#but yeah.. this has been a wake up call for me that i’ve been playing too close to my limits and it’s not sustainable

[bufomancer]

I know I’ve been talking about downsizing basically forever but things keep happening. But since taking in these emergency rats it has REALLY driven home that I *need* to be much further from my capacity limit.

I am not rehoming any of *my* animals, but I am doubling down on my efforts to increase my number of outside fosters so that there’s fewer fosters at my house, and will be keeping much fewer permanent animals going forward.

I am not planning to have any forever rats (except sanctuary rats) going forward, or forever mice. Once my current ones pass I will not be getting anymore. I have 9 gerbils through various circumstances but my limit is going to be 4. I have 3 hamsters & will be setting a limit of 1-2 going forward. I am planning to have no more than 6-7 permanent rodent enclosures (currently I have 14, so I will be halving my numbers essential, as they slowly pass of old age.

Before I ended up with these emergency rats I was doing just fine, not quite at my limit but getting close, and now I am over my limit and not sure when that’ll change. I’m managing, but since I never know when the next emergency will happen I need to maintain more open space and more bandwidth.

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[ale-wosofan]

I love you

Alexia x R

R realizes she’s in love with her girlfriend

warnings: none!

a/n: just something I wrote after seeing Alexia up close during a game and realizing I might actually be in love with her. Almost a thousand words of pure fluff. Enjoy!

-----

The smell of coffee and sound of Spanish music playing wake you up. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, taking your time to enjoy your morning before having to get up.

After a few more minutes you finally decide to leave your bed. Taking a hoodie and putting it on, you walk into the kitchen. The sight you find, however makes you stop in your tracks.

Alexia is cooking –what seems to be– breakfast for the two of you, which is not weird at all. Except it is because she’s doing it in your shirt.

This shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does, considering the two of you are at your house and Alexia wasn’t planning on staying the night. But there’s something about seeing your girlfriend wearing your clothes that just makes sense. You feel warmth spreading all through your body and can’t help but stare at her a little bit longer, trying to memorize the scene in front of you.

“You could be helping me instead of looking at me,” Alexia’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts “Buenos días, amor.”

“Good morning,” you answer smiling at her, still a little distracted.

Alexia lets out a laugh at how zoned out you seem to be and suddenly it hits you.

You’re in love with her.

You don’t know for sure what makes you realize it; maybe it was sleeping in the same bed as her, waking up to the sound of her cooking in your kitchen, seeing her in your clothes, or simply the domesticity of it all.

“Amor?” you hum at your girlfriend’s question “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just- I forgot I told my sister I would call her when I woke up,” you lie “so I should probably do it before we have breakfast.”

“Oh, alright. Okay, you do that and I’ll finish cooking in the meantime,” she answers walking up to you and leaving a kiss on your forehead.

As soon as you’re out of earshot you take your phone begging the universe your sister will pick up.

“Hello?” you hear a very sleepy voice ask.

“Help. I need help.”

“Well, that’s obvious. I’m surprised it has taken you this long to realize,” you roll your eyes at your sister's antics “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath and making an effort to lower your voice, you try not to think about it too much before opening your mouth to answer.

“I’m in love with Alexia. But, like, really in love. I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest every time she looks at me, or smiles at me, or touches me. I love the sound of her laugh, and how calm she looks in the mornings. I love that we’re the complete opposite and yet we complement each other perfectly. She’s just- I’m- I don’t know. I’ve been in love before, but this feeling? This feels fucking amazing, like something I’ve never felt, like I had never truly lived until I met her, you know? And now everything just makes perfect sense because she’s by my side,” you stop for a moment trying to gather your thoughts because you’re not sure you’re making a lot of sense right now “We’ve only been dating for a few months, but I’ve woken up today and she was there, standing in my kitchen, wearing my clothes and cooking breakfast for me and I just knew it. I love her.”

There’s silence at the other end of the line for a few minutes. You’re about to hang up thinking your sister has fallen asleep when she speaks again.

“Well, it seems to me like you already know how you feel. Now you just need to tell your girlfriend.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” you ask frustrated “I don’t even know if she feels the same way!”

“You’re even more of an idiot than I thought,” you hear your sister mumble “That woman loves you, probably more than you think. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t realized you love her until this moment. Now, about how to tell her? I have no idea, but you figure it out, I’m going to sleep.”

And just like that your sister hangs up.

You walk back into the kitchen with no plan but determined to tell Alexia how you feel.

“Breakfast is almost ready, you should get the-”

“Alexia” you interrupt her.

Looking up, your girlfriend stops what she’s doing when she sees how serious you look and nods her head, indicating that you have her full attention.

“What is it? You just used my full name so it seems pretty important,” she says letting out a nervous laugh.

“No, it’s, um- it’s not anything bad, I promise” you move towards her and take her hands in yours “I just- I love you. And, listen, you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same, but I just really needed you to know.”

You bite your lip waiting for an answer that doesn’t come. Instead, your girlfriend puts both of her hands in your cheeks, forcing you to look up at her. You barely have any time to process what is happening before her lips are on yours, kissing you with purpose. After a few seconds the two of you separate, Alexia resting her forehead against yours.

“I love you,” she whispers against your lips and letting out a laugh “So much.”

[midnightsnyx]

beautiful things p1 - mat barzal

my masterlist pairing: mathew barzal x singer!reader summary: mathew barzal has a crush on you but you have no idea who he is until an interview goes viral. warnings: mentions of past toxic relationship, not edited word count: 612 words requested: yes/no author note: this was requested but has potential for a part 2 I think. also I hate using "y/n" but I had no choice lol requests are open!

"Mathew Barzal has a crush on you”, is the first thing you hear when you wake up.

Your head is pounding, probably from your show last night. People don’t usually bother you until you make an appearance but apparently your assistant finds it necessary to wake you.

“Who’s Mathew Barzal?” you ask but before you can finish your sentence, a phone is shoved in your face and you’re looking at a picture of a hockey player.

A very attractive hockey player.

But then, you see the time.

7:29 a.m.

You roll back over and mumble, “my alarm isn’t set until 10.”

Iris plops down next to you. You’re not able to see her, but you can feel her vibrating with excitement. “C’mon, this is Mat Barzal!”

“And?”

“And, he’s like super hot! And he likes you!”

You groan, rolling over to look at her. “How do you know he likes me?”

Once again, a phone is shoved in your face but this time there’s a video playing.

“What kind of music do you usually listen to before a game to pump you up?” A reporter asks Barzal and he blushes and scratches the back of his neck. There’s a pause before he decides on an answer.

“Uh, y/n l/n has pretty sick music out right now so I’ve been listening to her,” he says and from across the room, a voice shouts: “yeah and he has a giant crush on her!”

The video ends and your view is replaced with Iris’s face. She’s practically trembling with excitement and you can’t help but laugh.

“Sounds like you have a crush on him,” you tease and she blushes.

“My ex was an Islanders fan,” she mumbles but then shakes her head. “I can connect with his agent and get his number for you and then-"

"Iris, no," you say, finally sitting up. “I said I wasn’t dating right now. I can’t, not after him.”

You don’t need say his name for the mood to completely darken. Your last relationship nearly ruined you and you’re not ready to open your heart back up to someone when it’s just starting to heal.

Iris nods, not saying anything else. She quietly leaves your room and you flop back on your bed, closing your eyes trying to fall back asleep but it’s useless now. The last thing you want right now is a relationship but you’re a little curious about Mathew Barzal. Your hand reaches out patting around until you find your phone. It’s on do not disturb so when you turn that off, your phone is flooded with notifications. Messages from friends congratulating you on the show, a missed call from your mom - you make a side note to remember to call her back - and finally, you open Instagram and you’re tagged in every single re-post of Mat’s interview. 

Buzzfeed even has an article on it. 

“Huh,” you say outloud to yourself before opening your direct messages and there is one that immediately catches your eye. You hesitate before opening it however because opening it means a lot of things.

It means possibly opening your heart to someone when you feel like it’s just heal. It means the possibility of early morning coffee dates and getting food at 24 hour diners together after your shows or his games. It means long distance sometimes, when you have shows and he has games. The many, many discussions about moving in together before actually doing it. It’s slow mornings together making breakfast, lounging on the sofa when neither of you have anything to do. 

It means the possibility of building something beautiful together.

So, you take the leap and open his message.

barzal97 so about that interview…

[mannequinreligi0n]

Mating Season

get bred, loser

pairing: dante x reader (female anatomy, gn pronouns)

wc: 2.2k

warnings: NSFW - breeding kink, monster-fucking, blood/blood play

author’s note: i’ve been meaning to write this for so long but unfortunately i am a depressed adult with a full time job, and finding time/energy to write is difficult :’) sorry if this isn’t up to standards or there’re mistakes. enjoy, smooches.

links: ao3

Twelve missed calls, six voicemails, and twenty-three texts from Dante is what you’re greeted with upon waking up - and it’s barely noon. Scrolling through the texts, you’re met with the ramblings of a madman, pleading for you to come over, to see him, to cancel your plans for the day. With a quick shower and change of clothes, you oblige in his wanton demands and head over to the loft.

You only manage a single knock before the door swings open and Dante is dragging you inside by the sleeve of your sweater.

“Dante! The hell has gotten into-“

”No time. Don’t ask.”

He pulls you straight into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Throwing you over his shoulder, he launches you onto the bed with a ‘thump’, your smaller form springing on the mattress. Dante reels over you, snatching your coat off and ducking his head into the curve of your neck with a deep inhale, nose sniffing your skin like a damn bloodhound.

”You showered,” he mopes, teeth pulling at the fragile skin of your throat. You squirm under the weight of him, hands pushing at his chest to levitate some of the burden.

”Yeah, so what?’

“You weren’t supposed to - I said not to. Did you even read my texts?”

”Dante, you’re being ridiculous. Do you even hear yourself?” You lift your head up to look at him, pushing him off of you. Dante makes a sad whine, a demeaning sound coming from the devil hunter. His messy locks flop down in front of his face and he lets out a long sigh, hands pawing at the fabric of your pants.

”I’m sorry, babe. God, you don’t have any idea how hard this has been without you,” he mumbles sheepishly, eyes fixated on the faint red mark he left on your neck. His hands trembled against your legs, clearly trying to hold himself back in order to have a coherent conversation with you. “I thought I could handle this alone, but I keep thinking about last week…how warm you felt, like that pretty little hole was made just for me,” he interrupts himself with a groan, hunching over as if in pain. You reach a hand up and push back the already sweaty strands to see his face, feeling his fevered skin brush your fingertips.

”Why didn’t you call me over sooner? You know I would’ve came,” you murmur, observing his needy state with a bit of concern.

”Didn’t wanna be a bother. I thought I could handle it on my own, y’know? I always have, but with you in the picture now-“ He lurches toward your hand on him, nuzzling into it with a choked breath. “Please…please, just-….just let me-“

You pet his cheek as you think over the proposition, mouth pursed. You finally agree with a small nod, pulling your hand away.

“Is it safe?”

”I won’t hurt you. I would never,” Dante reaches for your wrists, thumbs rubbing at the pulse points. He stares at you with his best ‘puppy-dog’ look, a pout on his lips. “I’ll be good, I promise. God, please, just let me fuck you - you got a man begging here.”

You chuckle and shake your head, pulling him back to you with a mumbled ‘c’mere’. Dante wastes no time latching himself back onto you, pulling your shirt off and biting down on your shoulder with a chesty groan. His hands work at your pants as he marks up your skin, the bites hard but nothing compared to the ones you’ll receive soon enough from his fangs. Clothes gone, you writhe under him and he sits up and sheds his own clothes, sparks of red already flitting off of his skin. Blue eyes morph red and he squeezes your thigh reassuringly, throwing you a shaky smile.

”You remember the safe-word, sweetheart?”

”Ciabatta.”

“Right.”

With a quick peck to your forehead, Dante rolls out his shoulders, cracking a few joints in his spine and neck. Warm, amber light coats his bedroom and Dante’s body morphs into his devil trigger, his nine-foot form casting a daunting shadow over your bare skin. Your breathing quickens at the sight - you’ve seen his DT before, but never like this, never between your legs and teeth glistening in your direction. Sensing your fear, Dante runs a knuckle over your cheek, mindful of his claws. A low, rustling rumble echoes from his vocal chords, bending down to meet his ghastly face to yours.

”It’s still me…” he breathes out, voice altered but still holding his signature lilt. Wings cocoon your body, cradling your form as he lifts you up to dangle in front of his chest. The heat of the flames rippling over his scales threaten to scorch your delicate flesh, the heat making your sweat glands break open and perspire. Dante’s mouth opens and an orange tongue lined with bumps and grooves laps a line across your own chest, taking in the decadent taste of you. Despite your trepidations, you can’t hold in the moan that drops from your mouth, eyes fluttering closed. Transparent, tangerine saliva drips down your abdomen as his tongue roams around, stimulating nerves from your throat to your navel, bumps dragging across smooth skin.

“My mate…Mine, mine,” Dante growls out, clawed fingers pinching at your thighs as he pushes your knees to your chest, wings supporting your weight from behind and below.

”Dante, c-careful, Jesus,” you whimper out, laser-focused on his claws dangerously close to shredding your skin open. All you get in response is another resonant growl, steam pillowing off his breath. Before you can warn him again, the sandpaper tongue swipes at your hole, making you shudder and go limp against his wings, forgetting your train of thought. One thing about Dante was that on the surface, he came off as reckless, impulsive - but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He had backup plans for his backup plans, and thought out every little thing. As much as your body was sounding off alarms to scramble away from the devil, he was taking the time necessary to warm you up before indulging himself - a preliminary ‘thank you’ for being a willing victim. You look up at Dante’s face, or what used to be his face, and lock eyes with the fiery orbs glaring down at you. It was hard to tell, but you could swear that little shit was smiling down at you, knowing you’ve put two and two together. A bass of laughter shakes his form, leaning forward to bump his forehead to yours as carefully as possible.

”Told you. No harm.”

You let out a shaky breath at his smartass remark, but it’s futile to steady your breathing. Dante’s tongue pushes into your hole, pointed and flexed as it slides between your inner walls. The feeling is indescribable, and for lack of a better word: devilish. Your juices coat the length of his tongue as it assaults you repeatedly, twisting in and out while talons keep you folded upright against your squirming. Heat floods your core as your release builds upon itself, gasps and symphonic moans invading the quiet room.

Dante can’t hold his instincts back when the taste and smell of your essence is practically reducing every cell in his body into a lust-driven beast. Ejecting his tongue, his wings cradle you down to the bed, knees kissing your ears in a mating press. Your thighs quake against his scaled palms, missing the fullness of his tongue. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words jumble into a whine of pain as his head propels to take a bite at your shoulder. Fangs puncture skin and the devil seems to purr as the crimson nectar dribbles from the bite and into his mouth. The receptors in his brain are screaming at him to bite down again and again and again til you’re a battered, bloody mess - every centimeter of flesh peeled back and consumed in the most carnal way.

Thankfully, the human conscious in him refrains and with another nibble to your neck, he withdraws and centers himself with the pulsating warmth beckoning him in. He doesn’t need to check how wet you are - he can smell it, the pheromones rippling off your sex in waves that rivaled a tsunami. A bulbed shaft stretches into your slick and your head shoots up with a scratchy yelp, pain radiating to your hips. A huff of steam leaves the devil’s nostrils, halting to save you more pain despite his needs. Dante watches your fingers go white against the bedsheets, hanging on for dear life, and you can see his wings wilt at the realization he’s letting his devil instincts get the best of him. A clawed hand grips both of small ankles to hold you in place, the other letting go to scoop up one of your hands. Scales run over the skin gingerly, your fingers curling around his thumb for security.

“Deep breaths, baby. Big, deep breaths for me,” he hums out, the mechanic whirring of his vocal chords carrying his voice past your panicked thoughts. You obey, chest rising and falling as your blurred eyes trace the flame spitting from the top of his head. Dante can feel your walls unclench around him and he takes it as a sign to keep going. It’s a slow and painful process, but inch after inch, he manages to squeeze about half of himself in before hitting your cervix.

‘Damn human anatomy,’ Dante curses internally, but makes peace with the complication, thankful enough that you're taking it like a champ. After a moment of stillness, ensuring you’re okay, he starts to move. Armored hips lurch in and out of your tight hole, hushed growls filling your ears. All you can do is lay there, pliant and accepting. Your hold on his finger tightens as your body rocks around with the thrust of his unnatural cock, his name the only coherent word you can manage while he jabs at your g-spot continuously. Dante’s teeth find their way back to your flesh, leaving bloody constellations along your legs. So consumed by the fullness of his girth, you don’t notice the ruby fluid dripping down your limbs from the bites, barely registering his tongue greedily licking you clean. Bursts of white spot your vision, core muscles tightening as your orgasm tears through you and a scream of pleasure brings tears to your eyes.

“Mine…Mine to fuck, mine to…to take…gonna look so good when you’re full of my cum…” Dante snarls against your skin, pounding his cock into the wall of your cervix with ferocity. He can’t take it anymore - he needs to come, he needs to watch it drip out of you precious cunt. Securing his hand around your ankle, Dante runts himself into your hole, gusts of wind sending goosebumps down your frame as his wings flap behind him with excitement. With a bellowing roar from him, you can feel the powerful deluge of seed swarm your body, gushing out and down your center. You feel like you’ve been hit by a semi-truck, limbs trembling and aching as you lay lifeless under him, gasping for air.

A glare of red light makes you wince, eyes straining against the light to see Dante devolve to his human form, dripping so much sweat it’s like he jumped in a pool. Dropping your ankles, he pushes himself between your legs and plants a sloppy, loving kiss on your mouth, hands threading in your hair. You kiss back weakly, shaky hands holding onto his arms. Pulling his head back, he examines you for any serious injuries, eyes conveying a battle of concern and satisfaction.

“You okay? Hurt? Was it too much? God, sorry- sorry, I-“

“Dante, I’m fine,” you let out a wavering chuckle, sitting up slightly. “That was…incredible. You were incredible.”

Dante meets your eyes again with a surprised laugh, in disbelief you’re praising him in a state like this. His fingers trail down to the bites along the outside of your thighs, vaguely recalling how your skin felt between his fangs in his primal craze. He remains plugged inside you, the intimate mixture of releases leaking between your bodies.

“Look at you…” Dante traces along a more gnarly mark in admiration, blood trickling over his finger. “How’d I get so damn lucky, huh?”

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks off the blood, that all-too-familiar teasing gleam in his eyes as they lock on yours. A throaty moan leaves him as he swallows, fingers falling away with a string of spit. The scene goes straight down to your heat, walls closing around on him with need. Sitting all the way up, you grab his hand and playfully nip at his wrist, dilated eyes devoted to memorizing him in this moment.

“Can we go again?”

“Again?” Dante laughs, raising both eyebrows at you. “Honey, I don’t think th-“

“Please,” you pout at him, kissing along his hand til you can slip two of his fingers between your lips. Dante’s jaw goes slack, a heady breath fanning over your face as his cock twitches inside you from your plea. With a hard swallow, he nods, free hand cupping your face.

“Fiiiiine,” he sighs out, putting on a show of dramatics before a smile tugs at his lips. “Flip over for me, princess.”

[aerynwrites]

Mixed Signals

Solas x reader/inquisitor

A/N: the Poll has spoken! y'all chose option 2 (I love that btw) so you shall receive. Some backstory - for whatever reason and despite having all the approval requirements and everything, my game bugged and I did NOT get the solas balcony romance scene and I'm MAD!!! idk what the scene was even supposed to be other than a kiss but yeah. here's this lol. this is also my first ever DAI pic so I apologize if things seem OOC. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, very slight angst, fluff, kisses, petting? lost of kissing.

 “I’ve disturbed you enough for the evening.”

Solas’ parting words ring in your head endlessly since he left your chambers yesterday. They had stunned you, making your brows furrow as his demeanor seemed to change. You were sure, so sure he was going to take a step forward in your relationship. Even though you’d both agreed to take the risk, the tension had never waned, as if one wrong move would destroy the fragile relationship you’ve built. 

When he left…you thought it had finally shattered. That not acting on the energy crackling in the air, Solas was - effectively - giving you a final verdict. 

That was until today, when you went to visit him, after hours spent in the war room. Cassandra wanted you to speak with him about his knowledge on the elven artifacts you’ve been finding throughout the region. 

You walked in, finding him sitting in his chair, thumbing through a worn leather book. 

“Solas -”

“Yes, vhenan?” 

You nearly choke on air, hiding it behind a small cough. The term of endearment was not one used lightly, especially not by Solas. Your heart was thrumming in your chest, eyes wide as Solas finally looked up from the withered pages at your silence. 

He raises a brow at you, closing the book on his thumb to keep his place. “Did you need to speak with me?” he asks, again. 

Your mind runs at breakneck speed, yet you’re still unable to comprehend his words, still stuck on his initial greeting. 

Vhenan…

Solas stands then, setting his book down before taking a few steps to stand before you, settling a gentle hand on your arm. 

“Vhenan…are you alright?” he asks, voice soft, concern glittering in his gaze.

Finally your eyes connect with his own, and it feels as if the breath is stolen from you once more. That memory from the fade playing over and over in your mind. But you quickly shake it off, breaking his gaze and looking at the wall over his shoulder. 

“Yes, I…” you trail off, voice small, unsure. “I seem to have forgotten what I came for. Forgive me.” 

You turn without another word, hurrying from his presence with a greater haste than when you arrived, leaving a baffled Solas in your wake. 

That had been hours ago, the sun having long set, yet sleep evades you as you lay in your too large bed in your too large chambers. You are more confused now than when he left you on your balcony just a day ago. He had a chance, a chance to speak with you about…well about whatever this was. You had expected as much when he asked to speak to you alone, in your chambers no less. Yet…he didn’t take it. And now, he’s calling you endearments you’d always dreamed of hearing from his lips, whispered against your skin…

With a frustrated huff you sit up in bed, tossing the covers aside. You are going to find answers, you have to talk to him. 

Quickly lighting a candle, you reach for the robe hanging on the post of your bed, pulling it over your shoulders before reaching for the candle once more. You make your way across the room, the chill of the stone floor sinking into the soles of your feet as you pad towards the door. 

Pulling the door open, you have to stop the shout that bubbles up in your chest as you’re met with the very person you were searching for. Solas stands on the threshold of your chambers, hand raised to knock, and the tips of his ears just the slightest tinge of red at having been caught. 

“Solas-” “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

You both speak at the same time before falling silent, waiting for the other to speak. 

“I was just-” “I need to speak with you”

By now your own cheeks are burning, as silence envelops you once more. 

“Well, this isn’t going to work.” you finally say, heart fluttering at the smile your words elicit from the elf in front of you.

“Conversation will not get far that way, no,” Solas concedes. 

You step aside, gesturing him in, a command he silently obeys. 

Neither of you speak for a moment, and you take the opportunity to light a few more candles around the room, noticing only briefly that Solas seems…nervous. 

“Vhenan-”

“Why do you call me that?” you interrupt, setting the last candle down on your bedside table. 

This question seems to perplex the man, his brows furrowing as confusion settles on his features. 

“Vhenan,” you repeat the term, “Why do you call me that?”

“Do you not like the term? I just assumed it was appropriate-”

“Why?” you interrupt again, all your confusion and inner turmoil and insecurities coming to the surface now that you're alone with him. “I didn’t think…I know you were hesitant about this relationship. I know you think it’s a risk. But you…you left, Solas.”

You can tell he wants to speak, but he stays silent, encouraging you to continue in his own peculiar way. 

“On the balcony,” you clarify. “I thought…you asked to speak with me and I thought-” you cut yourself off, clenching the fabric of your robe in your hands as you struggle to verbalize your thoughts without sounding like an idiot. 

“I thought there was more to  say, there was more you were going to say. About us. But then…you said that you respected me deeply but then you just left! As if you are some burden I wanted gone, or as if you aren’t worthy of my time, but I- I want this Solas. With you. I want you, and I thought you wanted me, and if you don’t that is fine. But you can’t keep sending these clashing signals-”

You don’t  even notice him approach, not until his lips meet your own, cool hands cradling your face as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. A kiss you eagerly return, hands dropping your robe to instead fist into the fabric of his tunic, pulling him impossibly closer, wishing you could pull him into your very being. 

You stumble blindly as Solas urges you backwards, your knees hitting the edge of the bed, Solas following you down to the feather mattress, catching his weight on his forearms. 

He never breaks the kiss, his lips molding against yours as fire runs through your veins, burning brighter than the summer sun. His hands, calloused from years of wielding his staff, slide beneath your robe and ruck up your night shirt in search of the soft skin beneath. 

You both only separate for desperate gasps of air before Solas is devouring you once more, teeth nipping at your lip before you feel his tongue slide along the seam of your lips. You clutch him tighter as he sighs into you at your willing acceptance, exploring your mouth with his own before he finally breaks away from you, nuzzling against your jaw as he presses feather light kisses there and down your neck. 

“I want you,” he breathes, hands clutching at your waist. “I crave you. And it terrifies me.” he admits. 

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, the thoughts that were scattered leagues apart from one another by his kisses, by his hands roaming over your skin. 

“You…you can be afraid and still do it,” you tell him. 

Solas chuckles then, an almost inaudible sound against your collar bone. 

“What do you think I’m doing?”

You smile, sliding your hands up to cup his jaw, urging him up to look at you, heart stuttering a the look in his eyes. 

“I thought…”

He shakes his head, turning to place a kiss on your palm. 

“I have not stopped thinking about our kiss in the fade,” he admits. “I’m sorry if my actions betrayed otherwise.” 

 “Will you stay?” you ask.

Solas smiles down at you before capturing you in another breathtaking kiss. 

“Nothing would please me more.”

Solas lifts himself from you, helping you beneath the covers before moving to extinguish the lights around the room. When the last one is blown out, you only know he joins you when the bed dips at your side, the covers lifting as he slides in beside you. 

Warm hands seek you out once more, lips fumbling in the dark until you kiss one last time, this one seeming to promise more than words ever could. 

Neither of you speak again. Not until you both settle, Solas’ body pressing into you from behind as his arms snake around your waist, legs tangling with your own. Not until you’re already in the dregs of slumber and you hear him call to you one last time.

“vhen’an’ara.”

[eomayas]

his friends and his dad hate me • chs

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fuckgirl!reader, fwb

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! angst

synopsis: you broke his little heart, he’s a cry baby. OR, reader excels in the male dominated field of being a female fuckboy! (based off ‘crybaby’ by megan thee stallion)

warnings: p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, riding, vernon gets his heart broke, reader is not a good person

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and needed to finish it 😭 i love when readers are morally gray or just wrong & bad! pls remember this is just fiction ok thx!

despite the protests from his friends and the little (though extremely loud) voice in the back of his head telling him this is a horrible idea, vernon grabs his car keys and tries to slip out of his apartment. “dude, we didn’t even get to finish the game! get back here!” wonwoo shouts, frustration clear in his voice. it’s bible in their friend group to finish any smash tournament that’s started, and he’s breaking the one and only most important rule.

“later!” vernon says, hand on the door knob. he’s sort of stalling, sort of wants to be told that he has to stay behind. the thing is, he’s pathetic, especially when it comes to you. he’d cross all seven seas to get to you, if you asked.

“she doesn’t even like you!” soonyoung shouts. vernon sighs and rolls his eyes, walking down to the hallway and stopping at the entrance of the living room. five of his friends look at him with mild disappointment and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“first of all, she invited me over so you’re wrong—and secondly, you’d all do the same if you had prospects but you don’t,” vernon says, letting out a breath. it felt good for him to fight back like that, though soonyoungs comment does leave him feeling sort of doubtful. very doubtful, actually, because he knows there’s some truth in his statement whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

minghao and joshua share a look and vernon sighs. “fuck you guys,” he says.

“yeah, whatever. but don’t come back here crying,” soonyoung says, a shit eating grin on his face. vernon flips him off, face flushing in embarrassment at the memory of him getting so drunk that he cried in mingyus arms at the club over you. they’ve never been able to let it go, bringing it up every time your name is mentioned. it’s mortifying, but a slight wake up call. except he’s not thinking with his head right now.

they all snicker, but minghao manages to give him a sympathetic shrug. it doesn’t do much to alleviate the doubt in his head, but the support is nice. simply put, his friends are not fans of you, and he doesn’t necessarily blame them. your relationship started out rocky and unserious—he was a late night booty call for you and a fill-in boyfriend without the title. he did boyfriend things with you—for you, thought you two were together until you dropped the bomb that you didn’t like him or want him like that. he was crushed, but he played it cool and told you that he wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway. that only made things worse, seeing that you only called him when you wanted some attention, and constantly made him feel like you wanted him.

the crying in the club bit was the straw that broke the camels back for his friends. they had a mock-intervention for him, urging him to delete your number and to find somebody else, but as if you were summoned at the mention of vernon moving on, you’d called him a few days later and got him back where you wanted him. he hasn’t been able to escape you since, caught in some spell or trap you put him under.

“whatever,” vernon mutters, pulling off his cap to run his fingers through his hair. “i’m leaving now.” he declares, urging himself to actually make the move to leave.

he’s halfway to the door when minghao calls out to him by saying, “my therapist would call this self-destructive behavior!”

vernon doesn’t have time to deeply evaluate his behavior as ‘self-destructive’, because he spends the twenty minute drive to your place psyching himself up. that alone should be indicative of the issue with seeing you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, he bumps his music and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

it’s not lost on him that he was able to make it to your place without directions, though he forgot how complicated the apartment parking lot was. by the time he finds a spot that he won’t get towed and/or fined in, he’s much later than when he said he’d be at your place.

vernon sends you a quick ‘here’ text before making his way towards the door to your apartment building. he presses the buzzer for your unit, and his pulse skyrockets. in the few seconds that it takes for you to answer, he spirals thinking of every negative possibility of your encounter. what if you really do hate him, like soonyoung said? and, if not, what if he sucks in bed? what if he says something stupid? what if you find out he’s a complete and utter loser?

“vernon?” your voice crackles through the intercom and shoots straight to fast beating heart, halting his mental spiral of doom, and putting him back in the moment. he’s nervous in a different way now. he’s so unsure of himself around you sometimes—which is definitely a sign that he should cut ties with you.

“y-yeah,” he clears his throat quickly, trying to cover up his shaky voice. “it’s me.” his finger nearly throbs in pain from how much pressure he’s putting on the buzzer.

with a loud pop, the door unlocks and vernon enters. he hikes the two stories to your apartment, and by the time he’s at your door he’s mildly winded from how fast he got up there. vernon stalls a few feet from your door to regain his breath (and confidence). he chews on his bottom lip for a second and glances down the hallway and considers making a run for it.

there isn’t much thought put into that, though, because his feet take him in the other direction towards your front door, and he’s raising his fist to send three soft knocks your way. vernon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighs, dropping his shoulders and rolling them back.

you pull the door open and his eyes snap down to you, and he swears his hearing goes out for a split second, because his face feels like it’s on fire and his muscles feel heavy. and then you smile at him, and he thinks he may melt into a puddle in front of your door. “vernon!” you squeal, laughing yourself onto him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms encircling around his neck. “you took forever.” you mumble, capturing his lips in a kiss that he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

vernon silently thanks the universe that he didn’t collapse when you attached yourself to him, and that he had enough sense to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs for support. “traffic,” he lies, walking the two of you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

he stops walking and the two of you make out for a few minutes. his nerves disappeared the moment you latched onto him. granted, hes a bit nervous, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out, or like he wants to make a run for it. “you look good, baby,” you purr once you pull back from his lips to really look at him. you run your hands through his short, brown hair and smile at him, and he decides right then and there that all of the pain and suffering you’ve put him through might be worth it, if you keep smiling at him like that.

untangling you legs from his waist, vernon helps set you down and lets his hands drag up your bare legs. your skin is soft like he remembers, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life rubbing and touching it. but your hands make use of pulling down his jacket zipper and subsequently helping him out of his coat, so he unfortunately has to pull his hands away from your thighs.

“have you been working out?” you question, setting his jacket on the back of one of your bar stools. vernon looks down at his own biceps and shrugs. “i lift sometimes, yeah,” he says. you walk back over to him and shamelessly feel him up. he’s still skinny, but there’s muscle in places you don’t necessarily remember him having.

“hmm,” is all you reply—it does a lot to cover up how badly you want to tear him out of his clothes. you grab his hand and lead him down the hallway to your bedroom.

“how’ve you been?” vernon asks. you giggle at his awkwardness and give him a look over you shoulder as you pull him into your bedroom.

“really great,” you push him lightly towards your bed, and crawl onto his lap, lips finding purchase on his neck. you grind down onto him as you suck a purple mark onto his neck. “what about you?” you ask in between kisses, voice slightly breathless.

“uh, fine,” vernon spits out, mind a bit hazy when you slip off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs. “better.” you smile at him sweetly, but your hands make quick work of unbuttoning his jeans. he helps you pull them down to his ankles, along with his underwear.

a soft whimper leaves you mouth at the sight of his semi-hard dick. you press your thighs together and reach forward to grab ahold of his member and start stroking his shaft. vernon looks down at you with parted lips; he feels like he’s in a dream, watching you on your knees below him. you’ve given him head before, but it was conditional. usually, when you felt guilty for something, or knew you made him upset you would suck him off. he tries to push the thoughts away, and succeeds when you wrap you lips around the tip and attempt to take all of him. “fuuuck,” he groans, gripping onto the edge of the bed.

vernon is embarrassed at how quickly you draw out loud moans from him just by massaging his balls as you work your mouth on him. he hasn’t been with anybody else in awhile—and he’s too embarrassed to ever admit that he’s good with just having you, even if he has to wait for you to call him.

“oh, fuck, y/n,” he whines, thighs tensing. he lets go of the mattress to gather your hair and wraps it around one of his hands. you moan against his crotch when he pulls, watery eyes flicking up to meet his own. spit gathers at the corners of your mouth and vernon knows this is an image he’ll never, ever forget. “shitshitshit!” his hips buck upwards and he expects you to pull your mouth off of him to use your hands to get him to his release, but you stay put.

it drives vernon crazy. he comes fast, and he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because you swallow, and then keep sucking after the fact. he’s never seen you act like this, and you’re a bit shocked at your own behavior—you hadn’t realized you missed him that much.

“y/n,” he whimpers, chin falling against his chest. you take that as a sign that he’s about to pass out, and reluctantly pull your mouth off of him with a pop. a trail of spit mixed with cum follows his cock to your mouth, and it makes you want to give him another blow job, but he looks too spent.

“vernon,” you start, getting off of your knees. he manages to sit upright before falling backwards onto your bed.

“give me a minute,” he croaks. you smile and take a few seconds of your own to catch your breath before you undress completely and crawl onto the bed next to him. vernon opens his eyes and looks over at you. “i wanted to do that.” he whines, referring to getting you naked, and reaches out for you.

you crawl on top of him and settle on his abdomen. his hands moves to your waist and his eyes stray trained on your breasts. you lean down a bit, practically putting your boobs in his face. vernon leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he shifts the two of you so he’s sitting up straight, thus shifting you down onto his crotch.

you can’t help but grind yourself against him as he plays with your breasts. he fondles the own that’s not in his mouth, and keeps his eyes on you. you moan softly above him, light little pants leaving your mouth that only encourage him. “nonie,” you whine, running your hands through his hair and gently tugging on the strands. “touch me. i want you to touch me.”

vernon pulls his mouth off of your breast and slides his hand that was on your waist up your spine. he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your mouth down to his own in a messy, heated kiss. he manages to flip the two of you over, propping himself up on an elbow and slipping his other hand between your legs.

“all for you,” you purr when he drags his fingers up your slit, a look of disbelief on his face at how wet you are. “need you, nonie. your fingers, mouth, all of it.” you whine, spreading your legs open for him. vernon liked how vocal you were about what you wanted from him. he wished you were as vocal about other aspects of your guys’ relationship, but he’ll take what he can get.

vernon dips two fingers inside of you, your arousal acting as a perfect lubricant. vernon kisses your neck and chest as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. his thumb presses on your clit and you moan out his name. “more, vernon,” you breathe, gripping onto his hair tightly. “fuck, i want you to fuck me vernon. can you fuck me?” you ask, clenching around his fingers.

his cock jumps at your tone of voice and request. “i can fuck you,” he rasps. he’d rather make you cum on his fingers first, but you wish is his command. he lifts up from you and pulls his shirt off. you rake your nails along his exposed abdomen, applying light pressure. you smirk up at him and he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. it’s much too intimate, but you can’t deny the butterflies it gives you.

“grab a condom,” you remind him, pointing to your nightstand when he grabs onto the base of his dick. he quickly moves to open the drawer, and he tries to ignore the photobooth strip of photos of you and some guy he’s never met is the first thing he sees. he pushes it out of the way and grabs a stray condom, and slams the drawer shut.

he rips open the package and rolls the condom on before grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder and lining himself up. vernon pushes his hips forward and sinks the tip in. “ah!” you gasp at the delicious stretch. quiet as it’s kept, vernon has a big dick and he knows how to use it. it’s unfortunate that he’s hung and is so shy about it—sometimes you wish he’d call you to fuck, rather than you doing it all the time. “fuck, vernon, you’re so big.” his body flushes with heat and he keeps pushing forward.

you suck him in welcomingly. he fits inside of you like you were made to be stuffed by him. he fucks into with a steady rhythm, and each time he pushes inside a moan is pushed form your lungs. vernon can’t keep his own moans contained, moaning our curses with each thrust. it’s dizzying, how turned on he is by you. he feels like he can’t think about anything other than fucking you and staying like this until eternity. he gets the morbid thought that he’d be okay if he died like this, buried inside of you.

“fuck, right there baby! you’re so good to me, fuck!” you shriek, mouth falling open as you look at there the two of you connect. you get lost in watching him disappear inside of you, by the white ring that’s formed at the base of his dick. the sounds vibrate off of the walls; squelching and skin on skin nearly deafening. “fuck me, vernon!” you cry, hips raising to meet his own.

tears brim in your eyes when he pulls your leg from his shoulder and shoves it up to your chest, spreading you open wider and fucking into you at a different angle. “i m-missed you,” he chokes out, shifting his weight to a single arm so he can grope your chest.

“me too,” you pant, chest arching up into his. you chase his lips with your own, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. your mouths press together, but not in a kiss. you pant and moan harshly against each other, his hips rutting into you at a faster, less rhythmic pace.

“i-im close,” he whimpers, placing an open mouthed kiss on the corner of your lips. you whine out his name as he speeds up his pace, your arms sliding up his back. you dig your nails into his skin, definitely leaving scratches. “fuck, you’re perfect.” he whispers, eyes looking into yours.

you whimper and squeeze around him before your release comes crashing over you. “nonie!” you cry, clutching onto him like a life raft as he fucks you through your orgasm. his strokes lose rhythm completely and moments later he’s coming into the condom, stilling inside of you as he does. you almost wish he wasn’t wearing a condom, so you could feel him.

vernon drops on top of you, his arms too weak to hold himself up. you cling to him, hands running through his hair absentmindedly. you don’t mind the weight of him on you, and you especially don’t mind the fact that he’s still inside of you. you have a soft spot for vernon, even though it may not seem like it. he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever been with—much nicer than the guys you’re typically acquainted with—and he’s sweet to you, even when you don’t deserve it. you know you should probably let him go, free him of your games, but something in you won’t let you. and that same something won’t let you like him—love him—how he deserves.

“vernon,” you murmur, rubbing his back.

“hmm.”

“im hot, and you’re heavy,” you say with a soft giggle. he smiles into the sheets and lifts himself up and pulls himself out of you. both of you whimper pathetically at the loss of contact, and laugh at each other seconds later. he drops down beside you on the bed, rolling onto his back. you roll onto your stomach and rest your chin on his chest before resting on your cheek, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

vernon strokes your hair and keeps his eyes on you. if he was a cartoon, his heart would be beating out of his chest and hearts would be shooting out of his eyes.

“you’re staring,” you mutter, rubbing his side.

“because you’re pretty,” he says, hand sliding from your waist to your ass. you roll your eyes and sit up onto your knees and look down at him. you can’t contain the urge to smile or kiss him, so you do both. “you should go pee.” he mumbles, breaking the kiss.

“right,” you say, quickly getting off the bed. no other guy would remind you to pee after sex, but of course vernon does. every single time, too. you wish you could leave him alone.

vernon sits up and grabs his boxers. he pulls them on and stretches his arms above his head, sighing when he feels a pop in his shoulders. somewhere behind him, a phone buzzes once, then twice, then incessantly. he doesn’t know where his phone is, so he digs around in the bed until he finds the source, pulling out the phone from under a pillow. it’s definitely not his, so he feels sort of strange holding it as the name ‘seungcheol’ flashes across the screen.

“what are you doing with my phone?” you ask with an accusatory tone, eyebrows furrowed as you tie your robe.

“i couldn’t find mine, and it was ringing,” vernon says, holding it out to you. you snatch it out of his hand unnecessarily, ready to tell him to mind his business until you look down at the screen and see three texts and a missed call from a guy you’re seeing. it’s not super serious, but you feel bad for vernon having to see it.

“sorry,” you mutter, quickly typing out a response to seungcheol. you try to shove the guilt down as you set your phone down on your dresser. it’s awkward and tense, and you can feel him watching you as you mess around with things on your dresser.

glancing up, you catch his eyes in the mirror and sigh before turning around to face him. you crawl onto the bed next to him and sit on your knees. he won’t meet your eyes, so you try the only thing to bring him back to you.

you kiss his neck and run your hands across his chest. he doesn’t react so you pull your robe open and grab his hand, placing it on your chest and squeezing. “vernon,” you murmur, crawling into his lap. you kiss up his neck, to his jaw, and when you get to his mouth he pulls back.

it’s not his business at all, but he can’t hold back when he asks, “who was that?”

you bite your bottom lip and encircle your arms around your neck. you press your weight into his crotch and bite back a smile when he covers a groan with a throat clear. “he’s just a friend, nonie,” you lie, kissing his cheek. “you have me. all of me.”

he looks up at you with wide eyes, and you feel his cock twitch under your ass. he’s pathetic, and it’s never been more clear to him because he kisses you and palms your breast, pinching your nipple lightly and shoving off your robe. he knows he’s reaches new lows because he lets you push him flat onto the bed and pull his underwear down. when you sink down onto him—with no condom this time—he knows he’s fucked.

you ride him like your life depends on it, like him forgetting that seungcheol ever called is imperative to keeping this thing going between the two of you, because it is. you bring out all the stops, riding him on your toes and telling him things he definitely wants to hear, like how nobody feels better than him, and he’s the best you’ve ever had.

vernon leaves your apartment with clarity on one thing: he understands why his friends can’t stand you.

[henry7931]

The Brat Who Mowed My Lawn

Harold:

You know this kid is a real piece of work! But now that I have his body that’s all gonna change.

Chase has mowed my lawn for a couple of years now and I should have fired him for his poor attitude awhile ago.

The only is that he’s only one around I know who will do it well. Being an old man, it’s hard to get around but my ears and eyes still work!

Well I guess that’s a problem of the past for me and more of a problem for Chase.

All I do is catch that boy up to know good. And I knew for a fact he was going to be just as much of a bully and an a hole in college as we was for the last 18 years of his life.

What really upset me was how mean he would be to that sweet gay kid next door Joseph. That kid didn’t do anything to him!

Well I got a surprise for Chase when he wakes up from my nap, not only is now old, going to have trouble moving around but he’s going to hear about his body coming out as a proud gay man!

You know this is the last thing I’m going to do for him which is a free mow of his new lawn haha!

Now I better get back to my new home before he wakes up.

10 minutes later:

“Wooowee!! These piggies right here stink!”

But look how sexy my new young toes look! Let me get a good ole sniff…

*sniff*

Boy that makes my new pecker harder than a pool!

I take a little peak at my growing boner and it’s a pretty good size.

I walk over to my window to see if he’s gotten up yet but that’s when I spot that sweet gay boy walking.

I crack open the window and say, “Joseph!! Hey hold up a minute, I wanna talk to you!”

He looks nervous and I say, “I promise, it’s nothing bad. Just give me 2 minutes.”

I run downstairs and meet him at my door.

He looks at me shyly and I say, “hey I owe you an apology.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I’ve been awful to you and— it’s because I haven’t been honest with myself. I just see you out here being so you and truthful… I guess what I’m trying to say is…. I’m gay too.”

He looks shocked hearing the words come out of my mouth.

“It’s okay Chase, I uhhh I’m kinda surprised but thank you for the apology.”

“Well how I’ve been was not acceptable at all and I would love to make it up to you.”

“Yeah?”

I scoot closer to him, “I think you’re awfully cute and uh… what are you doing right now?”

I was gonna ask him on a date but my bodies hormones are losing control right now.

“Nothing really.”

“Well you wanna hang out?”

1 hour later:

So Joseph and I made out for a bit which kinda led us to heavy pettin’

And well I may have let him explore my new body. And we’re pretty compatible, we both like smelly pits, dirty feet, he even let me play with his cute toes too.

But the best part was the foot job he gave me. It felt amazing on my new pecker. He even let me lick all the cum off his toes.

Now he wants to come back tonight for a “sleepover.” Good thing is that my new parents won’t mind, that it matters I’m a grown adult at my age.

Oh wait I’m getting a FaceTime, oh look who it is! It’s the old sleepy grandpa.

“Hello Mr. Harold, how did you like your yard?”

“SHUT UP OLD MAN! AND GIVE ME BACK MY BODY!”

“Oh no, is everything okay over there? You don’t sound well. Should I call someone?”

“Don’t play stupid! You need to give me back my body or—“

“Or what exactly? You’re going to beat me up? Tell someone? Listen, I don’t think anyone had ever taught you a lesson so I’ll make this easy for you.”

*click*

Poor old man, sounds like he’s going through a lot. Oh well!

*A Few Months Later*

“Ugh are you going to tease me with this clothes on or are you gonna join me?” says Joseph my currently naked boyfriend standing with an erection in front of me.

“Well let me start out with my socks, I know you love my feet after a long day.”

“God you I do love your feet but I especially love that nice cock of yours.”

Joseph impatiently hops into the recliner with me and I embrace his body wrapping my hands and with his cock.

“So glad your parents are out of town, I can’t wait until we’re ‘college roommates’ next week.”

“I know then we can do this every night,” I say pinching his ass.

Joesph or Joey as I like to call him makes a yelping noise,

“Oh my god, I forgot to ask you. Did you hear about our old neighbor next door?”

“Oh yeah, poor old guy. Well you wanna take this upstairs because I’m horny as f*ck now.”

“Please! And you better fuck me tonight Chase, I’m not giving you a foot job again.”

“But!!! But you’re so good at them baby and your feet are so sexy!”

“Nope I want you rail me.”

“Fine!”

[alotofpockets]

My jersey | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Reader

Prompt: "You're wearing my jersey."

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 1k

When Katie asked you to come back to Ireland with her to visit her family, you were very excited as it was a big step in your relationship. However, now that you had landed in Ireland, you were only feeling nervous. “They are going to love you.” Katie reassured you one more time before entering her childhood home. Your girlfriend had a big family but the following week it would be mostly her parents and her younger sister Lauryn at the house. 

As Katie predicted, her parents loved you, and you got along great. They made Katie’s favorite meal for her coming home dinner, which according to Sharon was a tradition they created years ago. You thought it was a very sweet tradition and were happy to participate with the amazing food that was served. The first day of your stay was short, since you landed pretty late, so after dinner you played some games with her family before calling it a night.

The next morning you wake up before Katie, you get up and look around her childhood bedroom, something you didn’t get to last night. Her shelves are full of trophies and medals, and the wall above her dresser is filled with pictures of her with her family and friends. Your eyes land on one with her and Lauryn, both decked out in muddy soccer gear, paired with big smiles. “Good morning, baby.” Katie says from behind you. “Good morning, darling.” You quickly make your way back to the bed for some morning cuddles, placing soft kisses on her lips once you’re under the covers again. 

Katie has a meeting with her national team coaches today, which she was currently getting ready for. “Are you sure you’ll be fine here? I would take you with me if I could, I promise.” Katie asks for the fifth time this morning. “Yes, darling, I will be fine. Now go, you’re going to be late.” You say while practically dragging her out of her bedroom. 

Once Katie was out the door you realized that her sister was looking a bit sad, you sat down on the couch with her. “Hey, Lauryn, is everything alright?” You ask her. “It’s fine.” She quickly shoots back but you could read on her face that it wasn’t. “Okay, I won’t push but know that you can talk to me if you want to.” You were about to stand up to give the girl some space, when she started to confide in you. “Katie promised to help me practice but now she’s here but is in meetings, and you’re here. No offense of course, I’m very glad that Katie has found someone, and you’re really nice, I just meant that I know she will want to spend time with you.” You nod along to what she shares. “Well, two things. First of all, Katie has been talking about you the whole week. How far you’ve come with soccer already, how proud she is of you, and how excited she is to play with you.” You give Lauryn a moment to let the first part sink in before you continue. “Second of all, I know family is very important to Katie, and I would never stand in between that. I want you to know that my relationship with your sister does not change anything for your relationship with her. You need her, and she will be there, that will never change. Not that she would in the first place, but I would never let her break any promise that she made to you.” You managed to get a smile back on Lauryn’s face. “Thank you, y/n. I needed that.” You share a quick hug. 

“Hey, I know I’m no Katie McCabe, captain of the Ireland national team, but I’ve got some experience being on the England national team and all.” You joke, “Would you like to go to the field and kick the ball around?” You both head to your rooms to change, meeting back downstairs. 

When Katie gets back she only finds her mom there. “Hi mum, have you seen y/n?” Her mom smiles, knowing her daughter had found a good one, having overheard your earlier conversation with Lauryn. “Yeah, y/n and Lauryn went to the field a little over an hour ago.” Katie thanks her mother before heading to the field.

She realizes that neither one of you had noticed her yet, so she took that time to admire the scene in front of her. You were running drills with her sister. Showing Lauryn a technique and then helping her perfect it. The interaction with her sister wasn't the only thing she was admiring. She was also admiring you in the jersey you were wearing. An Ireland jersey with her name and number on the back. 

She snaps a quick picture before she shoots the ball that had come rolling her way back your way, successfully hitting the back of the net. Both you and Lauryn turn around to see who took the shot, you smile when you see Katie. “Show off!” You yell her way.

You meet her half way, while Lauryn continues working on the technique you just showed her. “Hi darling. How was your meeting?” You say before placing a kiss to her cheek. “It was good, they wanted my opinion on some potential new recruits.” While Katie talks about the meeting, you notice she keeps looking at your outfit with a doped grin. “What's got you smiling like that, darling?” You ask pretending you don't know the reason. 

"You're wearing my jersey." She states, still checking you out. “I like it.” She quickly pecks your lips, before running off to join her sister on the field. Seeing you wearing her national team jersey felt so special to her, especially since you play for a different country. 

You spend the rest of the afternoon on the field with Katie and Lauryn, only heading back when it was time for dinner. The food was amazing, once again. All the nerves about meeting Katie's family had dissolved after meeting them, they made you feel right at home.

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[juanbodyswapstfs]

Being my Uncle John.

Every year, On the 1st day of the six month, 2 males in Jacks family switch bodies for a month. Unfortunate for Jack, he is a male. But fortunate enough for him, he has never been switched, but this year would be different.

1 day before.

“Aw cmon bud its not that bad.” “You have never been switched before anyways.” said my Dad. “I know but what if this year is different?” I said. “Like I said, Its not that bad.” “Unless your luck runs out and you get switched for many years in a row like your Uncle mark.” “But that’ll never happen ha.” said my dad with a unsure tone. “Yeah I guess your right.” “How have you switched with before dad?” I said. “Oh I switched many times haha, With your uncle Mark, your uncle Tom, and even your grandpa Joe! hahaha.” “But for some reason your uncle John has never switched, lucky son of a bastard.” Im really hoping I don’t get switced but something inside of me wants me too. Just the thought of being a real man, just feels so right. Now its time to go to Bed and wake up as myself or even one of my uncles, I really hope I switch with one of my Uncles it just feels right.

The next day,

As I woke up, I knew something wasn’t right, it felt like my cock and everything else has doubled in size, I mean WOW, this cock is really huge! I mean i like girls and all but im way more attracted to men. I stood up on the side of the bed and just admired the manly body im in, as i looked closer I realized im in the body of my uncle John, which has also never been switched.

I was having fun being in this big body, but then I realized im gonna have to be John, he has a life, job, and even husband! good thing his husband is on a business trip and gets back on the day we switch back. I decided to call my “nephew”. “Yo how ya doing bud?” I said with a grin. “Im doing great Uncle John!” “How do you like being a man?” said Uncle John. “Amazing, how do you like being a teenager again?” I said. “Ha you are exactly how I was when I was a teenager.” Uncle John said. “Ok now lets get serious, how do I become you?” I said. “Ok first thing off, I have a job at the gym as a trainer, they should know what to do just hype them up.” “My husband is on a business trip so he shouldn’t be a problem, pretty easy right?” Uncle John said. “Yeah not so bad after all.” I then tell Uncle John how to pass as me and we eventually hang up. I now got dressed and jerked off before I headed to the Gym. It was amazing how much this body can come and how big my balls are now.

At the Gym I got greeted by some muscular men, which I tried to hide my boner from. Turns out I was pretty good as a trainer, It was like I’ve been doing this my whole life! After my shift, I decided to go take a sneak peek at the locker room, I mean just a peak right? Then I saw a guy with his package out and couldn’t help get cum a little. I mean, if John didn’t have a husband I would totally help him out. I then headed home and took a hot warm bath and played with my cock. I then went to bed. It’s pretty fun being uncle John I wish I could be him forever.

The next day,

Its now the next day and I woke up with a huge morning wood. It was the weekend which means I didn’t have to go to work and had the whole day to myself! But then I got a call from my husband, “Hey John, im coming back early in the afternoon can we have some.. alone time?” said my husband Joseph. “Of course my love, anything for you.” I said. “How is your families swap going? Do you know who switched?” Joseph said. “Uh no actually.” I said. “Okay well get ready for when I come back!” “definitely” I said then hanged up. I know how bad it seems lying but I just wanna feel how this body would be during sex.

In the afternoon,

As I was getting ready for uncle Johns husband to come back I got a call from uncle John, “Hey “Uncle John” is Joseph coming from home from his trip early?” Said Uncle john. “No he hasn’t called me or anything why?” I said lying. “Just wondering, If he is, please don’t do anything with him please.” Uncle John said. “Gotcha nephew.” I said and then hanged up. I felt bad lying to Uncle John but I just wanna experience getting fucked in this big manly body. An hour later Joseph knocked on the door and greeted me. “Hey babe, I’ve missed you and your big manly ass.” Joseph said. “I missed you too and that big monster.” I said. I knew it was wrong what I was doing but it was natural for some reason. Joseph then proceeds to take of his shoes and puts his feet on the coffee table. “Babe you know what to do.”Joseph said in a stern voice. “Oh yes master.” I said obeying his orders. I get down on my knees and lick his big manly feet.

He then proceeded to Unbuckle his pants.

“Now suck my cock boy.” “Yes sir.” I started sucking my “husbands” cock and loved the feeling. I loved being commanded by a big man and obeying him, I could do this forever.

“Now roll over and let me fuck your ass.” He then fucked my ass and I could feel the hot cum. “Good boy, Now continue to lick my feet and my armpits.”

We continued for about 18 minutes, I really did love him and could live happily with him forever. If only I could stay in this body forever. Joseph then left the store and Uncle John called me. “Hey uncle the switch is almost over, and be honest, did you jerk off or have sex in my body its important beca-” “I jerked off in your body and had sex with your husband im sorry I didn’t mean to.” I said regretting everything I have done. “YOU DID WHAT. NOW WE CANT SWITCH BACK.” Said my nephew angrily. But then I realized that this means my “uncle” is now my nephew, so I had more authority over him and he should obey me. “I don’t know who your talking to young man, but that is not a way to talk to your uncle John.” “The closest thing you get to this body is me fucking your teenager ass.” I said with a stern voice. I then hanged up and jerked off to the fact that im now John. I admired every inch of my body until Joseph came back. When he comes back im not gonna be the servant, Im gonna fuck his ass and command him to suck my dick.

[strwbrrychnnie]

< about time >

pairing:: bang chan x older male reader genre:: smut // fluff - - minors dni!! word count:: 2.9k summary:: you’re an overworked college student and your best friend, bang chan, is a famous kpop idol. he’s constantly busy and you haven’t seen him in months. he surprises you with a visit late one night, and scenes in the movie you watch sparks a flame you didn’t know existed between you two. warnings:: smut !!! unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), slight d / s dynamic, dirty talk, praise, slight pet play if you squint, swearing, petnames, age dynamic & honorifics, crying notes:: my first work on here :fingers-crossed: not entirely proofread either srry ;; i’ve actually never seen ‘about time,’ but i know vaguely what happens in it- bare with me if i get anything wrong ,,</3 i don’t know how to end stories i’m so sorry

it’s been a long day. you’ve been working on your homework all day- reading textbooks and taking notes, replying to insufferable classmates on discussion posts, studying for an upcoming test. all you want is someone to hold you, and nobody comes to mind.

that is, except for your best friend, chan.

he’s always there when you need him, but he's beyond busy. he’ll pick up every call within a ring or two, but never has time to talk more than five minutes. but he never forgets to text you good night, sleep well, to dream happy thoughts.

you groan, leaning back in your chair. would he come over if you asked? does he even have the time? is he even still in korea? you spiral and spiral until you eventually pick up your phone, deciding to find out for yourself.

he picks up before the first ring, a coarse voice filling your ear. “y/n? you okay? it’s 2am, sweetheart.” your heart aches at the petname.

“i- sorry. i’ve been up working on homework, i didn't mean to wake you up.” you whisper into the phone. chan laughs gently.

“i’ve been up. don't worry about me, it's just good to hear your voice.” a silence falls over you, registering his compliment. “you there?”

“yeah- yeah, sorry. just…” you bite your tongue. “i miss you, chan.” he sighs on the other end of the phone.

“i miss you too. look, how about… i wrap things up here, and come over?” your eyes widen.

“wait, really? can you even do that?” chan laughs again.

“of course i can, y/n. i don't have a schedule tomorrow, so i can do whatever i want tonight. would you like that?” chan teases.

“yes, please. i need you.” you bite your lip at your neediness. chan chuckles, and you hear a rustling on his end of the phone.

“you need me, baby boy? did i hear that right?” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“that’s hyung to you, sir.” you correct.

“you're barely older than me! don't make me call you that.” chan whines.

“yeah, yeah. hurry up over there and come over, okay?” chan huffs playfully.

“okay. give me like thirty minutes, i'll head out right as i finish.” you smile, pursing your lips together at the thought of seeing him again.

“see you soon, channie.”

“see you soon, y/n-ie.”

---

it's almost exactly thirty minutes before you hear a knock at your door. you jump up, running to unlock it, greeted with your best friend dressed in all black.

“hi, channie.” you say softly, playing with the hem of your shirt. chan smiles, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“hi, hyung. i missed you.” chan whispers as you sigh, wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. chan chuckles, squeezing you tighter. “you okay?” you shake your head.

“just… long day. needed to be around someone.” chan nods, caressing your back, holding you tight.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m here now, okay?” you bury your face deeper into his neck.

“okay.”

it feels like eternity, standing there in the atrium, hugging chan. but you wouldn't have it any other way. chan breaks the silence, clearing his throat.

“hyung, let's go to your room. you need to get some rest.” you groan, holding chan tighter.

“i'm not tired. i still have work i need to do, i’m so behind and-”

“hey, hey.” chan pulls away, holding your shoulders at an arm’s distance. “don't worry about all that. just get some rest, with me, yeah?” chan cups your face in his hand, caressing your cheek. you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut.

“okay.. fine.” you give up, melting into chan’s touch. chan giggles, moving a hand from your shoulder down to your hand.

“that’s my hyungie.” chan praises, leading you up to your bedroom. 

once you get there, you sit against the headboard of the bed, pulling a blanket over your lower half. “let me help you.” chan offers, sitting beside you and gently pulling the blanket over both of you. “we can watch a movie or something if you want?” chan suggests, snuggling closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder.

“we can watch something, i'm okay with that.” you lay your head against chan's head, closing your eyes and sighing softly. chan moves a hand to your thigh, caressing it softly.

“alright, anything in particular you want to watch?” chan asks, rubbing small circles on your thigh, feeling your breathing slow down. “or should we pick something together?” chan hums, enjoying the warmth of your body against his.

“what was that movie you watched with stay the other day?” you ask. “i was busy when you watched it, so i never got to see it.”

“oh- about time?” chan blushes. “that’s like my favorite movie. i’d so be okay with watching that again.” you smile, reaching for the remote and turning on the tv. you pull up the movie and press play, chan’s thigh against yours, his hand caressing your skin.

the two of you enjoy the movie, cuddling and leaning against each other. about halfway through, a sex scene pops up on the screen, shocking you. you purse your lips, trying to focus on the screen, instead of the hand on your bare thigh. chan continues caressing your skin, seemingly unbothered by the scene on the tv.

“hyung.” chan whispers, moving his hand closer to your inner thigh. “i’ll stop if you tell me to.” you shake your head, eyes falling down to the blankets, covering chan’s hand.

“it’s.. it’s okay.” chan hums, continuing to stroke your thigh, matching the rhythm of the movie's steamy scene. he keeps his gaze on the screen, as you bite your lip and refuse to look up. chan slowly snakes his hand up your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. chan nuzzles his face against your shoulder, as you bite back a whimper.

“hyung...” chan murmurs, turning to you, stopping his hand right above your growing bulge. “do you want me to stop?” his voice trembles, his breath warm against your neck.

you shake your head. “no, i… please keep going.” the movie forgotten, you purse your lips together, turning away from chan from embarrassment.

“good boy.” chan praises, his heart pounding out of his chest. he slides his hand up to your clothed erection, palming it gently through your shorts. chan presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, slipping a hand under your shorts and cupping your length over your underwear. you whimper, squeezing your eyes closed.

“channie…”

“shh, it’s okay, hyung. i’ve got you.” chan reassures, stroking your erection through your underwear. he presses soft kisses down your neck, nibbling gentle marks into your skin. “so fucking hot for me, yeah?” chan teases, increasing the pressure slightly.

“shit…” you bite back a moan, looking down at where chan is touching you.

“i know, baby.” chan coos, feeling you twitch beneath his touch. “i want to make you feel good, okay?” chan whispers, sliding his hand inside your underwear and gripping you gently. “is this okay?” he asks, his own erection straining against his pants.

“yes, yes, please, channie.” you beg, your dick twitching in chan’s hold. you shift the blanket, moving it off your crotch so you can watch him touch you. the cold air is a welcome feeling, as chan’s hand is so warm against you.

“fuck, hyung.” chan gasps, his eyes widening at the sight of your hardened length. he takes a deep breath, leaning down and taking you into his mouth.

“chris! oh, fuck.” you buck up into his mouth at the sudden feeling, his mouth warm and tight around your cock. chan chuckles around you at the use of his real name, as he moves a hand down to play with your balls gently.

chan hums around you, sucking harder, his tongue dancing along your shaft. chan caresses your balls gently, eliciting another whimper from you. “you taste so good.” he lifts off your cock to breathe, then dives back in, swallowing your length fully and bobbing his head rhythmically.

“channie, oh my god.” you bury a hand in his hair, just petting it, not trying to force him to stay down on your cock. you throw your head back, whimpering as chan swallows around you.

“i’m not stopping, hyung.” chan promises, leaning back down, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks you deep. chan releases your balls, gripping your thighs tightly, hard enough to leave marks. “cum in my mouth, hyung.” he begs. chan increases his pace, sucking harder and bobbing quicker, his saliva dripping down your shaft. he takes you fully in his mouth, his nose brushing against your pubic bone. you hold back a loud moan and bite your bottom lip. 

“close, channie. so close.” chan nods, swallowing around you, humming gently. a hot flash runs through your body, your hips bucking involuntarily into chan’s mouth. you come with a loud groan, filling chan’s mouth with your warm seed. you shake through your orgasm, your body going weak and your head falling back against the headboard. you pant, petting chan’s hair as he gently sucks you clean.

“there you go, baby.” chan praises, swallowing your cum and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he presses a kiss to the side of your cock, humming happily. “are you alright?” chan asks, looking up, concern in his voice. you nod, visibly exhausted, opening your eyes slowly to see a red-faced chan with a crooked smile, his mouth slightly open.

“i- thank you, chan. that was…” chan giggles, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“anytime, hyungie.” chan smiles, his heart racing. he sits closer to you, pulling you into a hug. “how do you feel?” he asks, his erection hard against your hip. you blush, leaning into his hug, shifting so your hip brushes against his bulge. chan whimpers, burying his face into your neck.

“i’m okay… what about you, channie? can i help you?” you whisper, caressing his inner thigh. chan whines, breathing heavily against your neck.

“hyung...” chan stammers, his erection pulsating against your hip. “i want to fuck you.” he confesses, his voice barely audible. “but only if you're okay with that.” he adds, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“oh, god.” you throw your head back in shock. “i want nothing more than that. please?” you plead and chan lets go of you, throwing the blankets off you both, sitting in front of you. he carefully guides you to lay on your back, your head against the pillow. chan giggles, slipping your shorts and underwear off your legs, leaving you alone in your shirt. chan slips off his shirt, revealing his perfectly toned body. you purse your lips together, admiring his body. “you’re so beautiful, chris.” chan blushes, looking away, covering his face with his hands.

“stoppp… i’m not.. i’m not beautiful.” you pull chan down, his legs kneeling on either side of your torso. you cup chan’s face with one of your hands, the other placed on his chest.

“you’re perfect, in every way. you’re so, so, pretty, christopher.” chan whines, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his face flushed red. “i mean it, baby. you’re so beautiful.” chan groans, pulling himself up.

“okay, okay, i get it, you’re in love with me.” chan teases, kneeling on his shins, slipping out of his shorts and underwear. you tilt your head to the side, admiring chan’s body.

“you’re not wrong. i’ve kinda always been in love with you, chris.” chan stops in his tracks, making eye contact with you.

“i… i love you too, hyung.” chan mumbles, his heart overflowing with emotion. he looks down, pumping his cock twice, his tip wet with precum.

you melt, reaching your hand out to hold chan’s. “so pretty, channie.” chan shakes his head, shy, taking your hand into his.

“hyung…” chan whimpers, his eyes locked on yours. he positions himself between your legs, his tip pressing against your entrance. “are you sure?” he asks, his voice shaking. you nod.

“i’m sure, channie. i’m good, go ahead.” you squeeze chan’s hand. chan takes a deep breath, pushing in slowly, hissing as he feels the tightness of your entrance. he stops, waiting for you to adjust. 

“you okay?” he asks, his face flushed. you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping chan’s hand tightly.

“so- so big, channie.”

“sorry, hyungie.” chan apologizes, pulling out slightly and slowly pushes in again, a little further this time. “i’ll be gentle, i promise.” he whispers, his eyes locked on your face. you purse your lips together, gripping chan’s hand as tight as you can.

“it’s okay- ah,” you whimper. “you can go deeper. i can take it.” chan nods, thrusting slightly deeper, eyes blown wide at the sensation.

“fuck, you’re so tight, hyung.” he groans, starting a gentle pace, rocking back and forth out of you. you throw your head back at the burn, squeezing chan’s hand at every thrust. he squeezes back gently.

“puppy, feels so good.”

you can feel chan twitch inside of you, and he collapses onto your chest. he breathes heavily, holding your hand tight, stalling the movement of his hips.

“call me that again.” you chuckle, slipping your free hand into his hair.

“what..? puppy?” chan whines, burying his face into your shirt. he ruts up into you involuntarily, groaning as he pushes deeper into you.

“you’re driving me crazy, hyung.” his thrusts pick up again, going deeper every time. you softly pull his hair, groaning at the wonderful mix of pleasure and pain.

“just like that, puppy, you’re doing so well.” chan gasps into your shirt, his pace growing frantic. he fucks you harder, his free hand gripping your hip tightly. you moan loudly, eyes blown wide, watching chan fall apart on top of you.

“i’m- fuck, i’ll cum if you keep calling me that.” he bites the fabric of your shirt, his dick twitching inside of you as he ruts deeper into you. you squeeze his hand, pulling his hair so he lifts his head. chan looks up at you with teary eyes, a pout on his lips. you pull him closer, kissing him gently, your tongue running over his bottom lip. chan whimpers into the kiss, his dick throbbing inside of you. he slips his tongue inside your mouth, matching the frantic movement of his hips. he bites gently at your bottom lip, licking into you hungrily.

“good boy,” you whisper between kisses. “just like that, puppy.” you suck on chan’s tongue, squeezing his hand. chan moans into your mouth, his thrusts becoming sloppy. he fucks you harder, feeling his orgasm building up.

“hyung!” chan cries out, holding your waist tightly. he gasps between kisses.

“come on, puppy, you’ve got it.” you praise, kissing his nose. “come for me, pretty boy.”

chan chokes out a sob, arching his back, releasing into you. he kisses you hungrily, riding out his high. “i love you, hyung.” he whimpers, spilling his seed into you, pumping it deeper. you pet his hair gently, letting go of his hand. you cup his face, caressing his cheek, wiping a stray tear off his face.

“you did so well for me, puppy. i love you so much.” chan nuzzles his face into your hand, quietly letting the tears fall. “hey, hey, are you okay..?” you panic, frantically wiping his tears with both hands. chan nods in your hands, taking a deep breath.

“yeah, i’m sorry, just…” chan wipes his own tears away, embarrassed. he buries his face into your chest, murmuring. “just overwhelmed.” his voice cracks. your heart aches.

“i know, baby. i’ve got you.” you hold him closer, petting his hair and kissing his scalp. chan whimpers, holding onto you tightly. he lays on top of you, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath.

“you made me feel so good, hyung. thank you.” he mumbles into your shirt. you chuckle, tilting his head up by his chin to meet your eyes.

“anytime, channie. that was perfect.” you kiss chan’s nose. he giggles, kissing your lips tenderly. he smiles into the kiss, burying his face into your neck.

“thank you, hyung.” he whispers, nuzzling his face against your skin. you squeeze chan in your arms, sighing contentedly.

“i’ll hold you as long as you need, but we need to clean up soon, baby.” you caress his back, skating your fingertips along his muscles. chan shivers, snuggling into your embrace. he nods slightly, then slowly sits up, slipping out of you with a groan.

“we- we should clean up now, i think.” you nod, sitting up, wincing as globs of chan’s cum spill out of you onto the bedsheets. you chuckle, looking down at the blankets. 

“we’re gonna have to do laundry, too.” chan giggles, helping you up to your feet, kissing your shoulder.

“let’s do that tomorrow, yeah? for now…” chan pulls you in for a passionate kiss. “let’s take a shower, okay?” he whispers against your lips. you nod, rubbing your nose against his.

“good idea, pup.” chan blushes, covering his face with his hand.

“stoppp it, hyung.” he whines, turning away and heading towards the bathroom as you follow closely behind, knowing that tonight is nowhere near over.

[ugotcooneycrossed]

girlfriend or girl thats a friend? • kyra cooney-cross

w/c: ~1k

you and kyra are something- you just dont exactly know what yet. thankfully nobody knows how to mind their own business

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

It feels a bit unreal right now- you’re at you’re first world cup, basecamp is just as cool as you imagined and you take a second, to take it all in.

In reality it’s not that impressive- it’s just a hotel after all, but you’ve never been more nervous, or, excited about anything.

Well- except for the Olympics.

You remember Kyra waking you up at midnight- convincing you to sneak out with her to explore Yokohama before training.

You walked hand-in-hand for hours in the city- eventually sitting on some random bench watching the city lights together.

You both fell asleep in training the next day.

You feel a shoulder bump yours- and your taken out of your daydream, Kyra smiling softly at you.

“You okay?”

She asks you- almost whispering, as if it’s just a little secret between you two, and you smile back at her.

“Yeah- of course.”

She nods her head in approval, and holds out her hand to you- palm up, silently asking for you hand.

You lace your fingers together- and let her tug you to the elevator.

“Roomies?”

“Of course- wouldn’t dream of anyone else.”

-

“Hey- (y/n), you awake?”

It’s dark in the room- and definitely way past your bedtime.

You can hear Kyra’s sheets rustling though- and can blearily make out her turning to face you in the dark.

You reach over to flick on the bedside light- and she flinches at the sudden brightness.

“Yeah- you alright?”

She’s quiet for a while- just staring down and playing with her hands, and you frown at that. You go to speak, but Kyra gets out of bed suddenly and slips into yours- pulling you close to her and resting her head on your chest.

“I missed you.”

You want to joke with her that you’ve been together for weeks now to prepare for the world cup. But, you know what she means- something has changed between you two, and you’ve both been avoiding it.

“I missed you too.”

You wrap your arms around her and hold her close to you, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

“You should sleep though- trainings tomorrow, and I don’t want you to fall sleep in training again.”

“Hey! You fell asleep too- so, why don’t we both go to sleep now.”

“Kyra- babe, you woke me up.”

“Babe huh?”

“Shut it.”

You fall asleep like that- together, in each other’s arms.

-

You wake up well before Kyra does- and you watch her as she continues to sleep, she’s resting practically on top of you, her arms wrapped around you tightly and her head on you chest.

Her head rises and falls rhythmically with your breathing- and you lean down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

It’s not an uncommon sight to see you both together- in fact most of the girl’s seem to think you’re attached at the hip. You’re always touching in some way- whether it be arms linked walking to the pitch, or knees touching as you sit side-by-side, you’re always together on days off- constantly featured in each-others instgrams, and are always mixing up clothes- you coming to training in shorts with 23 on it, or Kyra rummaging through your suitcase to steal one of your hoodies. Which, no one would’ve noticed if it weren’t for Charli calling Kyra out.

You hear hushed voices outside your door- and a group of girls come crashing in seconds later. You shut your eyes quickly and sink further down into bed, pretending to be asleep- Kyra still on top of you.

“Awee look at them- they’re sleeping.”

“Let’s wake them up.”

“Mary!”

“What! They’re gonna miss breakfast.”

“But aren’t they so cute though?”

“Yeah, yeah- so, like- are they dating? Or what? Cause I’ve got a bet going on with Ellie.”

“I don’t know actually- I think they are.”

“Really? I thought you would know.”

“Well­- last time I talked to Kyra she told me she-“

Charli’s voice gets cut off and you want to scream.

“What are you all doing in here?”

Mini walks into the room and takes one look around- hitting Charli in the arm.

“Out! Both of you.”

You wait until you hear the door close to wake Kyra up, brushing her hair back and rubbing her cheeks softly.

You feel her cheeks pull up into a smile and you squeeze her face in your hands softly, admiring the way her face scratches up- already forgetting about what Charli was going to say

“Come on sleepy- we’re going to be late again.”

-

You’re resting your head on Kyra’s stomach- both of you laying off on your own during a small break in training.

You have your eyes closed- soaking in the sun that finally decided to show itself. You don’t notice Kyra staring at you smiling though.

You feel Kyra shift slightly and you crack an eye open to look at her.

“You okay?”

“Perfect.”

-

You go out for dinner that night- and when Kyra’s burger gets to the table she plucks off the pickles and drops them into your waiting hand.

“Thanks.”

She smiles at you.

“Of course.”

You smile back at her- knocking your knees together under the table and grinning at her.

Mary waves her hand to get both of your attention.

“So- are you guys like dating?”

“What?”

You both reply in unison- moving away from each other slightly.

“What makes you say that?"

You asks- face heating up, you glance over at Kyra but she’s looking anywhere but you.

“Okayy- never mind, forget I said anything.”

-

You haven’t spoken to Kyra since dinner- and it’s killing you.

You’re getting ready for bed in silence- occasionally glancing at each other when the other isn’t.

When you finally get under the covers, you see Kyra hover in-between both beds, and you sigh, opening your blanket up for her, and she climbs in next to you without a word. Her head coming to rest on your chest once again.

But you can’t wait anymore- asking her quietly, nearing a whisper, afraid someone will hear even if you’re alone in the hotel room.

“Kyra- what are we?”

Still- she stays quiet.

You sigh- trying to move your arm from around her, but her hand grips your bicep and you stop.

“We’re just us- I don’t know, I just- I like us.”

“I do too.”

-

You’re both late to breakfast again- and it gives Mary enough time to hatch a plan with the girls to get you together.

“Lock ‘em in a closet.”

“Sam no!”

[murasaki-cha]

Cale and the Soos but Gen Z

(ft. Choi Han, Alberu and Rosalyn)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Cale: when I say I have "main character energy," I mean the nerdy introvert with anxiety and a general distaste for humans - Shapeshifter: *transforms to look like Cale* Cale: Okay, are you like BLIND? You look nothing like me. First off, I'm way taller. Secondly, I DO NOT look so sleep deprived and lastly, if you could drag comb through that hair you're like a 7 on a good day and I've been told I'm a constant 10. -

Cale: Babygirl I have health problems that would make a grown man cry- yeah of course I'm still going to work what are you talking about

-

Cale: I love having trauma from an alarmingly young age because when I can't remember stuff from my childhood I get to play a game called "Is This Normal Memory Loss From Growing Up, Or Do I Have Severe Trauma-Induced Memory Repression?" Choi Jung Soo: Oh word Alberu: Preach Choi Han: Fr Eruhaben: Genuinely what in the- Sui Khan: Louder Eruhaben: YOU ARE 13 WHA-

-

Sui Khan: 'Person of interest' is almost too flattering. Sui Khan: Like, if the police were to pound on my door and go, 'A man has been murdered in your building and you are a person of interest,' I'd be like, 'Moi? Oh, do go on.' Cale pointing: You see where I got it from?

-

Rosalyn, eating cake: No wonder Marie Antoinette didn't give a fuck, this shit is good Cale: so true girl

-

Cale: when Billie Eillish said "I cant escape the way I love you" every gen z kid with attachment issues felt that Alberu: So you felt that? Cale: I felt that too much Alberu: Also who is Billie Eillish? Choi Jung Soo slamming the door open: bITC-

-

Cale: bitches b like “I'm baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

-

Rosalyn going to her lesson with Eruhaben: Eruhaben-nim, are we cooking today or what! Eruhaben: Rosalyn, we aren’t… in the kitchen?

-

Cale: With all this tasks I'm getting from the gods sometimes I wish I was Jared 19 so I never read Birth Of A Hero...

-

Alberu: Not trying to brag or anything, but I can wake up without an alarm clock now simply due to my crippling and overwhelming anxiety, so... Cale: Mood

-

Heavenly Demon: do you guys know the meaning of patriarchy? Choi Jung Soo: I prefer Spongebob tbh Heavenly Demon: One more word from you Sword Demon and I swear-

-

Cale: Can I go outside to say a word to god? Choi Han: Yea. Rosalyn: You go outside and start yelling ‘hey what the heck are you!- then ZAP! Cale: I've questioned god before and I haven't died yet.

-

Choi Jung Soo: I so wish I had a cat personality but I have such a dog personality like I would do everything for your approval, do you want me to fetch your stick just for a lil treat , hell yeah I would with pleasure! Choi Han: Oh that's what it was!

-

Choi Jung Soo: Physically, yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? *Sees Sui Khan's cute 13 yo child appearance staring daggers at him* Choi Jung Soo: Imagine the toll.

-

Cale: So apparently the 'bad vibes' I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress

-

Cale: A weight blanket is not enough I need to be compressed into a .zip file

-

Cale with a wine glass in hand: Existence is the enemy The group also with wine glasses in their hands: Cheers to that

-

Cale: Sometimes that sad feeling is due to low blood sugar, and sometimes it's from decades of history. Not that complex

[aislinrayne]

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: After a particularly rough case, Reader starts acting distant. Lockwood thinks giving her space will help. When he's woken by the phone ringing, George doesn't need to know what happened to know it's probably Lockwood's fault.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature/Explicit.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Alcohol consumption, strong language, sexual content (second base with intent to go further), anxious avoidant Reader, Reader is shorter than Lockwood, drunk Reader, Reader is harassed at the bar, brief touch without consent, no use of y/n.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Fuck I love playing with different kinds of dynamics. I've had this sitting partially drafted in my writing folder for a year now, and the brain-goblins wouldn't let me keep working on SM until this was done lmao Please let this be the year I finally get a handle on my creative flow fml

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 6.1k

    The first time the phone rings, both inhabitants of 35 Portland Row manage to remain deep in a well earned slumber.

  The second time the phone rings, it successfully rouses one George Karim.  Muttering a string of colourful insults under his breath that - had he been in his family home - would have earned him a smack over the head with his mother’s slipper, he reluctantly drags himself from the warmth and comfort of his duvet.  Letting out a long suffering sigh that lasts through the entire shuffle from his room to the phone on the floor below, he lifts it from the receiver and greets the caller with a noise somewhere between ‘hello’ and ‘fuck off’.

  “Evening, sorry to wake you.  This is James, calling from The Royal Oak.  Is there a, uh-”  Even over the numerous voices and the clinking of glass in the background, George can hear the gruff sounding man being interrupted by a woman’s voice mumbling incoherently before all sound is muffled by a palm being pressed over the mic on the other end, “-sorry, did you say…?  Really, sweetheart?  Alright, but don’t try to blame this on me tomorrow when you sober up.”  

  Then the phone is back to full volume. “Sorry about that, I’ve got a young lady here who says she lives at this address?  She’s too drunk to get herself home and this is the number she gave for someone she trusts to come get her.  But, uh, she-”  James seems like he’d rather not say the next bit, “well, she just keeps asking for ‘that selfish wanker’?  Won’t give me a name otherwise.”

  There’s not a lot in this world capable of rendering George completely speechless, but that…  That does it.  He allows the phone to drop from his ear for a moment, resting it on his shoulder as he attempts to compose himself and reply to the nice man on the other end of the line.

  “Uh…  Yeah, she- she’s ours.  Probably talking about our boss, then.  I’ll, uh…  I’ll go wake him.  I’m sure he’ll be there very soon.”  He has to speak up over the sound of James choking and sputtering in surprise to say a polite ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, before slamming the phone down and jogging up the stairs to wake his friend.  

  He pauses for a moment halfway up, considering heading back downstairs to grab a boot to throw at the door.  Unfortunately his need for immediate answers outweighs his urge to be petty, so he settles for pounding loudly on the door instead.   There’s quiet rustling and not so quiet cursing on the other side before it’s ripped open.

  “What?!”  A dishevelled Anthony Lockwood snaps, blinking sleep from glaring eyes and leaning on the doorframe in an endeavour to keep himself upright.

  “Just got a call from The Royal Oak, down on York Street?  Turns out they have a resident of this address drunkenly calling for a ‘selfish wanker’ to come pick her up.”  George crosses his arms, raising a challenging eyebrow at the taller man.  

  Lockwood’s expression shifts from its existing irritated frown into confusion, then straight to alarm.  He wastes no time flipping the light switch beside the doorway, bathing the room in light as he crosses it to tug one of his dresser drawers open.

  “Can you call me a Night Cab, please?  Offer them double fare to prioritise.”  He calls over his bare shoulder, searching for a t-shirt and hoodie to toss on.  His researcher says nothing as he complies, deciding to save the interrogation for later.

  Anthony is properly worried.     Their third roommate had come back from their last job acting distant.  They’d been separated by a pair of particularly nasty Spectre’s for close to an hour, but she’d succeeded in securing the Source’s and they’d all made it out in one piece.  He’d been so caught up in pride for his team he hadn’t noticed the effect it had on her until days later.  When he tried to approach her with his concerns, she clammed up and looked as though she was about to cry before excusing herself to her room.  None of the members of his agency, himself included, had seen her exit her room for two days after that.   He hadn’t asked about it since, and while giving her space seemed to be working by way of not making her cry, he was starting to wonder if it had been upsetting her in a different way.     Even taking all of that into consideration, there’s still no way he could have seen a phone call like this coming at 2:56 AM on a Tuesday.

  All he can find is a sleeveless black undershirt.  With a huff of frustration he pulls it over his head, kicking the drawer closed simultaneously, then pulling open the one above it.  The joggers he fell asleep in are fine enough, so after a fit of undignified hopping across the room to cover his feet with pink socks he grabs a random hoodie off of the armchair by the window, shrugs into it, and zips it on his way down the stairs.

  George is waiting for him at the bottom, staring at his watch.

  “Your cab should be here in three minutes, mine should be here in thirteen.”  He looks up from his wrist, meeting his boss’s confused look with an exasperated one.  “I’m heading to Flo’s for the night, so whatever you fucked up, mate?  Fix it.”  Karim claps him on the shoulder, walking past him to pack an overnight bag.  It might not be conventional, but Anthony knows it’s the closest thing to encouragement he’s going to get.

  The next several minutes pass in a blur of waiting and worrying, until finally it’s 3:14 AM and he’s slipping the cab driver an extra twenty quid to wait for them, swearing to be no longer than fifteen minutes.  The ungodly-early morning air is sharp and cold, cutting to the bone as soon as he steps out of the comforting warmth of the vehicle.  It’s plenty enough encouragement to hurry his way to the building, pulling the door open to slip into the soft golden warmth and loud ambiance of the pub.  

  He hesitates on the doormat, catching sight of the other patrons.  Thankfully it isn’t a particularly highbrow establishment, but it's nice enough for him to feel noticeably underdressed in black joggers and a grey zip-up.  And then he lays eyes on her, and all insecurities are immediately banished by the sharp knife of shock burying itself in his gut.  

  She’s balanced on a table, wearing a little black dress he’d never seen before.  Her arms are raised above her head, fingers combing through her hair as her hips sway to the bass of the music in a way that probably would have had his mouth watering if it wasn’t for present circumstances.   He isn’t the only one noticing her.  There’s a group of men standing around the table, watching her with hungry eyes that make his skin crawl with disgust.   A tall blonde man pushes his way past the rest of the crowd, deep set ice blue eyes chasing up her legs.  She seems to either be unaware of his presence, or too lost in the music to care.  Even from his position across the room he can see her eyes are out of focus, drifting away for split seconds every few beats from the speakers on the wall.     The man raises a hand and grabs her thigh, using enough pressure to leave visible fingermarks.

  Lockwood finds himself frozen in place, blood boiling as he mentally considers how challenging talking his way out of a murder charge could really be.  Surely not that much harder than talking his way out of an arson charge, and he’d done that often enough to be confident in his abilities.

  Before his sleep deprived mind can break free of its indecision, the girl spins around abruptly and slaps the lecherous limb away from her.  The slime of a man attached to it is none too happy about that, making a move to grab for her arm.  Her normally impeccable reflexes are slowed by the alcohol, she can’t move fast enough to avoid the attack.  When his fingers close around her wrist, he pulls.  Hard.     She teeters on the edge of the table, her short cry of pain audible even over the music.

  Huh.  He’d always thought the whole ‘seeing red’ thing was entirely turn of phrase, but as it turns out, there’s actually a modicum of truth to it.

  He’s halfway across the bar by the time he realises he’s in motion, but he’s not about to stop.  Closing the remaining distance in a few purposeful strides, he grabs the creep’s arm in a vice grip.  The blonde releases his hold on her immediately, instinctively trying to pull away from the pain.  Lockwood lets him stumble away in surprise, wasting no time placing himself in between his friend and the threat to her safety.  At first he’s optimistic he might have a chance to vent some anger when the wanker locks eyes with him, but whatever he’d seen in Anthony’s was enough to make him back down and stumble off with an insincere apology.  

  Reminding himself to focus his attention where it belongs, he turns to look up at the girl on the table.  Her face lights up with delight when she recognizes him, then swiftly sours the longer she looks at him.   He feels like an absolute prick for not noticing the dark circles around her eyes sooner.  Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he reaches up to offer her both of his hands, palms up.  She sways in place for a moment, scowling pensively at the proffered appendages.  He studies her face while he waits patiently, trying to find any hint of what could be bothering her enough to take this approach to forgetting.

  With a tiny hiccup she finally caves, placing her hands in his and allowing him to help her to solid ground.  Once both of her feet are securely on the sticky floor, he offers her his arm for support.  She gives him another little glare, but just like before, she eventually accepts his help.   Scanning the other tables and chairs around her makeshift stage, he sees no sign of a purse or jacket that he recognises in the slightest.

  “Did you bring anything with you, sweetheart?”  He asks her directly, leaning closer to her ear to be heard over the noise.  If he didn’t know any better he’d say she looks almost flustered; eyes glazed, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, looking through him rather than at him as she tries to filter his words through the haze of liquor clouding her mind.     Although he’s prepared to wait as long as it takes for her to answer, he can’t help but feel a touch relieved when the bartender waves him over holding a familiar leather clutch.  Gently taking her by the arm, he guides her to a nearby chair to sit and wait for him to collect her belongings.  Giving a final warning look to the remaining crowd for good measure, he leaves her side to approach the bar.

  The man behind it is average height, with mid length dark hair as well kept as his perfectly trimmed goatee.  He abandons the glass he’s polishing, tossing the white cloth he’d been using over his shoulder and offering Anthony a calloused hand.  “I take it you must be-”

  “‘That selfish wanker’?  Present and accounted for, though I also answer to ‘Anthony’.”  He replies, accepting the handshake.  

  The other man’s grip is firm but friendly, and he throws his head back in merriment at Lockwood’s unexpected introduction.  “James, pleasure to finally meet you.  I’ve heard a lot about you from your little Songbird over there.”

  Lockwood winces.  “Not all bad, hopefully.”

  “No, not all bad.”  James soothes before leaning in conspiratorially, “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

  He shoots him a wink as he settles back, and now it’s Anthony’s turn to laugh.  It’s decided then and there; they like each other.

  He reaches behind the lip of the bar, grabbing the clutch he’d tucked out of sight until he could determine Lockwood’s identity.  “This is all she brought with her.  You’ve got a safe way home?”

  Anthony takes it from him with a grateful smile.  “Yeah, paid the driver to stick around.  I consider myself pretty good at multitasking, just not ‘keeping her upright and not getting ghost-touched’ good.”  James lets loose a hearty laugh in response.

  The screech of wood against the floor draws their attention back to the woman formerly in the chair, now standing unsteadily a few feet away.

  “And that’s my cue.  Pleasure to meet you, James.  And, uh-”  He glances back at her involuntarily.  “Thank you.  For keeping an eye on her, calling us, the lot of it.”

  The bartender smirks, quirking an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look.  “It's what any decent person would do.  Don’t be a stranger now, either of you.”

  Lockwood departs the bar, clutch in hand, with a salute and a promise to be back another time.   She seems confused at first when he tries to get her attention, switching to stare at him reproachfully when she recognises him again.  He sighs, trying to tuck away his own feelings of exhaustion and defeat.  

  “Let's get you home, love.”  He murmurs, offering his arm again.  She takes it without hesitation this time, leaning heavily against him as they make their way to the exit.  Pausing on the doormat, he carefully extracts his limb from her grip, soothing her little noise of protest by assuring she’d be using him as a crutch again momentarily.  The metal of the zipper is cold against his bare arms as he shrugs his hoodie off, blatantly ignoring her attempts to argue with him and draping the grey fabric over her shoulders.

  The cold breeze cuts into him once they’re outside, but he carefully schools his expression to avoid showing her it's affecting him at all.  Despite having paid the man extra, he’s still pleasantly surprised to see the black cab still waiting at the curb.   It’s easier than he’d expected to load her into the comfortable back seat.  She doesn’t even try to swat his hand away when he places it on top of her head to prevent her bouncing it off the roof in her attempt to get in.   Once she’s scooted to the far side, he climbs in after her.  She seems lost in thought, staring absently at the headrest in front of her.  He leans closer slowly, giving her ample time to move away if she doesn’t want him in her space.  When she remains stationary, he reaches across her body to grab her seatbelt, gently buckling her in and tightening the belt over her hips.  

  She finally looks at him, expression blank as she studies his features.  It’s clear her mind is elsewhere, and she returns to staring at the black leather so quickly he wonders if he’d imagined the whole thing.   He gives their driver the all clear, directing him to drop them off where he’d first picked him up before slumping back into his seat for the uncomfortably quiet ride home.

  They’re half-way there when he can stand to ignore the elephant in the room no longer.  The words slip out before he can think of a more tactful way to ask;  “What’s going on with you?”

  She turns to look at him so slowly it’s almost unnerving. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  She answers bitterly, her voice laced with the same steel as her eyes.

  “That’s bloody horseshit!”  He scoffs, far too tired to hold back.  “If there was nothing wrong, I wouldn’t have gotten a call tonight.”

  Her mouth opens and closes soundlessly for several seconds, seemingly overwhelmed by the number colourful insults she’d like to hurl at him.  

  “Like you care.”  She finally mutters, shaking her head and turning away from him to stare pointedly out her window.

  “...What?”  He manages to put his frustration on hold for a moment, making room for his growing concern.  “Of course I care, what makes you think I wouldn’t?”

  She laughs darkly, shaking her head.  “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”  He cries in exasperation.

  She whips around to face him.  “You knew I was struggling!  You knew, and you ignored it because it was easier than dealing with me!”  Her eyes are wild, chest heaving as she draws in air like she has to fight for every breath.

  All hostility drains out of him in an instant, leaving him uncomfortably hollow in its absence.  He’s intimately aware of her eyes searching his face, trying to gain some kind of insight into his mind.     He feels like he’s just stumbled into a minefield, and in a way he has.  If his next words aren’t carefully chosen, he could detonate one and destroy his friendship with someone he can’t live without.

  Organising his thoughts and taking a deep breath, he plunges ahead.

  “I’m sorry.  I thought by giving you space I was giving you what you needed, but I should have just talked to you.  And you’re right, I was being selfish, just… not in the way you’re thinking.”  She looks like she’s about to interrupt, but he ploughs on.  “I was afraid if I pushed too hard you’d shut me out.  I thought it would be safer to stay silent and let you come to me when you were ready, but it was my responsibility to communicate that to you, and I failed.”

  They sit in stillness for far longer than he’s comfortable with, his words hanging in the air between them.

  When she finally puts him out of his misery, he has to strain to hear her over the rumble of the car.  “It wasn’t two Spectres.”

  It feels like someone’s poured ice down his back.  “...What?”

  “The last job?  We thought it was just two Spectres, but it wasn’t.  It-”  Her voice shakes, then dies.  She has to stop and breathe, looking like she’s about to be crushed by the weight of the words on her tongue.  “One of them was a Fetch.”

  Staring down at his hands, he searches for the right words to say.  Is he supposed to say anything at all?  If he interrupts now, will she shut him out?  If he doesn’t, will she think he doesn’t care?     A point of personal pride for him is being able to read people, to shape himself into whatever role they need him to fill, but… he has no idea who she needs him to be right now.  

  She hesitantly continues.  “It was you.”  

  He looks up at her only to find her eyes already on him.  “It wasn’t.”

  She laughs sadly, but doesn’t look away.  When she tips her head to concede the point, the light catches at the corner of her eye.  “Right.  It did use your face, though.”

  “Whatever it said, it isn’t true.”  He can’t resist the urge to reach across the seat between them, wiping the tear from her cheek and hoping she can feel the truth in his words when he says;  “A Fetch will find your worst fear and exploit it.  And I swear to you, I will never allow anything to make you feel afraid like this again.”

  Silence stretches on between them, becoming heavier with every second passing them by.  His thumb continues stroking her face slowly, absentmindedly.  If he didn’t know any better, he’d think her eyes had drifted to his lips. 

  “Kiss me.”

  His hand falls from her face.   For a second, he thinks it’s him that’s said it.  When he realises it wasn’t, the potential implications of her words make his heart stutter.  There’s a chance this is just a drunken impulse, a need for comfort in a moment of vulnerability.   If it is, what the hell is he supposed to do about it?  If he gives in to her, will he be able to carry on working beside her once he’s had a taste of the life with her he doesn’t even allow himself to dream about?   On the flip side, there’s a chance that this is an actual confession.  The Fetch had chosen his face to torment her, and as horrifying as that had been to hear, it only would have done so if she felt something for him.  Maybe she feels the same as he does.  Maybe the reason he can never figure out what mask to put on for her, is that she’s only ever needed him to be himself.     Hope fills every inch of him as he stares at her, enraptured.

  Then, he realises he’s been quiet for long enough for panic to fill her eyes.

  “Ask me in the morning.”  He breathes, feeling as perplexed as she looks when the words come out of his mouth.  She’s confused that he hasn’t directly shot her down.  He’s confused that he’s capable of this kind of restraint while sleep deprived.

  “What?”  She frowns, blinking as her eyes lose focus for a split second in her bewilderment. 

  Feeling more confident in his decision, he smiles softly at her. “Ask me when you’re sober, and when we’re not in this nice man’s cab.” 

  The driver laughs, trying and failing to cover it with a guilty cough.

  Once they reach 35 Portland Row,  Anthony covers the fare and slips the man a generous tip for enduring their antics before exiting the cab.  The emotional intensity of the ride home had been enough to partially sober up his companion, but he still isn’t sold on her ability to climb stairs without assistance.     He keeps his arm wrapped tightly around her waist until they reach the door of her room - formerly Lucy’s - on the top level of the house before reluctantly removing it.  She wobbles for a moment, but it seems to be more from her leaning to chase his touch than any serious instability.  They stand there for a while, neither willing to walk away from the other, until a large yawn overtakes her.

  He chuckles, suddenly remembering James’ nickname for her.  “Goodnight, Songbird.”

  “That’s a stupid nickname.”  She complains, scrunching up her face in distaste.  When all he does is laugh some more, she sighs and carries on.  “Goodnight, Anthony.  Sweet dreams.”

  He disagrees completely, of course.  From her lips, his name is the sweetest song he’s ever heard.   Turning away from him, she places her hand on the doorknob but doesn’t make any move to twist it.  He’s about to ask her if something is wrong when she turns back to him swiftly, closing the distance between them and standing on her toes to brace her hands on his shoulders as she presses the ghost of a kiss against his cheek.  By the time he’s raised trembling fingers to the tingling skin, she’s already in her room with the door closed behind her.

  He spends his early morning dreaming of the flutter of wings, and birds gently pecking him on the cheek.

  When he’s woken by persistent knocking on his door once more, Anthony Lockwood finds himself wondering what precisely he had done to piss off Hypnos in a past life.

  Still on high alert from his unusual evening, he’s out of bed and across the room without a second thought.  When he pulls the door open he’s entirely expecting another emergency, not to find the girl of his dreams standing there staring steadfast at her feet.

  “I am so sorry about last night, I should have told you what was going on instead of going on a bloody bender.  That was incredibly immature and irresponsible of me and I completely understand if you want to fire me.”  She starts slow, but by the end of her apology the words are flying out of her mouth.  Despite her best efforts, the misery in her voice as she says the last bit is tangible.

  Why would he want that?  Still not entirely awake, the first thing out of his mouth is the first thought in his mind.  “Please don’t leave.”

  “...What?”  Not even remotely prepared for that response, she finally looks up at him.  As their eyes meet, reality sets in and time seems to slow.

  When he takes a proper look at her, he completely forgets the entirety of the English language.  Her hair is mussed from sleep, remnants of last night's makeup smudged under her eyes.  She’d apparently had the mental faculties to change into her pyjamas the night previous, and while he’d seen her in those shorts often enough to control the urge to stare, something about her wearing his hoodie zipped over them was making him feel like a moron.  He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.   On the other side of the doorway, she’s having a very similar crisis.  His sleep tousled hair only doubled her ever present urge to rake her fingers through it.  And not only had he been in such a hurry to answer the door he hadn’t bothered to slip on a shirt, his joggers were also sitting dangerously low on his hips.     Their eyes snap back to each other's faces in tandem, both flushing almost comical shades of red.

  “Did you mean what you said last night?”  He asks hurriedly, heart pounding in his throat.

  “I said a lot of things.”  She wraps her arms around herself, laughing nervously.  “Which part?”  

  He keeps his eyes fixed on hers, searching them for some clue to tell him what comes next.

  Mustering more courage than she thought she was capable of, she answers honestly.  “Yeah, I did.  Every word.”

  Mimicking his actions from the night before he extends both of his hands towards her, palms up.   She tilts her head quizzically, but places her hands in his.  He uses them to pull her close enough their bodies are almost touching, guiding her arms to rest on his shoulders, releasing them to place one hand on her waist and the other on the side of her neck.  She inhales sharply when he leans in, his thumb lightly stroking her jaw while her gaze flickers between his eyes and lips.   He’s studying her face like he never wants to forget a single detail, but he doesn’t get any closer.  She’s lightheaded and pretty sure she’s going to die if he doesn’t kiss her soon, which is probably why it’s not until she sees the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile that she realises what he’s waiting for.  

  “Kiss me.”  She breathes.

  He doesn’t need to be told a third time.   He leans down and kisses her like he’ll never get the chance to do so again, like the world is falling to pieces around them and the only thing that can save them is the feeling of her lips against his.     The hand on the side of her throat slides back to bury itself in her hair, cradling the back of her head to take the strain off her neck from their notable difference in height.  Her hands wander the expanse of bare skin across his back, mapping every muscle and scar like it’s the braille translation of his life story.  He shivers under her touch, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her body tight to his in a desperate attempt to fill the yawning pit within him that had grown larger with every day he believed he’d never get to hold her like this.  

  As she runs her hands down his sides to his hips he gasps involuntarily, deepening their kiss with enthusiasm.  Driven by curiosity, she lets her nails graze his skin as she retraces her previous path.  The noise he makes in response is downright sinful, but so is the feeling of his rapier-calloused skin against her back as he slips his hand under the hem of his hoodie.  Her breath catches as his fingers trace featherlight patterns up and down her spine, feeling him grinning between kisses when he notices she’s not wearing anything beneath the grey material.  When he nips at her lower lip, she drags her nails down his back, and the last of his restraint abandons him.  

  Both of his hands drop, fingers dimpling the flesh of her upper thighs.  As in sync as they are in the field he’d never dared to imagine the same would apply to the bedroom, so he’s a little blown away when she understands his intentions immediately, jumping as he lifts her up to wrap her legs around his hips without breaking from each other.  Now he’s the one craning his neck to capture her lips, the floor creaking beneath his feet as he crosses the short distance to the wall, pressing her back against it and groaning at the restrained whimper that slips free from her.

  “Please don’t hold back.  I want to hear you sing for me, my little Songbird.”  He urges, adjusting his grip to slide his hands up her sides under his hoodie, palming one of her breasts and swiping a thumb experimentally across her skin to carefully catch one of her nipples between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.  She finally breaks, back arching away from the wall, head falling back against it as she moans unabashedly.  All of his strength threatens to leave him when she rolls her hips against his, dropping his free hand to grab at the plush of her ass and pull her impossibly closer as he whispers praise between frenzied kisses pressed to her throat.  She buries her hands in his hair, gasping for air as his ministrations travel to her collarbones then slowly down the centre of her chest, placing an open-mouthed kiss to swell of her breast-

  The front door slams open, startling them apart.  There’s the sound of shuffling beneath them as someone kicks off their shoes.

  “OI, MATE!”  George’s voice calls from the base of the stairs, “Did you fix it?”

  They look at each other, dazed and drunk off each other.  A confused frown decorates her features, mouth falling open to ask him what the hell their other roommate is talking about.  He shakes his head in exasperation, shooting her a look that reads ‘I’ll fill you in later’ and dropping his head to rest on her chest.  They take as many seconds as they dare like that, her fingers combing through his hair soothingly as he wraps his arms around her back, basking in the warmth of her body against his.  Reluctantly, he lifts his head and steps away from the wall, gently setting her back on her feet and pressing a kiss to her temple.  She seems hesitant to move away from him at all, back to staring at her feet instead of looking at him.  He’s known her for long enough to know she’s overthinking.

  “Hey, look at me.”  He slips his fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his concerned gaze.  “What’s on your mind, darling?”  

  “I don’t-”  She starts strong but stops suddenly, shifting anxiously.  “I really don’t want this to be a one time thing, or - or just a way to blow off steam-”

  He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, cradling her face and pressing a brief but searing kiss against her lips.  She softens, melting into his touch.

  “Good,” He murmurs as he pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her a peck on the cheek like the one she’d given him the night before, “because I don’t think I can survive another day of not being able to kiss you.”

  George chooses that moment to begin his ascent of the stairs.  They break away from each other, struggling to make themselves presentable before he makes it to the landing.  Anthony rushes to grab a shirt from the foot of the bed, throwing it over his head haphazardly  She squeaks when she finds the zipper of his hoodie down to her navel, shooting him a teasingly chastising look when he snickers and crosses past her to greet their researcher in the hall, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it.  She yanks the zip as high as it will go, trying to smooth her own hair as she approaches the bookshelf and grabs something at random.  She throws herself into the armchair in the corner of his room just in time, flipping the book open to roughly the halfway point and staring intently at the page as George reaches the top step.

  “Good morning!”  Anthony greets him far too cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to obscure the other man’s view of his room.  

  “...Morning.”  George replies, not even trying to disguise his attempts to peer around his boss.  “How’d it go last night?”  

  “Um - fine!  Yeah, just fine.  Perfectly fine.  Everything is… fine.”  She closes her eyes, letting out a slow quiet sigh at his obvious nerves.  

  Adjusting the book to make sure it’s in his line of sight, she grits her teeth and bites the bullet.  “Morning, Georgie!”  

  Lockwood looks over his shoulder at her in alarm, but at her reassuring nod he steps hesitantly out of the way so she’s in clear view.

  George inspects her with narrowed eyes.  “You are significantly less hungover than I’d expected.”

  She winces, not able to fault him in the slightest for the disappointment in his voice.  “Yeah, pretty sure it just hasn’t hit me yet.  Sorry about that.  It won’t happen again, Scouts Honour.”

  “Why are you in Lockwood’s room?”  His brow furrows almost imperceptibly.

  She doesn’t miss a beat.  “I was so drunk last night he was worried I was going to fall asleep on my back and choke on my own vomit, so he made me sleep in this ridiculously uncomfortable chair.”

  Both men fix their eyes on her.  Anthony looks horrified, while George looks strangely impressed.  The bespectacled man studies her for another moment and she holds her breath, hoping he’d bought it.  Shrugging a ‘fair enough’, he bids them a temporary farewell and walks into his own room, closing the door behind him.  

  She huffs a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and slumping back in the chair as the tension drains from her body.  When she cracks an eye a few long moments later, Anthony is still standing in the doorway with the same look of horror plastered across his face.

  “What’s wrong?”  She asks, worry laced in every syllable.  

  “I didn’t even think of that!  I could have let you die!”  He seethes, throwing his hands up in annoyance at himself.  

  She has to fight the urge to laugh at him, focusing instead on gathering her strength to stand and walk over to take his hands in her own.  

  “I appreciate the concern, my love, but I wasn’t that drunk by the time you got me home.”  She smiles fondly at him, lifting his hands to press soft kisses to each knuckle.  When she glances up at him even his ears are flushed pink, looking at her with a lovesick smile.  

  “Call me that again?”  He implores, pulling her against him.

  With a quiet laugh, she drapes her arms over his shoulders before replying.  “My love.”

  They lose themselves in each other for another several minutes, only parting grudgingly at the rumble of his stomach and the threat of another interruption.

  George waits until later that morning when Lucy, Kipps, and Holly have joined them and they’re all in the kitchen eating breakfast to comment on Anthony’s inside out shirt, and how impressed he is that the sixth member of their agency has learned to read upside down.   As Lucy slowly turns to look at them, eyes wide and jaw seemingly aiming to touch the floor, Anthony lets the red-faced young woman beside him hide her blush in his shoulder.  For some reason, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed.  Grinning proudly, he winks at the Listener, causing her to shriek loudly and demand to know the full story.

  When his girlfriend looks up to shoot him a warning look, he mimics zipping his lips.  “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Luce.”

  Lucy’s demands are finally met five years later when James taps the side of his champagne flute with his knife, drawing the attention of the room full of guests to tell his favourite story about the bride and groom.

⤛⊹ 𝔣𝔦𝔫 ⊹⤜

taglist: @tessas4 @chloejaniceeee @shakespearseclipse @ettadear @kassandra1000

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

[its-time-to-write]

Hiiii, I’d love to see Jamie and the reader having to randomly babysit Phoebe - happy for you to decide where the plot goes from there! ❤️

Here it is! A little bit of comedy, a little bit of angst. For reference, Molly is Roy’s sister. I read a fic once that called her that, and it’s been the name that’s stuck. Oh, and this references Phoebe’s dad and he’s a tool, so be aware of that. Thanks for requesting!

stick together like glitter

Jamie doesn’t have training because Roy has to watch Phoebe, and you don’t have work because of some random furlough day. This means it’s your first real break together in a very long time. All his extra training has meant that you two haven’t spent as much time together as either of you would like, but you two have plans today. 

You had spent the night at Jamie’s last night since he didn’t have to be up at 3, and so you could stay up late and sleep in. You’re both passed out, Jamie’s arm thrown around your waist, when there’s a knock at the door.

You and Jamie jolt up and he lets out a raspy, “What the hell?”

He rolls over to go answer the door.

“Pants!” you call before he reaches the top of the stairs. He backtracks and picks his plaid pajama bottoms off a chair. He thumps bleary-eyed down the stairs to see who’s there.

You hear muffled voices for a few minutes, then the door shuts and Jamie calls, “Babe! Can you come here a minute?”

You grab a pair of Jamie’s sweats out of a drawer and pad down the stairs, where you are met by Jamie and Phoebe of all people. 

“Hey Pheebs!” you say, surprise waking you up a little. “What’re you doing here?”

“Mum’s at work and Uncle Roy was supposed to watch me, but something came up so he brought me here. Jamie said it was ok if I spent the day with you.”

You smile at Phoebe and look up at Jamie. He shrugs sheepishly. “Can’t say no, could I? Look at her.”

He and Phoebe grin at you angelically.

You try to sigh, but it comes out sounding like a laugh. “Alright, come on. Have you had breakfast yet?”

Phoebe shakes her head. “Uncle Roy was just starting the toast when he got the phone call. I don’t mind though, because today does not feel like a toast kind of day.”

“I agree,” Jamie says to Phoebe, “today doesn’t feel like a toast kind of day. Lucky for you, I’ve been told my pancake recipe is better than-” he catches himself, “Well, they’re really fucking good. Won’t take long.”

He holds out his hand for Phoebe to take, and he leads her to the kitchen.

—

That’s how you ended up in Jamie’s kitchen, still in your pajamas, while Phoebe chatters on about the book Roy is reading her as Jamie flips pancakes and drops chocolate chips to make smiley faces.

It’s weirdly domestic in a way you two have never been before, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. You certainly don’t have negative feelings, that’s for sure.

“What do you want to do today, Phoebe?” you ask. 

She shrugs. “Uncle Roy was going to take me to the library and then to pick up flowers for Keeley, and then we were going to get ice cream. I wanted to play Princesses and Dragons, because I got new dragon claws. They’re in my backpack, want to see?”

“I do!” Jamie says.

You laugh. “I would love to! I think we can still do a lot of that today, ice cream included. None for Jamie though, he hates ice cream.” Phoebe gasps, and Jamie turns from the stove, offended. 

“Babe,” he says in a scandalized tone, “you’d lie to a child? I fucking love ice cream!”

You raise an eyebrow and deadpan, “You do not, you said you’d rather eat that disgusting pureed spinach.”

“Babe,” he replies, “I literally cannot believe you right now.” He turns to Phoebe. “Pheebs, you believe me, yeah? What kind of monster don’t like ice cream?”

Phoebe looks from you to Jamie. You’re doing your absolute best to maintain a straight face, and Jamie’s comedic beseeching look is not helping.

Phoebe squints at you in such a Roy-like manner that you break, dissolving into giggles. She joins in, and Jamie lets out a faux sigh of relief. Today’s going to be fun.

—

It’s late in the afternoon now, and you, Jamie, and Phoebe have been all over Richmond. Phoebe checked out three large books from the library while Jamie followed you to the murder mystery section. You whispered the plots to him until Phoebe tapped your elbow to let you know she was ready to go. 

You stopped at the flower shop, and Jamie bought one flower for you and one of Phoebe. She loved it, and twirled it as she walked. 

Your last stop was for ice cream, where she explained the pros and cons of each flavor, and why Uncle Roy believes any flavor other than cherry chip should be illegal. 

Now, you’re walking back to Jamie’s house, holding Phoebe’s hands in between you. Her flower is safely poking out of her backpack. 

“Jamie,” she says, “why does Uncle Roy think you’re a prick?”

Jamie chokes on air and you’re doubled over from laughter. That question came out of nowhere

“Well,” Jamie says, trying (and failing) to speak normally, “when I met your Uncle Roy, I was very young and very fit and much, much better than him at football. He didn’t like that so much, and I thought it was fuckin funny, so I just made fun of him for it. And me dad was kind of mean to me a lot, so I s’pose it was just easier to be a prick to everyone. Pretty sure he likes me know though.” Jamie pauses. “I’m less prickish now that this one came along.” He grins at you and winks, and you’re blushing like you’re a teenager. 

Phoebe is digesting all of this, and your footsteps slow as you approach Jamie’s doorstep. Finally she says, “If we play Princesses and Dragons, will you be the princess?”

“Only if I get a sparkly crown,” Jamie replies. 

Phoebe seems satisfied by this answer so she turns to you and asks if you want to be a dragon like her or a knight. 

“Knight,” you reply, no hesitation. 

“Aw, babe, you gonna rescue me?” Jamie asks, pushing open the door for you and Phoebe. 

You playfully pat his cheek as you walk by, not missing the way his eyes wander from yours to your lips. 

“Come on!” Phoebe shouts. She’s already at the door to the backyard. “We have to hurry before Uncle Roy gets back!”

—

It turns out that there is no need to hurry. Roy texted Jamie with a simple going to be longer than fucking expected, and a sorry to ruin your date night to you. 

Not a problem! you replied. Hope everything’s alright, and let Molly know that we can keep Phoebe overnight if she needs. 

Roy responds with a simple x, which is more than Jamie got, but he doesn’t care because Phoebe’s explaining to him the difference between a crocodile and an alligator in great detail over dinner.

You’re a little worried. Jamie is too, you can tell. His forehead gained a slight crease when he read Roy’s text. Neither Roy nor Phoebe have offered any explanation as to what had come up, and you just hope everything’s all right. You’re relatively certain it has to do with Keeley, especially because she hasn’t texted either of you all day. Phoebe is (you hope) oblivious, although she’s incredibly observant, so she’s probably already pieced together more than you and Jamie have.  

It’s a little past 8pm now, and Phoebe is beginning to yawn in your lap. Jamie’s sitting next to you on the couch, one arm around your shoulders as he hums along to Tangled. Phoebe’s wearing one of your t-shirts, and it’s long enough to be a dress on her. After an especially big yawn, you stand up and carry her to one of the guest rooms, a perk of Jamie’s fucking enormous house.

“Jaim and I will be in that door right over there,” you whisper. “The night light will stay on all night, and we’ll keep on the light in the hall. If you wake up and need anything, you can yell for us. We’ll be awake watching tv for a while, and I’m a light sleeper anyway, so don’t be afraid to shout if you need something.”

Phoebe nods sleepily, and you kiss her on the forehead. You pull the blanket up to her chin as Jamie says softly, “Goodnight, kid.”

“‘Night Jamie,” Phoebe whispers back.

You and Jamie get up and slip out the door, shutting it behind you softly. You pause in the hall, back to the door. Jamie’s close to you, and both of you have concern written on your faces.

You really had a wonderful time with Phoebe today, and you don’t mind the fact that she’s spending the night. Jamie has extra toothbrushes and Phoebe thinks it’s fun to wear your shirt to bed, but this is nowhere near how you thought the day was going to go. It’s just not like Roy or Molly not to call or to be out this late. 

Strike that; it’s not like Roy or Molly to be out this late for a reason that makes you feel especially joyous.

Your brows are knit together so tight that Jamie has to physically smooth them with his thumb.

“I’m worried too, love,” he says softly.

—

You’re both wide awake in bed, listening for Phoebe (she’s snoring) and checking your respective phones (still nothing). It’s not until 10:30pm that Jamie’s phone lights up with a call from Roy. He’s out of bed and down the stairs in an instant, just in case Phoebe can hear him.  

You’re still in bed picking at your nails, when your phone dings. It’s Molly.

She’s sent a long paragraph but the gist of it is what you’re sure Roy is telling Jamie on the phone:

I had an extra long shift today, which is why Roy was supposed to watch Phoebe. When he showed up to the house, Phoebe’s dad was outside, lurking in his car. I didn’t like it and neither did Roy, so he dropped her off with you to find out why he was coming ‘round. 

You shiver. You haven’t heard a lot about Phoebe’s dad, but you know that she and Jamie have shitty fathers in common. They had been talking about it earlier that afternoon, her expressing frustration and him gently explaining that none of it was her fault.

You go back to Molly’s text.

Turns out the bastard was here to take Phoebe. He got high and decided to just grab her, I guess. He and Roy got into it, so then Keeley had to bail Roy out of jail for assault and it became this whole thing because Roy wanted to make sure that prick was never allowed to be near Phoebe. He’s been pulling strings all day, filling out restraining orders and shit. Phoebe doesn’t know any of this, and I don’t want her to, but it sounds like her dad’s going away for a long time. Roy and Keeley have been at it all day. They know a lot of the right people, between the two of them.

Three bubbles appear, then disappear. You type, You’re more than welcome to come over and spend the night, Molls.

She replies, Only if I can borrow your toothbrush. 

Despite yourself, you smile. You and Molly grew up together and got even closer after Roy was recruited for football, so you both understand that when the other offers something, they mean it. 

She says, Be over in fifteen. Love you, so you send her a heart. You hear footsteps and look up to see Jamie in the doorway. “That was Roy,” he says, face somber.

You lift your phone slightly. “Heard from Molly,” you reply. “She’ll be here in fifteen minutes. She’s spending the night.”

Jamie nods and settles heavily into bed next to you. 

He blows out a breath. “Fuckin hell.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Poor Pheebs,” he continues. “I know how she’s gonna feel when she finds out.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “Do you think that Molly and Roy should handle it differently?”

“Fuck no,” Jamie responds, “wish my mum had a brother like Roy to lock up my piece-of-shit dad. Still, he’s her dad, isn’t he? Doesn’t matter how much of a prick he is, she’s still gonna fucking love him.”

You’re silent for a moment. “Jamie,” you say finally, “d’you think she’ll be alright?”

Jamie turns his head to you. “‘Course she’ll be alright,” he says. “It ain’t easy, but she’s got an amazing mum, plus Roy and Keeley. I fucking made it, and I only had me mum.”

He can tell you’re still not satisfied. “Look, babe- as shitty as Phoebe’s dad is, she’ll be alright. It won’t happen overnight, but she’s a tough kid. She’s got people who fuckin love her and who want to protect her. She’ll make it through.”

You nod. You two sit in silence until there’s a light knock on the door. It’s Molly.

You wrap her in a tight hug, a million unspoken words lingering between you two. You take her to Phoebe’s room and hand her an extra pair of your clean pajamas.

Phoebe says a sleepy, “Mum?” so you sneak out the door and shut it silently.

You head back to Jamie, and now it’s your turn to flop onto the bed. It’s been a long day, and you have a feeling tomorrow is going to be even longer. Jamie pulls you onto his chest in a tight hug, and you finally fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Collide (6)

Hi guys!

This new chapter is a little bit more angsty but also very sweet 😇

Please enjoy!

TW : Injury, nightmares, mention of bad past, angst.

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 | PART 7

______________________________________________________________

You didn’t give Alessia all the reasons for your nightmares, not because you don’t trust her, but because you don’t want to put her in front of the darkness of some people. When you see her the next morning for breakfast, Leah singing in the shower, it was without daring to look at her that you spoke.

"Less?"

"Mhm?"

Lost in her thoughts until now, the blonde looked up at you. You are leaning against the island of your kitchen while Alessia is seated at the table. You are never very in talking much in the morning, both needing time to wake up.

"You know, for last night…"

"You don’t have to explain anything to me" Alessia kindly assured you with a smile. "It’s okay"

"I know" you answered with a slight smile back. "It’s just that sometimes my dreams are a little too realistic. Things have happened in my past, but… well, you know."

It’s a very awkward explanation, but the blonde didn’t seem to want to hold it against you.

"And thank you, for staying and being there for me" you mutter shyly.

"You would have done the same for me"

The calm, safe tone that Alessia used made you look up at her. She’s not wrong, obviously.

"Yeah. I know you already have your share of best friends, but I’m happy with the place you’re taking in my life. You’re more like a sister to me than a simple friend"

Alessia’s chair rattles on the floor when she gets up, something that would have made you moan in everyday life. But since it’s to offer you one of her biggest teddy bear hugs, you don’t take the time to scold her, choosing to hug her back.

"I love you too" she whispers affectionately, rubbing your back.

Even if it’s not exactly what you told her, you understand the message and you hug her back even harder. That’s when Leah showed up in the kitchen, ready for today’s game.

"Molesting my girlfriend again, Russo?"

********

You and Leah are in the restaurant face to face when you talk about the subject that has been bothering you for a few days. It’s not a huge stress, but you’re wondering how to approach it, fearing a negative response from Leah.

The evening is going well, you have already come twice to this restaurant and each time you liked it very much. The choices are not multiple, but there is enough to satisfy your cravings for culinary discoveries and the list of foods rather restraint tolerated by Leah. The blonde is breathtaking in her outfit, once again, and you are happy to see that she made this clothing effort just for you.

It’s at dessert that you finally broach the subject, swinging nervously on your chair.

"Besides, I was wondering… do you have any plans while I’m away?"

You are called to training camps for the national team, Norway having to pass the play-offs to qualify for the next competition. With England already being on, Leah is kind of on vacation next week.

"No, not really. Probably spending time with my family, seeing Alex… that kind of things. Why?"

Leah looks at you curiously over her ice cream and you play mechanically with your spoon and a piece of cake.

"Would you like to come with me?"

"In Norway?"

You nod at her, without daring to look at her. The only time you offered it to Alina, she laughed and asked what the hell she would do there. You may not have chosen the best time since it was in summer and most people prefer to fly somewhere warm, but still.

"I thought I could show you some places I like and grew up in. And my parents have really wanted to meet you, since I’ve been talking to them about you. You can say no, if you don’t want to. There is no pressure and I will understand."

Leah’s hand gently settles on yours, making you look up at it immediately and stop your rambling.

"I'll come with pleasure Honey."

The simple answer makes you feel so relieved that you feel like your anxiety is deflating like a balloon.

"Yeah?"

"Of course"

"Awesome"

You can’t mask your smile, which makes Leah laugh softly. Her hand gets loose from yours when she starts eating her ice cream again, but you don’t take it personally. You have neither confirmed nor denied the rumors of relationship between you, preferring to live your story day by day. Plus, who are you against a mint chocolate chips ice cream?

Leah asks you what kind of clothes she needs to take and you laugh when she pouts when she learns the temperature differences between London, Oslo and your hometown. You have already spoken to her several times about your parents and she doesn’t seem otherwise stressed at the idea of meeting them. She’s right, you know your parents are going to love her very much. You’ve been working on it for a long time now anyway.

"Oh and there will surely be Mapi with Ingrid too" you inform Leah with a little amused smile.

"Excuse me?"

********

A few days later, you are on the plane to Norway, with some of your compatriots but especially Leah. You have another flight of a few hours to reach Tromsø, where you lived and grew up until you were stupid enough to want to run away with your first girlfriend to a bigger city. Having met her on the Internet, you have no memories with her in this city, which pleased Leah rather well. It’s not exactly the same for Oslo, but we’ll talk about it later.

Your parents, delighted to have their only child for a few days, have both picked you up at the airport. If Leah hasn’t been stressed in the last few days, she seems to have skyrocketed in the last half hour and the blonde didn’t stop talking for a single second. It made you laugh, but remembering how stressed you were when you officially met Leah’s relatives, you patiently answered each of her questions.

"It’s going to be ok Babe" you smile when you see her playing nervously with the tag of her suitcase while waiting to pass the security.

Since you are behind her, you step forward to put a kiss just behind her ear and you smile as you feel her letting her go against you. In recent days, it was rather her role to reassure you, the blonde fearing that your nightmares came back constantly. That hasn’t been the case, but Leah’s increased attention to you hasn’t been unpleasant. Especially because it means you get even more hugs and kisses than usual.

You have one of the biggest hug from both of your parents at the same time, before detaching from them to turn to Leah and make the introductions. As you might have guessed, the first contact is more than successful. Your parents speak English very well, which is lucky. Leah speaks a few words of Norwegian that you taught her, but she might not be able to have an ongoing conversation in that language.

On the way home, your parents ask you about the trip and your level of fatigue. If you slept during the first flight, the second not. They also inquire about what you are planning to show Leah over the next few days, also informing you that they are planning a dinner with some of your family members. Your cousin will come to see you play in Oslo too, this will allow Leah to meet her before finding herself with her in the stands of the football stadium. Your parents will be there too.

Dinner goes well (you made sure to give your mother the list of things Leah eats) and the kindness of your parents seem to help Leah relax quickly. You show her the house of your childhood, finding your bedroom that you had at the time.

It's a fairly simple room whose only large window overlooks your garden. Your double bed is glued against the back wall in the middle of the wall with your collection of stuffed animals. Your black carpet on which you have spilled paint hundreds of times above is at the feet of it, giving in your opinion an artistic touch to the latter. There are old trophies you won with your football teams on a shelf, a desk full of memories and useless things in its drawers and dozens of photos hanging on the wall.

"Is that you?" laughs Leah as she approaches the photos on one of your bedroom walls, picturing you behind your first birthday cake.

"No, that's the neighbor" you answer with a grin.

Leah laughs again and you let her discover your room quietly, taking the opportunity to join the bathroom adjoining your room to change and refresh a little. You see Leah entering the bathroom too from the mirror, which allows you not to jump when she sticks to you to put kisses on your cheek.

"How are you feeling?" you ask the pretty blonde.

"Good. Your parents are adorable, but it’s not surprising when you see their daughter" Leah says maliciously.

You roll your eyes and close the water tape, then turn in her arms to put your arms around her neck. That’s all Leah needed to put her head on your neck and put some kisses in it.

"What about you?" she asks between two of her kisses.

"I’m glad you’re here" you smile.

********

The next two days were spent in Leah discovering your hometown, your favorite places and different members of your family. As you would expect, Leah are doing perfectly well in the setting, getting along wonderfully with everyone. Despite the difficulty of the language sometimes, but you gladly play the interpreters between the two different worlds. Only the cold seems to be a bit of a problem for Leah, but you are in the very north of Norway, even further north than if you were in Iceland.

One day before the day set by the Norwegian federation, you fly back to Oslo. You managed to get a room for Leah in the same hotel where your team is staying and you’re counting on your family to keep Leah busy during practice. You don’t know yet whether you’ll be able to slip into her room at night, but you’ll see. For the moment you share the hotel room with Leah and it suits you very well like that.

While waiting for the gathering, you show Oslo to Leah and you have an appointment for lunch with Ingrid and Mapi. The idea that the two blondes meet makes you laugh a lot and you know that it’s the same thing for Ingrid.

"Does she speak English?" asks Leah as you join the restaurant where you are supposed to meet.

"She understands it very well but answers Ingrid in Spanish. But I'm talking English with her, even if she speaks great Norwegian. Anyway, I never had any problems communicating with her."

Leah drops a little grunt as a simple answer and you roll your eyes. You managed to get from Leah that this tension would have been born since the elimination of Spain during the Euro, which is in your opinion a little futile.

"You’d better pass over. Ona and Lucy don’t seem to have this problem" you noted with amusement.

"Don’t count on me to coo with Maria Leon" grumbled at Leah.

"I don’t ask that much" you laughed before changing the subject.

You are the first arrivals and you inform Ingrid of your presence once seated at the table. Leah asks you some more questions about the city, which you answer with pleasure, happy to see your girlfriend take so much interest in your native country.

A few minutes later Ingrid and Mapi arrive, and you get up to greet them, imitated by Leah.

(The words in italics are in Norwegian but for the good of all I have not translated them)

"It’s good to see you" Ingrid smiles, hugging you before looking at you. "You look good."

"It’s fresh Norwegian air" you joke, before resuming in English. "Ingrid, this is Leah. Leah, this is Ingrid."

You let your best friend greet Leah, knowing your girlfriend is in good hands when you hear Ingrid greet Leah in a joyful tone. You turn towards Mapi, to whom you also give a hug. You then turn to Leah to redo the presentations, between Mapi and her this time. The exchange is a little more tense than with Ingrid and you roll your eyes when you see them shaking hands, but it’s already that.

The conversations finally go very well, even if Ingrid and you are very often the ones who link things. Leah’s hand settled right at the beginning of the meal naturally on your knee and you didn’t hesitate to interlace your fingers.

After the meal, you decide to take advantage of the mild weather (the term makes Mapi snorts) to go for a walk a little more. You know you’ll see Ingrid again in the next few days, but if your respective girlfriends can get along well and discover commonalities, why not.

"Hot chocolate?" offers Ingrid when you walk past a hot drink stand to take away.

"I’m coming to help you" you tell Ingrid, dropping Leah’s hand to follow her to the booth.

"I like her" immediately announces Ingrid in line to get your drinks. "You did well about listen to yourself"

You smile softly, your chaotic beginnings being far behind you now. Well, only a few months but a lot has already happened between you and you feel so good with the blonde that you have the impression that all this is far behind you.

"She’s great, really" you answer always smiling.

"And you look so happy" Ingrid adds without leaving your face with her eyes.

"I am" you confirm sincerely.

You have no trouble supporting Ingrid’s inquisitive gaze, which nods with her smile. You don’t have to add anything to convince her, but she will tell you a little later that she already was just by hearing you on the phone.

"Look at them" you laugh softly pointing at your two blondes.

Ingrid follows your gaze on Leah and Mapi, both talking from the tip of their lips at eachother as if they were afraid of being seen by someone. The scene seems to amuse Ingrid as much as you since she also laughs before it’s your turn to order.

Your return is greeted with a big smile on both sides and if Leah isn't begged to recover her hot chocoalt, she also doesn’t hesitate to put her arm around your waist. There are fewer people on the streets of Oslo than in London, but if Leah is spotted in the stands of your next match, people will probably quickly draw the right conclusions.

It’s finally in the late afternoon that you say goodbye to the couple who must join Ingrid’s family for dinner. You propose to Leah to show her the citadel, the nightfall offering you magnificent colors. Leah graciously accepts when you ask her to take pictures together before you return to the hotel.

It’s on the way back that your eyes are hung by a shop front that you know rather well. Your glance is noticed very quickly by Leah, who slows down a little. She understands very quickly.

"Do you mind if we say hello?" you ask Leah.

She seems to hesitate a little and you gently tighten her fingers in yours, trying to make her understand that you will respect her answer regardless of her nature.

"I guess" she finally answers, shrugging her shoulders.

You drag her to the tattoo shop, the doorbell ringing when you open it. It hasn’t changed much since the last time you came, except that other drawings were added to the wall. Leah quickly spots your signed football shirt on the wall.

"Y/N"

Leah’s eyes follow the sound of the voice to fall on a young woman of your age, whom she hadn’t seen. The girl gets up from the desk behind which she was half hiding, resting the pencil she had in her hand to come to you. Well, right up to you because she’s hugging you for a warm embrace. What annoys Leah a little, she was often talked about Spanish and their tactile side but she was never warned that in Norway we also went without stopping touching her girlfriend.

"I didn’t expect to see you! How are you?"

"I’m fine" you answer with a smile, casually getting out of her arms to introduce Leah.

You slide an arm in the hollow of her back to advance her to your height, resuming in English.

"Nora, this is Leah. My girlfriend."

If the blonde couldn’t help but feel a touch of jealousy, she can only smile when seeing the smile and the pride with which you designate her. Finally the ball is put back in the center quickly, she thinks, before extending her hand to the tattooist to greet her.

"I don’t speak good English" Nora apologizes to Leah.

After your blonde assured her that it was fine like this, Nora’s attention turns to you and you exchange your latest news. You didn’t lie to Leah, you didn’t have any recent contacts, the jersey she hung on her living room wall was from the last international game you played before moving to Manchester. Leah quickly notices this by paying more attention to the frame. She also realizes that a photo of you and your tattoo are displayed just below, under your jersey.

What she doesn’t appreciate is the affectionate tone with which Nora seems to talk to you. Leah therefore takes care not to let go of your hand for a single second during your exchange.

"Does she know about us?" asks curiously Nora after a few minutes.

As if she had understood that you were talking about her, Leah looks away from the photos of tattoos displayed on the wall to report her attention on you two. You smile at her before you answer Nora.

"Yes. I don’t think there’s much she doesn’t know about me" you answer honestly and shrug your shoulders.

You are interrupted by another couple of clients entering the establishment and Nora apologizes for taking care of them, letting you drag Leah a little back from the entrance.

"If you tell me that it’s on her tattoo table that you did your disgusting business, I’ll burn the store" whispers Leah from the corner of her lips.

You laugh softly as you hear her, glancing at her in astonishment. You did notice Leah’s touch of jealousy at first, but there was nothing special about the rest of your conversation.

"This isn't where we did our disgusting business, likeyou say" you smile and roll your eyes. "You can calm your inflammatory tendencies. Plus, I have done way more disgusting things with you, Williamson."

"Not if she keeps looking at you like she does" the blonde grumbled, ignoring the second part of your sentence.

"Don’t be jealous" you say while tiptoeing to put a kiss on her cheek.

"You slept with her"

"It was a long time ago. I find the best one since"

"Hm."

You roll your eyes one more time and you cross her eyes without letting go of your smile. Leah ends up not being able to hold her smile and you deposit a new kiss, on the corner of her lips this time.

********

A few hours later, in your hotel room, you find yourself awake very early in the morning. Which is surprising since usually Leah almost have to push you out of bed. When you look at the time on your phone, you realize it’s barely 5:00 in the morning. And no matter how hard you try to go back to sleep, you can’t. Your mind flies over the different places in Oslo that you visited with Leah.

And the part that you’ve carefully avoided, afraid of running into Helena. You don’t know if she still lives here, you don’t know what happened to her either. But you could still find the house in which she lives (lived?) very easily. Without giving yourself too much time to think, you end up getting out of bed by taking all the precautions to not wake Leah. You dress quickly and before looking for what drives you to do this, you find yourself in the streets of Oslo in the direction of Helena’s house.

As you expected, you quickly find the way to this place that you hate more than anything. The lights are on upstairs and you take care not to being visible from where you are. With the day beginning to rise, you can observe the garden and see that it is still poorly maintained. The walls are even more decrepit than before and when a silhouette passes in front of the window without curtains you suddenly freeze.

It’s her.

But, unlike the last times you saw her, you didn’t feel the terror that inhabited you in her presence. Which is intriguing and difficult for you to understand. Then, finally, you realize that you don’t care. You can’t say that you don’t feel any negative emotions when you think about her, but you don’t care what she’s become.

On the other hand, thinking about the panic that Leah could feel if she wakes up without seeing you by her side makes you retrace your steps.

Leah is still asleep when you find your hotel room, but she quickly starts moving as soon as you get rid of your shoes and coat. You get back on the bed and put a hand in her hair, only now realizing your body temperature difference.

"Your hands are freezing" Leah complains, shivering, trying to stick against you probably to regain a little warmth.

"I'm sorry" you mumble while laying a kiss on the top of her head.

It only takes a few seconds for Leah to realize that you are no longer wearing your pajamas, stepping back to better observe you. Her eyebrows are frowned when she looks at your clothes and her eyes are uncertain when she rises on yours.

"Where did you go?"

"I went to Helena’s"

You didn’t hesitate a second to tell her the truth, but you flinch when you see Leah's face drops.

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing. It’s okay Babe"

But Leah doesn’t seem convinced and even seems to have trouble understanding what pushed you to go there. And honestly, you wouldn’t be able to explain why either. Actually, you recognize a little of panic in her eyes and in her voice when she talks again.

"Did you talk to her?"

"No" you answer by shaking your head, taking her hand in yours to play with her fingers. "I didn’t see her either, just out the window. Nothing changed there, it’s still creepy and poorly maintained."

"Why didn’t you ask me to come with you? If something had happened to you, I wouldn’t have even known where to get you Y/N, you’re completely unconscious"

"Leah stop, I’m fine"

Leah looks at you with a skeptical air before suddenly drawing you against her by mumbling things far too quickly and too low for you to understand something. But you let her do it, pressing your face on her chest and letting your hands slide on her arms.

"Never do that again. Never leave without telling me where you're going."

"Promise" you sigh softly, lulled by the beating of her heart and her arms around you.

"No sleeping now" Leah grumble while tickling your ribs.

"Leah" you moan, wriggling on her to avoid her fingers.

"I’m serious Y/N. If anything happened to you…"

You quickly understand that under her grumpy air, there is also a great deal of concern. So you hurry up to look at her. It will be necessary to quickly clarify your ideas to try to make her understand what you have done.

"Nothing will happen to me, Babe. I think I just needed to see this place again to realize where I am now. To realize how far I’ve come since. And to realize how lucky I am, too."

"It has nothing to do with luck. You’ve worked a lot to get where you are" Leah says, finally relaxing a bit.

"I wasn’t just talking about football" you point out with a smirk. "But the beautiful blonde in my bed, too."

Leah laughs while hearing you and you take advantage of her change of mood to deposit several kisses on her face, in the hollow of her neck and about every square centimeter of her skin that you can reach.

********

The match being important, the training camps were rather harsh and severe. You get up early in the morning to have breakfast with the team before going to train until lunch. A short walk through Oslo follows to relax before resuming training for the afternoon. In the late afternoon you have either physical strengthening or other activities such as swimming pool or other things that are supposed to increase your chances of winning.

Needless to say, when you return to your room at night, you are exhausted. Luckily Leah continues to discover Norway with your parents or cousin, or all three, which doesn’t make you feel too guilty for bringing her here without being able to take full care of her. The team is staying in the same hotel, three floors below Leah’s room. You managed to sneak into Leah’s room several times during the stay, regaining the comfort and benefits of her arms.

The massages and baths she offers you are much more pleasant than the care provided by the team caregivers, we will not lie.

The day of the game comes quickly and you learn that you will be part of the eleven players of the beginning of the game. You play against Italy, a team that you don’t know too well but that has shown its qualities many times. You are not extremely confident, but as you have nothing to lose it’s with some form of conviction that you join the field.

The stadium is pretty full and when you listen to the Italian national anthem, you look for Leah in the family area. You can’t help but smile when you see her, even if you quickly realize that she put on a Norway team jersey over her jacket. When she realizes that you are looking at her, she turns around before pointing to the back of the jersey. If you can’t read the name from where you are, you have no problem recognizing the number. And it’s yours.

"If that’s not dedication" mumbles Guro next to you with an amused smile.

You give her a quick look in turn, before greeting the Italian players who parade in front of you. You spotted Mapi a few rows above Leah and your family in the bleachers, all also dressed in a Norwegian jersey.

As you might have guessed, the game is physical and tactfully hard. Italy play in a rather rough way, each time flirting with the limit of the yellow card. So you find yourself quite often on the ground and it starts hitting on your nerves from the middle of the first half. You swear in Norwegian when the referee whistles after another tackle against you, accepting Ingrid’s hand to help you get up.

"Don’t let them get in your head, that’s exactly what they want. Stay focus." Ingrid tells you before joining the players standing close to the goal to try and get the free kick to the bottom of the net.

In Arsenal, it’s Katie who shoots the free kicks, but in the Norway team, it’s you who does it. You have been watching her a lot over the last few months, her kick and the precision she shows have always given you a lot of admiration. Even when you played her in Manchester City. Trying to remember the advices she gave you over time, you exhale before you step out of the ball to hit it.

You have the impression that it flies in slow motion, before finding the head of Vilde Bøe Risa and finishing at the bottom of the nets. The shouts of the crowd suddenly resound and you quickly join the rest of your teammates to celebrate the goal. You smile when you feel a few of them tapping on the head to congratulate yourself, returning to your place to allow the match to resume. When you look towards Leah, you can only smile when she raises her thumb in your direction.

It’s only with a small advantage on the counter that you find the changing rooms, but as your coach says, it’s better than nothing. You take advantage of the warmth of the changing rooms to warm up a little, accompanied by a hot tea. When you find the ground fifteen minutes later, the cold is still present but it seems to you less unpleasant.

Italy manages to equalize at the sixtieth minute, but thanks to a good pass from Ingrid you manage to allow Norway to regain the advantage about ten minutes later. The tension is palpable as the minutes pass the contacts become even more brutal than before.

And what was to happen happened.

It’s in the eighty-eighth minutes that you are again launched towards the goal.

You know that if you manage to score, it will definitely qualify your team. So you try to ignore your painful muscles and the different bruises that will definitely mark your body in a few hours to move away at full speed towards the opposing goalkeeper.

You only have one opponent to eliminate to get there, but she seems determined not to let you pass. The tackle you undergo is far from clean, your leg gripped in pincers between her two, emiting a sinister crack when you fall back on the ground.

The pain is immediate and so intense that you cannot hold back a real cry of pain. With your face leaning against the grass, you try to grab your leg to try to reduce the pain but you release it quickly when you understand your mistake. You’re in such pain that you can’t figure out exactly where you’re hurt.

Above you, an argument quickly broke out between several of your teammates and the player responsible for the tackle. The medical team is quickly at your side and you can’t help but push their hands when they start examining your leg.

"Don’t touch me" you beg by turning on your back.

Mixed up in the argument, Ingrid ends up shifting her attention to you by hearing the talking you have with the doctors. When she kneels beside you, one of the doctors quickly asks her to hold your hands to let them work. Ingrid obeys, letting you grab her hands as hard as you can.

Your best friend looks up at the family stands in front of you. She can therefore see that Leah has left her seat and moved as close to the field as possible, seeking to see as best as possible what is happening. Her face is twisted by worry, but what surprises Ingrid above all is to see that Mapi joined her and put a hand probably supposed to be comforting on Leah’s shoulder.

At their side, your parents and your cousin don’t seem to be particularly comfortable either.

Her eyes then rest on you when you are given morphine, before transferring to a stretcher. You leave the field under applause, but the pain and fear of the reality of your injury don’t allow you to appreciate them. Stretcher movements give you intense pain and you have to bite your hands so you don’t scream again. It’s a real relief when morphine finally takes effect some minutes after.

On the field, the end of the game is quickly whistled after the incident. When Ingrid joins her family and yours, she hugs Mapi while being having to answer hundred questions from your parents.

"Is it her ACL?" is the only question Leah asks.

"I don’t know" sighs Ingrid shaking her head, always in Mapi's arms. "She was... She wasn't able to say where exactly her pain was. I can try to get you into the locker room and infirmary if she hasn’t already left for the hospital. But maybe not everyone."

"Go ahead, Leah" your mother replies almost immediately, tapping on the blonde’s shoulder.

Leah hesitates for a split second, not wanting to interfere with the needs and desires of her in-laws. But one look at your father is enough to convince her and she skillfully jumps over the fence.

Ingrid trains her more or less discreetly towards the tunnel to reach the inside of the stadium, exchanging only a few words with your national coach in Norwegian. Obviously Leah doesn't understand a word of it, she only has in mind to be able to find you and know what you have.

Only a few dozen minutes have passed since the shock and your injury, but it seems to you that it's rather long hours. Despite the morphine, you continue to feel spikes of pain. You have never felt such intense pain and you find yourself having to focus on the painting of the ceiling to not lose consciousness.

After three knocks against the door, it opens slowly, letting your best friend and girlfriend pass.

"Leah" you manage to croak and she rushes towards you.

One of her hand squeezes your hand and the other gently caresses your hair while her eyes search for yours.

"What did they say?" Leah asks

"Nothing" you admit pitifully "They were waiting for morphine to take effect, it was hurting to much until now"

Speaking of which, you see two doctors come back inside the room and Ingrid slips away without having laid a kiss on your forehead. And after getting Leah’s promise to keep her informed.

Some new swearing in Norwegian escapes from your lips when they start auscultating you, Leah mentally promises herself to ask you about it in a few days. But right now she’s too busy sympathizing with your pain and looking for a way to turn you away from what’s happening.

"Did we win at least?"

"Yeah. 2-1. You were amazing by the way, we’re gonna have to fight to keep you at Arsenal if you keep playing that well."

You roll your eyes but you are quickly brought to the heart of the matter by the main doctor. He speaks Norwegian, so you have to translate it to Leah.

"What did he say?"

"He thinks it’s a fracture. They’ll transfer me to the hospital."

"At least it’s not your ACL" Leah sighs of relief.

You grimace before addressing the doctor again, asking if it's possible that someone could bring the things you left in the locker room.

Ingrid brings them to you, already changed and showered when she appears. Your parents, your cousin and Mapi follow her. All these people are not allowed to follow you to the hospital, but you reassure them as much as possible. You promise once again to keep them informed and you kiss them before going to the ambulance. Quickly realizing that it's impossible to put your foot on the ground or even hop while holding on to Leah, you are pushed on a bed to the vehicle.

Arriving at the hospital, you enjoy being able to wash yourself, with the precious help of Leah. You sigh with despair when you have to put on one of these hospital gowns, but this gives you the right to have access to a room and it's always more pleasant than the ambient noise of the reception of the emergency.

You leave Leah for a few moments to go for the scanner and she's eating the vanilla pudding of your meal tray when you come back.

"You hate vanilla" she exclaims for an excuse with an innocent face when you look at her with an half amused-half severe smile.

It also turns out that this is the only food that the blonde likes on what is offered on this set. You eat without much conviction under the insistence of Leah, the blonde certifying that she promised your mother to take care of you and that it begins by ensuring that you eat properly.

You both doze off when the doctors come back with your test results, you on your bed and Leah in a chair next to you. The blonde stubbornly refused to lie next to you despite your insistence, being too afraid to hurt you.

Leah’s frustration is at its height when you are given information in your native language, not understanding any of the words spoken. There is no similarity between these two languages and she wonders how you learned to speak English so well under these conditions.

"So?" she asks barely a second after the doctor has finished talking.

"Tibial tray fracture" you mumble

"Do you need surgery?"

You shake your head negatively, a little stunned by all this. You are interrupted by the doctor who tells you a few more words before leaving the room, shaking your hand then Leah's.

********

The night at the hospital was complicated for you, apart from the pain that kept you awake for many hours, you had to be taken away so that they put a cast that you will have to keep for a few weeks, before changing it for a splint. The only time you got your smile back was when you could choose the color of your blast.

"Red" you answered without hesitation.

"Red?" Leah asked when she saw the nurses preparing the mixture.

"If I have to stay stuck in the bleachers for a few weeks, I might as well match the colors of Arsenal"

You shrugged, trying to hide your sadness from this idea. Leah went through a lot more difficult than that and you don’t want to impose your moods on her. But she seems to have perfected her ability to read your thoughts since she immediately raised your face gently for you to look at her.

"Oh no, not that. You have the right to be sad, you have the right to be angry and you have the right to blame the whole world. But you don’t have the right to shut yourself up and not talk about how you feel. You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather confide to Less or someone else, but don’t shut yourself. Please."

Throat knotted, you couldn’t say anything, so you just nodded. That was enough for Leah who laid a tender kiss on your cheek.

"And you can count on me to be there every step of the way"

"I know" you smiled softly

With you and Leah not leaving until two days later, you mostly stayed in your hotel room after leaving the hospital. You have been busy for a long time with the various calls and messages you have received from many of your relatives. Instead of calling you once a week, your mother called you every day. And of course you got calls from Ingrid, Leila, Laia, Alessia (who in the meantime changed her name in your phone by Sis ✨), Katie and finally almost all of Arsenal.

"Nice free kick" told you Katie when she called you via FaceTime "I will have competition to take it at Arsenal, it’s good."

When you flew back to London and you’ve never been happier living in an elevator building. All that remains is to hope that it doesn’t break down for the next six weeks, when you can apparently start walking again without having the leg immobilized.

Leah will keep her promise to not to leave you alone for the slightest minute as she will establish a whole program with the club’s doctors so that your rehabilitation and the strengthening exercises you have to do will be planned at exactly the same times as the workouts of the others. When you’re not at Arsenal facilities, you are at home with her.

And on game days, you watch them play. The next match is against Aston Villa and you regret a little not participating in the game alongside Leah. Being able to beat the team in which your two exes evolve is a little too interesting idea for you, but it will wait next time. Meanwhile, you just follow Leah with your eyes, carefully studying Jordan’s behavior towards her.

Arsenal wins hands down and even if you are disappointed not to play with your team, you are very proud of your teammates. At the end of the match, you follow Lia who was replaced towards the end of the match on the field with your crutches, struggling a little because of the slippery ground. But you quickly reach the height of Alessia that you take in your arms to congratulate her on the goal she scored.

You’re having a hard time finding Leah in the crowd of players and you can’t help but get a little nervous about Jordan getting her before you. It’s however Katie who turns you away from this idea when she suddenly arrives behind you to lift you and begin to carry you like a bride.

"Let go of me, you maniac" you laugh when you see her starting a lap without letting you go.

"Why? Show everyone your cast!"

During one of the lunch breaks, her and Leah worked hard to reproduce the Arsenal logo on your cast and they are both very proud of their work. Your cast also has the names of all your teammates, a cat drawning made by Viv supposed to represent Raven, flowers made by Alessia and an Australian flag made by Kyra.

You roll your eyes, your arms around Katie's neck to stabilize you.

"Uh, the other way please" you mumble realizing that Lia is now exchanging a few words with Alina, right in the direction that Katie is going.

"Oops."

The Irish changes direction, only so that you find yourself facing Leah who looks at you both with fun.

"Can you give me back my girlfriend now please?"

"Dunno. I like her" Katie tease Leah as she tighten you up against her.

"I’m here too, by the way"

You see Caitlin waving her arm with a big smile a few meters from you, making the three of you laugh. When Katie finally puts you down, Leah beckons you to climb on her back, making you frown.

"People are gonna think this is weird, no?"

"Leah was in the stands of your last game with a jersey named after you. What would be weird is that they haven’t figured it out yet" Manu, who joined you, says.

"She’s right" Leah shrugged. "And at worst, we don’t care?"

Since the blonde doesn’t seem to see the slightest inconvenience, you don’t make yourself pray any longer. Leaning on her shoulders, you jump on her back, Leah passing her arms under your thighs so she can carry you properly. You greet the crowd from time to time when you hear your name, talking about everything and nothing with Leah and your teammates.

"So, we don't care right?" You ask Leah after a few minutes.

"Yes, why?"

You’re not answering her question. Instead, you lean over her and kiss her cheek, then the corner of her lips when she turns her head towards you. She grins and you grin back at her.

"Hard launch" Caitlin sings, her arm around Katie's waist.

"Yeah, you're the one to talk" Leah laughs while looking at them.

You didn’t see Jordan after the game and when you ask Alessia a little after, she will tell you that she actually went back to the locker room almost right after the whistle. It probably means to you that seeing you with Leah is difficult for her, probably confirming your theory. But the photos you see on social media a little later, while you are peacefully lying in Leah’s arms in your bed, could alone confirm that the blonde has indeed moved on.

The way she looks at you on those pictures gives you butterflies in your stomach and a wave of affection for her. Leah will only have two seconds to understand what happens to her when you drop your phone on the mattress to go up for her lips and kiss her passionately. She’s yours.