#i love bicycle kicks

[currantlees-creative-corner]

I hate myself, so I am going to attempt this again. But I hate the official Inktober prompt list even more than myself, so I'm gonna use this one instead - thanks to @the-secret-place and their Chrithy Bot for all the prompts (if you have trouble reading them, click on the ALT-image description). Feel free to use it as well if you want!

No, I'm not gonna do these prompts in a particular order. What, that's against the rules? Well, I call my liberty artistic freedom then!

In other words, happy fall everyone!

[pombinho]

Lmao 3 out of 10 goals in fifa's best goals of the tournament are brazilian. And 2 of them are from the same person. @ the rest of the world you wish you were a bad bitch like us.

[earthandsunandmoon]

I picked chestnuts today :D

[randompiggy]

and when i tell you this is the greatest day of my whole entire life

[95rkives]

baby fever⼂k.nj

summary: what was supposedly a peaceful morning stroll in the park, an unexpected encounter triggers namjoon’s intense desire for a baby, turning him into an adorable, baby fever-filled mess.

parings: bf!namjoon x fem!reader

genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, namjoon is in love

wc: 1.7k

a/n: hi hi! wanted to quickly say i’m on vacation rn, hence the slow updates but! big things are coming soon ;) im so excited to share! for now, i hope u enjoy this short oneshot, im actually so very proud of it, i was giggling, kicking my feet while writing this </3

"according to statistics, the average individual devotes approximately half a year of their life patiently waiting for traffic lights to transition from red to green."

his statement elicited an amused laugh from you, bordering on a light-hearted scoff. you cast a sidelong glance at him, raising your eyebrows in playful skepticism. "well, that sounds like quite a creative excuse to evade obtaining a driver's license."

a soft chuckle escapes him, his hand playfully swaying yours in gentle synchronization as you stroll along the serene lakeside in the park. "it's true," he asserts, meeting your gaze with a mischievous grin, creating a brief moment of shared complicity before you both resume gazing ahead.

"and besides," he interjects, tilting his head slightly in a contemplative manner "opting for bicycling and walking is infinitely more enjoyable, not to mention immensely beneficial for the environment."

you shake your head in mild disbelief, unimpressed by his narrow-mindedness and his pretentious vocabulary. "well then, i suppose i shall retire from my role as your personal chauffeur—in fact," pausing for dramatic effect, you continue, "i'll go as far as relinquishing my license, selling my car, and indulging myself in that coveted prada bag i've long desired."

that prompted him to throw his head back in a burst of laughter, his eyes brimming with amusement as he glanced at you. "so dramatic," he remarked, gently lifting your interlocked hands and planting a tender kiss on the back of yours, releasing a soft breath of laughter through his nose.

a subtle tsk of annoyance escaped your lips, accompanied by a discreet roll of your eyes as your head turns away from him. you find it impossible to suppress the sly grin that stealthily spreads across your lips.

"you know," he begins, his words trembling with a hint of laughter that gradually subsides. his gaze shifts downwards, fixed upon his own feet, attempting to suppress a smile. "i find it incredibly attractive," he admits, a sly grin playing on his lips as he turns to face you once more, his posture slightly bowed, leaving you weak in the knees. "when you're behind the wheel," he clarifies, a gentle laugh escaping his lips as you avert your gaze, feeling a gentle blush warm your cheeks, however subtle it may be.

"oh, so am i exempt from the rules? can i single-handedly destroy the planet?" you playfully quip, a sly grin playing upon your lips as your gaze roams everywhere but his face.

he allows his eyes to linger on the side of your face for a heartbeat longer, before he subtly clears his throat and returns his focus forward. giving your hand a gentle squeeze, he finally responds, his voice carrying a touch of mischief, "yes," he pauses, a slow, confident grin spreading across his lips, "without a doubt."

laughter spills effortlessly from your lips, and you can't resist playfully nudging his shoulder with your own. the gentle collision causes him to stumble ever so slightly, his balance momentarily disrupted, but a massive grin radiates across his face, unable to be contained.

as your attention drifts away from the conversation, a delightful sight captures your eyes. "oh," you exclaim, unable to hide your enthusiasm. "look, ducks!" a grin lights up your face as you observe mothers and children congregating near the tranquil lake, joyfully feeding these charming creatures.

namjoon follows the direction of your gaze, and a gentle smile graces his lips. he steals a quick glance at you before returning his focus to the scene ahead. "would you like to go feed them?"

without a moment's hesitation, your response is immediate. like an exuberant child, you eagerly pull him along, almost breaking into a jog as you make your way towards the spot where the ducks are already being fed.

your hand slips away from his, and you gracefully lower yourself into a crouch near the edge of the serene lake. in perfect formation, ducks accompanied by their adorable ducklings gracefully glide through the water, forming enchanting lines. the sheer cuteness of the scene elicits a delightful flutter in your heart, filling you with pure joy.

namjoon positions himself behind you, his hands casually nestled in the pockets of his jeans. with tender admiration, he gazes down at you, a radiant smile gracing his features, exuding warmth and affection.

"i have no bread," you pout, or at least that's the conclusion he draws from the palpable disappointment lacing your voice.

“i can go get some; there's a bakery not too far—" his words are abruptly halted by an unfamiliar, yet endearingly tiny voice, capturing his attention. it doesn't take long for him to realize that the voice belongs to a little girl who has appeared nearby.

"would you like to share with me?" the little girl bravely approaches you, and your face instantly lights up with a radiant smile in response to her sweet offer. as she draws near, you realize she stands at the same height as you, since you were crouched down, appearing no older than four or five years old.

“oh," you exhale a soft, melodic laugh, your eyebrows lifting in surprise. "you are so incredibly kind," you remark with genuine warmth, tilting your head ever so slightly. her beaming smile grows even wider upon receiving your compliment, her innocent delight radiating in response.

as the distant calls of what appears to be her mother draw nearer, the three of you instinctively turn to face her.

“ava!" the mother pants as she finally catches up, coming to a stop. "didn't i tell you to stop bothering people?" her face adopts a pouting expression, a thinly veiled attempt to conceal her underlying irritation, her eyebrows slightly furrowing.

“but, mom," ava whines in such an adorably plaintive tone that it elicits a shared snicker between you and namjoon. "she doesn't have bread!" she huffs, her frustration evident, prompting the mother to heave a sigh of surrender.

“i'm truly sorry," the woman interjects, her eyes shifting between you and namjoon, offering apologetic smiles. "she's been going around handing bread to everyone she meets—"

“please, there's no need to worry," you assure her, your voice carrying a gentle tremor of laughter. your attention then shifts back to the little girl before you. "how about we feed them together?" you suggest, employing the softest, most endearing tone you can muster, aiming to ignite a sense of excitement in the young one. it proves successful as ava nods eagerly, brimming with anticipation.

with a carefree grace, she positions herself in front of you, leaning back casually against you. in response, you wrap an arm around her, your palm tenderly resting on her stomach. the scene proves to be utterly captivating, prompting namjoon to bite down on his lip in an effort to contain his smile—or perhaps even a squeal. either way, he finds the sight undeniably adorable, melting his heart in the process.

the mother approaches and stands next to namjoon, casting a smile in his direction before her gaze shifts to her daughter and you. her eyes brim with curiosity as she poses the question, "girlfriend? wife?"

although caught slightly off guard, namjoon responds with a warm smile, a sheepish laugh slipping past his lips. he looks down at you once again, his eyes sparkling with affection and adoration. almost dreamily, he confirms, "girlfriend." the woman chuckles softly, captivated by the enchanting connection between the two of you.

completely unaware, you wholeheartedly engage in feeding the ducks with ava. together, you toss pieces of bread onto the lake, captivating the ducks' attention. to your sheer joy, one of the ducks emerges from the water and gently takes bread from ava's hand, prompting her to squeal in pure delight. your laughter harmonizes with hers, forming a symphony of happiness and carefree bliss.

namjoon's heart leaps, skips, and dances within his chest, each beat amplified in intensity. the way you engage with ava, emanating an innate gentleness and kindness, strikes a chord deep within him. it's a tender scene that tugs at his heartstrings, leaving him captivated by the beauty of your nurturing nature.

lost in his captivated state, namjoon remains oblivious to the fact that you have risen to your feet, gracefully making your way towards him. only when ava runs back to her mother's embrace does he snap out of his reverie, his gaze shifting to you as you approach him with a gentle grace.

you come to stand beside him, and almost instinctively, his arm drapes over your shoulders, drawing you close as you face the mother and daughter together.

“now, say thank you,” the mother playfully prompts ava, gently swaying her in her arms. her smile extends towards you, and in a shy, sweet whisper, ava utters her gratitude, causing your heart to soar with joy.

“thank you," you reply, placing emphasis on the word 'you.' "without you, i wouldn't have been able to feed the ducks." your smile radiates with warmth and tenderness as you gaze at the little girl, a soft giggle escaping your lips, filled with genuine appreciation and delight.

engaging in heartfelt conversation, you share a few more words with the mother, building a connection even in the brief encounter. the exchange concludes with beaming smiles that radiate warmth and gratitude, as you bid each other farewell, the memory of the delightful interaction lingering in your hearts.

as you observe them walking away, namjoon's gaze shifts towards you, a sly smile gracing his lips. his hand tenderly caresses your shoulder, moving up and down in a soothing gesture as he speaks. "you would make an exceptional mother,"

the tone of his voice catches your attention, drawing your gaze to meet his. as you lock eyes, you notice the way he slightly purses his lips, a subtle but unmistakable sign that he's trying to contain a smile. with a knowing glance, you quickly catch on.

“absolutely not.”

“wait—” he bursts into laughter as you shake his arm off your shoulders and begin walking away. however, he swiftly follows suit, reaching from behind to wrap his arms around you, creating an endearing obstacle that makes it more challenging for both of you to walk

“you're absolutely insane," you playfully groan as he showers your neck, shoulder, and cheek with gentle kisses. he nuzzles into your hair, emitting a soft giggle that resonates with warmth and affection.

"one child won't hurt," he whispers softly, his words carrying a hint of mischief. you start to wiggle in an attempt to break free from his embrace, but he only tightens his grip around you, refusing to let you escape his affectionate hold.

[zombvic]

Hii, i would like to request for Jude Bellingham 🫶🏻 The match between England and Slovakia just ended sooo i was thinking maybe some little angst with reader from Slovakia (because i'm from there🫶🏻) like he would be sad if she wouldn't wear his jersey or her little mad after the match because her country lost, Thank you, have a great day 💗💗

PATRIOTIC (jude bellingham x reader)

summary : in which y/n is a true patriot to her country

face claim : no-one exact

notes : I LOVE THIS IDEA!!!! given the fact im also slovak (jedine vsž !!!). this match was a traumatic experience tbh and i was on the edge of my seat (literally) while watching.. i feel like jude is doing everything to go against my silly ahh.. first joining the rival (madrid) and now knocking out my country from the euros man.. since slovakia is gone, time to cheer for spain and netherlands #vamosandstuff

pairings : jude bellingham x slovak!reader

y/n, long time girlfriend of jude bellingham, could be considered a patriot when it came to sports. on an average day, you could say she hated slovakia. the politicians were horrid, inflation was growing by the week, dumb decisions made by the parliament. but when there was an international tournament, like the hockey world championship or the euros, her national pride was next level. she would proudly wear her jersey with the double cross and the red, white and blue colors and cheer for slovakia like her life depended on it.

this year, the euros were particularly exciting. slovakia had managed to advance to the round of sixteen after a tense tie with romania. the whole country was buzzing with anticipation. y/n, however, had a unique point of view on all of this. she was dating jude bellingham, the english youngster, and their teams were about to face off.

the atmosphere in the stadium was wild. y/n sat in her seat, heart pounding, wearing her slovakia jersey with her name on the back. jude knew she was here, but he didn’t know she’d be wearing that jersey. until now, hes only seen her wear an england jersey with a big number 10 on the back while he was playing. the round of sixteen had brought slovakia against england, and the tension was kinda scary.

the game started off intensely. slovakia's forward, ivan schranz, scored a goal in the 25th minute, sending the slovak fans into a frenzy. you could hear that "SLOVENSKOOOO" in your bones. y/n couldn't help but join in on the celebrations, her heart filling with pride. she glanced at jude on the field, knowing how badly he wanted to advance, but in that moment, all she wanted was for slovakia to beat england.

as the minutes ticked by, the match felt like it was dragging. england pressed hard, but slovakia's defense held strong. y/n's anxiety grew with each passing second. she knew jude was frustrated, but she also knew he was a relentless player.

then, in the 95th minute, jude did the unthinkable. he scored a stunning bicycle kick, tying the game. y/n’s heart sank. she wanted to jump up and celebrate his incredible goal, but the reality of what it meant for slovakia hit her hard. the game was now tied, and the prospect of overtime sneaked ominously.

another thing that kind of pissed y/n off was the way jude celebrated. i mean, come on. you scored against your girlfriend's national team, and that's how you celebrate? of course, it's a very passionate game, but it still hurt, obviously.

overtime began, and y/n's fear became reality. just 50 seconds in, harry kane scored, putting england ahead. slovakia struggled to find an equalizer, and as the final whistle blew, y/n felt a mix of anger, disappointment, and sadness. slovakia's journey in the euros was over, and it was mainly because of the man she loved.

after the match, jude came looking for y/n, a smile on his face. "did you see my goal?" he asked, clearly excited.

y/n, still wearing her slovakia jersey, felt a surge of annoyance. "yeah, i saw it," she replied curtly. jude's smile faded as he noticed her tone.

"what's wrong?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"jude, read the damn room," y/n muttered, turning away. she didn't want to start an argument here, not now.

jude sighed, sensing her mood. "i’m sorry, baby. i know you wanted slovakia to win."

"of course i did? but it's not just that," she said, her voice softening slightly. "let's just drop it for now."

"alright then.." jude reluctantly agreed and went out to dinner with his teammates to celebrate. y/n stayed behind in their hotel room, her mind racing. she knew she was being irrational, but the mix of emotions was overwhelming. how could she be happy for jude when her own team had been eliminated?

hours passed, and when jude returned, the tension in the room was thick. y/n's frustration had only grown. jude, sensing the impending argument, he tried to lighten the mood. "you know, you looked cute in that slovakia jersey," he teased.

y/n glared at him. "really, jude? that's what you want to talk about right now?"

jude's expression hardened. "what's your problem, y/n? i played my heart out there."

"my problem?" y/n snapped. "my problem is that you ruined our chance. you ghosted the whole match and then suddenly scored a stinker in added time."

jude's eyes narrowed. "i was doing my job, y/n. i’m supposed to score goals, remember? and why the hell were you wearing that jersey anyway? do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

"oh, so now it's about your feelings?" y/n shot back. "you think it’s easy for me? watching you celebrate while my team gets eliminated?"

"and you think it was easy for me?" jude retorted. "seeing you cheer for the other team? i thought you’d at least be supportive of me, no matter what."

"other team?? you mean my team??? also, what do you mean by supportive?" y/n scoffed. "how can i support you when you’re one of the main reasons we lost? i know it’s just a game, jude, but it still hurts."

"you’re being ridiculous," jude said, his voice rising. "this isn’t just about the game, is it?"

"of course it is! what are you on about?" y/n replied, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes.

jude ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. "you’re mad at me for doing my job? for helping my team? you knew what this was from the start."

"it's not just about that! it's the way you celebrated, like you didn’t care about what it meant to me!" y/n shot back, her voice breaking. "you scored a goal and acted like you won the fucking world cup. did you even think about how i felt?"

jude’s face softened slightly, but he was still visibly upset. "i’m a footballer, y/n. scoring goals is what i do. it’s my passion, my career. i can’t just switch that off because of you."

"i’m not asking you to switch it off," she said, wiping her eyes. "i’m asking you to be considerate. to think about what it means for me and my country."

jude sighed deeply, frustration giving way to a partial understanding. "i get that, but you need to understand my side too. i can’t not play my best because of our relationship. it’s unfair to my teammates, to the fans."

"i didn’t mean to hurt you," jude said quietly. "i was caught up in the moment. i’m sorry if it came off wrong."

jude stared at her, his anger slowly giving way to realization. "y/n, i never wanted you to feel like that," he said, his tone softening. "i love you, and i cannot imagine you not supporting me from the sidelines."

y/n looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "okay. but next time, maybe don’t celebrate like you just scored in the finals when you score against us."

jude chuckled softly, pulling her into a hug. "deal. and maybe next time, wear my jersey instead of yours?"

she laughed, the tension finally breaking. "we’ll see about that."

as they held each other, y/n felt the weight of the argument lifting, replaced by a renewed sense of understanding and love. they might come from different worlds, but they were determined to make it work, no matter the challenges.

if anyone was interested in my dads entire match commentary 😊

"a mame po turnaji" means were fucked (basically)😭🙏🏽

[seuonji]

彡 living with you.

notes ๑ scenarios of things that occurred when you started living with your svt bf!

genre ๑ fluff

warnings ๑ none but in seokmin’s one it’s hinted the reader wears makeup!!

word count ๑ 1k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated<3

waking up early with seungcheol/soonyoung/jihoon and going grocery shopping!!

seungcheol has a hard time saying no when you want to buy unrelated items like house decoration or a grill— you always end up buying too much and struggle to carry the items back home.

you’re the one who has to control soonyoung when it comes to buying stuff but like wdym he can’t buy the tiger themed cooking set? fortunately, he’s great at remembering a ‘things to buy’ list but what comes with that is a tornado that wants to buy a bicycle along the way.

jihoon would ask you “are you sure you need it.” or “what are you going to use it for.” you end up leaving the store with what you actually need. but he might slip in a tub of ice cream or a pack of candy you like when you reach the counter.

+

jeonghan pulling you back to bed whenever you move after waking up. it’s a pain when you have to pee cause he will not let go.

“it’s so early, why are you already leaving?”

he loves nuzzling his face into your neck but if you don’t enjoy that you’re just gonna have to kick him in the shins to push him away ʅ（◞_◟）ʃ.

+

joshua loves going out but when he moved in with you, his outing time decreased sufficiently. he loves laying on the couch with you as you two turn off your brains and talk about random stuff while your mixed playlist plays in the background.

+

for some reason, you always walk in on jun in the middle of doing a silly dance. he will not hesitate to drag you to dance with him.

on a cuter note, when he’s free he definitely surprises you with breakfast in bed. he takes note of things you’re craving and serves it to you without fail.

+

wonwoo placed another chair beside his gaming chair. it’s there so that you can sit beside him while he’s gaming.

i mean, you usually sit on his lap but sometimes he jumps in the middle of playing when he gets frustrated at the game… so he had to implement the second chair—

+

seokmin loves joining you while you get ready to go out. he just sits beside you and plays with your hair but if you ask him to dry or brush your hair, he’ll do it. might even help you organise you stuff so that it doesn’t hassle you when you get back home.

+

mingyu heard your stomach rumble late at night. he laughed about it and you got offended, making it clear by facing your back towards him.

“i’m sorry yn!” he said between laughs as he pulled you towards him.

“shut up, go sleep.”

“come let me cook you a meal, what do you want?”

turns into a night of you sitting on the counter while mingyu’s at the stove cooking the meal you requested. he’d wear an apron even if it was 4 in the morning.

+

minghao, you let him use the spare room for his art but it sort of turned into your healing room. you two just stay there, no electronics, no phones, not much except for art supplies on the floor and a small stool. minghao often sits as you lay your head on his lap but you two switch of course. on the days he had art block, with consent, he’d paint on your skin to try and get some ideas.

“ooh i like that one!” you beamed as you took a peek to your arm that minghao was painting on.

“really? guess i found my next piece.”

+

getting noise complaints with seungkwan/chan after you two argued over who could get a score of 100% on karaoke.

also i feel like he’s type to tackle you when he hugs you so there’s so many loud thuds and every time that happens—

bottom line y’all loud as hell.

but on another note about the hugs, he def always tackles you onto the bed whenever you come back home from work or an outing or just after you shower!!

+

breakfast at the balcony with vernon!

there on the balcony, you both have either really deep conversations or the most pointless conversations to exist. if your neighbours could hear you, they’d be concerned cause your topics really go from “do i deserve to exist?” to “i think i could be president and it would go well.”

you two could start a podcast, it will succeed. or that’s just what vernon likes to believe.

[virgoilluminati]

Heyyyyyy,

Can I request a Jude imagine where you attend the match where he does his bicycle kick and you’re just so proud of him ? Established relationship

Thank You

The Final Frame

A/N: i remember watching jude scouring that against slovakia and screaming so loud in the pub it was sooo embarrassing 🙈 ✨Apologies this isn't my longest fic, but i lowkey really love it.

Inspo: You and Jude have been together for two years after you helped treat one of his teammates, as the local surgeon. Despite this, you have never been to a single one of his games, as you barely get time off. One day you decide to surprise him with tickets to the semi finals of the champions league and scores the best goal of his career.

The stadium was a cauldron of noise, filled with tens of thousands of passionate fans. The air buzzed with anticipation as Jude's team prepared for their critical Champions League match. The match had been marked on calendars across Europe, but it held a special place in the heart of one particular spectator.

As a surgeon, you had spent countless nights in the operating room, your hands saving lives and mending broken bodies. Your demanding career often kept you from attending Jude's matches, despite the years you'd spent together. But tonight was different. You had managed to clear your schedule, and for the first time, you found yourself in the stands, eager to witness your partner in his element.

You had kept your visit a secret, not wanting to add any pressure on Jude. His focus needed to be entirely on the game, not on the fact that his significant other was watching from the stands for the very first time. As the crowd roared and the players took their positions, you scanned the field, your eyes locking on Jude. His presence was commanding, his focus unwavering. This was where he belonged.

The stadium was a sea of colors, the team’s vibrant jerseys blending with the scarves and flags of the fans. The air was electric, charged with the energy of thousands of voices chanting and cheering. You took a deep breath, the scent of fresh-cut grass and the faint tang of sweat filling your senses. This was a world so different from the sterile, controlled environment of the hospital. Here, everything was raw and alive.

The game began with a blistering pace. You watched in awe as Jude moved across the field with grace and precision. Every pass he made was calculated, every movement purposeful. He was a maestro, orchestrating the flow of the game with a skill that left you breathless. It was one thing to hear about his prowess on the field, but to see it in person was something else entirely.

It was two years ago when you first met Jude. You had just finished a grueling 14-hour surgery and were grabbing a quick coffee in the hospital cafeteria. The cafeteria was nearly empty, the only sounds the hum of the vending machines and the distant chatter of nurses finishing their shifts. You were exhausted, your mind still buzzing from the intensity of the operation. You had just saved a life, but the weight of the responsibility always left you drained.

Jude had been there visiting a teammate who had injured himself during a match. He was sitting a few tables away, and you noticed his easy smile and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about football with his friend. Despite your weariness, you couldn't help but notice how his presence seemed to brighten the room.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?" he had asked, holding his coffee.

"Sure," you replied, too exhausted to care about small talk.

He sat down, and for a moment, there was silence. Then he started talking, and you found yourself drawn into his world. He spoke about his passion for the game, his dreams, and his fears. You listened, fascinated by his dedication and drive.

"You must have a really interesting job," he said, glancing at your scrubs.

You smiled wryly. "It's definitely not boring. I'm a surgeon."

His eyes widened with genuine interest. "Wow, that's incredible. It must be so rewarding, saving lives every day."

You shrugged, a modest smile on your face. "It has its moments."

You exchanged numbers that day, thinking it would be nice to have a friend outside the hospital. What started as casual conversations soon blossomed into something more. Late-night phone calls, stolen moments of time together, and shared dreams brought you closer together.

Your heart raced with every near miss, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. The tension was palpable, each moment hanging in the balance. Jude was everywhere, intercepting passes, setting up plays, and directing his teammates. His passion and determination were evident in every stride he took.

As the match wore on, the score remained deadlocked. The stakes were sky-high, with both teams desperate to secure their place in the next round. Your nerves were frayed, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the field. In the final minute, with the game seemingly destined for a draw, Jude made his move.

You remembered the night before your biggest surgery yet. You had been a bundle of nerves, unable to sleep. The surgery was a complex procedure that would test every bit of your skill and knowledge. The clock read 2:00 AM, and despite the late hour, Jude had stayed up with you, talking through your fears and offering words of encouragement.

"You're going to be amazing," he had said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You always are."

"What if something goes wrong?" you had whispered, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at you.

He had taken your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting. "Then you'll handle it, just like you always do," he had replied. "You're one of the best surgeons in the country. You've got this."

He had then shared a story from his own life, a time when he had been under immense pressure. "It was my first big match with the national team," he said, his eyes distant as he recalled the memory. "I was so nervous I could barely think straight. But my coach pulled me aside and told me something that I've never forgotten. He said, 'Nerves are just a sign that you care. Use them to fuel your performance.' And I did. We won that match, and it was one of the best games of my career."

Those words had given you the strength you needed, the reminder that you were capable of overcoming any challenge. You had gone into that surgery the next day with a renewed sense of confidence, and everything had gone smoothly, just as Jude had predicted. Afterward, you had felt a sense of accomplishment that was indescribable, a feeling that Jude had helped you achieve.

A cross came in from the right, the ball arcing through the air towards the penalty box. Jude's eyes never left it. He leaped, his body twisting mid-air in a perfect bicycle kick. Time seemed to slow as his foot connected with the ball, sending it flying towards the goal. The stadium fell silent, the collective breath of thousands held in anticipation.

The ball sailed past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper and into the net. For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, the stadium erupted. The noise was deafening, the joy palpable. Jude had done it. He had scored the winning goal, securing his team's place in the next round of the Champions League.

You leaped to your feet, your voice joining the chorus of celebration. Tears of pride and joy filled your eyes as you watched Jude being mobbed by his teammates. He looked up into the stands, his eyes searching, and for a brief moment, they found yours. You weren't sure if he recognized you amidst the sea of faces, but you hoped he felt your pride and love.

After the match, you made your way down to the players' area, your heart still pounding with excitement. The halls were a maze of concrete and metal, the noise from the stadium a distant roar. When Jude finally emerged, his face lit up with surprise and joy at the sight of you. He rushed over, sweeping you into his arms.

"You came," he breathed, his voice a mix of disbelief and happiness.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," you replied, holding him close. "You were incredible, Jude. I am so, so proud of you."

He smiled, his eyes shining with emotion. "It means everything to have you here. I can't believe you saw that goal."

You laughed, the sound filled with pure joy. "I've always known you were amazing, but seeing it in person... It's something else."

As you walked together towards the locker rooms, Jude turned to you, his face serious. "I know how hard it is for you to get time off. Thank you for being here. It really means a lot."

You squeezed his hand. "You deserve to have someone here for you. You've always been there for me, Jude. This was the least I could do."

[ivysangel]

pilates princess gf and gym bro Jason Todd, I'm begging.

him getting home after his daily gym workout and seeing his beautiful girlfriend doing a pilates mat session in their living room, wearing pink leggings and a white crop top. and Jason getting turned in by one of the poses she made, so he just fucks her there, praising and teasing her, making her mat a whole dirty mess with their body fluids.

I'm bad at making requests, sorrywnsbns

can I be "🐚" anon?

ooooooooooooo my goddddddddd i'm sick. this sat in my inbox for ages but trust, i have been thinking about it. side note, i don't workout so idk if any of this lingo is right and i don't care enough to check. gym bros get nothing from me.

i hate gym bros so bad, i'm actively praying on the downfall of them (pilates princess' have my heart tho), but i think he'd be the type to throw some headphones on and do his workout alone, interacting very minimally with people but when he does, it's very polite.

he's everybody's gym crush and doesn't say no when girls ask him to spot them because, of course, he's not gonna risk anyone getting hurt, especially when he knows it won't lead to anything. and trust, it never does. some flirt and bat their eyes, a lot just tap on their friends and try to secretly signal for them to look. he's sure he's the topic of someone's private story. but none of it matters at all because he's got you at home.

sometimes, the rush of endorphins he gets after a workout gives him more energy than he knows what to do with, and not even a few extra reps is enough to tire him out. so when he gets home and sees you doing bicycle kicks, leggings hugging the curve of your ass, he's got the bright idea to use the rest of his energy on you.

bam. now he's fucking you doggy style.

leggings pulled down just under your cheeks because he likes the way they look around your thighs, and the workout you were following paused on the screen. he's hunched over, kissing his way down your spine, telling you how much he loves you and how much he needed this. he promises he'll make it up for you, promises he's sorry for interrupting your workout. but he swears up and down, in between praises, that this is a good alternative because you're both burning energy and getting off.

[skipper1331]

Red Card // Ona Batlle

a/n: based off this request.

El clasico.

Intense. Exhausting. Harsh.

Playing against Real Madrid was something you wanted to do since you were a kid. Growing up as a Barcelona fan, it was your biggest dream to play for them and when the offer came, you didn‘t say no - you couldn‘t. You left your childhood club for the better even though it hurt you. You had many memories and loved every single person there but it was no secret that Barcelona was your dream club and you worked so hard to achieve the goal of playing for them.

-

In your game mode, you stood in the tunnel, your eyes looking straightforward, jaw tensed, hands behind your back. It was your typical tunnel-posture as Ona would say, the defender always behind you.

The Spaniards were chatting with their friends while you didn‘t say a word. You knew plenty of them and would greet them after the match but now? You had to focus.

The first few minutes of the game were pure chaos, both sides losing the ball way to quickly. After about 20 minutes, the Barca players found their rhythm as perfect passes were delivered and chances created. Quite the opposite of the Real Madrid girls who tried to find their groove. As they tried, tackles came flying in, jerseys were pulled and harsh words left their mouth.

And when Alexia scored, hell broke out. You lost track how often your body had hit the ground or how often you saw your team mates laying on the pitch - the ref didn‘t seem to know the footballers rules though. No fouls called - no cards.

At half time, the score was 1-0, your body already exhausted.

"¿Estás bien?" your favorite defender asked as rubbed you back in a calming manner, "yes" you answered.

"Good. Now go and score a goal for me, mi amor" she pressed a quick yet loving kiss to your forehead before you left the changing room.

I will, you thought.

And you did. For sure, it was the best goal in your career so far.

Mapi stepped up to take the corner, her foot hitting the ball as she sent flying into the box, Lucy and Olga jumped high, Olga heading it away as you ran after the still flying ball. With no second thought, you jumped, leg up in the air, hitting the ball perfectly in your bicycle kick.

You heard the roars before you could even get up, the girls gently jumping on top you.

That was the end of your lucky streak, then after, that one specific Madrid girl didn’t leave your side. Every step you took, she took next to you. When you had the ball, your body would it the grass the second after. Ona was getting mad each time the girl was next to you - which was permanently.

"What the fuck?!" you shouted as she elbowed your face, blood running down your nose. The Real player screamed, dropped theatrically to the floor as she held her leg. Trying to stop your bleeding, you covered your nose with your jersey as the medics weren‘t allowed to step on to the pitch - refs decision.

The ref pointed at you as he walked towards you, Barcelona players huddled around you. With a quick motion, his hand went in his back pocket pulling out the red card, the very first card of this physical game. "I didn‘t touch her!" you argued, gesturing widely with your arms, the jersey and your nose long forgotten. "Look at me! She elbowed me!" he gave you a stern look before he showed you the direction of the locker room.

Alexia tried to talk to him (in a normal tone) as she was the captain, but not even la reina herself stood a chance.

With blurry eyes, you left the pitch. You felt heart broken, your whole life you worked your ass off to be here and play the match of your dreams, only to score a banger and then 10 minutes later to get sent off due an blind ref and unfair red card.

Off the pitch, one of the medics looked after your nose, thankfully it wasn‘t broken. The ref again shouted that you should leave the pitch completely or else, you just did as he ordered. Ona watched you with sad eyes, the disappointment your shoulder held and your head that hung low. Her heart ached for you.

In the locker, you threw the nearest item against the wall. You felt so much anger. You didn‘t touch that player, you didn‘t touch anyone, how could that be red?! As your anger slowly faded away something else grew tight in your chest - the realization, the disappointment. Sitting down in Onas cubby, you searched for her hoodie, you hoped it would bring you the comfort like it always did. You didn‘t clean up your nose, you didn‘t take off your jersey - you just sat there, doing absolutely nothing. The scoreboard didn‘t matter anymore, you didn‘t care if you win or lose. You had lost already.

In fact, Barca won 6-0. After you had left the field, the girls were mad. They wanted to ruin Madrid and they did. Even though all the girls already felt mad, Ona felt beyond mad. If someone messed with you, they mess with her. So she scored another 2 goals and assisted Caro and Alexia.

When your teammates entered the locker, they had a pitty look on your face - you didn’t look up. You just accepted it as everybody pressed a kiss to your head. Ona was one of the last people who walked in, she looked at your cubby - you weren‘t there. Panic washed over her body, she had checked the physio room already (the reason she was one of the latter girls). When Keira absently stepped away, she saw your tired figure. Walking up to you, she squatted down, her hands finding a rest on your thighs, "mi amor" she whispered, her thumb rubbing circles on your leg. You looked at her with glossy eyes about to break down in tears. It pained her to see you like that. The slowly forming bruise on your nose and the dried blood made her go insane. She wanted to rip off the head of the Madrid player. Yet she contained herself - she had be there for you. You needed the comfort. "Let’s go to the bathroom" she pulled you along to the nearest sink while she grabbed some random cloth. "Mírame, por favor" she demanded softly before she had wet the cloth. In silence, she wiped away the blood on your face. You didn’t like silence in Onas presence, you loved her voice and the things she talked about but exceptionally, you were grateful for the silence. It was the thing that helped you the most - her proximity. "Do you have your jersey still on?" she asked in a voice that wasn‘t louder than a whisper. In responds, you nodded. The defender tugged at the hem of your hoodie, asking if she could take it off. Raising your hands, she pulled it over your head before she pulled the blood covered jersey off as well. As quickly as she got rid off your jersey, the hoodie was back on, "we can go now, I can shower at home"

You left the locker minutes later. Ona grabbed your and her own stuff, sending an apologetic look to her friends.

Defeating silence filled the car, your head resting against the cold window, eyes closed as you soaked in the cool. The Spaniards hand rested on your tigh, your own on top of hers, fingers slightly laced. Unnoticeable for you, Ona drove around yet another block - she felt like she had to. When the car finally came to a stop in front of your home, you practically sprinted to the front door. Your girlfriend trailed behind, only to find you already on the couch, face hidden behind a cushion.

When someone would ask Ona what hurts her the most, the answer would be: seeing you in pain. It didn’t matter which kind of pain.

After she had took off her shoes, she went in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water for you. Wordlessly, she placed it on the living room table before she bent down to press a lingering kiss to your head and then walked away to take her needed shower. Taking the shower had 2 benefits: on one side that she would feel fresh again and the other side she would give you in her shower time complete silence before she would talk to you. At one point she had to talk to you (about the incident).

After her shower, she walked back in to the living room, your body still in the same position as when she left. "Mi vida, can you sit up?" she asked. Like a robot, you did, knees up to your face, arms hugging your legs. The defender took a seat beside you, her arm going over your shoulder as the other one went around your legs. "Are we gonna talk about what happened?"

"There‘s nothing to talk about! You snapped, feet hitting the floor as you jumped up. "I didn‘t touch her!" you stated firmly, hands balling into fists.

"I know" the defender simply replied.

You sat back down again, head falling on her shoulder as a tear escaped your eye, "I didn’t touch her…"

"Sí, mi amor" she pulled you into her chest and that’s when you broke. Furiously, you started crying. While one hand of Ona hugged your crying figure the other one caressed the back of your head, "you did so well" she mumbled, trying to lighten the mood, "i‘m so proud of you" even though, you didn’t want to hear it, you had to hear it. She knew you like the back of her hand - you needed to hear it. The defender knew that it was your dream to play in an el clasico for Barcelonas side which was kind of destroyed as you got sent off. "Mi amor, you played an amazing game. That goal, baby, wow. It was perfecto" slowly, the tears stopped streaming down your face as you sniffled one last time yet your head still hidden in the crook of her neck. "I‘m sorry for what happened, mi vida, but I am truly proud of you. You worked so hard for this to come true and it did. It was your dream and you did it. And you will take revenge. There are many more el classicos to come"

"You promise?"

"I promise"

Revenge will come not only from you but from Ona and the whole squad, too. They smashed Real Madrid today and will do it again.

The difference? You‘ll be there the whole time and score goals like nobody ever did before. You did it once, you‘ll do it again.

————————

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Do It, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Dangerous Stunts

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: Alpha Epsilon Pi love their dangerous antics, but Y/N is there to make sure Rafe does them safely.

Masterlist

Rafe grew up in the Outer Banks as a Kook. He got to do crazy, dangerous and illegal stunts all the time without any consequences. Add to the fact that he was a single guy and it was sure to be a recipe for disaster. However, when he got his Angel, his frat brothers would say he became the complete opposite. It is an over-exaggeration because he still does the risky stunts. The only difference: he does it a little more safely for his girl. One example is the famous cliff jump that everyone does whenever there is a cliff near water. The boys of Alpha Epsilon Pi and their guests all arrive at the beach with the sight of the fun activity and immediately most of the dare-devils want to be a part of that. “Dude, we have to do that,” Topper points out. Rafe enthusiastically nods his head, “We totally have to. I’m going to help Angel set up and then we can head up.” He turns to see the worried look on Y/N’s face. “Rafe, I don’t think you should do that. It looks dangerous,” she frets, watching as the person who just jumped splats across the water. It looks painful. He takes her hands into his and brings them near his heart, “Come on. Please, let me do it, Angel.” 

She gives him a tilt of her head and can see how much he wants to do it. She lets out a sigh, “Fine, but only if you wear a life jacket.” Rafe is about to let out a celebratory cheer until he hears her condition. “Angel, none of the other guys are going to wear a life jacket. I don’t even think half of them own one,” he argues, not wanting to be the only one wearing one. Her expression doesn’t change, “Well, good thing you have a girlfriend who thinks ahead and who brought one. So either you wear the life jacket or you don’t go up at all.” The only person who can order Rafe Cameron around is Y/N Y/L/N. He listens to her command and sorrowfully puts on the jacket she is holding out to him. 

The group set up their area and everyone who wasn’t going to jump was already relaxing on the sand when the others made the climb up the cliff. The Alpha Epsilon Pi group is all circled around the cliff, trying to decide who is going to go first. They notice Rafe’s added accessory. Kelce laughs, “What are you wearing?” “Shut up. Angel made me wear it. You are just jealous that you don’t have someone who cares enough about you to be concerned about your safety,” Rafe snaps, bringing his hand thumbs under the jacket. This causes Kelce to stop laughing and to look sad at the truth of the situation. Tired of the looks the group is giving him, Rafe runs toward the edge and throws himself off of it. Y/N can easily spot her boyfriend falling down the cliff with his life jacket on, heading into the water to meet him halfway. His head breaks the surface of the water to see his Angel swimming over to him and a massive smile grows on his face. He speeds up, so she doesn’t have to do that much work. He brings her legs around his waist once they meet because he knows she isn’t the strongest swimmer. 

“Was it fun?” she questions, moving his wet hair away from his face. He looks at her with a sparkle in his eyes, “I did. Thank you for always wanting to keep me safe, Angel. I felt very secure when I jumped.” A sweet smile appears on her face and she brings their lips together. 

———

What do slightly tipsy fratboys do when they have two carts and an empty slopped street? Cart racing. Yet again, Y/N is there to make sure Rafe is just a little bit safer with his recklessness. “Helmets keep that amazing brain of yours safe. So I need you to wear one for me, Rafe,” she states while placing her bicycle helmet on his head. She has to loosen it a little to make it fight and then kisses him on the cheek. “Good luck. Kick Louis’ ass.” He grows cocky at her encouragement and hops into the cart. Daisy counts the boys down. As soon as she says go, they are pushed off down the hill. Rafe didn’t expect to be so fast and he quickly realizes he doesn’t have anything to stop himself. A car backs out of the driveway and he has nothing to save himself. The cart slams into the driver's side door and the motion causes him to fly backward onto the pavement. His head flings back against it, but thanks to the helmet on his head, more serious damage isn’t done. 

Y/N comes running and tells him not to move. Her phone is in her hand, so she can call an ambulance. “You have to stay still and keep the helmet on until the ambulance gets here. We want to prevent any further damage,” she informs, gently lacing her fingers with his for comfort. He knows he should listen, but he just wants to feel her touch, “Angel, I am fine. I promise.” “Rafe, I’m not kidding. Stay still until the ambulance gets here. Just to be safe.” He doesn’t want to add to her stress around the situation, so he listens. The siren gets louder as they wait and mixes in with the fratboys arguing with the driver. 

She can finally see the light of the ambulance and waves them down. The paramedics get to work on assessing the situation, letting Rafe know, from what it looks like on the scene, that he has no brain or spinal damage. “We are still going to go to the hospital to double-check. It’s a good thing that you are wearing a helmet. It probably helped prevent anything more serious,” the paramedic tells him as he gets put into the ambulance. He looks over at Y/N who is handling the driver situation, “Yeah, I have a pretty smart girlfriend.” She sees him about to get taken away and runs over to be there for him. Sure, his crazy, dangerous stunts aren’t as dangerous anymore, but he was okay with that. Because he prefers keeping himself safe for his guardian Angel. 

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: a quick little something that i couldn’t stop thinking about so i had to write it. the final hockey fic of the year and it feels fitting that it’s barzy after all the love you gave me on the last one. there’ll be more to come with this little family so join me for the ride in 2024! happy new year, all! 🫶🏻

word count: 3.4k

tw: super brief innuendo, vague mention of bad birth experience, brief mention of negative body image

summary: you and mat bring talia to meet santa at the islanders family holiday skate

You hum along to the Christmas song playing on the Alexa speaker, dancing and making silly face at Talia so she’ll laugh while you’re getting her ready instead of freaking out. “Santa, baby, slip a sable under the tree,” you croon in an off-key, over the top voice, “for meeee.”

She giggles, displaying the one and a half teeth she has popping out of her bottom gums. You bicycle her legs on the changing table, making quick work of her diaper change. “So, what are we thinking for the fit today, Miss T?” You tickle her bare tummy and blow a little raspberry on her skin, making her shriek with laughter again. “Oooh, I just love that sound.”

It’s two weeks before Christmas, Talia’s first, and you’re getting ready to head over to Northwell for the Islanders’ family holiday party. You’re excited to have Talia meet Santa and skate with her and Mat. The house is decorated, you’re speeding along to the actual holiday, and Talia’s being the sweetest baby. It’s wild to think that this time last year you were telling Mat about your pregnancy and after the craziness of the last few months of your pregnancy and Talia’s birth, you’re finally feeling more normal and less anxious about doing something wrong.

“Maybe a dress,” you lift the seven-month-old onto your hip and wander over to her closet, where all the clothes are color cordinated, thanks to Liana’s Thanksgiving visit. You flip through the tiny clothes, the little hangers clacking against the rack. Talia bounces on your hip, kicking her feet and you’re convinced that you have a permanent bruise on your ass cheek from where her little heel constantly makes contact. “Or how about the little plaid jumpsuit from Auntie Syd?”

Talia giggles and yanks at your hair. You wince and take your hand away from the jumpsuit. “Okay, maybe not the jumpsuit. I’m thinking red velvet dress for Santa and something warmer for skating, what to you think, Talia Bee?”

You continue to narrate your actions while you pick out the little red velvet dress that you’d been unable to resist when you went to the Americana a few weeks ago. It’s so soft and you know Talia, with her dark hair and light eyes, is going to look like a Christmas angel. She’s the perfect mix of you and Mat, with Mat’s coloring, and you just want to spend your time staring at her and cuddling her, especially because you hadn’t been able to hold her right away after her early birth. Emotion clogs your throat as you think about those scary first days and weeks, and you make the effort to push those emotions away, kissing the baby on her forehead. “Okay, mama’s being silly,” you murmur. “Let’s get you ready.”

Talia’s decked out in her little tights and the dress, kicking her feet happily, hands fisting the soft velvet fabric of her dress. You brush her shock of dark hair off her forehead, tidying it up with a little red bow hairclip, before lifting her up and helping her stand on the changing table. She bounces her knees, squealing excitedly, and your heart expands.

You settle her back on your hip once she’s dressed and move around to pack the diaper bag, tossing the outfit change - a pair of hunter green corduroy leggings and a fluffy white pullover with a hood and bear ears - into the separate compartment from the diapers and everything else. You make sure there’s another, less fancy outfit change in the bag as well, plus her diapers and a whole host of toys to keep her occupied.

The Christmas playlist shuffles back to “Santa Baby” and you laugh a little, singing along dramatically to make Talia giggle. You dance around with her in your arms and jump when Mat’s voice breaks in through the music and your singing, “she’s really whoring herself out for Santa, huh?”

You turn and there’s your husband, leaning against the door to the baby’s nursery, looking handsome as sin in his dark jeans and cream sweater. His hair is slightly damp from his shower and he’s barefoot. A teasing smile splits his face.

You grin back at him, adjusting your grip on Talia as she lunges in your arms for Mat. “She’s just a woman who knows what she wants,” you reply, handing Talia over to him. He takes her easily and kisses her cheek.

Mat scoffs. “Sounds like a pain in the ass to me. Talia Bee looks like she’s ready to meet Santa, huh?” He wrinkles his nose at her and she giggles, grabbing at his face, little fingers hooking in his mouth. He play bites at them and she giggles, bumping her head against Mat’s. “Ow,” he mumbles.

You wipe subtly at your eyes, hormones still a little wonky, and Mat shakes his head at you. “No tears. I’ve got Princess T, we’ll hang out while you get ready,” he says, reaching out to nudge at your side to get you moving. He turns to Talia and says, “right, T? Daddy will entertain you while Mama gets even prettier than she already is.”

“Charmer,” you roll your eyes. “Do not let her get messy, please.”

“Oh, there went my plans to finger paint,” he laughs, making Talia laugh too. Their faces are nearly identical when they laugh and you can’t believe that this is your life.

When you finish getting ready, after only some minimal negative thoughts about the few extra pounds still lingering on your body, you find Mat and Talia in the den, entertaining each other. Mat’s laying on his stomach on the couch, a hand extended to Talia with a pile of puffs on his palm. He watches as Talia pinches one at a time and puts them carefully in her mouth. “Good job, T,” Mat coos, his free hand rubbing at the bottom of her foot.

“Puffs were a smart choice,” you comment, grinning when Talia looks over at you and immediately ignores Mat and the snacks in favor of waving her hands at you for you to pick her up.

Mat rolls partially onto his side to look at you and immediately wolf whistles, making you blush. “Hot mama,” he says, teasing you with his words. But the look in his eyes is all genuine heat and you wrinkle your nose at him.

“Stop that,” you wave him off, lifting Talia onto your hip. “I probably shouldn’t even be wearing these pants,” your free hand smooths over the black leather on your thigh, “I need to lose like another ten pounds.”

“You’re literally the hottest woman I’ve ever seen,” Mat says sincerely, getting to his feet and popping the remaining palmful of puffs into his mouth. The baby snacks are surprisingly delicious. He chews, swallows, and says, “if we weren’t nearly running late, I’d a thousand percent eat you out on the couch right now.”

“Mat!” You yelp his name and cover Talia’s ear with your free hand. “Little ears!”

“She has no idea what I’m saying,” he laughs, tilting your chin up so he can kiss you. His tongue slides past your lips and you deepen the kiss, grinning against his mouth until Talia lets out a shriek because neither of you is paying attention to her. Mat pulls back from the kiss and laughs harder, giving her a dramatic, smacking kiss on the cheek. “Can’t forget about the princess.”

You kiss her other cheek, smushing her face in between yours and Mat’s and Talia giggles happily, kicking her legs and pushing at your faces with her hands.

Talia naps a little in the car, her head lolling and cheek pressed against the side of her car seat. Mat’s hand stays firmly on your thigh for the entire drive and you try not to think about the way your thighs spread when you’re sitting. But when you get to the practice rink and all of the kids are running around, it’s easier to push those thoughts away. Mat carries the diaper bag and the skates while you have Talia and your purse.

“Let the party begin,” he crows dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. You snort a laugh behind him while some of the guys roll their eyes at him.

“Party’s already started,” Bo teases, “with Barzy fashionably late.”

“Do you think these good looks just happen naturally?” Mat asks, pouting like Zoolander.

Noah breezes by with Brock’s two oldest kids yanking on his hands. He comments, “yeah, we all knew it took you a lot of work to look halfway decent.”

“Please continue chirping him,” you say, “his ego’s almost too big for the house.” Mat helps you take off your jacket while you’re still holding Talia and he takes the opportunity to pinch your ass in retaliation. “Ouch! I’m sorry,” you giggle. Talia tugs at your hair and you’re convinced that sometimes father and daughter have a psychic connection.

Mat wanders off to put your jackets somewhere and you end up in a little huddle with Sydney, Kristy, and Holly. They take turns cooing over Talia’s little dress and she thrives on the attention, giving them gummy smiles and giggles, drool covering her chin that you have to keep wiping off. The older kids are all wandering around, running in the open areas, and the noise echoes off the high ceilings in the rink’s lobby. It’s decorated for the holidays and you find yourself looking around for Mat to see if he’ll join you for a picture in front of the tree.

He appears, with a Santa hat perched crookedly on his head, and Jack Cizikas hanging off his back. “Did anyone see Jack?” He asks seriously, looking between you and the other women. “We can’t find him!”

Jack’s giggles are infectious and you find yourself laughing too, bouncing Talia on your lap. “Did you check the ice?” You ask and Mat turns around, like a dog chasing its tail, with Jack swinging around, laughing hysterically.

“I’m here!” He yelps and slides off Mat’s back. Mat widens his eyes in a dramatic expression.

“Whoa! Have you been there the whole time?” Mat shakes his head. “Your dad and I couldn’t find you!”

Jack looks up at Mat and then over at his mom, who’s hiding a laugh behind her hand. “Mom, isn’t Mat supposed to be good at spotting things?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Like pucks? I’m bigger than a puck!”

With that, he runs off to find the other kids, leaving the adults laughing in his wake. Mat shakes his head, “damn. The kid’s a savage.”

Kristy shrugs, “he spends too much time around hockey players.”

“That’s why we’re only having daughters,” Mat says to you, cupping his hand over Talia’s head. “They’re nicer to their dads than boys are.” Talia reaches for him and wraps her entire hand around his ring and pinky fingers.

You snort, “wait until the teenage years, I don’t think you’ll be singing the same tune.”

“Forget teenage years,” Sydney laughs, “Winnie’s terrible twos almost prevented Alice from even existing at all.”

“Let me have my fantasy,” Mat grins. “You guys are mean, right T? You’re not gonna be mean to Daddy when you’re older?” He lifts her from your lap and hugs her close, wincing when she yanks at a hunk of his hair while she giggles, leaving a spot of drool on his shoulder.

“How about we try that Santa picture while she’s in a good mood?” You suggest, getting to your feet to disentangle her chubby fingers from Mat’s hair. The last thing you need is for him to think another buzz cut is a good idea.

The other wives nod. Holly chimes in, “you have to get that picture before nap time otherwise it’s a total loss.”

Kyle and Ashlee are finishing up their pictures with Santa when you and Mat get over to the little workshop area that’s been set up. Luca’s grinning from ear to ear, a candy cane clutched in his fist. “Candy!” He cheers when he sees you and Mat, brandishing the sweet and nearly whacking Ashlee in the eye. She ducks a little and huffs a laugh through her nose.

“Not the first candy cane he’s had today,” she admits to you, while Kyle holds out a hand to Talia for a high-five. Mat helps her give the other man a slap on the palm and all three cheer.

“She’s still sugar free,” you grin. “But I can’t vouch for how much sugar the big child has had.”

“Absolutely none,” Mat cuts in haughtily. “This energy is all natural life endorphins, Squeaks.”

Mat’s natural life endorphins have him practically bouncing in to see Santa, all big smile and bright eyes. You’re both so excited to see Talia meet Santa for the first time and the man the team’s hired looks absolutely perfect for the part. He greets you all happily, with a booming voice full of joy. “Ho ho ho!” He laughs. “Who do we have here?”

“This is Talia,” you tell Santa with a big cheesy grin on your face. Mat has her facing forward, one forearm propped under her butt and the other wrapped securely around her stomach. She squints at Santa curiously, suspiciously, but doesn’t make a peep.

“Oh, ho! Talia, have you been a good girl this year?” Santa asks, a twinkle in his eye that you don’t think can be faked. He must be a grandfather in his real life, you think while snapping photos.

Talia pinches her lips together, her eyebrows drawing together in a furrow. Mat jiggles her up ans down a little, “T, why don’t you show off that Barzal charm? Give Santa a smile.”

“She’s usually very chatty,” you explain to Santa, who shrugs and says he’s seen it all. Mat lifts one shoulder too and goes to hand Talia over to Santa so you can get a picture, but the second she leaves Mat’s hands, Talia begins sobbing, letting out an earsplitting wail.

“Oh my god!” You take her back immediately, holding her against your shoulder and swaying so she’ll calm down. Mat’s apologizing in the background. “Oh, Talia Bee, it’s okay. Mama and Daddy are sorry. You’re okay.”

She keeps crying on your shoulder and you wince at Mat, who looks shocked and says, “I had no idea she’d freak out like that.”

“It happens much more often than you’d think,” Santa offers kindly. “The littlest ones like to have mom and dad in the picture too.”

Talia hiccups in your arms, she’s stopped crying now, but her face is still all red. You pepper soft kisses over her cheeks and forehead, cuddling her close until she starts chewing on the side of her fist quietly. Her head is tucked under your chin and she looks over at Santa with a pretty impressive stink eye, considering she’s only seven months old.

“I’ll keep a hold of her,” you tell Mat, “and we can all just get a group shot. Hopefully that doesn’t set her off.”

He agrees and sits on one side of Santa while you take the other, carefully keeping Talia from seeing Santa directly. You smile and tickle Talia lightly, hoping it gets her to smile at least. Once the picture is taken, Santa offers you both a jolly smile and Mat a candy cane. He takes it happily and immediately unwraps it to pop it in his mouth with the hook part hanging out of his mouth. He scrolls through the photos that were taken and cracks up at one, showing it to you as you head back towards the main lobby.

“Oh god,” you giggle at the photo of Talia freaking out, her face bright red and mouth opened in that horrible wail. “This is so mean to laugh at.”

“At least when she needs therapy for her Santa phobia we can show her this as the starting point,” Mat jokes, while setting one of the nicer photos of the three of you as his new phone background.

“You’re horrible,” you swat at his arm, adjusting Talia on your hip. She grumbles and nuzzles her face against your shoulder, patting at your chest. She lets out a high pitched squeal and you kiss her cheek. “Okay, I know. You’re hungry, right, baby? Daddy can go get Mama a snack and I’ll feed you.”

You turn to Mat and give him puppy dog eyes. He’s already laughing when you ask, “will you get me snacks while I feed your child?”

He snorts. “Of course. What do you want, sweet or salty?” While he waits for your answer, Mat cups his hand over Talia’s head and rubs his thumb over the shell of her ear. His love language has always been physical touch, his hands always on your body in some way, and now he does it to Talia, constantly holding her little hand or cupping his palm over her head.

“How about a little mix of everything?” You reply, leaning over Talia to give him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into one of the side offices so you can feed the baby. Mat brings a plate of snacks and once you’re done feeding Talia, he takes her to burp so you can get straightened out. While he pats her back, Mat tells Talia how excited he is to take her on the ice and how cute she’s going to look in her little sweater. You love when he’s extra adorable with her, it honestly makes you want to give him a dozen more babies. When Talia’s a little older and you’ve had some more distance from your labor with her you’re going to bring it up with Mat.

Half the team is already on the ice when you get to the rink after changing the baby into her warmer outfit. Everyone’s having a good time skating and the kids all look beyond delighted to be taking turns skating with their dads. You sit on the lowest bleacher level and watch Mat make quick work of his skate laces, tying off the knots efficiently. You go to hand Talia over so you can lace up your own pair, but Mat kneels in front of you instead.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him pull off your boots. He cups a hand around your ankle and guides your foot to the skate boot. You automatically wiggle your feet into the skates, reflexively stomping down so your heel settles into place. He adjusts the tongue of the skate and makes quick work of your laces too, knotting them tightly.

“Taking care of my girl,” he replies with a cheeky grin before patting your ankle to signify that he’s done and you can stand up. Talia reaches for Mat and he takes her, knowing that you’d rather he hold her while you’re on skates since he’s more comfortable walking on the blades.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, following him onto the ice, your phone in hand to take pictures. Talia’s eyes are wide and Mat holds her securely while she has her head practically on a swivel to watch all the action. She waves to everyone as they skate past, excitedly kicking her legs in Mat’s arms. Whenever one of the guys waves to her, she squeals happily, nearly falling out of Mat’s arms in order to reach for Gunnar Horvat when Bo skates past with him. Mat laughs and picks up his speed a bit to get the breeze on her face.

Your stomach twists a little nervously and you follow him, slower of course, saying, “Mat, don’t go too fast, okay? I don’t want - just be careful!”

He nods and slows down, spinning to face you and skate backwards a little. They both have matching looks of joy on their faces. “This is the best,” he grins, bouncing Talia in his arms and then leaning down to let her feet touch the ice. She giggles, kicking at it, and you take video, knowing you’re going to watch it back a million times. “She’s a real ice baby.”

“It’s in her blood,” you wave at Talia from behind the camera so she’ll look at you. Mat helps her wave back and swings her a little, grip firm under her armpits. She shrieks with delight as he swings her back up into the air and into his arms. Her little cheeks and nose are pink and the fluffy fleece makes her look like a little polar bear. “You are the cutest little baby in the world,” you can’t help but coo at her.

“All thanks to her having the cutest mom in the world,” Mat winks at you, skating away with a laugh.

[koiiiji]

hiii! i really love your windbreaker scenarios😭❤️ can i request a hyuk kwon scenarios with friends to lovers trope, if you don't mind? thank you so much!!!

AHHH U READING MY THOUGHTS! i had it in my drafts, but already posted!! so here like a short scenario in same timeline, just take it as what happened in gaps here

author note ; seminar week in uni hits hard, but random tequila shots with flatmates in the middle of the week hits harder.... but don't worry i played through and won this fking hangover and dropping this post now😌🫦

warnings ; fluff, cute hyeok, not proofed

(bro is the type of guy who will show off a trick on his bike he hasn't trained enough yet and end up falling)

౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ

friday evening started out great - all the lectures were over, the weather was beautiful outside, the sun had not yet disappeared behind the horizon and was giving the city its last rays. this week you didn’t miss a single lecture, and in general today you were quite active in class, you also agreed with your classmates to meet next week to complete a group project, so your socially active duty for today has been completed and you can calmly relax on weekend.

entering cozy apartment, you set down your bag and kicked off shoes, ready to delve into usual routine of household chores. you took a slow shower, completed all the steps in the skin care routine and now you wanted to start that series that you had been putting off for a long time when you heard a soft knock sounded at the door, interrupting your thoughts. curious, you opened the door to find Kwon standing there, with his usual calm and relaxed face. his presence caught you off guard a little, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. "hey..." he began, his voice a gentle murmur. "i was wondering if you'd like to go to that shop near our building with me. i wanted that banana drink you recommend me recently... and i thought you spent whole day in uni, so we could take a little walk together... you know to catch some fresh air and stuff..." your initial surprise quickly gave way to excitement, as your lips curling into a grin. despite his usual reserved demeanor, Kwon's offer filled you with pleasant a sense of warmth, joy and anticipation. "sure, i’d love to," you replied, grabbing a jacket and slipping on her shoes.

together, you ventured out into the cool evening air of Seoul, the streets alive with the hustle and bustle of city life. As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but steal glances at Hyeok, marveling at the way his stoic facade softened in the glow of the streetlights. small conversation about everything flowed effortlessly as you made your way to the shop, sharing stories and laughter along the way. but little did you know that Kwon had something else up his sleeve, a secret he was eager to reveal. of course you notice bike he took with him, but you genuinely thought he was so obsessed with these races and bicycles that he just wouldn't get off his bike.

upon reaching an empty playground nestled within a quiet corner of the neighborhood, Kwon's eyes twinkled with mischief as he hopped on his bicycle, a gleam of excitement dancing in his gaze. "watch this," he murmured, his voice tinged with excitement as he prepared to demonstrate a new trick he had been practicing. however, fate had other plans in store, and as he attempted to execute the trick, a misstep caused him to lose his balance, sending him tumbling to the ground with a muffled thud. your heart felt like it skipped a beat as you rushed to his side, concern etched across your features. ignoring the pain coursing through his knee, Hyeok tried to brush off the accident with some kind of incomprehensible emotion. but you saw through his facade, your heart aching at the sight of him in distress. without a moment's hesitation, you took charge, guiding him to a nearby bench and inspecting his injury with gentle hands. rummaging through your bag, you retrieved a pack of cute adhesive bandages adorned with playful images of bananas, a small smile tugging at your lips. with utmost care, you cleaned his wound and carefully applied the bandages, your touch felt so tender that Hyeok could feel goosebumps down his spine.

in that vulnerable moment, when he saw you on your knees before him as you tended to his injury with unwavering kindness, Kwon felt a surge of emotions wash over him, his heart swelling with a newfound warmth. as he looked into your eyes, he realized with startling clarity that what he felt for you already went beyond mere friendship.

౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ

[ageofevermore]

NATASHAS SONG

SUMMARY — what if melina and alexei ran away with natasha and yelena instead of going back to the red room? what if you fell in love with your childhood best friend with blue hair and a stubborn personality? she said, i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine, in the sky, the pretty lights

WARNINGS — mentions of child abuse, the red room, soft melina, firecracker yelena, domestic alexei who knows better then to go against his wife’s wishes, hurt/comfort, found family

For the first seven years of your life, yelling was a pretty normal thing. Your mother yelled from the minute her eyes opened to the very last second before they closed, and somewhere in between all that yelling, there was hitting. She never tried to be a mean person, but she was insecure and not at all ready for kids when she fell pregnant at nineteen and was kicked out of her parents house. The both of you kind of floated around for a little bit. Your father worked a couple of jobs, but never long enough to truly settle down someplace, and he was off on the road more times then he was home anyways. But when you moved to Ohio, something changed. Your mom was still mean, your arms were still bruised, but your spirit wasn’t so crushed. Maybe it had to do with a little blue haired girl and her firecracker sister who lived next door.

It was Spring when you moved to that small town in Ohio, barely a mile long and kids at every corner, all playing on bikes and old swing sets, laughing until the street lights came on and they were called inside for dinner. You hadn’t seen her at first, but two weeks later, she was outside on a bicycle, pedaling angrily down the hill. You watched from your front steps as her front tire got caught on a rock, and the wheels spun out before she could hit the breaks, sending her to the pavement in seconds that felt like minutes to you. She didn’t cry. That was the first thing you noticed. She just stood up, bleeding knee and elbow and all, and muttered words to herself that were incomprehensible because of the distance between you. You met her halfway, her bike being walked beside her and a limp just barely noticeable, like she was trying to hide the pain she was in.

“I saw you fall.” Your words made her blush. They were blunt, not offering any emotion that gave away if you were concerned or rather just amused by her mistake, but your tone was soft. It felt almost contradictory, like you cared but didn’t at the same time.

Her chest puffed outward, like a threatened puffer fish desperately trying to defend itself, and then the stubborn response fell from her lips, “I didn’t fall.”

You just stared at her for a second, wondering if she was being serious. Even if you hadn’t seen the entire event play by play, her knee and her elbow were still bleeding, and her bike was scrapped up. It was evident something had happened. “You did.”

“No I didn’t.” She got closer to your face, hands balling into fists. She didn’t like that you’d seen her so weak, and that you gave no indication of your feelings about it, and even more so that she couldn’t read you enough to decipher your emotions, but you didn’t see that. All you saw was an angry little girl with the same characteristics as your mother before she struck. Shrinking backward, you meekly pointed to your front steps, where your bottle of bubbles was abandoned.

“I have bandaids.”

She followed you back to the house silently, scratched up bike trailing beside her.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

The days progressed slowly after your first initial meeting. It was a mutual friendship between the both of you, even if she was stubborn and you were quiet. Yelena did the talking for the most part, directing you with what she wanted to play and how she wanted to do it. Everyday that your father was away from the house, your mother seemed to get more unbearable, and by the end of the first month in Ohio the house was littered with crushed beer cans, but Natasha and Yelena were your escape. You never said much, or anything really, but it worked for you three. Natasha was quiet as well, whether it was because of you, or that was just her, you weren’t really sure, but neither of you had any qualms about following the blonde toddler around and doing as she instructed.

Yelena's favorite game was something Natasha had named upside down. Not the most creative, but telling of the activity. Yelena would force the both of you into backbends, and then fall into one herself, doing everything she could to make you both fall down before she did. The winner got nothing but bragging rights util the next round, but it was enough for her. Natasha never fell, but you let Yelena think she was beating you each and every time. There was no way Natasha didn’t know what you were doing, but she never said anything. Not until one night, when you were upside down and the bottom of your shirt rose to just above your belly button from how much you’d been swaying. She was behind you, watching your every move with her usual stoic expression, but her face melted into concern when she noticed the bruises littering your otherwise unmarked by life skin. It was the first time you’d seen anything but indifference from her.

She fell from her backbend first, ignoring Yelena’s victorious chants and taunts. She pushed you out of yours, your butt landing in a patch of dead grass and dirt, almost certain there was an ant hill beneath your body. You looked up at her in pure shock, spluttering to find words but failing. “Why did you do that?” It was the only thing you could think to say. You had no idea your shirt had risen, no idea that a small fraction of your truth was now out in the open and not confined to your one-story house how you liked it.

“How did you get that bruise?” She was blunt, to the point, an exact replica of how you’d been on that first day. Your head tilted to the right, eyes searching your body and finding no exposed skin that would give her any indication that your body was severely bruised and aching beneath your clothes. “On your stomach. Your shirt came up, I saw it.”

You shook your head, standing on your own two feet so you didn’t feel so small beneath her. You already felt small enough. You already had no power. “It was probably just a shadow.”

“I know what a bruise looks like.” She rebutted, the same stubborn fire burning in her eyes that you’d never seen crack even once. There was a hint of something in them, something that wasn’t stubbornness, but there wasn’t enough to tell what it was. Her hands reached for the hem of your shirt, but you’d run off before she could find out for herself. You faintly heard Yelena yelling at her sister for ruining the game, but you didn’t look back, not even once.

That night, you had no idea that Natasha had gone to her mother, and told her about the inky purple discoloration around your belly button, and you wouldn’t for a few months afterward, but it didn’t matter. You spent the next two weeks inside, avoiding Natasha and Yelena and hoping that they’d forget about it when you saw them next. They never did.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

It was around Christmas time when your father finally came home for longer than a couple nights at a time. Things were better when he was around, your mother wasn’t so bold, and the drinking wasn’t as heavy, but things were still bad. Highschool sweethearts with an accidental pregnancy and very little money could only last so long without chaos, and it seemed that they had reached the end of their rope. It was Christmas Eve when the fighting got so loud you could hear it through your closed bedroom door, even with your pillow over your ears and your small, trembling hands holding it there. When your father stormed out after fights, it's when your mother came to find you, and even if things were better, you still ended up with bruises that you had to find a way to hide from Natasha and her inquisitive stare.

It was after midnight when you’d finally had enough, glass shattering against a wall somewhere in the living room. Your mother was throwing things again, and the closer it got to your bedroom, the less you felt welcome. You snuck out of the window, only grabbing your favorite stuffed animal before you were migrating into Natasha’s backyard, through a hole in the bottom of the fence that got bigger every time somebody crawled through it, and knocked on the sliding glass door meekly. Melina was awake, nursing a glass of red wine while Alexei wrapped presents that were probably from Santa. The christmas tree was still lit up with hundreds of multi-colored bulbs, and you could spy a few handmade ornaments on the bottom of the tree that had Yelena’s name messily sprawled across them.

Both heads snapped toward you, hands twitching like they were about to reach for something, but defenses dropped when they saw your tear stained face and bare feet. Your tattered princess pajamas were worn, and the wrist length sleeves only came past your elbows, and the ankle length pants only came past your knees. Illuminated by the yellow glow of the house, every bruise on your soft skin was visible.

“Y/N.” Melina could only whisper your name into the night, too startled by what she saw to say anything else. Her arms felt maternal around your midsection as she hugged you, but your nerves were too shot by the hours of endless fighting and violence to respond properly, or at all. It seemed you were right back to that all too quiet little girl Natasha had finally broken down.

You didn’t have to say why you were there. With the sliding glass door open, both Melina and Alexei could hear shattering glass and loud cusses that were so vulgar, even they winced. Melina ushered you inside, while Alexei grabbed cookies from the kitchen to hopefully entice your walls to drop down. They’d seen you playing with Natasha and Yelena, and how you had become carefree and silly, but the girl before them now was practically a ghost.

After a few cookies, which you sheepishly munched on, anticipating them to be taken from you at any moment, you couldn't stop yourself from yawning. Melina smiled warmly, her hand hadn’t left your back since she ushered you to the couch, insisting that you eat a few cookies before doing anything else, but now it rubbed your back so comfortingly and soft, you almost started crying all over again. “Natasha and Yelena’s room is just to the left down that hallway. I can walk you there. You should get some sleep.”

“Home.” It was the first thing you said, and Melina almost crumbled hearing how soft your trembling syllables came out. She hadn’t spoken to you directly, letting Natasha and Yelena have their relationships without meddling too far, but she fell in love with you instantly. She wondered how anyone could ever hurt you, but she knew all too well how evil the world could be. She didn’t need to dwell on the question for too long to know it was just how some people were.

“You’re not going home tonight.” There was something in her voice, a faint twist of words that didn’t sound entirely american, now you know why, but then, you’d just chalked it up to exhaustion. “The girls will be so happy to have you here tomorrow. Alexei plans on making cinnamon rolls for breakfast, does that sound nice?”

With how small you were, brittle bones visible in every nook and cranny of your small body, Melina figured you weren’t fed as often as you should be. The dips in your collarbone and notches in your back from the impression of your spine are an obvious tell of malnourishment, but she doesn’t say that to you. Even thirty years later, she’d never once brought it up if you didn’t lead the conversation, and you were eternally grateful.

You nod sheepishly, only standing from the couch when she does first. You're still holding the white porcelain plate that chocolate chip cookies were once on, looking like a deer in headlights as you awaited directions for what to do with the plate. Melina smiled warmly, and it was being taken from your hands before you could worry too much. “Alexei will wash that, he’s still got dishes from dinner to catch up on.”

“It is your night to do… Um, yes. I have so many dishes to do, I will do that now.” He fumbled over his words after Melina sent him a pointed look. Under different circumstances you would’ve giggled, but instead, you just nodded and let yourself be led deeper into the house, until you made it to Natasha and Yelena’s bedroom, where whispering was blatantly obvious, not to mention the faint glow of yellow light escaping beneath the gap in the door.

Melina knocked before she entered, visibly amused with how quickly Natasha had shut off her flashlight and Yelena had covered her head with a soft pink blanket. You only realized now how cold you were, no shoes on your feet and skin exposed to the brutal Ohio winter despite the heat in the house. “I know you're awake, big girl. It’s alright.” The tone she used with Natasha made your heart ache, but you ignored the jealousy. Natasha deserved to have good parents, you couldn’t change yours, so you’d just have to deal.

“Mama, it’s Christmas Eve. Santa’s gonna come!” Yelena breathed in one breath, giving away her fake sleeping though you suspected Melina already knew. Natasha held her breath, almost like she knew something sinister that Yelena didn’t, but Melina sent her a wink and then looked back to her youngest firecracker.

“Santa’s already been. You’ll see it all in the morning.” The twinkle in Melina’s voice was nice, something you could’ve melted into if you weren’t so distraught from what you’d ran away from just an hour prior.

Yelena gasped, looking between her big sister and her mother in amazement, “You saw Santa?!”

“Mhm, we had a lovely chat about cheeky little girls who try to catch him when they know the rules. He’s asked you don’t peek until morning when we can open them together.” Yelena nods dutifully, and something in Natasha’s face says that this is new to her, that maybe life isn’t always as perfect as this moment. It makes you feel better, to know that maybe your house isn’t the only one with flaws.

“Mama, why is Y/N here?” Yelena asks the question on both girls' minds, and you notice that Natasha’s back straightens and she really takes in your appearance, trying not to let you see how she’s analyzing every bruise on your body.

“She’s going to be sleeping over. Why don’t you pull out your favorite pair of jammies for her, yes? These are a bit small.” You want to protest, and say that you’re okay, but Melina puts a hand on your shoulder like she can read your mind, and it silences any attempt you would’ve made to say that you're okay as you are.

Yelena races to hand you a pair of purple pajamas with ponies on the top. You recognize the characters from a few of her outside clothes, Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle the ones occupying this pair. “She can sleep in my bed with me, Mama.” Natasha offers, and Melina praises her for her generosity before she’s ushering you into a bathroom just two doors down from the bedroom.

“May I help you, Y/N? I want to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need cleaning.” Melina lifts you onto the counter, not really waiting for you to agree, because she has a feeling you will anyway. The desperate desire to please her breaks her spirit a bit, but she doesn’t let you see that.

“No cuts.” You tell her, voice so quiet it's almost entirely drowned out by the overhead fan that’s intended to suck the moisture from the air when the shower is going. Melina hums, but she undresses you anyway, keeping her composure just barely as she sees all of the bruises that hide beneath the tattered fabric of your princess pajamas. “These are my favorite ones.” You don’t tell her they’re your only ones, because it doesn’t really matter, they were a gift for your fourth birthday, and despite the tight fit and holes, they were your absolute favorite.

“We’ll get you new ones.” It’s a promise, but you don’t say anything, you have a feeling it doesn’t matter if you protest, you’ll be getting new princess pajamas either way, and being defiant with somebody who is only trying to help you isn’t why you ran over here. You just nod weakly, letting Melina inspect your bruises and avoiding eye contact at all cost. “Yelena’s might be a bit big on you, she’s quite a few inches taller. How old are you, sweetheart?” There’s a word on the tip of her tongue that she doesn’t say, but you don’t think anything of it. Later, a few years down the line, you’ll know that she intended on calling you a russian pet name, but for now, you just excuse her odd behavior and accent as exhaustion on both your parts.

“Seven.” You hold up seven fingers, the first sign of a little girl you show her. Her Yelena does the same any time she’s asked her age, holding up three fingers proudly, but always following up with how she’s going to be four soon. It’s an endearing habit that Natasha was never conditioned to adhere to, but Melina wishes she was. Melina wishes so much for Natasha, but being a widow had come first for so long.

“Just a few years younger than Natasha.” Melina makes conversation, although you’re already aware that your friend is nine, almost ten. You appreciate the conversation, even if you're reluctant in joining it. “I’ve seen you climb that tree in the backyard. Yelena wants to be just like you, but she’s a bit sheepish when it comes to heights.”

Your eyes sparkle like the stars that shine overhead in the sky when no clouds are present, and its so endearing that Melina almost cries. “Really? Like me?”

“My girls are quite fond of you, and I can see why. Now, stay put while I grab a wash towel, okay? These feet are awfully dirty.” Melina traces a finger along the soul of your foot, and you wiggle away from the ticklish sensation with a shy grin. She’s back in only seconds, with a washcloth that also has the same ponies on it as the shirt she’s folded and placed on the counter beside you. “Yelena’s quite fond of My Little Pony, I hope these are okay for the night.”

You nod, not bothered by what design is on the clothes you’ve been given, just appreciative that you won't be so cold and exposed anymore. “You won’t tell, right? Mommy doesn’t mean to be mean, she’s just sad.”

Melina hates how gentle your heart is, how easy you are at forgiving her for hurting you, she tells Natasha so often to protect her heart, to not let Dreykov take it, but she wishes you would protect yourself. To realize how you're being treated isn’t what you deserve. She kisses your head when you're standing in front of her, feet clean and My Little Pony pajamas swimming on your frail body. You just look at her, with wide innocent eyes that are screaming for this kind of affection from your own parents.

Melina falls in love with you that night, and that house becomes your home for the next year.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

You’re eight when everything changes. Your father had left for good a few months before everything changed, packing up all of his things and kissing your head before he pulled out of the driveway like a bat out of hell and left you alone with your mother. You hadn’t seen him since, and the bad things had only gotten worse, but you’re able to hide it from everyone but Natasha and Melina. Alexei notices too, but he seems to notice your apprehension toward him, and lets his wife handle you mostly. He takes no offense, always offering you cookies when you sneak over in the middle of the night, and picking up treats for you in mind when he’s coming back from a day at the office. You feel a part of the family, and they’re all willing to welcome you.

It’s nine in the evening when you hear the whistle. You and Natasha had decided that you needed a secret code a few months ago, when she knocked on the door to ask if you could play and nobody answered. When you heard it that night, your mother had just finished taunting you, tearing apart a pair of pajamas Melina had purchased, and was now locked in her bedroom with a bottle of beer while you wept in the corner of your bedroom. Natasha had whistled, and a few minutes later you immersed on the porch with red rimmed eyes and the remnants of what was once a yellow set of jammies in your hands. Natasha didn’t ask, she already knew, but she didn’t have time to comfort you.

“We’re leaving. Mama wants you to come. Pack a bag and be outside in five minutes, Papa’s packing the car. We’re spies.” You just looked at her, unsure of if she was joking, but Natasha never joked. She was always serious, always stubborn, always telling the truth because she had no time for lies to fall apart in her hands. You admired that, because Yelena loved to spin lies into truths and confuse everyone with what actually happened.

You did as she asked, throwing the new princess pajamas into a backpack as well as a few outfits and your favorite stuffed animal. You didn’t need anything else, mostly because you didn’t have anything else. The tube of bubbles your mother had bought for you when you first moved to Ohio had run out, and nothing had been bought to replace them. All you had was a few pairs of pajamas and a couple outfits, all bought by Melina after she noticed your slim to none selection of clothing.

You met Natasha outside like she asked, and took one final look at that house before getting in the car, not knowing that you would never see it, or your mother, again.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

When you were fifteen and Natasha was sixteen, just a few days shy of her birthday, something changed between you. You're not sure when or how, but nothing was the same after that night, things only got better. You were somewhere in upstate New York, the fourth time you had moved that year, when you noticed how simple she looked beneath the moonlight. Her hair was no longer blue, but instead, her natural deep crimson color and tossed into a ponytail messily. It was slipping down from everything you’d done that day, but she didn’t fix it, just let a few wavy strands fall in front of her eyes without care. She wasn’t a fan of makeup, so her freckles were on full display as she looked at you, and as she leaned in closer, so close you could feel her exhale against your lips, so close, it felt like she was the only person in the world, and that was okay with you. You kissed that night, beneath the moonlight and the stars, and it was like everything that was ever out of place had finally fit together, like you had finally completed an old puzzle.

Melina and Alexei had seen the entire thing play out. The house was two stories, one of the bigger ones you’d been in since leaving Ohio behind, and the back porch overlooked a treehouse in the backyard. You spent almost all of your time in the treehouse, and while Yelena was out exploring the town, you and Natasha had settled into your favorite hideaway while Melina and Alexei nursed glasses of red. Neither were surprised, and neither questioned you when you finally came back inside with flushed cheeks and a sprinkle of something new in your eyes, just smiled at each other and placed a bet on how long it would take for you both to realize you’d been in love since that first night in Ohio with bandaids and scratched bikes.

You got married at twenty-three and twenty-five, and Alexei owed Melina twenty bucks, and all you did was laugh, and pop a bottle of champagne, and thank Ohio for the life it had given you.

[shini--chan]

Personal pet peeve of mine: Reading a yandere story with a historical setting with the yandere reducing the target of their obsession to just sitting around all day when they are not being subjected to "affections" and it being written that way for "historical accuracy".

I mean, yeah, there were gender roles in the past, but those gender roles didn't feature women being completely reduced to fleshlights with no other purpose. That was a job and it was called prostitute or concubine, and many women didn't do it willingly. Even high society women had a lot of tasks.

Being into historical re-enactment really showed me that it didn't matter if you were a man or a woman, or even just a child; you really didn't have much time to be idle. Asides, idlness was/is frowned upon in many religions and cultures.

C'mon, even the thing with societal norms is that a great part of society didn't adhere to them 'cause it just wasn't feasible. The attitude went along the lines of: "Nice morals you got there. We're just gonna throw a few out 'cause else we're not gonna survive. Mary, go get ye scythe now, the wheat's not gonna reap itself." And high society geneally didn't really practise what it preached because it was commonly too interested in debauchery.

People didn't get married for shits and giggles either. The single lifestyle only really worked when you either inheired a lot/had relatives paying for you or that you were living under your employers roof and all your worldy possessions fitted in one bag. Or you just lived with your family until you kicked the bucket. I mean, the armour and weapons a knight had were often provided by their liege lord and a priest's housing belonged to the Church.

Also, the trope of arranged marriages is a bit overused at this point. How about more stories about both parties hating each other's guts, or the woman loving the idea of marrying her intended but the man wanting to run for the hills? The woman baby-trapping the man perhaps? Because all of that existed to!

Don't get me started on fashion. Corset =/= patriarchy. You don't see the women in Jane Austen or Mary Shelley novels complaining about corsets and burning them, so let it rest. Really, that trope of corsets being a torture device comes from men making fun of woman's fashion and actresses with illfitting periode costumes. Corsets were more comfortable than stays and only really went out of fashion due to women needing more flexability due to bicycles. Ya really think ladies removed ribs, in a period where there weren't antibiotics and doctors went from cutting up corpses to treating patients without washing their hands inbetween? Common sense, where are you?

Asides, the clothing having to be chaste and covering certain parts applied to everybody. Breeches went out of fashion because people thought women would become arroused by men's exposed calves. Such standards didn't only apply to the Victorians, mind you.

I'll stop here, else this will be ten pages long. You also get the gist of it. Over and out.

[shamrockqueen]

The summer of 85

Pairing : Robert Pronge x Reader (80s style)

Warnings : R18, Naughty behavior, caught him by surprise, smut, he hates to see you leave but loves watching you go

Word count : 3167

Chris Evans Masterlist

Robert didn’t particularly like this neighborhood, and he certainly didn’t care for the pressed-shirt types that populated it. But, the house wasn’t expensive, and it suited all of his needs. The way he saw it, as long as he kept his distance from all the white picket fence type of people, he’d do just fine.

He was working on a shitbox car in the attached garage—another cheap purchase, but it did just enough to carry him this far. The summer sun was cooking him in the un-air conditioned space, even with the garage door pulled up to allow the occasional breeze to come in.

Robert cursed upon catching his finger on a poorly placed hole near what he was sure was the carburetor. He jerked back, tossing an oily rag back against the ground in a huff before nursing his sore finger.

He tried to take a breather, wiping his clean hand over his neck. Better to clear away the sweat that had built up on his skin before stepping away from the mess. He went into the driveway to catch that bit of breeze that rolled past the house, and it didn’t come alone.

You were riding past the house on your bike, hair blown back in the wind and the sun kissing your exposed skin. It was the first thing that caught his eye, with the last being your cutoff denim shorts tightly hugging your ass.

You had ole Robert turning his head just as you passed his trash bins. It wasn’t until you rolled your pedals back to brake, coming to a solid stop as your shoe hit the pavement. He quickly averted his eyes the second they connected with yours, leaving him to miss the small and mischievous smile that pulled along your lips.

You caught the moment he dared to look back at you, giving him a friendly wave. He stared back for a second, confused by any actual neighborly behavior, let alone from someone like you.

He waved back before you turned away, watching as you kicked back off the road and cycled away. You left him with just the short memory of your shapely figure working over a blue cruiser bicycle.

He tried to clear his mind by putting his focus back on the car, but he never made much progress. He was quickly admitting defeat after an hour of fucking around with it.

Tossing his tools back in their box, he reached for the pull cord to yank the door to the garage closed when he heard a familiar spin of bicycle spokes. He spared a glance out at the road and was surprised by a familiar face.

You were off your bike this time, choosing instead to roll it along the road.

He offered another wave, much like you had upon your first passing, only this time you spoke back to him in return.

“Hello”

Your voice sounded sweet, even airy, and it easily caught Robert off guard. “Uh, hey there.”

“What's your name?” You chirped back.

“Me?” He mouthed back, barely audible. You recognized the gesture all the same.

“Is there someone else in there with you? You laughed.

He scoffs before answering the previous question. “My name’s Robert.”

“Do you have a bike pump, Robert?” You asked.

“What?” It was all he'd given back as a response, somewhat dumbfounded as to why the hell you were even talking to him in the first place.

“Do you..” you began to repeat, only to be cut off midway.

“I heard you; I just…why?” He finally spit out the question. Why?

Why were you smiling at him, battering your lashes in his direction? Why were you even giving him a second glance, let alone asking him for anything?

“My tire went flat.” You say as you roll your bike closer, crossing onto his concrete driveway and overstepping an invisible boundary.

Robert didn’t answer again, standing mostly agast with the garage cord still in between his fingers. He doesn’t know how to talk to gentle young things like you, and he gaped at the absurdity of the conversation like a fish out of water.

“You don’t want to help me, Robert?” You said with a soft pout as you dug the toe of your shoe side to side on the concrete.

He counters back quickly, although his words end up being fumbled. “No…I.” He had to think for a second, “I can help; just give me a second,” and with that, he pushed the garage door back up and turned back to look for the needed bike pump.

You follow him inside, rolling your bike alongside you as he disappears behind the car. It annoyed him a little bit that you didn’t just stay put; in fact, you seemed to linger just a little too closely for his own comfort.

You’re just a peach, and he’s anything but sweet.

Your skin was a little sweaty from your afternoon ride, giving you an unearthly glow. He, on the other hand, felt grungy from the perspiration that stuck to his clothes and hair after working with the car.

He’s digging for anything that resembles a bike pump. He had agreed without thinking about whether he actually had one. Yet, low and behold, just the right item was found buried within some unpacked boxes.

“So you’re new around here?” You asked, a sweet lilt to your voice as you ignored any of the negativity in his body language.

“Uh, yeah. Moved in a month or two ago.” He answered back as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

You bounded back over, nearly splayed across his shoulder, as you watched him examine the tire for any holes. He did find another reason for it to have gone flat.

“Shit, it looks like the cap for the air valve is missing. It’ll just run out of air aga…”

“Oh, here you go.” You quickly and conveniently pulled the little black cap from your shorts pocket, holding it out for him to take.

Robert is well confused as to why it’s in your pocket instead of on your bike, but as his brows knit together, he found he didn’t care to ask. He only wanted to get this shit done. It was hard enough to work while trying to keep an eye on the beautiful creature that had just invaded his space.

“So, what made you decide on this neighborhood?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels as you stood back up from your hunched position.

You toed around his garage as he pumped the bike tire out of his line of vision but not his mind.

“Uh, I don’t know. The house was cheap, I guess.” He answered back.

You ran your finger along the dusty lines in a small fridge at the corner of the garage as you continued to speak. “Meet any other neighbors?”

“Uh, no. Hey, I’m trying to do this, so if you could..yeah.” He couldn’t string together the precise words, but his meaning came through. He wanted you to cut out whatever the hell you were doing where he couldn’t see.

Not that you would actually listen, but you did give him a sassy “Sor-ry.”

“Thank you for helping me. I promise I’ll be very appreciative.” You said as you cracked the door open on the little fridge, feeling the cool air on your shins, before leaning down to look at its contents. The sound only just made him stop tinkering with the bike and toss you a glance over his shoulder. It wasn’t until he heard the ‘pst’ of someone cracking open a can of his beer that it spurred him back onto his feet.

“Hey, get the fuck out of there!” He yells behind his shoulder before fully standing. He watched, fuming a little, as you brought the open can to your lips for a taste.

He rushed across the small garage to rip the cab from your fingers, shouting out, “What the fuck do you think you're doing?!” before knocking the cab down instead.

It spilled out over the both of you, coating your clothes and his hands.

“Jesus, god damn it!” As he shakes the beer from his fingers as he sets the now empty can aside, trying not to just throw it at you.

You only gave a little “oh no” as you pulled at your now wet clothes.

He was already tearing at his soggy t-shit to pull it free from his body, not wanting anymore sticky skin. You followed suit, pulling your top over your head and letting your soft and unencumbered breasts fall free from the fabric. A cool breeze blew through from the opening of the garage, making your bare buds perk up against the chill.

Robert was at a loss for even a single thought at the sight of you. That breeze is the first thing to snap him back into reality. He’s at a loss as to what to do first: cover you up or shut the garage so no other neighbors could see the display you’d made.

He moves quickly now, jumping after the cord for the garage door and yanking it down until it hits the cement with a hard clunk.

He turned back as you began to unbutton your shorts to free yourself from the wet denim. He has to rush over and grab the hem of your shorts just to keep you from slipping them down your body and completely exposing yourself to him.

He shouts out at you with “What the fuck are you doing?”

“My clothes got dirty.” You say this as if it were a matter of fact, like this was something completely normal to do in the presence of a strange man.

“What?!” Robert was entirely confused, half certain that none of this could be reality. Surely he had passed out from the heat, and this was some gorgeous fever dream.

“You spilled beer on my clothes; I have to take them off.” You spoke softly, more demure as you slid your hands over his as he gripped your undone jeans. You were gentle, especially compared to the stiffening of his muscles as you ran your nails lightly up and down his arms.

When Robert wasn’t immediately responsive, you taped at the nose piece of his glasses, pushing them up his face as you taunted him. "Geez, you’re thick.”

You had gotten close, nearly tickling the tip of his nose with yours.

“You know, I was hoping to say that when I actually got your pants off.”

You were devious. You had never seen ‘Robert’ in the neighborhood before and you sure as hell hadn’t seen any moving trucks to signal a new neighbor's presents in your cozy little burb. He looked wild, messy long hair, wide shoulders and a thick air of aggravation around him. The muscles in his neck had tightened as he had fought against the inner workings of his car.

You had thought you had a shot, but he had seemed so unreceptive. You definitely didn’t account for the spilling of the beer you had taken, but you worked it in your favor.

He simply puffed out a sharp breath, looking down at your exposed skin and realizing the absurdity of fighting against you. It was the first time he actually stopped to ask himself why he was trying to stop you.

He let you take his hands in yours, helping him push the wet denim down your body until they finally fell to the dusty floor before you kicked them away.

His voice was much more subdued, almost weak, as you cornered him against the side of his car. “What the hell are you doing?” He spoke more in awe this time. He was never this lucky, so you’d have to excuse his consistent skepticism.

You smiled once his hands had left the hem of your shorts and spread along your bare skin. You nuzzled over his cheek, leaning in to ghost your lips along the scruff of his mustache and beard. Whispering lowly, “I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” before finally stealing a heated little kiss.

It was quick, even searing. Even within this sweltering garage, he made your skin flush even hotter. At first, he hadn’t been as receptive as you’d hoped he would be, but as he pressed into the kiss you knew he’d finally come around.

Robert completely switched, becoming more aggressive with the way he handled you as he dragged his teeth over your lower lip before sucking it between them. You smiled with a happy whine as his mouth tore away to pepper sloppy, desperate kisses over your jaw and along your neck and shoulder.

Your fingers spread over his wide shoudlers, pulling him closer until his chest was squished against your plush breasts. His hands gripped either side of your waist, holding on tight as if you could fly away at any moment.

His fingers didn't wander over the parts of your body where you needed them the most. Out of a little frustration, you basically had to grab his digits too harshly so as to guide him to drag them over your hip. His hand didn't want to leave your soft flesh, and you laughed as you forced it over your belly and down the front of your panties.

“C’mon, I need you to touch me, Robert.” You sounded impatient, but you were met with an equally needy growl of agreement as it rumbled from his chest.

His fingers kicked into action as soon as a tip touched one of your hidden folds. You hummed with joy, giggling against his lips as you stole another kiss.

His fingers wove through your lower lips to play at your entrance. You’re raking your fingers through his long hair as he’s dragging his thick digits through the soft petals of your soppy cunt.

His left hand traveled further down your body, sliding through the waistband of those lace panties. His right fingers pumped through your wet sex as he fought to gain purchase around the thin material of your underwear. His mind was too preoccupied with bumping his knuckles along your inner walls as he broke his lips away again to bite at your neck. The bruises he’d leave would bloom angry and purple by tomorrow.

An animalistic part of his brain became fed up with this last scrap of fabric as it stuck to your body, and his nails tore through it in protest before he ripped it with a sickening crack of snapping seams. It stayed stuck around the side of your other leg but fell to ribbons alongside the other.

His hands reached further, gripping your by the back of your soft squeezable thighs and hoisted you up so that your sneakers dangled a good 6 inches off the floor.

Your ass crashes against a shabby tool bench that helped to sandwich the two of you next to the car. It came with the house, and he was planning to just chuck it out, but somehow it became incredibly useful.

With you more or less safely perched at cock height, he began tearing apart his belt buckle so he could shimmy his jeans down to his thighs.

“Is this even fucking real?” He growls under his breath, moreso to himself, but you laugh anyway.

His hands were hungry, dragging and clawing over your body. It was as if he needed to memorize its shape, as if by some stroke of terrible luck you could disappear within an instant.

His boxer band is on display before he grabs a handful of cloth and denim to pull it down to his thighs. His cock is more alive than it had been in months, and with the option of real pussy on the line, it was throbbing, bobbing against his stomach as he pulled it free.

“Oh shit. Are you sure?” He still doubted, frustrating you just a little bit more.

You nod back, whimpering, “Yes, yes!”

“You’re not gonna turn back into a pumpkin the second I stick it in, will ya?” He chuckled, finally letting himself relax.

“Oh what, you think you’re fuckin funny all of a sudden?” You say as you wrapped your legs around his back to pull him flush against your lower body.

This time he’s taking the hint and aligning the tip with the soft pink opening of your flower. He nearly wanted to commit the image of it to memory, but for now he couldn’t leave either of you waiting a single second, and he pushed through your tight little opening.

Oh, what a beautiful young lady you were! You were practically flexing around his cock as he pushed further in.

“Fuck Me.” He gritted out as he ground his teeth together.

He fucks you just like that, bent over your splayed body, carefully pumping through your tight channel. He was eager now, paying no mind to your tight expression as he stretched your walls apart.

His hips started to piston back and forth, making the old wooden legs of that work bench creak in protest of the misuse. You were hanging off the edge, one shoed foot propped up by the heel on the side of the bench, and the other grazing against the cement floor in the hopes of balancing itself.

You whine at the tickling and the flutter of his cock dragging along your inner walls, stirring your pussy and making you cry. You sang his name—a tune he’d never thought he’d hear sung from such sweet lips.

The garage is humid, with thick and sticky hot air clouding over you both as he plunged in and out of your wet heat. Each slam of his hips sent a ricochet of something hot, like a satisfying burn shooting up your belly and smoldering against the back of your eyelids.

Each shot of that white-hot bliss built into a waiting inferno until it all burst apart. You nearly couldn’t breathe as you unraveled around him, and he ground his teeth together as his own end neared.

For as fuck drunk as you had made him, he still had some sense to pull himself free from your gushing flower before his cock began to seize. Instead, he spilled out all over your soft belly.

His cock continued to twitch, dribbling out a last few beads of white nectar before beginning to soften.

Robert was fighting to catch his breath while being suffocated by the cloud of heat the two of you had made in that small garage.

“Fuck.” He groaned as he pulled his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face, pushing up his glasses in the process.

You had to push yourself to sit up before carefully hopping down. The cum was still thick and wet, threatening to drip down your stomach and between your legs from the change of position.

“You’ve made me all dirty.” You whined.

“Uh, sorry.” His eyes were lidded, barely registering your words other than those that required an apology from himself.

“Well, I’m gonna need a shower.” You spoke, but he wasn’t really listening anymore. He’s still so dumbfounded as you saunter right for the entrance to his house from the measly little garage.

It took him a minute to regain his bearings; only after taking a breath did he realize that the strange temptress that had bested him was now wandering through his house.

“Wait, a fuckin minute!” He shouted as he ran after you.

@alternativegirl23 (I’m a big fan)