those hairs will look invisible against him once they've all lost all their pigmentation.

He pumps out a little more lotion and moisturizes his arms. Still big, still muscular, still strong, but they get sore easier now. Need a little extra recovery time between workouts. Can't survive without monthly massages anymore.

His stomach is different. What was once defined abs is now a soft belly, more nourished than it ever was before. He's not trying for abs anymore. Doesn't really feel a need for it. He's healthy, he knows that, and that's what matters.

His hands have little wrinkles. Barely noticeable unless you really look, but he takes the time to really look. They're rough and calloused from years of manual labor, but the newest addition is the most exciting. Barely there ridges that you can run your fingertips over. Veins that are easier to see than they used to be. Skin that's thinner easier to cut.

There's a tan line on his ring finger. Which in and of itself isn't a sign of aging, but it sure as hell feels like it.

He'd never felt more grown, more centered, more sure, than the day he said, “I do.”

That tan line is a part of him now. Will be there, right under his engraved, gold ring, even when he's laid to rest.

If he doesn't stretch first thing in the morning, his back is likely to lock up on him sometime during the day. His knees require Icy Hot mid-shift.

He got his first pair of reading glasses last year. He couldn't believe the difference. Now there are five different pairs of glasses lying around the house, another pair in the truck, and one kept in his locker at work just so he always has them.

Once he's finished with his lotion, he opens the medicine cabinet and grabs a colorful bottle. His doctor recommended he start taking a multi-vitamin. A special one for older men. He's not actually sure it does anything, but he knows it doesn't hurt anything, so he chews the gummy everyday. The strawberry ones are his favorite.

He remembers when he was young, he used to joke his grandma about how she was always cold. She's laugh along, but she told him that one day he'd get it. One day he'd get cold faster too.

He keeps a space heater in the bathroom now when he showers. Pajamas went from sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt to sweatpants and long sleeves. He keeps socks on almost all the time. The ones he wears at home have little rubber grips on the bottom so he doesn't slip up on the tile floor. They're a literal life saver.

While his grandma got jokes over being cold, his grandpa got jokes about having to get up to use the bathroom during the night. When they'd take Tommy on trips over the summer, his grandpa was always saying that he needed the bed closest to the bathroom. Now, Tommy takes the side of the bed closest to the bathroom. Sometimes, he stops drinking water after seven just so he can reduce midnight trips to the bathroom.

Some people think it's ridiculous, how much he enjoys growing old. But he's seen the alternative too many times. At work, sure, but also in life. So many people he knew and loved whose life was cut short before they ever learned what getting older meant.

Growing old was a gift. And Tommy was grateful for it.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[gah-lore-ious]

okay I have more to say about this actually!!! since y'all seem to like this post you get to have my continued analysis of the movie which leads us tooo.....

💖🫧🎀popular!🎀🫧💖

yes welcome back to my OZtalk, continuing the analysis of the call and response choreography in Wicked (2024) let's get into something more wholesome and fun!!

how about a whole song about Galinda teaching Elphie how to be more like her?? complete with her literally teaching Elphie the choreography of her life!! Galindafication🫧💕

and certainly not a song about an outsider literally being taught the steps to living a life within a system of oppression. certainly not a song about someone trying to tame a radicalist with more palatable ideas and expressions. (not blaming galinda for that at ALL btw it's simply all she knows and she's GOOD at working within that. anyways. look! makeover scene! so cute!

and her success gives her some measure of confidence. Elphaba is brought out of her shell and shown that she's allowed to be a person, allowed to WANT things. so the next time she reaches out a hand, it's not a desperate plea for ANYTHING. it's for something she really wants...

and Fiyero... he runs from her.....

*sigh*

sooooooo.... as much as I LOVE "one short day" there's not a Ton of relevant choreo to my point in this particular scene. and to be quite frank, this is the part of my analysis that breaks from dependence on the choreography anyways. so... MOVING ON

because their choreography IS beautifully indicative of their characters. because Glinda is the type of person that, as I said, finds her place of control WITHIN the influence. we've already been shown that. this is why when Elphie asks this question...

... weeee already know the answer.

they're just two best friends. but they're not the same person. they don't work the same way. for the SECOND time in this movie, Elphie reaches out her hand for something she wants: Glinda. and for the SECOND time, she doesn't get it.

so here comes the third (and final) time in this movie that Elphie needs help. the next time she reaches out a hand, who does she find?

because Elphaba plays the outsider's game. she's different, she's radicalized, she's alone. But this time, it's not hopeless. it's determined. she embraces HERSELF on the path forward. she is in control of HERSELF now. Elphie is the only one with influence on Elphie now.

and NOBODY is gonna bring her down.

nobody asked for this post BUT has anybody talked about the beautiful metaphor of all the call and response choreography in the Wicked movie??? how the dancing shows the influence that characters have over each other. cuz im about to.

okay okay look at this. everybody at shiz copies Galinda during "what is this feeling"

okay standard expected yeah but THEN we get to "dancing through life" (AKA everybody's horny for Jonathan Bailey) and Fiyero has to "corrupt his fellow classmates"

WATCH them follow along! watch them LEARN the dance as his influence spreads over them. BUT not just them! because for the first time in her life, Galinda is NOT the center of attention. she's nor in command of the crowd and she JOINS IT. SHE JOINS THE CROWD.

now of course she eventually finds her way to the center, she finds a place of influence in the dance because that's who she is. When Glinda isn't in control, she joins the influence to take control of it.

but you know who isn't dancing? you know who's the one person refusing that call? of course you do you watched the movie too.

and yes. I know, those of us that are familiar with musical theater probably already saw all of this. but shhhh this is fun to talk about anyways. AND we're getting to the fun part. that's right... it's the

🧊🐟✨️ozdust ballroom✨️🐠🧊

now THIS is what's special about the call and response aspect of the choreography. THIS is the part that makes all of us cry whether or not we consciously realize it.

because whereas Glinda is able to FIND her place of control in the influence, Elphaba doesn't have that ability. she's NEVER had that. she can't join a crowd because she's different and she sticks out no matter what.

Elphaba has to do her own thing. She always has to go it alone. that's why this dance is so strange and so beautiful!! because it's so uniquely her! and THATS why the call and response motif of the choreography makes this moment so sad. because it's not just Elphie not caring what anyone thinks.

it's a desperate call for anyone, ANYONE to respond to her.

And Galinda sees her. FINALLY, a response. finally, Elphaba has broken through that wall. for the first time in her life, she's reached out a hand, and someone else took it.

and i just think that's beautiful. 🥺

i definitely have more to say about this but for now I will end it here anyways thanks for coming to my OZTEDtalk.

[00valentina-writes00]

I know literally everything is about ambessa but.. ambessa x reader who just thinks this massive, strong, intimidating woman is just the cutest thing ever??

Like for example, they just walk up to her doing anything and they just go like “awww omg you’re literally so cuteeeeee!”

✞⛧ Just too cute ✞⛧

Warnings: nothing! Just fluff

Word count: 1.5k

It’s a quiet evening in the grand Medarda estate. The usual hum of activity has quieted, the sound of soldiers training and strategizing replaced with the soft crackling of a fire in the hearth. You’re seated at one of the lavish chairs near the fire, your gaze occasionally drifting to the grand windows where the light of dusk falls, casting the room in gentle shades of orange and gold.

The only sounds in the room now are the soft shuffle of Ambessa’s boots against the marble floor and the light, rhythmic tapping of a piece of parchment against her desk as she pores over documents.

There she is. Your massive, strong, and intimidating wife. Ambessa Medarda, the commanding general, with her battle-hardened presence and sharp gaze that can bring even the fiercest warriors to their knees. To the world, she’s an indomitable force, a leader who exudes strength and fearlessness. But to you? She’s… so cute.

You can’t help but smile, watching her with that same look you’ve always given her when she’s lost in her work. You’ve been married for years now, but she still gets flustered when you pull this trick on her. She’s never truly gotten used to your admiration, no matter how much time passes.

The first time you said it, it was by accident. You’d walked into the war room, completely oblivious to the serious conversation happening around the table, only to find Ambessa sitting at the head, her posture so proud and composed (with only a bit of a pout from the conversation) that you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Awww, you’re literally so cute.”

Everyone had stopped dead in their tracks. The generals, the soldiers—each of them stared at you, blinking in confusion as though they couldn’t believe their ears. But Ambessa? She’d frozen, her eyes widening, and for the briefest of moments, her usual confidence faltered. She blinked at you, utterly flustered, before muttering, “Cute? I’m not… cute.”

The entire room had erupted in awkward silence, but you could see it in her face—Ambessa was trying so hard not to smile. Eventually, she had tried to maintain her usual stoic demeanor, but the faintest blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

And from that day forward, whenever you found her in moments of strength, focus, or even casual rest, you couldn’t help but tease her with that same endearment. After all, how could you resist? She was just so cute to you.

Tonight is no different. You rise from your seat, quietly walking over to her side. Ambessa’s focus is entirely on the documents sprawled before her—papers detailing military movements, strategies, and all the things that made her the most powerful general in the land. Her long fingers glide over the ink, scanning the information, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

Without a second thought, you stand beside her, eyes full of affection, and softly call out, “you’re so cute, sittin all adorable in that chair”

Ambessa freezes for a moment, her gaze snapping toward you. The moment her eyes lock with yours, there’s a flash of disbelief, quickly replaced by that telltale hint of embarrassment. Her jaw clenches slightly as she tries, and fails, to keep her composure.

“You keep saying that…” Ambessa starts, her voice a mix of playful irritation and something else. You can almost hear the smile she’s trying to suppress in her words. “I’m the General Medarda, not some cute little creature.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “Nope, you’re just a giant, muscular teddy bear who happens to be very, very cute. Look at you! You’re sitting here doing paperwork, surrounded by all this power, and all I can see is how adorable you are. It’s literally impossible not to think you’re cute.”

She shakes her head, her lips twitching as though holding back a smile. It’s always the same with you, but she can never quite get used to it. The way you look at her with such pure affection, as though she is the most precious thing in the world, makes her heart ache with a tenderness she’d never known she could feel. It’s the thing that both comforts and humbles her.

Ambessa leans back in her chair, letting out a soft sigh. “If you say so,” she mutters, though she doesn’t push you away. In fact, she’s rather still, her hand pausing in its movement over the papers. She’s clearly distracted now, her focus less on the work and more on the way your eyes are fixed on her with adoration.

You take that as an invitation, moving closer and gently leaning against her desk, your hand finding a spot next to her arm. You watch as she shifts ever so slightly, clearly not used to the proximity, her body stiffening slightly before she relaxes.

“I mean it, though,” you continue, your voice soft but full of affection. “Look at how cute you are with your serious, intimidating face, and then there’s me just standing here like a lovesick fool, fawning over you.”

Ambessa lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “Lovesick fool, huh? You’re lucky I adore you, or I’d have you dragged away by my guards for disturbing me during my work.” She looks at you with narrowed eyes, but the way her lips curve upward betrays her. “Not that I would ever do that to you.”

You reach out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Oh, I know you wouldn’t. You’re too soft for me.”

“Soft?” Ambessa scoffs, though her voice lacks the bite it normally holds. Her shoulders are visibly relaxing, her usual tension easing. “I’m the furthest thing from soft. You’re the one who’s always showering me with affection.”

You tilt your head, a mischievous glint in your eye. “And you love it.”

Her golden eyes flick to you, and for a brief moment, she lets down her usual guard. She gazes at you with a warmth that’s usually hidden beneath layers of authority. “I suppose I do,” she admits quietly. “But don’t think this means I’m actually cute. I’m fierce, remember?”

You grin at her playfully, leaning in just a little closer. “Mmmm, you’re fiercely cute, my love. Absolutely adorable in that intimidating way.”

Ambessa huffs, but you can see her lips twitching with the beginning of a smile. “You are impossible.”

You tilt your head again, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re literally my favorite thing in the world, and I can’t help it. I mean, come on—look at you. You’re tall, powerful, and strong. Your arms could crush me with a single movement, but you’re sitting here looking all serious and intimidating, and I just—” You pause dramatically, “—you’re just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen”

The shift in Ambessa’s demeanor is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—just the slightest shift in her posture, the faintest flush rising in her cheeks. She’s holding back a smile, but you can see it; you know it’s there.

Her voice is a little lower now, teasing but full of affection. “You should be careful, wife,” she warns, her hand reaching up to lightly touch your face. Her fingers trace the curve of your jaw, the simple touch sending a warm flutter through your chest. “One of these days, I might just show you how intimidating I can be.”

You laugh, not intimidated in the slightest. If anything, you’re emboldened by her playful warning. “Oh, I’m sure you could, General. But right now, you’re too cute to be intimidating.”

Ambessa rolls her eyes dramatically, though her lips betray her with a wide grin. “I’m going to have to find new ways to get you to take me seriously if you keep calling me ‘cute.’”

“Good luck with that,” you tease, brushing your lips gently against her cheek. “Because you’re just too adorable for me to resist.”

Ambessa sighs, her hand gently cupping your face, her thumb grazing your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. “You really think I’m cute, don’t you?” she murmurs, her voice soft with genuine affection.

You nod enthusiastically, not even the slightest bit embarrassed by your obvious adoration. “Yes. I do. And I will continue to think you’re cute every single day for the rest of my life.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Ambessa just looks at you with a mixture of awe and fondness, her golden eyes softening as she takes in the sheer affection radiating from you.

Finally, she exhales slowly and pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your forehead. “Well, I suppose if I must be cute, there’s no one better to appreciate it than you.”

You smile against her chest, feeling the warmth of her arms wrap around you. “Exactly. You’re mine, and I will never stop thinking you’re the cutest, most powerful, most amazing woman in the world.”

Ambessa chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. “And you, wife, are absolutely impossible.”

But even as she says it, you feel the faintest shift in her stance—one of acceptance, of love. In that moment, you know she’s completely aware of what you see in her. And as much as she likes to deny it, she wouldn’t change a single thing.

Because to her, you’ll always be the one person who sees her, not just as the General Medarda, but as the woman she is—powerful, strong, and yes, just a little bit cute.

[ducktoo]

Getaway

Jo Yuri x M!Reader

Note: here’s to the hamster girl that got the big bag from the squid 🫶

It started with excitement. A group chat buzzing with memes about sunsets over the ocean, lists of must-try cruise activities, and an unhealthy number of debates over how many swimsuits one person actually needs. This was supposed to be the trip—five days of relaxation, laughter, and memories with your closest friends.

Then the excuses started rolling in.

First, it was Jihun. “Sorry, man, work’s piling up. I can’t take the time off.” His message was punctuated with a sad face emoji, as if that would soften the blow.

Next, Minji dropped out, claiming some vague “family emergency.” You tried to sympathize until you saw her Instagram story of her at a café with her dog, captioned Much-needed chill day.

By the time Seungmin admitted he “forgot” about his cousin’s wedding, you were already resigned to your fate. One by one, your friends bailed, leaving you holding the metaphorical bag—and the very literal cruise ticket.

Cancelling wasn’t an option. Non-refundable, non-exchangeable, non-everything, because you’d been too cheap to spring for the insurance. You’d planned for the luxury cabin, imagining yourself waking up to ocean views and feeling like royalty with your close friends. But with everyone else backing out, your budget evaporated faster than the group chat notifications.

Which led to this: you, booking a shared cabin with a stranger. It was either that or throw away the money you didn’t have to lose.

“You’ll be fine,” you told yourself as you stared at the confirmation email. “It’s just five days. How bad could it be?”

-

Yuri tugged the strap of her duffel bag higher on her shoulder, sighing as she handed over her cruise ticket at the check-in counter. She was supposed to be here with her family—her parents, her older sister—but life had a way of throwing curveballs.

Her sister had come down with the flu two days before the trip. Nothing too serious, but enough that her parents decided to stay home to take care of her. “You should still go,” her mother had insisted. “We already paid for your ticket. Think of it as a break.”

Yuri didn’t argue. A break sounded… necessary.

After Squid Game Season 2 aired, her world had been flipped upside down. Fame was exhilarating, sure, but it was also overwhelming. Endless interviews, promotional events, fans recognizing her on the street. It felt like she was constantly on, with no time to just breathe.

She’d thought about cancelling. Spending five days alone on a cruise ship wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But her mother’s words lingered: You need a break, Yuri. Go.

So here she was, trying to convince herself that five days of ocean views and buffet dinners could somehow make her feel like herself again.

The only catch? She’d been bumped to a shared cabin because of a last-minute shuffle in bookings. “It’ll be fine,” the cruise rep had told her over the phone. “It’s just a roommate. You’ll hardly notice them.”

Yuri rolled her eyes at the memory. Hardly notice them?

Yeah, right.

If this was anything like her recent luck, her roommate would either be a chatterbox who didn’t know the meaning of personal space or some fan who wouldn’t stop asking about the show.

She stepped into the tiny cabin, already dreading the next five days.

-

The cruise ship looms large in the harbor, its pristine white exterior gleaming under the midday sun. You pause for a moment, clutching your duffel bag, letting the salty breeze wash over you. The idea of going on this cruise solo still feels surreal, but with all your friends bailing at the last minute, you weren’t about to let the ticket—and your deposit—go to waste.

The fact that you’d been downgraded to a shared cabin? Well, that was a bitter pill you were still swallowing.

Cabin 512A. The number taunts you as you make your way down the narrow, carpeted hallways.

The luggage wheels behind you squeak, the only sound in the otherwise quiet corridor. You grip the keycard tightly, your heart thumping faster than it should. Sharing a cabin with a stranger was bound to be awkward, but you’d convinced yourself it couldn’t be that bad.

The door beeps as you slide the keycard, and you step inside. It’s… snug. Two single beds crammed into a space that feels more like a walk-in closet with delusions of grandeur. One bed is already claimed, judging by the neatly folded hoodie and headphones resting on it.

You hear a faint sound—a soft hum—from the bathroom. Your brows knit together. It’s familiar. Too familiar.

The door creaks open before you can dwell on it further, and your new cabinmate steps out. She’s small, dressed in an oversized sweater and denim shorts, her hair casually tied up. For a moment, her gaze locks with yours, her eyes wide and questioning.

“UH…hi,” she says, her voice soft but steady. “You must be my roommate.”

You nod, but you’re not really listening. Your brain is short-circuiting, trying to process what you’re seeing.

Jo Yuri.

Not just your cabinmate—Jo Yuri, the breakout star from Squid Game Season 2. You’d binge-watched the entire season when it came out a few months ago, captivated by her performance. She played one of the more appealing characters: the underdog who managed to power through the entirety of the season. People online had been calling her the “puppy of the season.”

And now, she’s standing in front of you, looking more ordinary than you ever thought possible. No makeup, no stylists, just a girl with messy hair and an easy smile.

“Uh… yeah,” you finally manage, trying to play it cool. “That’s me. Roommate. Hi.”

She chuckles, her smile widening. “You okay there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shake your head quickly, attempting to compose yourself. “No, no. It’s just… you look really familiar.”

Her expression shifts slightly, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Ah,” she says, her tone light but guarded. “You’ve seen it?”

You don’t need her to elaborate. “Squid Game?” you ask, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“Yeah.” She shrugs, leaning casually against the wall. “That’d do it.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you scramble to fill it. “You were great in it,” you blurt out, cringing internally at how fanboy-ish you sound. “Like, really great. One of the best parts of the season.”

Her lips quirk into a smile, but there’s a hint of weariness in it. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

You sense there’s more she’s not saying, but you don’t push. Instead, you gesture to your bed. “Uh, mind if I unpack?”

“Go for it,” she says, stepping aside.

The awkwardness lingers as you start unpacking, but you catch her glancing at you a couple of times, like she’s sizing you up. It’s weird—sharing a room with someone who’s been on your screen, who people have written essays and theories about online.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “So… what made you come on this cruise?”

You hesitate, debating how much to share. “Friends bailed,” you admit with a shrug. “Didn’t want to waste the ticket. What about you?”

She snorts, perching on the edge of her bed. “Needed a break. Too many people. Too much noise.”

“Isn’t that ironic?” you tease, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Considering, you know… you.”

Her laugh is light, genuine. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The conversation eases after that, flowing like a gentle current. You don’t mention Squid Game again, and she doesn’t bring it up either. Instead, you talk about the ship, the itinerary, and the overly enthusiastic cruise director you’d both spotted during boarding.

But in the back of your mind, you’re still reeling. Jo Yuri, in the flesh. And somehow, you’re supposed to survive five days of sharing a cabin with her without making a complete fool of yourself.

-

You’re still reeling from the whole “roommate with a stranger” situation when Yuri suggests exploring the ship. It feels like the right thing to do—anything to avoid sitting in the cabin together, surrounded by the thick air of awkward silence.

“Uh… sure,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Lead the way?”

Yuri raises an eyebrow at you, her expression somewhere between amused and unimpressed. “You’re really going to make me decide everything, huh?”

“No, no, I just—uh—thought maybe you… had a plan,” you mumble, stumbling over your words.

Her lips twitch into a small smirk. “Relax, I’m not gonna bite.”

You try, you really do, but relaxing is easier said than done when you’re walking shoulder to shoulder with someone like Jo Yuri. She’s effortlessly cool, with her confident stride and casual yet chic outfit that screams “I’m too cool for this, but I’m here anyway.” Meanwhile, you feel like a bundle of frayed nerves, overthinking every step and every word.

The first stop is the promenade deck. It’s lined with shops selling overpriced souvenirs, jewellery, and random knick-knacks you definitely don’t need.

“Look at this,” Yuri says, holding up a sparkly snow globe with a tiny replica of the ship inside. “A whole fifteen dollars for something that’s going to collect dust on a shelf.”

You laugh nervously, unsure if you’re supposed to agree or argue. “Yeah, it’s, uh… it’s definitely not worth it.”

She narrows her eyes at you, clearly catching on to your awkward vibe. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You blink, feeling your ears heat up. “I talk! I just… don’t want to say anything dumb.”

Yuri tilts her head, studying you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she bursts out laughing. It’s not mocking—more like she finds your honesty refreshing. “You’re not as scary as you look.”

“I don’t look scary,” you protest, though your voice comes out weaker than you’d like.

“Mm, debatable,” she teases, nudging your arm.

You’re about to respond when the two of you pass by a small café on the deck. The smell of fresh pastries wafts out, and Yuri stops abruptly, sniffing the air like a cartoon character.

“Okay, we’re going in,” she declares.

Before you can protest, she grabs your wrist and pulls you inside. The café is cozy, with warm lighting and a display case full of pastries that look almost too good to eat. Yuri walks up to the counter, her eyes scanning the options with laser focus.

“Two croissants,” she says, turning to you. “And you’re paying.”

“What? Why?” you stammer, fumbling for your wallet.

“Because I’m cute and you’re trying to make a good first impression,” she says, deadpan, though her eyes twinkle with mischief.

You have no comeback for that, so you hand over the money and follow her to a small table by the window.

Yuri takes a bite of her croissant and lets out a satisfied hum. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is worth the overpriced cruise food.”

You nibble on yours, trying to act casual. “Yeah, it’s, uh… not bad.”

After finishing your snacks, the two of you wander out onto the open deck. The sea stretches endlessly in every direction, the horizon blending seamlessly with the sky. The sound of waves and the salty breeze are oddly calming.

“So,” Yuri says, breaking the silence. “What’s the first thing you wanna do tomorrow?”

You glance at her, surprised she’s asking. “Uh… I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be polite!”

“Polite is boring,” she says with a smirk. “But fine. How about karaoke? I saw a lounge near the theatre earlier.”

You immediately feel a pit in your stomach. “Karaoke? Like… singing?”

“No, like interpretive dance,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Yes, singing. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie, though the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of her is already giving you secondhanded anxiety.

“Good,” she says, her grin widening. “Because I’m definitely dragging you tomorrow.”

-

You wake up to the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship and faint footsteps outside the cabin. It takes a moment for you to remember where you are—and who you’re sharing the space with.

Rolling over, you see Yuri still fast asleep, her face buried in the pillow and her hair a chaotic mess. It’s oddly endearing, watching her like this, but you quickly snap out of it before she wakes up and catches you staring.

Not wanting to linger in the tiny cabin, you freshen up quietly and head to the deck to catch the sunrise. You don’t expect Yuri to join you, but just as the horizon starts to blush with orange and pink, you hear her voice.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asks, leaning on the railing beside you, still in her oversized hoodie. Her hair is slightly more presentable now, but you notice a faint crease on her cheek from the pillow.

“Something like that,” you reply, offering her a small smile.

For a while, the two of you stand there in silence, the morning air crisp and salty. The awkwardness from yesterday lingers faintly, but it feels more like background noise now, drowned out by the tranquillity of the moment.

“I’m starving,” she finally says, breaking the quiet.

You laugh. “I think they’re serving breakfast already. Want to head down?”

She nods, and the two of you make your way to the dining hall. It’s bustling but not chaotic, and you manage to snag a table near the window. Yuri piles her plate with fruit, eggs, and enough toast to feed a small village.

“Do you always eat this much in the morning?” you tease, gesturing to her plate.

She narrows her eyes at you, mock offense dripping from her tone. “I’m stocking up for the day. Don’t judge me.”

You chuckle and take a bite of your food, the atmosphere between you two finally starting to loosen.

After breakfast, the day unfolds naturally. You both decide to explore the ship, starting with the pool deck. The sun is warm, the water glistening, and you’re surprised to find how easy it is to talk to Yuri now.

“I can’t believe how big this place is,” she says, spinning in place to take it all in.

“Yeah, it’s like a floating city,” you agree.

She grins at you. “Still down for the karaoke? I’m kind of amazing at karaoke.”

“Oh really? Amazing, huh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t believe me?” she challenges, her tone playful.

“Surely someone here among us is not a singer, huh.”

The two of you continue wandering, checking out the shops, the gym, and even a small art gallery tucked away on one of the lower decks. Yuri lingers in front of a painting of a ship caught in a storm, her expression thoughtful.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, curious.

She shrugs but doesn’t look away from the painting. “I was just thinking… it’s crazy how people used to travel like this all the time, not knowing if they’d make it.”

“That’s kind of a downer,” you joke lightly, trying to break the mood.

She laughs softly and nudges your arm. “Sorry, I get weird sometimes. Let’s go find that karaoke bar.”

By the time evening rolls around, you’re both sitting in the lounge, sipping on mocktails with tiny umbrellas in them. Yuri sips hers thoughtfully, the sunset casting a golden glow over her face.

“I’m glad I didn’t cancel this trip,” she admits, almost to herself.

You glance at her, surprised. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s not so bad having a decent person to share it with.”

For a moment, you’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond. But then you see the way her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, and you realize she’s being genuine.

“Yeah,” you say softly, feeling the awkward tension between you two finally dissolve. “It’s not so bad.”

As the night stretches on, the ship seems to come alive with laughter and music, and you and Yuri find yourselves in the karaoke bar after all. She picks an upbeat song you don’t know but belts it out like a pro, her confidence infectious.

When she finishes, breathless and laughing, you can’t help but clap louder than anyone else in the room. She bows dramatically, blowing you a playful kiss before hopping off the stage.

“Your turn,” she says, sliding into the seat next to you.

“Oh hell no…” you protest, shaking your head.

“Too bad,” she replies, grabbing your arm and dragging you up to the stage. “We’re doing a duet. Here's a private lesson with a professional.”

And just like that, day two ends with the two of you laughing so hard you can barely breathe, the awkwardness from yesterday now nothing more than a distant memory.

-

Day three begins with a comfortable silence between you and Yuri as you both sip your morning coffee on the balcony. By now, you’ve grown accustomed to her quirks: the way she furrows her brows when she’s deep in thought, how she adds a ridiculous amount of sugar to her coffee, and how she taps her nails rhythmically on the table when she’s bored.

“You’re staring,” Yuri says without looking up from her phone, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

“Am not,” you reply quickly, turning your gaze to the horizon. The sun is already high, and the shimmering ocean stretches endlessly.

After breakfast, the ship announces its arrival at a nearby island, and Yuri excitedly suggests signing up for the snorkelling excursion. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” she says, practically bouncing in place.

You agree, not entirely for the snorkelling but because her enthusiasm is contagious.

The excursion is a dream. The guides take you to a secluded reef with crystal-clear waters teeming with marine life. As you put on your gear and dive in, the world beneath the waves feels magical. Schools of vibrant fish dart around coral formations, and the water is so clear you can see every detail.

At one point, Yuri taps your shoulder underwater and gestures wildly to a sea turtle gliding gracefully past. You laugh—or at least try to, but it comes out as a muffled gurgle. Yuri seems to find this hilarious, and even with her snorkel on, you can tell she’s grinning.

When you resurface, she flicks water at you playfully. “Did you see how close it was?!”

“I did,” you reply, trying to shake the water out of your hair. “But you nearly scared it off with your flailing.”

“I was pointing, not flailing,” she retorts, sticking her tongue out.

The day ends with a quiet dinner back on the ship. You both opt for a small, cozy restaurant instead of the bustling buffet. Over plates of grilled seafood and pasta, Yuri shares more about her life—her dreams, her fears, and the little things that make her who she is.

“You know,” she says, twirling her fork absentmindedly, “I didn’t expect to actually enjoy this trip. I thought it’d be awkward sharing a room with a stranger, but… it’s been nice.”

Her words catch you off guard, but you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it has.”

By day four, you and Yuri have become a dynamic duo. It’s no longer just about sharing a cabin—it’s about sharing the entire experience.

The morning starts with a group yoga class on the deck. Yuri insists on trying it, claiming it’ll be “relaxing.” You’re skeptical, especially when you realize how uncoordinated you are compared to her.

“Downward dog,” the instructor calls out.

You glance at Yuri, who’s already in perfect form, her movements graceful and fluid. Meanwhile, you’re struggling not to topple over.

“Need help?” she whispers, barely holding back her laughter.

“I’m f-fine,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your arms trembling. Don't even mention the fact that your back cracks with every slight movement.

Suffice to say, Yuri had a lot of fun holding her laugh when glancing at you.

After yoga, the two of you grab smoothies from the ship’s café and spend the rest of the morning lounging by the pool. Yuri pulls out a book she brought along, while you scroll through your phone. Every so often, she nudges you with her foot, pointing out something funny in her book or making a sarcastic comment about the poolside drama happening around you.

In the afternoon, the ship hosts a trivia competition. Yuri’s eyes light up when she hears about it, and she drags you to the event.

“You’re good at trivia, right?” she asks.

“Uhh…Define ‘good,’” you reply, already regretting your life choices.

The game is chaotic, with questions ranging from history to pop culture. Yuri surprises you with her knowledge of obscure facts—she nails the question about 18th-century composers but completely blanks when asked about the capital of Switzerland.

“It’s Zurich, right?” she whispers to you.

“No, it’s Bern,” you reply, smirking.

She glares at you, whispering back, “If you’re wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Despite a few missteps, you manage to place second. Yuri proudly dons the sailor hat prize and refuses to take it off for the rest of the day.

That evening, you attend the ship’s formal dinner. Yuri, dressed in a sleek black dress, turns heads as she walks into the dining hall. You’re about to compliment her, but she beats you to it.

“You clean up nicely,” she says, eyeing your outfit.

“So do you,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth in your cheeks betrays you.

The night ends with the two of you sitting on the deck, watching the stars. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the sound of waves and the occasional laughter of other passengers.

“This trip’s going to feel too short,” Yuri says softly, her gaze fixed on the sky.

You don’t respond immediately, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. Instead, you simply sit there, hoping the moment will stretch just a little longer.

-

The final day arrives with a bittersweet air. Breakfast feels quieter, and even Yuri’s usual sarcastic remarks are softer, almost hesitant.

“We should make the most of today,” she says, her voice determined but tinged with sadness.

And so, you do.

The two of you spend the morning doing all the things you hadn’t tried yet—arcade games, mini-golf, and even a cheesy photo booth where you both don silly props for the camera.

“Smile!” Yuri says, throwing her arm around your shoulder and holding up a fake moustache.

The resulting photo is ridiculous, but it’s one you know you’ll treasure.

In the afternoon, the ship docks at another island, and you both decide to go for a casual hike along the coast. The trail is quiet, with stunning views of the ocean. At one point, Yuri stops to take a photo, the wind catching her hair just right.

“Send me that one,” you say, pretending to be casual.

“Why? Planning to frame it?” she teases, but her cheeks turn pink.

The final evening arrives too soon. The ship hosts a farewell party, and the two of you join the crowd on the deck, dancing to live music. Yuri’s laughter is infectious as she spins you around, her energy lighting up the night.

And with the ship nears the port, reality sets in. The two of you return to your cabin to pack, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, as you stand by the railing one last time, Yuri hands you a folded piece of paper.

“In case we don’t run into each other again,” she says, her voice quiet.

You unfold it to find her phone number.

“Yuri—”

“Don’t say anything cheesy,” she interrupts, though her smile is soft.

When the ship finally docks and you part ways, you can’t help but feel like this is only the beginning of something bigger. But for now, you're contented with the short getaway with your lucky cabinmate, already reminiscing about it as you look at her back slowly disappearing to the crowd.

And hopefully, she enjoyed your company as much as she enjoyed yours.

[gpcwsl]

Leah Williamson x Reader

- Complete mess -

WC: 7.4k

MasterList

Warnings: long, kissing.

(Sorry for putting Leah as Captain for Arsenal, I know it’s Kimmy and I love Kim. Just for this Fiction, okay?)

The crisp afternoon air feels refreshing as you step onto the park path, your scarf wrapped snugly around your neck. It’s rare that you get a few hours to yourself, but with your mum looking after Ellie for the afternoon, you finally have a moment to breathe. You love your daughter more than anything, but between teaching, parenting, and making sure she never feels the absence of her father, you’re exhausted. A walk is exactly what you need.

You take a deep breath, allowing the cool air to clear your mind. The park is bustling, families with children running around, people walking their dogs, groups of friends chatting. You slip your hands into your coat pockets, lost in thought, when—

“Oof—sorry!”

You collide with someone, stumbling back slightly. Strong hands reach out to steady you, and when you look up, you find yourself face to face with none other than Leah Williamson.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, eyes widening. “You’re—”

Leah chuckles, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn’t paying attention.”

You shake your head, still in slight disbelief. “No, it’s fine. My fault too, I wasn’t really looking where I was going.”

She smiles, and that’s when you notice she’s not alone. Behind her stand a few more familiar faces—some of the Arsenal women’s team. Beth Mead, Katie McCabe, and Caitlin Foord, all chatting amongst themselves but now watching the interaction with curiosity.

“You alright?” Leah asks, her gaze soft as she takes in your expression.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, just… a little surprised. I didn’t expect to bump into Arsenal’s captain on my walk.”

Leah grins. “Well, we were just grabbing a coffee before training. You a football fan?”

You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, actually. I teach, so I don’t always get to watch live, but my daughter and I love the game.”

At the mention of your daughter, Leah’s expression shifts slightly—interest flickering in her eyes. “You have a daughter?”

You nod. “Ellie. She’s seven. My parents are watching her for a few hours, so I thought I’d take a walk.”

Leah tilts her head. “That’s nice. Must be busy juggling work and parenting.”

You smile wryly. “That’s an understatement.”

Before Leah can respond, Katie steps closer, nudging her with her elbow. “You gonna introduce us, or are we just standing here like weirdos?”

Leah rolls her eyes but turns back to you. “This is Katie, Beth, and Caitlin.”

You greet them, feeling slightly overwhelmed but also oddly comfortable. They’re just normal people—albeit incredibly talented ones.

“You should come to a match sometime,” Beth suggests. “Bring Ellie. If she likes football, she’d love it.”

Leah nods in agreement. “Yeah, we can sort something out. Maybe even a little meet-and-greet after.”

Your heart warms at the thought. “That would be amazing. She’d be over the moon.”

Leah smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than necessary before she shifts, glancing back at the others. “We should probably get going, but it was nice bumping into you. Literally.”

You laugh. “Yeah, you too.”

As they walk away, Leah turns back one last time. “Hey—maybe I’ll see you around?”

You don’t miss the hopeful tone in her voice.

“Maybe,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips.

And for the first time in a long while, something stirs in your chest—something that feels an awful lot like excitement.

With a lingering smile on your lips, you watch Leah and the rest of the Arsenal team walk away before exhaling a quiet breath. That was unexpected. You weren’t exactly the kind of person to bump into football stars on your afternoon walks. Yet, there you were, brushing shoulders with Leah Williamson like it was nothing.

You shake your head, trying to push away the fluttering feeling in your stomach. It’s been a while since anyone made you feel like that—since anyone looked at you the way Leah did, even if it was just for a moment.

Still, you have time to yourself, and you intend to make the most of it. Your stomach rumbles slightly, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten much today. Glancing around, you spot a cozy-looking café on the corner. It seems inviting, with warm lighting and a few people inside, chatting over coffee and pastries.

Without hesitation, you head inside.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wraps around you like a comforting embrace. You walk up to the counter, scanning the menu, before ordering a simple meal and a latte. As you wait, you feel the weight of a gaze on you—multiple, actually.

Unbeknownst to you, across the café, a certain group of footballers had chosen a table near the window. Leah, who had insisted they sit there in the first place, is completely distracted, her eyes fixed on you.

Katie notices first. “Alright, Leah, what’s with the staring?”

Leah blinks, as if she didn’t even realize she had been so obvious. She turns to her teammates, a slightly dazed expression on her face. “Did you see her?” she asks, as if it’s the most important question in the world.

Caitlin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, mate. You literally ran into her.”

Leah shakes her head, leaning forward slightly. “No, but did you see her?”

Beth smirks, sipping her coffee. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, Captain.”

Leah exhales, running a hand through her hair. “Her eyes—did you see them? They’re unreal. And her features—like, how does someone look that effortlessly gorgeous? It’s unfair.”

Katie and Caitlin exchange amused glances.

“And her voice,” Leah continues, barely stopping for breath. “It’s so soft, but there’s something about it… like, I could listen to her talk all day. She just—” She sighs dramatically, shaking her head.

Beth snickers. “You’re actually down bad already.”

“I’m not—” Leah starts, but even she knows it’s a lie. She glances back at you, watching as you take your coffee and meal to a small table by the window, oblivious to the attention you’re getting. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way your lips curl slightly when you take a sip of your drink—it’s all making Leah feel something she hadn’t expected.

Katie nudges her. “You should go talk to her again.”

Leah scoffs, though there’s a faint pink tint to her cheeks. “And say what? ‘Hey, I know we just met, but I think you might actually be the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen’?”

Caitlin laughs. “Honestly, that might work.”

Beth shrugs. “Or, you know, you could just casually bump into her again. Since you’re so good at that.”

Leah rolls her eyes but doesn’t look away from you.

Because as much as she pretends otherwise, she already knows—this isn’t the last time she wants to see you.

You take a slow sip of your latte, letting the warmth settle inside you. It’s been a while since you’ve had a moment like this—just you, a quiet café, and no responsibilities tugging at your sleeve. But something tingles at the back of your mind, a feeling like you’re being watched.

Curious, you glance up, letting your gaze drift around the café. That’s when you spot them.

Leah and her teammates.

All of them are at a table near the window, and while Beth, Katie, and Caitlin are watching with amused grins, Leah is different. She’s frozen, eyes locked onto yours, a slight deer-in-headlights look on her face.

For a moment, you’re caught off guard. Then, unable to help yourself, you offer a small wave, just a polite acknowledgment before turning back to your food.

Leah, however, doesn’t recover so quickly.

The second you wave, her entire body tenses. Then, as if her brain has only just caught up, her face flushes—deeply. She abruptly looks away, running a hand through her hair as if that will somehow cool down the sudden heat rushing to her face.

“Oh my God,” Katie cackles, nearly choking on her drink. “Leah. You’re actually blushing.”

Beth leans in, grinning. “That was so cute. She caught you staring, and instead of playing it cool, you turned into a human tomato.”

Leah exhales sharply, pressing her hands to her face for a second before dropping them. “Shut up.”

Caitlin smirks. “Breathe, mate. You’re looking a little overwhelmed there.”

Leah straightens, taking a deep breath as if it’ll help. It doesn’t. “I was not staring.”

Beth raises an eyebrow. “Right, and I’m not sitting here watching you have a full meltdown because she waved at you.”

Leah groans, resting her elbow on the table and dropping her face into her hand. “I hate you all.”

Leah peeks through her fingers, sneaking another glance in your direction. You’re focused on your food again, seemingly unbothered, but Leah’s mind is still spinning.

“She’s just…” Leah exhales, still pink in the face. “Really beautiful.”

Beth grins. “Yeah, we got that part.”

Caitlin nudges Leah’s foot under the table. “You gonna talk to her, or just keep embarrassing yourself from a distance?”

Leah huffs but doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she watches you, a small, almost shy smile creeping onto her lips.

Because, if she’s being honest, she’s already hoping for another chance to speak to you again.

The café is warm, but you know it’s time to go. You glance at your phone, checking the time. Still a little while before you need to pick up Ellie, but you’d rather take your time walking back.

Standing up, the chair scrapes loudly against the floor, breaking the quiet hum of conversation. Across the room, Leah looks up immediately, as if instinctively drawn to the sound. Her eyes track your movements as you push the chair back into place, gather your things, and head toward the bin in the corner to dispose of your rubbish.

And yet, without even trying, you do things that make Leah’s brain short-circuit.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear while holding your bag. The casual way your fingers glide along the strap as you adjust it on your shoulder. The soft sigh you let out—like you’re lost in thought, unaware of the effect you’re having on her.

Leah swallows hard. God, she’s actually unreal.

Beth notices the way Leah is practically enchanted by you and smirks. She glances at Katie and Caitlin, exchanging a silent agreement before—

Shove.

Leah stumbles forward, nearly tripping over her own feet as she’s quite literally pushed in your direction.

“What the—” she starts, whipping her head back to glare at them, but it’s too late.

You’re already by the door, and now she’s standing right behind you.

You pause, sensing someone close, and turn—only to find Leah Williamson, cheeks slightly pink, looking… nervous?

You blink, surprised. “Leah?”

Leah clears her throat, forcing herself to hold eye contact despite the absolute chaos inside her head. “Uh—hi.”

You tilt your head slightly, amused. “Hi?”

Behind her, Beth is barely containing her laughter. Katie is grinning like an idiot. Caitlin is watching like this is the best entertainment she’s had in weeks.

Leah is so out of her depth. The fearless, confident player who commands the pitch like it’s her second home? She’s gone. What remains is a flustered, slightly panicked woman who desperately wants to get this right.

“I, um…” Leah rubs the back of her neck, eyes darting everywhere but at you. “I was just wondering if—uh—” She exhales sharply, shaking her head at herself. “Okay, this is embarrassing.”

You chuckle softly, and the sound makes Leah’s stomach do something weird.

“You okay there?” you ask, smiling, completely unaware of the absolute mess you’re making of her.

Leah straightens, trying to compose herself. “Yeah. Yeah, I just…” She takes a deep breath. Come on, Williamson, get it together.

She meets your eyes—God, those eyes—and blurts out, “Can I have your number?”

It’s not smooth. It’s not charming. In fact, it’s probably the most awkward she’s ever been.

But instead of laughing at her, you seem pleasantly surprised. “Oh,” you say, lips curling in a way that makes Leah’s brain melt. “Yeah, sure.”

She blinks. “Wait, really?”

You laugh again, pulling out your phone. “Yes, really.”

Leah quickly fumbles for her own phone, hands slightly shaky as she hands it to you. You type in your number, saving it before passing it back.

“There,” you say. “Now you can awkwardly text me later too.”

Leah groans, covering her face with her hand for a second. “I am never living this down.”

“Nope,” you tease, stepping back toward the door. “But it was cute.”

Leah nearly dies on the spot.

Beth, Katie, and Caitlin are losing their minds in the background, but Leah doesn’t care. Because you just called her cute.

As you push open the door, you glance back at her one last time. “Talk soon, Leah.”

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Leah standing there, heart pounding, phone clutched in her hand like it’s the most valuable thing she owns.

Katie claps her on the back. “Well, that was painful to watch.”

Beth smirks. “But adorable.”

Caitlin sips her coffee. “She totally likes you.”

Leah barely hears them. She’s too busy staring at your name in her contacts, already smiling like an idiot.

Hours later, you find yourself back at your parents’ house. The warmth of home surrounds you—the comforting hum of the kettle boiling, the faint scent of whatever your mum is preparing for dinner, and the familiar laughter of Ellie as she plays with her granddad.

Ellie, of course, doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“Can I stay a little longer, Mum?” she asks, her big, hopeful eyes looking up at you. “Granddad said he might take me to the park!”

You glance toward your dad, who grins and nods. “I did promise, didn’t I?”

You chuckle, ruffling Ellie’s hair. “Alright, but don’t keep him running around too much.”

“No promises!” Ellie grins before grabbing her granddad’s hand and dragging him toward the door. “Come on, Granddad!”

Your mum shakes her head fondly, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “That child has too much energy.”

“I wonder where she gets it from,” you tease, but your mum just waves you off.

You step forward. “I can help with dinner if you want?”

Your mum scoffs, gently pushing you toward the living room. “Absolutely not. You had a break today—enjoy it.”

You sigh but smile nonetheless. “Alright, alright.”

With that, you make your way to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a satisfied exhale. It’s nice to just… sit for a moment.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance down at it, unlocking the screen, and your lips twitch at the name that appears.

Leah Williamson.

There’s something about the way the text is structured—the slightly uneven spacing, the hesitation in her words—that tells you one thing immediately: she’s nervous.

Leah: Hey… um, so I know I was kinda awkward earlier. Like, really awkward. But I swear I’m usually a lot cooler than that. Okay, maybe not ‘cool,’ but, like… not a complete mess. I just—ugh. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is… hi? How’s your evening?

You bite your lip to suppress a laugh. You can see her overthinking, can imagine her running a hand through her hair while sending this.

Smiling to yourself, you type out a reply.

You: Hi, Leah :) My evening’s been good. Back at my parents’ house. My daughter wanted to stay with them a little longer. Also… you were cute earlier, if that helps your ‘not a complete mess’ argument.

The response is immediate.

Leah: Oh my God, you’re actually trying to kill me.

You grin, feeling an unexpected warmth spread in your chest.

This was going to be fun.

Leah stares at her phone, rereading your last message for what has to be the fifth time.

Cute. You called her cute.

She exhales sharply, running a hand down her face before gripping her phone tighter. Get it together, Williamson.

The first few texts were rough. She was fully prepared for Beth, Katie, or Caitlin to somehow get a hold of her phone and roast her for them later. But now? Now, she’s finally found a rhythm.

Still flustered as hell, still nervous, but at least she’s stopped typing and deleting every message five times before sending it.

Leah: You can’t just say stuff like that. It’s dangerous.

You: Dangerous?

Leah: Yes. Extremely. I could’ve dropped my phone. Or walked into a wall. Life-threatening, really.

She barely has a second to breathe before you respond.

You: Maybe I should warn you next time then? “Hey Leah, I’m about to say something that’ll make you spiral. Brace yourself.”

Leah groans, flopping back onto her bed. She’s grinning like an idiot, and she knows it.

Leah: Yes, please. That would be helpful. I have a fragile heart.

You: I feel like that’s a lie. You don’t seem fragile at all.

Leah huffs out a quiet laugh. If only you knew.

Leah: You might be surprised.

She hesitates for a second before adding:

Leah: I’m glad you texted me back, though.

Her heart beats a little faster as she waits for your reply.

You: Of course I did. I was hoping you’d text me first.

Leah swears her brain short-circuits.

She doesn’t hesitate this time.

Leah: Yeah?

You: Yeah :)

She exhales, running a hand through her hair, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t so terrifying after all.

You’ve been texting Leah for almost an hour now, and honestly? You’re having way too much fun. You never imagined a simple conversation could make you smile like this, but here you are, grinning at your phone like a teenager with a crush.

It’s easy to forget the world around you when the text bubble from Leah pops up with each new message, each one a bit bolder than the last. The earlier awkwardness is fading—Leah’s still a little nervous, but her messages are smoother now, more confident.

But before you can respond, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching from the front door, followed by Ellie’s excited voice.

“We’re back, Mum!”

You glance up, blinking a little as you pull yourself back from the text conversation.

Ellie runs into the living room, her cheeks flushed from the cool air and the excitement of the park. Your dad follows, grinning and shaking his head at her.

“Had a good time?” you ask, watching as Ellie practically bounces on her toes.

“The best! Granddad showed me how to climb the big tree!” Ellie exclaims, her face beaming.

You smile and ruffle her hair. “That sounds fun. Now, how about we get dinner started?”

Ellie groans dramatically, though it’s clear she’s still got energy to burn. “Do I have to? I want to go out again.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Dinner first. Then we’ll talk about anything else.”

Your dad chuckles, heading into the kitchen to help your mum. The house feels like it’s settling back into its rhythm, and you can’t help but feel content.

But then, you glance at your phone again. Leah’s name still lights up the screen, and the conversation has slowed to a lull, almost like she’s waiting for you to say something.

With a sigh, you tap out a message, knowing you should wrap it up.

You: I have to go now, Leah. Dinner’s on the table and I’m needed. But I’ll talk to you soon, okay?

A few seconds pass, and you can practically hear Leah’s internal panic.

Leah: Yeah, of course. Enjoy dinner with your family. And, uh… we’ll talk soon, yeah?

You can’t help but smile.

You: Definitely. Take care, Leah.

Leah: You too. Talk soon.

You put your phone down, a small sigh escaping you as you settle back into the present moment. It’s strange how something so simple—just texting someone—could make you feel this way. But you already know one thing for sure: this won’t be the last time you hear from Leah. And you’re definitely looking forward to what comes next.

Leah stares at her phone, her heart still racing slightly. She can’t help but giggle to herself, her fingers hovering over the screen as she rereads your last message for the third time.

Talk soon.

The simple phrase should be innocent enough, but coming from you… it feels like a promise. She’s not sure why, but there’s something about the way you text her that makes everything feel like it matters a little more than it probably should.

She leans back against her pillows, a soft smile still plastered on her face, completely oblivious to the teasing going on in the background.

“I swear, you’re like a giddy schoolgirl,” Beth says, watching her from across the room with a raised eyebrow.

Leah rolls her eyes, but the smile doesn’t fade. “I’m not. I’m just—” She stammers, trying to form an excuse, but there’s no way around it. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am.”

Katie grins. “I knew it. You’ve totally got a crush on her, don’t you?”

Leah feels the warmth in her cheeks as she presses her phone against her face, hiding the full extent of her embarrassment. “It’s not like that,” she mutters, though even she knows it’s a total lie.

But then she thinks back to your texts, the way you’d signed off with that little “talk soon,” and her heart flutters all over again. She lets out a soft sigh, giggling to herself.

Maybe she was a little giddy.

“Alright, alright,” Beth teases. “We get it. You’re smitten.”

Leah gives them both a pointed glare, but it’s half-hearted. She can’t help it. They’re right.

“I don’t even care,” Leah says, still smiling. “I like her. Is that such a crime?”

Katie shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Nope. Not a crime at all.”

Leah can’t wipe the grin off her face as she types another message to you, letting her nerves settle. She’s still a little unsure of where this might go, but for the first time in a long time, she’s excited about the possibilities.

Leah: Talk soon, yeah? And just so you know… you’ve definitely got me smiling.

As she hits send, she can’t help but giggle again, imagining what your response might be. For once, she’s not afraid of the unknown. Instead, she’s looking forward to it.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, you find yourself in the car, driving Ellie to school. Her excitement from the park yesterday still hasn’t worn off, and she chatters away in the passenger seat, recounting every detail of her adventure with her granddad.

“Granddad said we could go next week, too!” Ellie says with a grin, glancing at you.

You chuckle. “Sounds like a good plan. Just don’t climb too many trees, okay? I don’t want to be picking you up from the nurse’s office again.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but laughs, knowing full well that’s not a likely scenario.

Once you drop Ellie off at the school gate, you wave her off and watch as she runs to meet her friends. As she disappears inside, you take a moment to breathe. The school has exams today, which means you have the day off from work—something you haven’t had in a while.

You lean back in the car, considering your options for the day. A part of you wonders if you should just enjoy the quiet, catch up on some errands, maybe even grab a coffee or read a book. But then, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out and unlock the screen, instantly seeing the message you received from Leah last night. Talk soon, yeah? And just so you know… you’ve definitely got me smiling.

You smile at the memory of the conversation.

Without much hesitation, you open the messaging app and start typing, wondering if Leah might be free for a bit of company today.

You: Hey, Leah. I’ve got the day off—are you free, or are you training?

You wait for a few seconds, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. You’re not sure what you’re expecting—maybe she’s busy, maybe she’ll be all tied up with team obligations. But when the little three dots appear and then her message comes through, you feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

Leah: I’m actually free! No training today. Got a couple of hours before I have to meet up with the team later.

You pause for a second, the words feeling lighter than they did yesterday, as if there’s less uncertainty now.

You: Nice. Want to grab a coffee or something?

It doesn’t take long before Leah replies.

Leah: Yes! I know a place we can go. I’ll send you the address in a sec. Can’t wait to see you again.

You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. It’s subtle, but you can tell there’s a shift, a little more ease in her words now.

You: Looking forward to it.

You quickly put your phone down, starting the car and making your way to the café Leah suggested. The thought of spending time with her—after everything, after the teasing, the conversations—is something you find yourself looking forward to more than you realized.

You arrive at the café Leah suggested, a cozy spot tucked away in a quieter part of town. As you step inside, your eyes scan the room until they land on her—Leah, sitting at a small table by the window. She’s already a little red in the face, her posture a mix of confidence and a touch of uncertainty. As soon as she sees you, her face lights up, and she stands up quickly, almost knocking over her coffee in the process.

“Hey!” she greets, her voice a little higher than usual, but her smile is warm. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you reply with a grin, walking over to her table.

She pulls out the chair for you, and you sit down, feeling an odd combination of nervousness and excitement. There’s something about being with Leah in person that makes the butterflies in your stomach take flight. The small talk you had yesterday feels like a world away.

“So, you like this place?” Leah asks, trying to keep things light but you can tell she’s still a little on edge.

You nod, glancing around at the cozy atmosphere. “Yeah, it’s cute. I’ve passed it a few times, but never had the chance to stop in.”

“Good choice then,” Leah says, her fingers tapping nervously on her coffee cup. “I… uh… ordered for you already. Hope you don’t mind. I guessed cappuccino, but I could’ve gotten it wrong.”

You smile. “No, you guessed right. I’m a fan of cappuccinos.”

Leah visibly relaxes, the tension easing from her shoulders. She takes a deep breath and glances at you, still shy but with more confidence than before.

“So, tell me about Ellie,” Leah says, her voice soft. “She must be… well, she must be everything to you.”

You smile fondly, thinking of Ellie. “Yeah, she is. She’s smart, sassy, and always keeping me on my toes. She’s my little partner in crime.”

Leah’s smile is sincere. “I can tell you’re close. It’s nice, having that kind of bond.”

You nod. “Family’s everything, you know? It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.”

Leah looks down at her coffee, as if pondering something. “I can understand that. My family… well, we’re kind of scattered. My dad and I haven’t been close in years. I guess you could say I’m not the best at family stuff.” (I know Leah is very close with her family just pretend for this okay, thanks.)

You tilt your head, curious. “Do you want to talk about it? If you’re comfortable, of course.”

Leah hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head lightly. “Maybe not yet. It’s just… complicated, I guess.”

You nod, understanding. “I get that. Family can be messy sometimes.”

There’s a pause, a soft silence between you as you both sip your coffee. But then, Leah seems to gather her thoughts, her eyes meeting yours with a playful glint.

“So,” she begins, shifting in her seat, “if you don’t mind me asking… are you seeing anyone right now?”

The question catches you off guard for a moment. It’s casual enough, but there’s a hint of curiosity in Leah’s voice. You take a moment before answering, trying to gauge the vibe between you.

“No,” you answer with a smile. “I’m not seeing anyone. It’s been a while, actually. And I’ve been focused on Ellie more than anything.”

Leah’s eyes brighten a little, but she quickly hides her reaction behind a sip of her coffee. “Same here,” she admits, her tone a little more guarded. “I mean, I’ve been focused on football and… well, you know, the team. But I guess, it’s… it’s hard sometimes. Being single, I mean.”

You raise an eyebrow, a little surprised. “Really? I would’ve thought someone like you wouldn’t have a hard time with that.”

Leah chuckles, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’d think, right? But it’s not always as easy as it looks.”

There’s an awkward pause, but this time it feels less tense. Instead, it’s more like you’re both getting to know each other in a way that feels… real.

Leah shifts again, leaning forward just a little. “So… if you don’t mind me asking, do you think I’m… I don’t know, someone you’d want to see again? Not that I’m trying to put any pressure on you or anything, just… curious.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of her vulnerability. “I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you again, Leah.”

Her eyes widen slightly, as if she wasn’t expecting you to say that. Then, she laughs, a bit of nervous energy spilling out. “Good. Because, um, I think I’d like that too.”

You both sit there for a moment, letting the quiet settle between you. Leah seems more comfortable now, more herself. And for the first time, you realize that this might not just be a casual coffee between two people who bumped into each other. It feels like the beginning of something… something you both are unsure about, but excited to explore.

As the conversation slows, Leah seems to hesitate for a moment, like she’s considering something. Then, with a soft exhale, she looks at you with a hint of a playful smile.

“So… I was thinking,” she starts, her voice a little more tentative than before. “If you’re up for it, we could go back to mine and watch a movie. I mean, if you don’t have anything else planned?”

You smile, intrigued by the idea. “That sounds nice. I’d like that.”

Leah’s face lights up, and she gestures toward the door, clearly relieved. “Great! It’s not much, but it’s home.”

The two of you step outside, and after a short drive, you find yourselves at Leah’s house. It’s quieter here, tucked away in a suburban neighborhood that feels worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Leah unlocks the door, and you follow her inside, your eyes scanning the cozy living room. The faint scent of coffee and something sweet fills the air.

She tosses her keys onto the side table and looks over at you. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says, pointing to the couch. “I’ll grab some snacks.”

You sit down, the soft cushions sinking under you as you take in the space. It’s simple, but warm. Homey, in a way. You pull your legs up on the couch, settling into the corner.

Leah returns with a bowl of popcorn, a couple of drinks, and a small grin on her face. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I grabbed a little bit of everything.”

You smile as she hands you a drink. “Thanks. This is perfect.”

Leah starts the movie, something lighthearted and funny, the kind of film that makes you laugh without needing to think too much. For a while, you’re both just immersed in the movie, the sound of laughter filling the space. But as the film progresses, you feel a subtle shift in the air between you two.

You shift slightly on the couch, unconsciously leaning toward Leah. Without realizing it, you end up curling up a little closer to her, your head resting lightly on her shoulder. You can feel the warmth radiating from her body, her presence somehow grounding and comforting. It feels natural—nothing too forward, just two people getting lost in the moment.

Leah freezes for a split second, then lets out a soft breath. You don’t notice at first, too wrapped up in the movie and the closeness, but then you feel her tense up. You glance up at her, only to find her staring ahead at the screen, but her cheeks are flushed, and her grip on the popcorn bowl has loosened just a little.

You smile to yourself, unaware of how much of an effect you’re having on her. The weight of your head resting against her shoulder seems to be making her a mess—her breathing slightly heavier, her hand shaking as it hovers near the popcorn. She’s trying to focus on the movie, but it’s clear she’s struggling to keep herself together.

You let out a small sigh of contentment, still feeling relaxed and at ease in her presence. But Leah, on the other hand, seems to be quietly losing her composure. Her heart races under the calm exterior she’s desperately trying to maintain.

At one point, she pauses the movie, the silence between you two becoming more palpable.

“Are you… okay?” you ask softly, not fully aware of what you might have done to make her so flustered.

Leah lets out a shaky laugh, her voice lower than usual. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect you to cuddle in like that.”

You blink, surprised by her reaction. “Oh. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I—”

“No!” Leah quickly interrupts, her hands raised in reassurance. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest at her honesty. “I’m just… relaxing,” you say, trying to brush it off casually.

But Leah is anything but relaxed. She glances down at you, her eyes soft but filled with something more intense now. She swallows hard, as if trying to calm her racing thoughts.

“Well,” she says slowly, almost like she’s testing the waters, “just so you know… if you keep doing that… you might just make me completely lose it.”

You raise an eyebrow at her words, still blissfully unaware of how deeply you’ve affected her. But the playful glint in her eyes makes your heart skip a beat. You never expected to have this kind of effect on her, but here you are—both of you caught in a moment that neither of you seem ready to pull away from.

You don’t move away, instead, just relaxing deeper into her side, the movie playing on in the background, but the space between you both has shifted. It’s no longer just a casual hangout. It’s something else.

The movie ends, and the credits start to roll, but the atmosphere between us feels like it’s suspended in time. My heart is racing, but I’m trying to keep it together. The moment you cuddled up to me on the couch, I knew I was in trouble. Every inch of my body is on fire, my mind clouded with thoughts of you—of how close you are, how effortlessly comfortable you make me feel, even when I’m a complete mess inside.

I glance at the clock, and my heart sinks a little. It’s almost time to pick up Ellie.

You stretch out slightly, moving away from me just a little as you let out a soft sigh. “I should probably go,” you say, your voice calm, but I can hear the hint of reluctance in it, too.

I nod, trying to ignore the fact that the thought of you leaving is… well, it makes my chest tighten. “Yeah, I guess it’s getting late.”

We both stand up, and I walk you to the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. The closer we get to the door, the more aware I am of how close we are, of how my heart won’t stop pounding in my chest. I can feel the heat radiating from you, and it makes my mind spin.

I reach for the door handle, but when I look over at you, it’s like the world slows down. You’re standing there, looking at me, but there’s something different in your eyes—a softness, a warmth. And I feel it. The pull. The connection.

We’re standing so close now, and I can’t help but notice the way your breath catches just slightly, your chest rising and falling with each breath, just like mine. The tension is thick in the air, and I can feel it in every inch of my body. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t stop myself from feeling drawn to you.

I bite my lip nervously, my eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, trying to figure out if I’m reading this right. “So…” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “What do you want to do now?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, there’s a moment of silence, where everything else fades away. Then, before I can even process it, you step closer, your eyes locked on mine.

And just like that, you lean in.

Your lips press softly against mine, the kiss gentle at first, as if testing the waters. But then, it deepens, just a little, and I feel the spark. I’m frozen for a split second, completely caught off guard by how natural it feels, how perfectly your lips fit against mine.

It’s a long kiss, one that feels like it’s suspended in time, each second stretching on, lingering in a way that makes my heart race even faster. I can feel the warmth of your body, the slight pressure of your hands, your scent filling my senses, and suddenly nothing else matters.

When we finally pull away, we both stand there, breathless. My pulse is pounding, my chest heaving. For a second, I’m too stunned to speak, too caught up in what just happened. The kiss wasn’t just a fleeting thing—it was something real, something more than either of us had expected.

You smile softly at me, and I can’t help but smile back, feeling the same warmth that’s been radiating between us all afternoon.

“Wow,” I whisper, my voice still a little shaky. “That… that was…” I trail off, still a little stunned by what just happened.

You grin, your eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something else—something I can’t quite place. “Yeah. I guess I wanted to do that for a while.”

I chuckle softly, still not fully processing everything. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

As I watch you turn to leave, I can’t help but feel a sense of longing. Something’s shifted between us, and I don’t know where this is going, but for the first time in a while, I don’t feel scared about it.

I stand in the doorway, watching you go, my heart still racing in my chest. What just happened felt like the beginning of something, and I can’t wait to see where it leads.

After training, your phone buzzes with a message from Leah. Her text is simple yet carries a weight of unspoken words:

“Hey, would love to spend more time with you today. Are you free?”

A smile tugs at your lips as you read her message. The connection between you two has been undeniable, and the thought of spending more time together fills you with warmth.

You quickly type a response:

“I’d love that. Let me check with my parents to see if they can look after Ellie.”

You call your parents, explaining the situation. They agree to take care of Ellie for the day, though you sense a hint of curiosity in their voices. They don’t press further, but you can tell they’re a bit suspicious.

With everything set, you head over to Leah’s house. As you arrive, she greets you with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

Inside, you both settle into the kitchen, the familiar scent of coffee and something sweet in the air. The conversation flows easily, laughter and shared stories filling the space between you.

After a few minutes, Leah’s demeanor shifts. She becomes a bit more reserved, her eyes occasionally meeting yours before quickly looking away. You notice her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, a subtle sign of her nervousness.

Sensing her hesitation, you decide to bridge the gap. You gently reach out, placing your hand over hers. Her breath catches, and she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

With a soft smile, you lean in, closing the distance between you. Leah’s eyes flutter closed as your lips meet in a gentle kiss. The world seems to pause around you, the only sound being the soft rhythm of your breathing.

As the kiss deepens, you feel a surge of emotion, a connection that feels both new and familiar. Leah’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your arms wrapping around her.

The kiss is tender yet filled with unspoken promises, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you’re beginning to explore together. When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, a shared smile playing on your lips.

Leah rests her forehead against yours, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she admits, her cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and vulnerability.

You chuckle softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling with affection.

As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realize that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. The future feels uncertain, but with Leah by your side, you’re ready to face whatever comes next.

It’s been a few weeks since that first kiss, and every moment with you feels like a dream I never want to wake up from. Our time together has been filled with laughter, shared stories, and a connection that feels deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced. But there’s something I’ve been holding back, something I can’t keep to myself any longer.

We’re sitting on the couch in my living room, a movie playing softly in the background, though neither of us is paying much attention. Your head rests on my shoulder, and I can feel the steady rhythm of your breathing. I gently brush a strand of hair from your face, my fingers lingering on your skin.

“Hey,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

You look up at me, your eyes warm and inviting. “Yeah?”

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I… I’ve been thinking about us. About how much you mean to me. And I don’t want to keep pretending that I’m not completely in love with you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and I can see the surprise and joy in them. You sit up, turning to face me fully. “Leah…”

I reach for your hand, holding it gently in mine. “I know we’ve been taking things slow, and I don’t want to rush anything. But I can’t imagine my life without you in it. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… will you be my girlfriend?”

A smile spreads across your face, and your eyes sparkle with happiness. “Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “Yes, I will.”

I pull you into a tight embrace, my heart swelling with happiness. “I promise I’ll make you the happiest person alive,” I whisper.

You pull back slightly, looking into my eyes. “You already do,” you reply, your voice filled with sincerity.

We share a tender kiss, sealing the promise of our future together.

[henneseyhoe]

All In A Day’s Work

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS:This Headcanon Is Nasty…I Mean Disgusting. Mean!Lewis(No seriously..he’s an asshole till like… the end lmfao), Mentor/Boss!Lewis, Dark!Lewis, Protege!Reader, Insults, Almost A Yandere!Lewis Undertone(I can’t help myself), Lewis Being A Perv, Cockwarming Orally, Spit, Power Imbalance, Dumbification(Kinda?), Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Princess, Slut), Age Gap Unspecified(21+), Public Sex (Kinda), Stalking (Mild), Dirty talk, Gagging, Brief Mention Of Anal, Reader Is Kinda Naive, Probs More Idk.

SUMMARY: They say never meet your idols..

✮✮✮✮

Mentor/Boss!lewis, who quite literally hated you.

He hated your work. He hated the way you worked. He hated your ideas. He hated the way you dressed too. How could you be in the fashion industry dressing like that, and who the hell did you think you were?

You, who looked up to him. You studied his style and cadence, he was your inspiration that kept you intrigued with art and fashion. There wasn’t a piece you have made that you didn’t imagine him praising you for, clapping from an audience of fellow famous designers as you win an award for pieces you made all by yourself. You dreamed so, so big.

Once a confident art school student who recently graduated turned a quiet, delicate thing in his presence. You needed to be that way. If you made yourself smaller, maybe he wouldn’t seek to bother you like he did daily.

It wasn’t just your liking for him and his work that made it hard to be around him, he made it his mission to make everything 10x more insufferable.

You didn’t even know why he hired you, really. There were rumors that he purposely never hired fans, stating that their inspiration from him would blind them from using their own creativity, and you made it very obvious in your interview that you were nothing short of star struck. But, the job was yours on the spot, approved and stamped by Lewis himself.

Your excitement coursed through your veins, hungry for the ideas and tips he’d give you along the way.

Sadly, you were paid just about what dust was worth. As soon as you began working It seemed you were just there to be his punching bag, something he could take his anger out on when someone, or you, most likely you, pissed him off.

Boss!Lewis, who purposely overworked you, making you type up drafts for his articles just as he came up with it in real time. You wanted desperately to make him proud, so you listened to each syllable of each word, each well calculated, evil, full of venom sentence that could end someone’s career that poured into your ears. You pay attention closely as you type, because he himself remembered everything he said, and if anything was out of place or missing from his rant, then he’d be more than pissed.

“This is all you heard? Have your ears somehow popped off your head and walked out of the building?…You wasted my time, and yours. Get out”

He’d say as he shoved the papers back into your hands, still warm from the printer. Did he even give time to actually check if they were right?

Your palms turned white with how hard you clutched the papers in your hands as you walked out, heels stabbing the marble floor with every step you took. He enjoyed seeing your display of emotion whenever he corrected you. This would toughen you up. Maybe even teach you to do things right next time.

Your ears felt hot with both embarrassment and frustration nearly every time he spoke to you. You thought working for your hero would be fun and empowering, but day by day you were proved wrong. How could someone so humble and kind on screen be so cruel to such a sweet girl like you? You were only trying..

Still, you tried harder to gain his respect by working more than you ever had, sewing till your fingers bled, drawing up new designs for him to see that you were getting better, bringing him sweet treats when you could to get even the smallest of thank yous, but again, he wasn’t too fond of your work, or you.

And god forbid you propose the possibility that maybe he was the one that was wrong, he made the mistake and you just made the mistake of following his every word and direction.

Leaning over his desk, you present to him the digital catalog for this year's spring, items of different kinds of clothing littering your computer screen as you click each one individually until he tells you to move on.

“Stop” Lewis points to a picture to halt your scrolling, your heart skipping a beat as you think, ‘Fuck…now what?’

He tsks.

“This suit is from last summer. I specifically told you last year seasons go into an archive, these are not average pieces people can just buy”

You squint, your eyes glazing the screen. “But I didn’t hear- You didn’t say that at all”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

He turned to you in his office chair and closed your laptop down, his head tilted in question. You couldn’t even look straight into his eyes to answer, it was like you saw all the souls he captured day to day screaming for mercy inside of them.

Before you could even fully get a word out he was already giving you your second warning that day.

“I suggest you watch the way you speak to me”

You did so, limiting your criticism to none. You desperately needed to keep this job, the clout, and the money from it. You knew your ideas were good, you just needed Lewis to see that. You needed a little boost, and Lewis was well aware that you couldn’t afford to lose anything you gained this year, seeing as it took you an entire one to find a company like this to take you seriously, having the honor to work as close as you do with one of Europe’s top designers. One day you hoped to be one just like him.

The company had many young workers, some directly hired by Lewis himself just like you, many with the same plans as you to become some big designer or director in the city. Some are not as hardworking as you, so you wondered why Lewis wasted time bullying you instead.

You complain to your coworkers often, thinking you’ve found some kind of friend, but are quickly corrected when you find out someone’s been snitching about what you’ve been saying about your boss around the office..

Lewis towered over you as you sat in a chair facing his desk, hands fiddling in your lap with your head hanging low in shame. This wasn’t the first time you’ve been embarrassed in this very office, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“If you spent half as much time actually doing what I tell you to do instead of wasting your energy bad mouthing me around the building, maybe you wouldn’t have to be a fucking assistant anymore” He chuckled as he flipped through a catalog of unreleased designs while pacing the floor in front of you. The tapping of his shoes synced with the hard thump of your heart, every ‘clack’ leading a loud ‘lub-dub’ that you swore everyone in the room could hear.

Stopping in his tracks, he sighs and shakes his head, neat braids that framed his face swaying with the movement. He often faked his pity, you learned that early on. He cared none if you were struggling for whatever reason, in his head you either pull yourself up by your bootstraps or sit and suffer.

“If you can’t take the little shit I give you, then how do you expect to get anywhere in life, princess? Pretty faces can only get you so far, especially when you piss off important people before you even become somebody“

You keep your head down, careful to not make the mistake of shrugging at his question like the first time he had ever asked you anything you didn’t know the answer to.

“Wow..And you’re fired”

You look up from your sweating hands, your heart skipping beats when you realize he was talking to the woman behind you.

“What? Me? But-” Her stuttering clearly didn’t help her case as she tried to find the right excuses to keep her position as head director, which would eventually become vacant regardless. Lewis spared her a glare, but it was more of a warning for her to suck it up. He hated seeing people cry.

“No one likes a snitch”

You exited that room that day with a thankfulness not even gospel could pull from you. You kept your job and your spot next to him. Dignity and pride was in question, but at least you weren’t jobless.

The next week, you focused more on yourself. You wore your own designs, hoping to catch some kind of compliments, and you did! Just not from Lewis. It was already known that Lewis hated your style, but you could at least say it wasn’t as bad as his last assistant, whom he told you dressed like, and I quote, he “walked into the closet every morning with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back with only his mouth as an option to pick up the items to wear”...

You tried your best to dress to his liking and incorporate his style into your designs while also keeping your signatures. You spent your nights reading magazines he did interviews for to pick up on what he was feeling was in this year, but it wasn’t easy when he was so picky.

“Is that rose gold?”

“Where?.. On my watch?”

Lewis stayed silent, his eyes scanning you fully before he spoke again.

“No, on the floor” He said with sarcasm plaguing his voice, making you raise a brow.

“Take the jewelry off. It looks tarnished”

He nearly swooped you up just then to get something that actually matched your skin tone, but that’d be him just stealing company time for something more..personal.

Boss!Lewis, who soon got tired of your poor attempts at outfits and began to dress you in things he thought were good looking, giving you a box of expensive new outfits at the end of the work day, each labeled for which days you’d wear them. He even invited you over to his for a few “required” trials. Y’know, just to see how good the tailoring was.

And you were ecstatic about it. You, in YOUR idols house, getting adorned in expensive clothing you only dreamed about. It made up for everything he said to you that week to make you upset.

He took you into his very own study and told you what colors look best on you in each season of the year, gave you advice on what jewelry made you glow and the places you should put them depending on the cut of your clothes, he measured your waist, arms, legs, bust, everything, and told you what would go with your body type. Though you wished he could turn the heat up as he did so, you were starting to get a little cold in just your bra and underwear..

“Look at that…it fits you so much better than what you’re usually in”

He’d turn you to a mirror as you tried to lower the mini skirt you wore, attempting to cover more than just the cup of your ass. You could nearly feel a breeze every time he passed you by to get a look from different positions.

Apparently his favorite was from the back.

“You won’t be wearing anything I didn’t put you in from now on. Think of it like a work uniform, since you dress like the world outside is blind. Now, gimme a spin, doll”

Your new look caught the attention of other designers. Some loved the bold look, seeing it as a statement, like how fashion should be these days. They applaud you for testing out the boundaries and limits of a workplace. How professional could you be with your skirt riding up? Others were confused on why your style did an entire 180, and why they could see the valley of your breasts now.

Your answer was simple. Evolution is how the world stays afloat. If you don’t change in time and willingly, the world around you will force you to before you’re ready. Lewis told you that.

Boss!Lewis, who wished he did this so much sooner. His very own life size Barbie he could dress up and down any way he wanted. It was just an extra perk to being able to say anything to you and you still coming into work the next day.

You were beautiful before, he never denied that, all his insults were technically on your intelligence. Nonetheless, he believed he outdid himself with this idea, he could truly see your potential now. Everything you put on brought out your features so much more, it was almost dramatic, and you were starting to truly live up to the nickname he gave you. Now he wanted to know if you were just as flexible as any other doll..

Boss!Lewis, who couldn't get enough of looking at you. It was never an innocent attraction, it was never about wanting to help a protege, this was all for him and him only, the fashion industry be damned. He didn’t care about introducing you to a world of anything as soon as he got half of your clothes off.

The amount of times he was imagining fucking you in front of everybody should have been illegal. He even debated fucking you in his study when he invited you over, watching you drool dumbly with a tiny dress hanging halfway off of your waist. Your very own icon using you for what you were worth. He was already imagining things before, but the daydreams were starting to prohibit him from his duties of CEO.

He had to do something. Fucking his hand in the privacy of his office wasn’t gonna suffice forever.

Boss!Lewis, who went to bed at night thinking of you. Thinking of the ways he could bend you, how many times he could make you cum in one round. When he was with you he pondered on what kind of panties you were wearing. Were they black? Pink, maybe? Did they have a cute little bow on the front like they did when he dressed you? Were they lace and see through? So see through that he could bend you over his desk and spread your ass with his hands to see the pink peeking from behind your brown lips. God, he wanted you so fucking bad from the start.

Boss!Lewis, who started to become irrational. Wondering where you went after work, if you had anyone else to see. God knows what Lewis would do to him, or get done to him. He even followed you sometimes when he couldn’t take the wondering, you were absolutely oblivious to the Ferrari behind you at every stop.

Boss!Lewis, who didn’t need to see where your house was, you worked for him, so of course he had your address, but he needed to see what routes you took. How long would it take you to get there after he snuck into your bottom floor apartment and stole a pair of your underwear after snooping through your things, carefully placing them back where they belonged before snapping a picture or two. Money took him a long way as he bribed the security with a few bills to ensure he wouldn’t speak a word of his visit. Of course the dumb fuck agreed.

You notice your underwear going missing, but you pass it off as just misplacing them in all the other clothes that were being delivered from Lewis.

You also noticed how close Lewis was becoming, but that just made you giddy. Someone you still adored as an artist finally warming up to you.. And as a boss, he had to watch you for reasons, right?

From the time you got to work and clocked in from the time you left, he was watching from his office, glass windows so clear that you could see the condensation from his breath on it as he looked down upon his workers. When you left, his curtains were immediately pulled close.

“He’s just being a boss” “He’s always like that, right?” “Don’t think too much, this is your dream, You’ll ruin your chances with him” Your friends would say when you confided in them about the constant watching, but they didn’t understand that he wasn’t watching everyone, he was watching you. You weren’t sure you understood that he was just watching you either.

Time passed and now he didn’t just watch. He visibly followed. He touched. Brushing a singular finger up your bare arm as you worked aside him, the silver ring on his finger sent shivers straight up your spine and electricity to your core. That jump started a second heartbeat that wouldn’t settle till you walked away from him.

Boss!Lewis, who was unashamed, barely hiding the lingering stares or brushing.

“Sir?”

You’d dare to speak as he pressed himself up against your ass. It wasn’t firm, but just enough for you to feel him. Your hands were unable to move to continue writing up a list of fabrics he needed for later that week. You became aware of everything around you. The ticking of the clock on the wall was loud, the cold wood of his desk pressing on your forearms as you wrote was noticeable.

“Keep going”

He nudged with a hand on your hip as you let out a shaky breath. It was hard to work like this, you could barely believe it was happening where it was, with whom it was.

He thought you sucked at your job before, you could be no better now with him breathing down your neck, grabbing at your curves and using the excuse of just trying to feel the fabric of your clothes.

“Silk?” He asked, his hand growing dangerously close up your thighs from the rim of your dress.

Your breathing hitched, your hand hesitantly swiping his off of your thigh before you nod, trying to distract yourself from the intense staring by grabbing the nearest needle and thread, pretending to touch up a bralette in front of you that was basically already done.

Lewis smiles.

Boss!Lewis, who hadn’t gotten any better with distractions since testing his limits with you for months now. Watching you squirm, anticipating what was next was so much more satisfying than designing these days. But you? You had no room to slack.

He’d call you in his office just to watch you work, then complain about not getting enough done.

Just under your breath, you’d make smart comments to release yourself from some of the stress of the day, unable to hear his complaining for hours without a word for yourself like you used to. You didn’t say it to his face exactly, but he’d be near, his cursing prompting you to speak. You weren’t the girl you were a few months ago, the less he criticized you, the more you expressed yourself outwardly. You knew him, and he was all talk for the most part, you felt you deserved to say at least one thing even if only you knew what was said.

“Maybe if you did your job instead of looking up my skirt all day, damn perv…”

He heard you. He heard everything, remember?

“Perv?”

Perv? No, No, No. Lewis couldn’t let that slide. He wasn’t the one that was being weird, it was you. Sure, he made you dress a certain way, but it was your fault you looked like that. He was not. a fucking. pervert..Fuck.

Boss!Lewis, who made use of your mouth that had started to get smarter and bolder towards him the longer you worked for him. He kept you on your knees, under his desk with his dick stuffed in your mouth. Your jaw ached, and every time you made it known, he’d shove you down further, more spit trailing down your chin. He didn’t care if anyone knocked, or walked in. To them, it was none of their business, too scared to even mention the red bottoms slightly sticking from underneath the desk or the abrupt choking sound they’d hear in the middle of their conversation.

It just made Lewis even harder that they knew something was up. But no one was bold enough to speak up about it, scared they’d get blackballed from the industry they so desperately wanted to be in. If Lewis said they weren’t to be worked with ever…they won’t be.

After he allowed you to stand, your makeup had already smudged off, kisses trailing down his abs and a red print of your lips stained around the base of his dick so perfectly, that he took a picture of it when he went home that night and sent it to you straight from his own business number, his unbuttoned work shirt, abs and tattoos in shot and all.

You gasp when you opened it, your phone flying from your hand to the carpeted floor. You hadn’t even recovered from the events, and here he was reminding you that it definitely did happen.

‘This would be a great new tattoo, yeah? XX.

-Sir. L’

Boss!Lewis, who finally got the excuse he needed to do whatever he wanted to you. Why didn’t he just start spanking you from the beginning? Would have been easier than yelling at you, you probably would have let him so easily. All he had to tell you was it was a crucial part of discipline, of becoming your true artistic self. You would have been putty.

Boss!Lewis, who wanted to leave your panties soaked with his cum leaking out of you almost every late work night. So he did. You wouldn’t work overtime if you didn’t want that, obviously.

With every step you felt your lips glide together, making the mess so much worse. Your coworker asks why you’re walking weird the next morning, you say you sprained your ankle in your heels, but you’re fine. If they knew it was really all because your boss was creampie-ing you at nearly 2 in the morning, you’d be shamed out of the building. Climbing the ladder by sleeping with the CEO? How whorish of you.

Unfortunately, your little sessions with your beloved mentor weren’t making your days easier. How could you work properly with your panties soaked with your own arousal? Sloppy work made you upset, but so did unresolved cravings.

Boss!Lewis, who made you ride him while writing up notes as a punishment now. There was no excuse for mistakes. You had all the time you needed to double check.

“Spread your legs. Good girl. Keep going”

You complained with a whine and spread your legs further across his while continuing to bounce on him. Your thighs were burning like you had just done three sets of squats back to back, you were sweating, and the seat below you two was no dryer. Your handwriting was fucked, you couldn’t read a word back to yourself, but if you stopped, you didn’t know what he’d do next.

He caressed your back softly as you work your hips down on him, the clap of your ass against his pelvis bringing a smile to his face.

“Oh, baby…you better hope I can understand whatever’s on that paper”

Boss!Lewis, who gave you new strict rules on not talking to any male workers. It didn’t matter if they spoke to you first, you walked right by without a word, your eyes glancing upwards and spotting a familiar dark figure watching from your boss’s office.

You now had to cover up more, afraid anyone would see the hickeys that would magically appear on your neck whenever you’d leave Lewis’s office.

If the turtlenecks wasn’t a telling sign of what was going on, the sound of your voice coming out of the room sure would have been.

He began gagging you with your own thong, shoving it into your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside of you, his rings and tattoos coated with a thin layer of your cum. He licked up your neck, flicking his tongue over the darkening bruises as his fingers slid in knuckles deep.

“Be a good little slut and cum for me, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

You squealed into the cotton fabric in your mouth and threw your head back, your bangs falling out of your face as his fingers simultaneously pressed against your spot until your pussy was squirting like a fountain, wetting his rolled up sleeve.

That happened twice more. Eventually, he couldn’t shut you up with just a gag, but his fingers down your throat made the perfect replacement.

“You got the new designs all wet. I suggest you restart on these as soon as you get home, okay?”

12 hours wasn’t nearly enough time for you to get those sketches done, but you did it anyway, thanks to coffee and binge worthy shows.

You did so good, this was just another excuse for him to be able to finish inside you again, a hand wrapped around your throat to keep you still in the small office chair as he sung your praises about how much you were growing under his teachings.

He’d caress your face sweetly before sliding his thumb into your mouth, watching you suck on command. He loved the way you did as you were told without question.

“My pretty baby. You take it so well”

So proud you didn’t even need prepping from his fingers this time, your pussy greedily swallowed his dick and allowed him to fuck the way he wanted to. Feverishly. Every touch from him so fucking needy that he could just bite you. Your ass would be next, the size of him deliciously stretching you out with the help of your own slick and his spit as lubricant.

Maybe this little exchange was making you better as an artist. It seemed so. The insults were coming less and less, your designs were getting accepted more and more.

Boss!Lewis, who took you out to celebrate your growth, gifting you a ring with a tiny L carved on the inside of it and red bottom shoes that would stun the office. He treated you with the utmost respect with the paparazzi watching, making sure the image was nothing more than him going out to eat with one of his protégés innocently tagging along. Then, he took you back to his place and fucked you like a slut.

Your mouth was left open so wide you were convinced it would eventually lock in place like that. He didn’t even let you make it to the bed, the floor and your arched back was all he needed to get as deep as he wanted inside of you. You could scream all you wanted there. You were sure his maids got the hint to stay away from the foyer by now.

After he finished using you how he wanted, stuffing you full with his cum until he was perfectly satisfied, he’d kiss you on your forehead as if nothing had happened and you’d thank him. For tonight, and all your opportunities.

“I think someone deserves a promotion now”

Finally, you were where you needed to be.

✮✮✮✮

💌— I really hope yall liked this cause I cannot get Boss!Lewis off of my fucking mind 😭 I need him so bad yall like I literally had to FORCE myself to stop writing more smut in this 💔💔💔💔

[stoneexo]

hey my babes, so i've been super overwhelmed with school and work lately (literally spent 3hrs trying to get home yesterday in what is normally a 45min drive, love canadian winter), so i'm a little late on this for y'all and i'm so sorry :') so here is the little sevika blurb that i promised to keep you occupied while i try to wrap up the vi x reader fic & proof read it! unless you guys don't want it proof read? (lmk)

anyways, enjoy!!

sevika was used to fucking, and she was used to giving a good strap-down treatment. after all, she had always preferred to touch than be touched. but there was something completely different when it came to you, underneath her like this, bent over so pretty while she pounded you stupid. she was used to being rough, the drooling, the scratching at her partner's hips as she forced herself impossibly deeper into whoever's cunt she happened to be fucking that night. she was used to the control. the power. but with you, it all went out the window.

she wanted to touch you so badly. no, she needed to. her flesh hand wanders around your body, exploring every mountain and valley on your body while she gets drunk on the sounds you make under her. she wasn't used to this, to having a need like this. to not being in control. even though you were the one pinned beneath her, back arched and body on full display. everything about you was intoxicating, the way you bounced back on her, the pretty mewls and moans that left your lips in between the cries of her name. and when you reached back to hold her warm hand that was now gripping a fistful of your ass, practically sobbing on her dick, she knew damn well that you were calling the shots now. as she hunched over you, pressing even deeper, drool dripping down your back as she rutted mindlessly into you, sevika knew she would do anything you asked of her now.

something about you like this just did something to her; it was better than drinking, better than smoking, better than shimmer, better than anything else this world had to offer, she was sure of it. she bit down into your shoulder in an effort to contain herself, her hips snapping into yours violently as you struggled to speak in your fucked out state. "d—don't fu—ckin' stop 'vika!" you stammered out, voice pitchy and breathless as the words struggled to come out. sevika only bit down harder into your shoulder in response, causing you to moan yet again.

sevika had experienced phantom limbs before with her arm, but never like this. she swore she could feel you clenching around her cock, impossibly wet, pussy fluttering with each stroke. and it felt like heaven on earth. whatever she had done to deserve this, she would do it a million times over if it meant spending one second longer in your perfect pussy. "ha—i'm gonna c—cum!" you squeaked out, grabbing onto the sheets desperately as sevika ravished your body, squeezing all over as you approached the edge.

"come on doll, give it to me." she murmured— no, demanded, laying a kiss where she had been biting previously, before licking it, her voice breathy and sultry. and you did just that, cumming nearly on command to her desprate rutting.

and that's what did her in, you were sure, as you heard a desperate whimper escape the stoic copper-skinned woman's lips as you clenched around her strap. the nails of her metal claw dug into your hips as her thrusting stuttered. but as quick as the pause came, it went, and she was pounding you even harder than before, leading to your explosive end as you sobbed out underneath her. sevika had never needed someone like this before; so bad that she lost all control of her body, that she made pathetic sounds like this. and she was mortified by the noises she was making, to say the least.

sevika bit her lip and tried to fight back another whine but she couldn't help it as you squeezed her hand and her cock yet again— and she found herself wishing she could be inside you like this for real as she struggled not to cum herself just from your body and pleasure. she tried to stifle the noises, biting her lip so hard she knew it was bleeding, but that fell apart the moment your begging began. "p—please baby w—anna hear yo—u!" you pleaded, body shaking from the overstimulation as she ravaged your body.

and sevika did let go, a flurry of whines and whimpers escaping her lips as she destroyed your cunt till you couldn't take it anymore, making sure you were good and fucked out before she began to slow. you were in a daze of euphoria beneath her as she pulled out and you collapsed on the bed. sevika only left you to retrieve a towel and a glass of water, fully intent on cleaning you up and showering you with kisses as she finds you passed out on your bed.

(you make sure to let her know the next morning, however, that you'll need to hear her like that more often...)

[lessi-lover]

before we broke (2) II p.bueckers x reader

set in 2019, bit of a prequel and some high school flashbacks!

before we broke II p.bueckers x reader 2.7k

“you’re too slow!” paige called over her shoulder, her blonde hair catching the wind as she sprinted ahead of you. you whined in exasperation as she kept running, desperately trying to catch up with her as she ran faster towards her house.

“i am not!” you shot back, pushing yourself harder because you were determined not to let her win another one of your silly competitions today. you were always trying to keep up with her. she was faster and stronger, always a little bit ahead, but she never left you behind. not really.

finally with your last burst of energy, you lunged forward attempting to tackle her to the ground. both of you tumbled into the grass, giggling as you caught your breath. she turned onto her back, your body somehow ending on top of her.

“you cheated.” she accused of you, but there was no real bite to it. she couldn't pretend to be annoyed by you if she tried. “did not!” you huffed, staring down at the blonde in an adorable attempt to gain your innocence back. your hands migrated to your hips as you tried to stand your ground.

paige sprawled out on the grass, squinted up at you with an exaggerated look that told you she wasn't falling for your miss innocence act, her nose scrunching up in that way it always did when she was pretending to be serious.

"you're just mad cause i won p." you teased her, leaning over to press the weight of your hands into her shoulders. "nah," she said, turning her head to look at you. "i just like messing with you tiny." she teased, tapping your thigh with a grin, clearly enjoying her large height growth she'd had over the summer which unfortunately you had not been graced with.

flipping her hips easily she forced your body to the ground as the two of you rolled around on the grass. "get off me!" you demanded as she now sat on top of you, your hands naturally pinned under her knees.

paige only grinned wider, clearly enjoying watching you struggle. “i actually think i like it up here.” you groaned dramatically, thrashing your hips around under her hold, but she barely even budged. “this is so unfair. you're crushing me under your weight.”

paige gasped placing a hand over her chest. "what was that?" paige questioned and you recognised the look she was giving you. you smirked despite the position, still struggling under her. “if the shoe fits.” paige let out a scoff in mock offense, shifting her weight just slightly to press down on you even more. “oh, now you’ve done it.”

your eyes widened in horror. “paige, no-” before you could even think about rolling out from underneath her, her hands shot to your sides again, fingers expertly digging in as she threatened the spots she knew made you squirm the most. you shrieked, kicking and wriggling under her as she dug into your skin, paige pulling loud laughter out of both of you.

"paige madison! get off her right this instant!" the voice cut through your laughter and you both freeze. paige immediately lifted her weight off you, though her grin remained obnoxious and true, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief that paige's dad had come to your timely rescue.

“i wasn’t doing anything dad!” paige protested, holding up her hands innocently, but you both knew better. you could still feel the faint sensation where her fingers had been moments ago. "you know better than to pick on her! she's half your size on a good day!" bob continued, ushering the two of you inside. apparently he’d been calling you in for dinner for the last twenty minutes, though neither of you had taken the time to hear him.

if there was anyone who could keep up with paige in a not so literal sense, it was you. it wasn't because you were the same though, the two of you worked together because you couldn't be more different.

paige’s world revolved around basketball. when she wasn’t out on the court, she was lost dreaming about the game. you could almost see it in her eyes, the way she could see herself dribbling down the court, passing defenders, and making that perfect shot just as the buzzer goes off. she loved the adrenaline when she made a great play and the satisfaction of pushing herself to be better.

if she wasn’t practicing, or running drills, she was either watching a game or talking about basketball, thinking about basketball, or just looking at basketball. it was like she could never get enough of it, could never tear her eyes away from it and unfortunately this meant you were dragged into it more than you'd like.

although you were nothing like paige. while she was always on the move, you were the kind of person who wanted to just sit back and observe, because you wanted time to appreciate the small details in life. you were always content to step back and just let the moment simply exist.

you were far too busy to find entertainment in a sport when you could instead find it in the pages of your next book. you had always loved what books offered you, the escape books gave you; the way they could take you to another world where nothing else mattered for a while. reading was much more appealing than spending hours running across a court when rather you could be swept away and be completely oblivious from the real world.

paige on the other hand could barely stay seated for a minute, let alone force herself to read. there wasn't a moment she was still or thoughtless, much to your frustration of her constant need to be active. you might have always been watching the world, but paige wanted to live it, to always be moving, she wanted to experience everything. if she wasn't thinking about a game, she was thinking about the next one because her mind was constantly racing with new ideas to burn her energy off.

she was loudmouthed, brazen and completely unapologetic about it. she didn’t hesitate to make her voice heard, regardless of who was around. she was fast and unfiltered like a river that couldn’t stop flowing. if she had something to say, she said it with a sharp tongue and without a second thought about how it would land.

you were kind, forgiving and always looking for the good in people even if it was just simply not there. you found reasons to believe in them, to give them a chance. where you saw the good, paige saw the game. if someone showed her even the slightest bit of disrespect, she would be the first to call them out because she's unafraid to confront anyone who crossed her. but you? you always believed that people aren't defined by their worst mistakes, something you were always keen to remind the blonde of.

it was a quality that sometimes made you seem naive in a way. after all, the world wasn’t always kind and it could be easy to get hurt if you weren’t being careful. but you didn’t mind. paige would sometimes roll her eyes at you. but deep down, she respected it. she respected the way you didn’t give up on people, no matter how many times they would let you down.

paige thrived off attention, loved the way she could make people laugh with just a few words, or get them to follow her lead without a second thought. paige was loud, and not in the subtle kind of way that people just add in when describing a person. no, she made sure everyone knew she was there.

she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and if you didn’t hear her the first time, she'd make sure you did the second. it wasn't just the way she talked; it was the way she carried herself. paige was untouchable, like she knew something everyone else didn't.

although if anyone tried to pick on you, paige was there in an instant, stepping in without any hesitation. she’d give them one look and suddenly they’d be backing the hell off, realising they’d just made a very bad choice of whom to mess with. it wasn’t like she had to prove anything, she never had to lift a finger when it came to defending you.

paige was the spark to your match, the fire to your ice and in the end, that was what made you both work so well.

when it came to you paige knew she had you hooked, she never felt the need to fight for attention from her best friend because you always gave it to her willingly. she’d always keep things level and even though she was full of herself in the best way possible, you were always there to ground her.

"no paige please i don't want to!" you whined, your feet scraping against the gravel as she pulled you by the hem of your shirt across the backyard. “come on, you know you want to!” paige smiled, tossing the basketball up and down in her hands as she stationed you next to the hoop.

she was leaning against the metal pole, clearly waiting for you to move. this was just another thing she could do to prepare for her game tomorrow, something to keep her head down. for you though, it was a different story.

“p, i really don’t feel like it today.” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to look serious even though you knew you weren’t convincing anyone. “don’t be lame!” she shot back, throwing the ball which gracefully hit your knees and bounced away.

"oh no! i guess we can't play, i'll see you tomorrow though bye paige!" you went to turn around before the blonde caught your wrist. “don’t pull that with me.” she said, reaching out to pull your arm and drag you back toward the court. “you know you’re not getting away with it.”

you sighed again but she wasn’t having any of it. before you knew it, the ball was being placed into your hands. “come on, just a quick game. if you win, i’ll leave you alone for a whole hour. but if i win..” she trailed off, giving you that knowing look. you knew exactly what that meant. if you won, she’d let you go, but if she won, you’d have to put up with her little training sessions for the rest of the day.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you reluctantly bounced the ball once. “it’s not impossible if you actually try,” paige retorted, eyebrows raised at your questionable dribbling abilities. “you know, maybe you are as bad at basketball as you claim.”

“paige!” you snapped, but she was already running past you, the ball now in her hands and a look of smugness on her face. she was fast, too fast. you barely had time to react before she was shooting a perfect three into the basket.

“oh, i’m sorry, was i supposed to let you just shoot?” she teased, pretending to throw it back to you. “this is so unfair,” you said, trying to get the ball back, but she was already moving again, making another sharp move that had you scrambling to defend. “seriously, paige! can you slow down a little?”

“nah,” she laughed, answering to your complaints without sparing you a glance. “you’re keeping up just fine.” she gave you a wink and a quick spin around your body, flicking the ball into the hoop once more. “three-nothing,” she said, barely even out of breath in comparison to your frustratingly red complexion.

“tired? please, you can’t be tired yet!” she teased, her grin never faltering as she put up another shot. “not until i’ve completely wiped you out.” she dropped the ball into your hands with a shove to your back. “now, let's see if you can keep up."

you groaned, but deep down, you knew you were going to have fun. it didn’t matter how many times you tried to pull away or how much you insisted you weren’t in the mood, paige was always going to win. she had a way of making everything seem fun, no matter how much you tried to act uninterested. maybe it was fun because it was paige.

“you’re relentless, you know that right?” you muttered, your smile now matching hers as you bounced the ball a couple of times. “and that’s why you love me,” she smiled back, pulling you into a headlock and kissing your cheek. “now stop wasting time and get moving!”

as much as paige’s mind was always thinking about basketball, it was always just a little more consumed by you. it wasn’t the kind of thing she would ever admitted out loud, but everyone could see it. paige was intense and if there was one thing that could compete with her obsession for the game, it was you.

her whole demeanor would change when you were around; she’d become a little less brash, a little softer spoken, but still with that spark in her eye, the same spark she had when she was on the court. the difference was, this time, it wasn’t basketball she was thinking about. it was you.

she never let on just how much you meant to her, unless you asked of course. to paige, showing vulnerability was a weakness, and that wasn’t something she allowed herself to be bar her best friend. she liked to be the strong one, the girl who could take on anything and anyone. but when it came to you, she didn’t need to play those games. you made her forget about all that.

you were the constant in her chaotic life, the one thing she knew she could always count on, no matter what. you weren’t like anyone else. there was no mistaking the way her eyes followed you around, always scanning for you in a room full of people.

she couldn’t help herself and she was always drawn to you. she did try to resist, she pretended not to care, but the truth was, she couldn't stop herself from being completely infatuated by you. it wasn’t something she could turn off, no matter how hard she tried.

paige knew exactly what you were to her. you were the calm wrapped tightly around her freed storm, the subtle stillness she silently craved that nothing could ever come close too. basketball was her passion, sure, but you were her obsession in the best possible way. you were different, and she loved that about you. she loved the way you made her think, made her want to be better, made her feel like there was more to life than just winning a game.

and as much as you two could drive each other mad, there was always an understanding between you and paige. people could see it, the way you both complemented each other without even trying.

those close to you had always known you were a package deal, always together, always at each other’s side. your parents loved seeing how effortlessly you had grown up side by side over the years, how you balanced each other out so naturally. she helped you when life felt too heavy, when everything threatened to pull you under and you were her voice of reason when she needed it.

so when the visits stopped and the mentions of each other grew scarce, everyone noticed. no one could quite grasp what had happened between the two of you, especially when it seemed so sudden.

eventually you had erased every memory of each other, brushing your friends and family off with a vague excuse that you had just drifted apart before college. it was easier than explaining that it wasn’t distance or time pulling you apart, it was something far more complicated, something neither of you could find the words for.

and no matter how hard you both tried to move on, to pretend everything was fine, that bitter feeling lingered like a knife beneath the surface, a secret only the two of you shared. blood drawn, yet cuts unequal. the secret still held you both pitifully in its grip, even as you tried to erase the pain it had caused you both.

~

[strwberri-milk]

Could I request Rafayel with an artist reader? However, art is only a hobby for them, and they don’t pursue it. I was thinking of how he would react if reader’s art was breathtaking, maybe even comparable to his own? Bonus points if reader was hiding it from him until now.

i feel like ive written so many artist reader requests but i guess not lolol

He's a little offended when he finds out you've been hiding your art from him. Honestly, if you were hiding literally anything from him for any reason he'd be offended - unless it was because it's a gift for him. He isn't mad at all, understanding as well that your art might just be super close to your heart that you just want to keep private for your own sake.

You tell him that you don't take it as seriously as he does as it's not your career but you still enjoying painting regardless. He looks at the creations you've made, telling you all about what he sees when he looks at them or just how much he loves them. You're a little flustered with how easily he gives you praise, especially with how famous he is but he doesn't lie either. You know you can believe him.

He'll ask if you want to collaborate with him under either a pseudonym or just as an anonymous artist. He'd love it if you agree, wanting to share everything in his life with you. Having your brushstrokes accompany his excites him more than he can comprehend or verbalise so he just settles for staring at you longingly - or with puppy eyes as he's trying to convince you to say yes.

He'll stare at anything you've made or worked on with him forever. He just can't get over it at all, totally obsessed with the fact that the love of his life created something so beautiful. Honestly, even if you weren't a strong painter he'd treat it the same way just because of the fact that you made it.

[strayingawayy]

extra credit...

...the one where jisung is an infuriating fuck, but fuck, he's a hot fuck

aka playboy jisung x nerd reader (warnings: lil bit of crude language, swearing, sexual jokes)

you’re trying to study.

keyword: trying.

because sitting across from you, balancing a pencil on his nose and looking insufferably pleased with himself, is han jisung. self-proclaimed campus casanova, owner of a 3.0 gpa (on a good day), and, unfortunately or fortunately, your assigned partner for the semester-long research project and personal eye candy for this dramatically long assignment. not that you'd ever admit that last part.

"you know," he says, letting the pencil drop onto the open textbook that sits upside down, "for someone so smart, you make terrible life choices."

you give him a flat look. "oh? do elaborate."

"yeah," jisung leans in, smirking. "like choosing to study when you could be doing literally anything else. like, i don't know, your very handsome, very charming study partner."

you blink. "if i was out doing people, i'd find a better man to do, jisung."

"ouch," he clutches his chest, wincing and rubbing his palm across his deliriously large pec which you're sure should be supported by a bra by the end of the semester. "that actually hurt a little."

"good," you say, flipping a page with your thumb. "pain builds character."

"so does dating me." he grins. "think of all the life experience you'd gain. and don't think i didn't notice your little naruto reference there, nerd." he says the last word like it sits disgustingly on his tongue.

"think of all the brain cells i'd lose," you say, ignoring his comment on your brilliant taste in anime.

jisung snorts, tilting his chair back. "you wound me, nerd."

"good. maybe you'll be hurt enough to actually sit on your ass properly for once."

he does the exact opposite, kicking his feet up on the chair next to him. "seriously though," he says, stretching. "i don’t know why you work so hard. you already have the highest gpa in the class. what’s a few missed assignments?"

"excuse me?" you gape at him, flabbergasted. "a few missed assignments? jisung, that’s academic blasphemy, it's sacrilegious, it's lamentable. it-"

"see, this is why we balance each other out," he says, pointing at you and sighing, as though recovering from the heavy vocabulary you just dumped on him.

"you take things too seriously. i teach you how to chill, to fuck, to appreciate hot men and women, yada yada yada and in return, you help me get through this class without flunking out. win-win."

"more like i win, you leech off my intelligence," you mutter, but he just grins, completely unbothered as he runs a hand through his stupid, fluffy hair.

"so," he drawls, voice going slightly deeper, "if i get an A on this project, do i get extra credit?"

"no."

"damn. what if i get an A and take you out to dinner?"

you pause, leveling him with a look. "isn't that just you getting extra credit?"

jisung winks. "now you’re getting it."

"unbelievable," you mutter, shaking your head.

"but tempting," he teases.

you throw an eraser at him.

he catches it smoothly and fuck, he looks hot, still grinning. "baby steps, sweetheart. baby steps."

the nickname has you telling your foolish heart to be still before it ruins this one for you.