#i need to romance her. Like i need it in my veins

[a-drama-addict]

shadowheart straight up 'smorking it' and by 'smorking' lets just say. lesbianism

[godsfavdarling]

How does that feel?

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You've been having a hard time finishing in bed and you finally tell Spencer what's going on. words: 4,4k warnings: smut - oral (fem! receiving), breast/nipple play, unprotected sex (don't do that) a/n: this was a request! also, i've stared at this thing for so long i don't know anymore what's going on, but i hope yall like it <3

You sat at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by your closest friends - Penelope, Emily, and JJ. The four of you had met up for a much-needed girls' night out to finally have a chance to unwind and catch up. 

"Can you believe the latest case we worked on?" JJ said, shaking her head. "Sometimes it feels like we're living in a crime novel."

"Tell me about it," Emily agreed. "But PLEASE! Let’s not talk about work. I need to decompress."

Penelope raised her glass. "To decompressing! And to… friends!"

You all clinked glasses, smiling at each other. Very quickly the conversation shifted towards more personal topics.

"So, how are things with Will?" Emily asked, turning to JJ.

JJ smiled. "Things are great, actually. We're planning a little getaway next month, just the two of us. What about you, Em? Any romance on the horizon?"

Emily shrugged. "I'm enjoying the single life right now. Besides, it’s not easy to find love having this job. When am I supposed to do that?"

Penelope grinned. "Don’t you worry about it, pumpkin! You’re gonna find someone soon. I can feel it in my bones!."

The conversation continued in this vein for a while, each of you sharing updates about your romantic lives. You listened and laughed along, but Penelope's observant eyes caught the slightly distant look on your face.

"Alright, spill it," Penelope prompted, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's been going on with you lately? You've seemed a bit off."

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. These were your friends, after all, and you knew you could trust them. "It's just... I've been having a hard time finishing in bed lately. It's been… really frustrating."

Emily raised an eyebrow, her expression sympathetic. "Have you talked to Spencer about it?"

You shook your head. "Not yet. I mean, I want to, but I don't want to make him feel bad or think it's his fault. He's always so attentive, and I don't want him to think he's doing something wrong. And he’s not doing anything wrong. He’s perfect. Obviously."

JJ leaned in, her voice gentle. "Hey, communication is key. Spencer loves you, and I'm sure he’d want to know what's going on so he can help. I’m sure his big brain knows exactly what to do."

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be an opportunity to explore new things together… Sometimes all it takes is a little experimentation."

You smiled, feeling a bit more encouraged. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll talk to him."

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

Later that evening, you found yourself back at home, sitting on the couch next to Spencer. He was engrossed in a book, the dim light casting soft shadows across his focused face. He set the book aside when he noticed your pensive expression, concern immediately clouding his eyes.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Spence, there's something I need to talk to you about."

He turned to face you fully, his full attention on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Of course. What is it?"

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in your lap as you searched for the right words. Finally, you decided to dive in. "Lately, I've been having a hard time finishing in bed. It's been really frustrating for me, and I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want you to feel bad."

Spencer's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding and concern. His mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but he hesitated, clearly processing what you had just revealed. "Oh…”

You immediately regretted saying anything. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. You still enjoyed sex but just couldn't reach the high. Maybe you were just too stressed. 

It had nothing to do with Spencer. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as Spencer seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he tried to find the right words. Why would he know what to say? You felt like you were just making things difficult.

“Forget it. It’s fine,” you said quickly, trying to dismiss the conversation and spare him the discomfort.

“No, no, no, wait,” he said, reaching out and grabbing your hands as you started to stand up. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you. “It’s okay. I’m glad you told me. I just… how did I not notice? I… I’m just trying to remember, well, I remember everything and I just… I can’t believe I… couldn’t tell.”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I didn’t want you to know. It’s embarrassing.” Your voice wavered, and you looked away, feeling tears start to spill down your cheeks.

“No, it’s not. It’s not embarrassing. I want you to feel good.”

“It does feel good. Always. I just… I don’t know. I just can’t cum. It’s like I get almost there and it feels good, but it never happens.” At this point, you were crying openly, the frustration and embarrassment overwhelming you.

Spencer pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and steady beat of his heart. He rubbed your back soothingly, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out together. I want to help."

You clung to him, feeling the weight of your frustration starting to lift just a little. "I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to think it was your fault."

Spencer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with love. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault. Sometimes these things happen. What’s important is that we’re in this together. We can try new things, we can talk and see what works for you.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he said, smiling gently, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. “We’ll take it slow and explore together. Your pleasure is important to me, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re satisfied.”

As you snuggled into his arms, the tension slowly easing from your body, you wondered why you had been so scared to tell him in the first place. Spencer always knew what to say, always knew how to make you feel safe and loved. 

This was Spencer - your Spencer - and you realized you had nothing to fear.

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

Spencer was clearly waiting for you to initiate anything, respecting your pace and comfort. In the meantime, he very carefully tried to understand you.

Despite his constant reassurances that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that he was more than happy to figure this out together, you couldn't shake the lingering embarrassment about your problem. He was understanding and supportive, trying to create a safe space for you to open up about your frustrations.

You spent several nights just talking, diving deep into the details of your intimate experiences. Spencer approached it with a mix of curiosity and determination, asking thoughtful and sometimes probing questions. 

You discussed every position you'd tried before, analyzing what felt best and why. You talked about your feelings toward toys and whether they might help. 

Spencer inquired about foreplay - whether it felt too short, too long, too intense, or not intense enough. He wanted to understand what was most pleasurable for you in terms of finishing. Was it when he was eating you out, fingering you, or through penetration? Or did you find that a combination of these was most satisfying? 

He also asked if you enjoyed it when he talked to you during the act. What were your favorite things for him to say? 

He wanted to understand everything about your experiences. What went through your mind when you masturbated? What kind of porn did you watch? Each question, while sometimes making your face flush with embarrassment, was asked with genuine care and focus. 

Spencer treated it like a meticulous scientific research project, aiming to solve the problem with the utmost care and attentiveness. His dedication and focus made you feel deeply cared for, as he was on a mission to be the one to help you find the satisfaction you deserved.

On Saturday night, you and Spencer lay in bed with your books, enjoying the quiet comfort of each other's company. He was engrossed in a thick classic novel in a foreign language, while you were absorbed in your favorite author’s new romance. The plot had just reached the point where the two protagonists had sex for the first time. The scene stirred something deep within you, making your skin feel hot and your heart race. You bit your lip, trying to concentrate, but your thoughts kept drifting.

As the scene ended, you finally allowed yourself to look over at Spencer. He was completely lost in the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Having problems, genius?” you teased, your voice carrying a playful edge.

“What? No!” he replied, not even looking up from the words on the page. “How’s your romance? Is it good?”

“Oh... it’s very good,” you said, scooting closer to him, propping your head on your hand. Finally, he looked at you, curiosity mingling with his usual attentiveness.

“What is it?” he asked, sensing your change in mood.

“Nothing,” you replied with feigned innocence, placing your hand on his chest. 

His eyes stayed on you, studying your expression. Your breathing grew heavier as you stared at his neck, unable to hold back any longer. You lowered your face to the side of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.

Spencer's breath hitched slightly, and he set his book aside, his attention fully on you now. "Are you sure it's nothing?" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

You smiled against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Well, maybe it's something," you admitted, your voice a whisper. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his chest, feeling a now quicker beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “Tell me,” he urged softly, his eyes filled with desire.

The room felt charged with electricity. 

“Well… I was just reading this scene… where, you know… the girl and the boy finally fucked. On the floor. It made me think of us.” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

“You want to have sex on the floor?” Spencer asked with a serious tone.

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “No, too many germs,” you said with a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, his eyes softening with affection. “Alright, not on the floor then,” he said, his voice low and inviting as his hand gently caressed your cheek. “But I get the idea.”

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding with anticipation. “I just want to be close to you,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.

Spencer's eyes darkened with understanding, and he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft yet insistent. “Then let’s explore that together,” he whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip, pulling you closer.

His kiss was deep, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that sent shivers down your spine. 

His hand, now resting on your hip, guided you closer, pressing your bodies together. 

You instinctively rubbed your thighs together, seeking some friction, and Spencer, ever observant, immediately noticed. It seemed impossible for him to be more attentive, yet somehow he was. 

With a gentle but deliberate motion, he turned you so that you were lying on your back beneath him. As he shifted, you felt the press of his already hard cock against your core, making you lift your hips slightly, yearning for more contact.

“We’re gonna take things slow, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I want you to feel good.”

You wanted him, you wanted him now, but you understood his approach. 

After all the endless conversations, you and Spencer had reached a few conclusions about what worked best for you both. 

For one, you often found yourselves too excited, mostly you, to slow things down. Foreplay, though it was present, had usually been quite brief due to the intense need to get naked and feel him inside you. So, longer foreplay became a new priority.

Two, you discovered that you felt most connected when he was close to you, every part of his body touching yours.

Three, you both agreed on the importance of more kissing. Spencer had given you what felt like a comprehensive college level lesson on erogenous zones, emphasizing the need to focus on and cherish these areas. 

His lips, his touch, his breath - every aspect of physical intimacy was to be savored and explored in greater depth.

With these insights in mind, Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. His hands roamed your body with a slow, deliberate grace, each touch designed to explore and stimulate. 

His kisses traveled from your lips to your neck, then lower, each movement a careful balance of passion and tenderness.

He paused to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with both love and a hint of playful mischief. “Ready for us to take our time?” he asked, his voice a soothing murmur.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and relief. “Let’s take our time.”

Your nipples were already hard against your tank top, the fabric offering little barrier to the stimulation. Spencer grazed the side of your breasts with his hands, his touch both teasing and tender. 

As his lips kissed and nuzzled your collarbones, his thumb began to circle your nipple through the thin material of your shirt. The sensation made you shiver with pleasure, and you melted further into his touch.

His leg, now firmly pressed between your thighs, rubbed gently against your inner thighs and core. The pressure of his length pressed into your hip, amplifying the heat building in you.

“Please, take it off,” you whispered, your voice quivering with need.

“Take off what?” Spencer murmured, his face still buried in your chest, his hair brushing against your face with every movement.

“My shirt. Please,” you pleaded, a hint of desperation in your voice.

He chuckled softly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he slid his hands lower, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He showered your exposed skin with soft kisses, his lips warm and affectionate against your belly. 

As you reached for the hem of your shirt, you quickly pulled it off, tossing it aside.

“What happened to taking things slow?” Spencer asked, looking up at you with a teasing grin, his chin resting against your stomach.

“Sorry,” you said, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t be,” he replied with a smile. “I just want to make sure you feel really good.”

“I do,” you whispered, your voice filled with need. “Keep going.”

“Whatever you say, angel,” he murmured with a soft chuckle.

With that, Spencer moved between your legs, lifting them and resting them on his shoulders. He positioned himself comfortably, and you felt the anticipation rise as his face moved closer to your core. 

He inhaled deeply, his breath warm against your sensitive folds, making you whimper in response.

“Please,” you begged softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, pulling down your underwear with careful, deliberate motions. He started with a gentle kiss on your nub, his lips exploring with a tenderness that made you gasp. 

He then trailed his kisses down to your thighs, peppering them with soft, teasing pecks. The sensation was delightful, and you giggled, placing your hand on his cheek.

He turned his mouth to your hand, kissing the inside of your palm before taking it in his hand and guiding it back to rest gently beside you. His fingers lingered, his touch warm and reassuring as he held your hand. 

He then looked at your cunt.

“You’re already so wet. For me?” he asked, his voice filled with both awe and desire.

“For you? Always,” you replied, your breath hitching.

He chuckled against you, the sound and the vibration making you shiver. “Don’t do that,” you said with a laugh, trying to steady your breathing.

“Sorry,” he murmured with a playful tone. 

Before you could say anything more, he gave you a long, slow lick from your entrance to the top, his tongue moving with a deliberate slowness. He stopped at your sensitive nub and began to suck gently, his mouth working with a rhythm that made you arch your back and moan in pleasure.

Spencer’s mouth was a world of sensation against you. 

He kept going with long, languid licks, his tongue gliding from your entrance to the top of your sensitive nub. Each stroke was deliberate, exploring every inch with a careful, loving precision. 

The warmth of his tongue, combined with the perfect pressure, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you gasp and moan.

You felt your breath quicken as his movements became more focused. 

He moved his tongue in quicker, teasing circles around your clit, his mouth creating a constant, delightful friction. 

You squirmed under the intensity, your hips instinctively bucking in response.

When you no longer felt him on your clit, a desperate cry for him almost escaped your lips. But then, he gently slipped his tongue inside you, and a wave of relief and pleasure washed over you. 

He moved with precision, his tongue exploring deeper while maintaining the steady, teasing motions that drove you wild. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum pleasure from you.

His nose brushed against your folds and clit with each movement, adding an extra layer of sensation. The combination of his tongue inside you and the gentle pressure of his nose against your most sensitive spot made you tremble. 

Your hand clutched at the sheets, your body arching toward him, seeking more.

You could feel the build-up of tension and ecstasy swelling inside you.

Through all of this, Spencer held your hand firmly in his, his fingers intertwined with yours. 

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you squeezed his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his with a mix of desperation and pleasure. 

Spencer responded by tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, his touch soothing and intimate amidst all the intense sensations he was creating.

With a final, expert flick of his tongue, he sent you spiraling into a powerful climax. 

Your body tensed and then released in a wave of pleasure, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued his slow, consistent movements, savoring every moment of your release.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, he slowly eased his mouth away, leaving soft, lingering kisses along your inner thighs. 

His hand remained clasped with yours, and he looked into your eyes from between your thighs, his expression a mix of content and desire. “Wanna keep going? We can stop if you need to.”

You shook your head, a determined glint in your eyes as you pulled yourself up and crushed into him, pressing your lips against his with an almost desperate intensity. 

The kiss was fervent, your tongues dancing together, both urgent and consuming as you tasted yourself on his lips and on his tongue. He was covered in you.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your back, his touch warm and gentle, but firm at the same time.

Tonight felt different. It was more intense, more electric. 

As your kiss grew deeper, you moaned into him, the sound mingling with his own soft groans of pleasure. With a deft maneuver, he turned you so that you were straddling him, his hands firmly on your hips.

“Is this okay?” he managed to ask, his voice a low rumble as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. The effort it took to break the kiss was evident, his breaths heavy and laden with desire.

“Yes,” you responded quickly, your need palpable as you crashed your lips back onto his, kissing him even harder. 

“Baby, slow down,” Spencer said softly, though his voice was tinged with longing. “We were meant to go slow.”

You moved your lips to his cheek and jaw, leaving a trail of kisses that were tender but laced with urgency. “I need you. I need you so bad,” you whispered against his skin, the words laced with an aching desire.

Spencer gently cupped your face, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your jawline. He guided your gaze to meet his.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise and his eyes filled with affection “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. We have all night and even more.”

He leaned in and kissed you with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of moments before. 

“How do you do it?” you asked breathlessly, your curiosity blending with the haze of desire. You wondered, as you looked into his eyes, how he managed to maintain such control over himself amidst all the passion.

“What?” Spencer’s voice was a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“Stop yourself,” you clarified, your voice barely above a whisper. “How do you manage to hold back?”

Spencer’s eyes softened, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s not about holding back,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “It’s about making sure you feel good. I want this to be perfect for you, for us, every time. That’s what matters.”

His words stirred something deep within you, and you were hit by a wave of warmth and appreciation. As he leaned in to kiss you again, the tender, loving nature of his touch gave you goosebumps.

“Can we fuck now?” you asked, your voice husky with need.

Spencer looked at you with a warm, eager smile. “Yes. Yes, we can,”

You gave his cock a few teasing strokes, feeling the way he reacted, his breath hitching as he moaned softly into your shoulder. You slowly guided him to your entrance. 

The sensation of him pressing against you was both thrilling and comforting, a familiar solace you will never get tired of and always makes your world shudder.

With a gentle, deliberate motion, you positioned him at your core, and you slowly lowered yourself onto him. 

The gradual stretch and the way he filled you completely was exquisite, causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths softly. 

You took your time, savoring each inch, feeling every subtle shift and movement.

Spencer’s hands were steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you as you adjusted to his size. His breaths were heavy, matching the rhythm of your movements. 

The room was filled with only the sound of your shared pleasure, a mix of gasps and moans.

As you slowly rode him, the rhythm of your movements became more synchronized, each motion building both of you up to the peak. 

Spencer’s hands were not idle - he moved with purpose, his touch exploring every inch of your body with a deep, loving attentiveness.

One hand continued to support you around your lower back, while the other trailed up to your breasts. His fingers began to play with your nipples, gently pinching and rolling them as you moved. 

That was one thing you had confessed to him during one of your intimate conversations, and Spencer had clearly taken it to heart. You had shared with him how much you loved when he played with your breasts, revealing, a bit embarrassed, the deep pleasure it brought you.

“How does that feel?” he asked in between the kisses he left on your neck, his voice a husky whisper against your skin.

“Fuck,” was all you managed to say, a breathless gasp that made him chuckle, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire.

He massaged your breasts tenderly, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, adjusting his touch to match the rhythm of your thrusts. His lips covered every inch of your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

The combination of his hands on your breasts, the feeling of him inside you, and his lips on your skin was overwhelming. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Spencer’s breath came in ragged gasps, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours. His hands worked skillfully, keeping your nipples sensitive and aroused as your movements became more frantic and desperate. Then his eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of concentration and passion evident in his gaze.

While you stared into his brown eyes, he finally teased your nipple with a light lick of his tongue. 

You almost screamed. 

He started kissing it while his other hand worked on your other breast, his mouth hot and insistent. His tongue traced circles around your hard peak, sending shivers down your spine, while his slim fingers squeezed the other one.

At that point, you screamed into his ear, unable to contain the intensity of your pleasure.

“Sorry,” you whispered, your voice a trembling apology.

“It’s okay. You’re so beautiful,” he replied, his eyes softening with affection as he looked at you, his hands never ceasing their tender ministrations. His words and touch combined, making you feel cherished and desired in every way and that made your heart swell.

His lips returned to your other nipple, sucking and teasing it with more insistence now.

Finally, the pressure inside you reached its peak. 

With a gasp and a shudder, you came, the wave of ecstasy crashing over you while his lips stayed on your breasts peppering them with kisses.

Your body tensed and then relaxed as you rode out the climax, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued to stroke your breasts gently, his touch both soothing and stimulating as he guided you through the final throes of your orgasm.

As you slowly came down from the high, you leaned your head against his, your fingers gently threading through his hair, the other arm wrapped around his neck. He held you close, his hands now lingering on your back with a soft, affectionate touch. 

He squeezed you tightly, turning his face to kiss your neck, which elicited one more moan from your lips. 

You could feel him smiling against your skin as he squeezed you tightly one more time.

[moonlight-prose]

WONDERING WHY

a/n: this is for the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline! i'm not gonna do the whole list cause i would stress myself out to an insane degree. but a few caught my eye. so i've thrown together some small fics for the man himself in the hopes of scattering them throughout october. this is also late one day cause of well me having a shitty time in life rn. but i hope y'all enjoy!

logan promptober: day six - cowboy

summary: loving logan howlett felt like loving a ghost. he returned when the moon hung low in the sky and his time gave way for freedom. but when you needed him most, he arrived on your doorstep with the promise of giving you exactly what you want.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: cowboy!old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI IT'S 18+ ONLY, romance, love, angst, longing, pining, they're obsessed with each other, filthy kissing, p in v sex, rough sex, spit, choking (sorta), calling the pussy her/she, he's an old man who fucks insanely well, feral old man logan.

Pale moonlight brushed across the Earth with strokes of paint. Stars were sprinkled along the night sky, glimmering in darkness as you leaned against the doorway of your home. The lantern flame flickered with each waft of cool air that breezed past you. Pooling inside where a fire cracked and sparked—offering enough warmth to keep you sated for the remainder of time.

At least until he returned home.

You listened for the familiar clop of hooves, the click of his tongue guiding the horse where to go. Hoping that eventually he’d turn the bend in the dirt road and find his way back to the safety of your shared bed.

This was a routine you knew well—one you found solace in as the days grew short and sunlight became sparse. In summer he often returned when the clock struck midnight; the weariness of a long day spent riding through towns and hunting with others was normal. If a little grueling. Although you never complained. You knew who he was when you met him—understood the ups and downs of what this relationship would be.

Logan wasn’t anything if true to his word right at the start. I’m not gonna be here every day sugar, but I’ll be here when you need me.

Eventually you’d have to blow out the lantern and amble back indoors. Calling it quits on yet another night spent alone. He didn’t like it when you were out past a certain time—raiders and hunters alike were more than willing to break in without remorse. Especially if they didn’t know who resided inside, who shared your bed on nights like tonight.

“I need you,” you sighed, shutting your eyes to the sight of an empty road.

They were empty words of hope strung together to make a wish on whatever star caught your eye. Rarely did they work. Although some nights you wondered if magic twined with your solemn prayer—summoning the man you so desperately wanted. It was wishful thinking, a well full of reverie you continuously drank from. Although maybe it was the poison that would one day cause you to drop dead. Maybe…Logan was a figment of all that you could never have.

He might not even exist.

Your eyes fluttered open, glancing up at the sky with anticipation of a falling star. The echo of hooves along dirt drew your attention from your nightly ritual—curiosity pulling you close and whispering promises of giving you everything you wanted. It was probably a stranger. Someone looking for an easy place to spend the night. Logan always told you to say no with a shotgun in your hands, and your body tensed in preparation to grab for the gun propped near the doorway.

Relief flooded your veins at the sight of a familiar dark brown leather coat, his hat tipped low enough to hide the eyes that loomed beneath—glinting with a darkness you'd only seen once or twice in your time together. Calloused and scarred hands gripped loosley at the reins as the horse trotted up the path—finding it's way home with ease.

There was a pull between the two of you. Insatiable and feral and strong enough to have him searching for you the second he drew closer to the house. Hazel eyes fatigued by the long trip back locked onto your form. Plush skin and curves hidden beneath layers of a dress you had yet to strip off.

You would leave that to him, knowing how much he enjoyed tugging at the strings of your corset—undoing the buttons to set you free.

"Gonna catch your fuckin' death," he muttered, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. You relished the sound, unable to stop your smile.

"I was waiting for you."

He huffed, wrapped the reins around the wooden fence he built steadily over the years—the leather bag on his saddle now strapped over his wide shoulder. "Shouldn't be waitin' on a man like me sugar."

"You always say that."

"And I'm always right."

"Would you prefer I wait on someone else?" you inquired, a challenge glinting in your eyes.

He bit back a growl, hand settling on your hip to drag you to the edge of the front step as he stepped to the one below. "Are you tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

The possession in his eyes made your heart race, your fingers digging into the soft leather permeated by the scent of cigars smoked in various saloons. He felt familiar, a home you didn't know could exist within another person. The house you two built resided in his heart; the missing piece you searched for on nights spent without him. But now you had it in your grasp—fitting it back into place with a sigh of bliss.

The picture of peace finally pressed itself to your soul, caressing a part of your love that left each time he mounted his horse—the promise of coming home on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven't found someone else yet, but I very well could-"

The rumble in his chest was layered with everything he'd never say with words. "Try it," he growled. "And I'll have to make a fuckin' graveyard out back."

Heat pooled rapidly into your stomach, elation fluttering through your heart. You knew an animal hid in the depths of his chest. Feral with claws and teeth that snapped at the thought of someone taking what was his. You'd never belong to someone else. You'd never want to. The echo of his words seared into your mind, a vow of forever etched into each vowel and consonant.

He was home. He was here. He was real.

"There's no one else," you murmured, leaning your forehead against his—lips brushing against his with each soft admission. "There could never be anyone else."

All that would go unspoken, all neither of you could say.

I love you. I'll love you forever. Whatever this is…it will only end when we're buried six feet under.

"Good," he replied gruffly. "Now give your old man a proper fuckin' welcome."

The smile you wore deepened as his warm hand cupped your cheek. His skin was dry from the leather and a few cuts were scattered here and there, but nothing could resemble this. The blooming heat that spread across your chest like the roots of an ancient tree. He held you with a tenderness that might have shocked you at first—the fear of harming you burning hot in his stomach.

But this was how he always touched you. With a love that couldn't be replaced. A promise soldified in the lines of his palm, fate driven and earthly bound, and yours forevermore.

Finding his lips beneath his hat, you let go of the breath held deep in your lungs. The taste of his cigars spread on your tongue. A familiar morsel of home you gravitated towards. Later in the evening—when you were both lethargic and naked and covered in all sorts of fluids—he'd puff on a brand new cigar. Giving you taste with lazy kisses and smiles traded in the dark of night.

"Missed you Logan," you mumbled, tongue sliding against his with a breathy moan. "I always miss you."

He chuckled, deep enough to vibrate against your chest—his hands sliding down to grip your waist. "You wanna show me how much?"

"You'd like that huh." Smiling into the kiss, you felt his teeth dig into your lips. He sucked it with a groan, fingers digging harshly into the layers of fabric.

"Mhm." His breath was harsh against your cheek, each kiss filled with a need to ravage what belonged to him. To prove he still held space in your heart. "Missed you every fuckin' day sugar."

You laughed, toying with the hair at the base of his skull—curling your fingers around it to tug him back. The moan he rewarded you with made saliva pool in your mouth. His eyes watched you, dazed with want, mouth parted and swollen from your kisses. And you burned the image of him in your mind.

"You wanna show me how much baby?" you breathed, brushing your lips to his with a teasing laugh.

A biting growl ripped from his throat. "Get inside before I take you out here."

"There's an idea."

The harsh slap to your hip dragged a peal of laughter out of your chest. Stumbling back, your hands yanking the hat off his heat and working the jacket down his arms, you kissed him as if you'd never get the chance to again. Wet and spit slicked. Until your teeth clashed together and his tongue was halfway down your throat. Each moan that dripped from his mouth into yours felt like a fucking reward.

A blissful reminder that you weren't alone; he stood before you, frenzied and aching to feel your skin on his.

Logan couldn't figure out how he wound up in this haven. A home, a lover that stole his breath with each look, and forever right on the horizon. Years spent alone only offered the promise of torment, of a life overflowing with an endless amount of pain.

But for some unknown reason, the sun that used to sear his skin now stood before him lighting the pathway home. The brilliance of you blinded him—warmed every cold aspect that resided in the depths of his chest. Yet he'd rather spend the rest of his life in your fierce heat than suffer in the biting cold again.

Oh how lucky he felt just getting the chance to burn.

Desire simmered sharply in the base of your stomach the further you got into the house—his teeth biting down to the column of your throat, fingers toying with the laces of your corest. He devoured you like a sweet thing to be had. A treat he rarely got to partake in tasting. And fuck if he wasn't going to take his time. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up and off his body with a hoarse shout of glee—nails piercing the flesh of his shoulders as he yanked your leg around his hip.

He practically dragged you to the small bedroom, tearing off the clothing as he went with harsh snarls of want. You'd worry about mending the fabric later in the morning. Or perhaps the day after that. Given how you could feel the heft of his cock through his pants, pressing to your stomach with each small shift of your body.

"On the bed." The command was punctuated with a slap to your ass—a sharp bite against the skin of your collarbone drew a soft moan to the surface.

He tugged the front of your corset down, dropping to the ground with the remainder of your skirts. Baring yourself to Logan with a smile, you felt the emptiness slip down onto the wood of the bedroom floor. Expelling from your body with each panted breath and soft carress. He turned you inside out with the smallest of actions—the barest of touches.

The time he spent alone and wrapped in thoughts of you became all he lived off of. Your memory turned into the reason he stayed alive.

Unlike so much of his life he now held an answer to why he dragged himself home. Why he forced himself to keep going.

"Lemme see her." His hand wrapped around your leg, pulling open your thighs for him to catch a glimpse of what lay between.

You'd been dripping since he arrived. A sticky wet mess that begged for his attention. Logan salivated at the sight, his eyes zeroing in on the way you glistened for him. On any other night he'd sit you on his face in a quick attempt at gaining the close proximity he longed for when he was gone. Tonight served for a different want—a biting need that dug its teeth into his skin.

"She missed me huh," he mumbled, thumb sliding through your wet folds.

You moaned, breathy and restless. "She did baby."

"'M gonna give her what she needs."

"Logan," you sighed, hand outstretched for him to take. "Need you close."

Every nerve lit like a fuse when he gifted you with a full smile. "I will sugar. Lemme just look at ya first huh?"

With a nod you let your legs spread apart, arms draped above your head. The sight of you stole his breath, but you didn't fare any better. His skin scattered with scars you kissed a thousand times over still rendered you incapable of speaking. Hell you weren't even sure you'd taken a breath since he walked through the door.

Though his body was worn and his hair was graying, you couldn't deny he remained the most beautiful man you ever set your eyes on.

"Like what you're lookin' at?"

Your grin was lazy, eyes overflowing with a language Logan once thought he'd never learn yet now could be considered fluent in. Love.

"I really do," you whispered, sharing the secret with him. The words rarely spoken were shouted at the top of your lungs in each loving praise.

He shook them off when you first met him. Claimed they were false words to make yourself feel better about loving an animal who walked and talked like a human. Although, over time he allowed them to sink into his skin, bathe over his broken and weary soul.

They held him together like a ribbon tied through his soul, placed neatly in a bow on his heart.

His hand was swift in undoing his belt, pushing the remainder of his clothes off to join yours heaped on the floor. And you drank in the sight of the man you adored climbing over your body with a hungry gaze. Your heart flipped, grip sliding along his back as you welcomed him in between your legs—the heavy weight of his cock a warm press against your thigh.

"Welcome home." The smile melded into the kiss he placed on your lips, tongue sliding in the curve along your teeth, to taste every bit of you he could reach.

Bucking your hips into his, you dug your nails into his lower back in the hopes that he'd move. He swallowed your whine, spit trailing down your chin when he pulled back to catch his breath. Moving slowly never worked for you—entirely used to the man who broke you with the intent of putting you back together—and right now was no exception. The torment of not having him tore at your heart, put a splinter in the longing simply to crack you in two even further.

"Hold still," he grunted, his hand shoving your hips back onto the bed. "Movin' so fuckin' much I'm gonna have to tie you down."

Your gasp was wet—needy. "Please. Fuck please-"

"Right." His other hand slid up your torso to rest against the base of your throat—thumb running along the smooth skin that covered your racing pulse. "I forgot who you are, sugar. You'd like that huh?"

Teeth tore at your bottom lip, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide the longer he held you there. Anticipation fried your nerves with each second that passed. But Logan wasn't a cruel man. He knew what you ached for—what you'd give up everything for. The closeness of the man you loved; a chance to have his body, heart, and soul.

Gripping himself, he tapped his cock against your clit, sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. A smile bloomed across his lips at your responding moan—fire streaking down your spine, curling along your limbs. He could drive you to madness and yet you'd thank him each time.

You would be grateful for anything he gave you.

"Don't get quiet on me now." His lips trailed along your cheek as he notched himself at your entrance. "Go on and sing for me sweetheart."

He sunk in with a smooth thrust, stretching you with slickened pain and a hoarse moan against the shell of your ear. And you forgot how to breathe. The pinch of pain quickly dampened with the roll of his hips—the head of his cock pressing snugly against your walls. This is what you missed, what your body screamed for.

The potent euphoria that drowned you under its vicious waves.

"So tight," he grunted. "Guess she really did miss me."

"Logan-" Your head tipped back into the pillows, a loud moan breaking the silence that curled over your bodies like a blanket.

"There she is." Pulling back slightly, he slammed back into you, nearly shoving you up the bed. "My pretty little songbird."

Nothing held you back from the sounds he drew out of your mouth. Each one louder than the last. Until the room was filled with a symphony of your combined pleasure, the vulgar echo of skin slapping against skin and your slick dripping down onto the bed, became all you could think about.

He thrived off it. The sight of you whittled down to nothing but a needy mess, begging for a small hint of his love. Maybe that made him an old man far too fucking dirty to be with someone as prescious at you. But he'd let the guilt eat him alive later. He'd worry about stealing your youth out from under you in the afterglow of feeling you cum.

A harsh thrust that struck against the sensitive spongy part of your walls had your knees clamping around his hips—your fingers scratching at his back to get him to slow down. You needed a chance to breathe, to regain some sense. Logan merely smiled, his fingers tightening around your throat to drag your head up. His lips slotting against yours in a messy kiss.

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" he growled, repeating the move with a bitten out groan. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Now you're running?"

"T-Too much-"

The angle changed sharply and suddenly he was no longer grinding into you but fucking right on that spot. A sharp sob of his name only added fuel to the quickly forming flame, quickening his movements until you felt your entire body begin to grow taut.

Slick smeared on the inside of your thighs, sticky and warm and loud enough to make you dizzy each time you heard it. He panted into your mouth, using the hold on your throat as leverage to fuck you back onto his cock.

Logan didn't love softly. He couldn't. Brutality was all he was capable of giving you and like the sweetest angel you took it with a smile. You let him use you up until his name was all you could comprehend. The heady scent of his sweat filled your senses, the salty tang of his skin spread along your tongue as you bit into his shoulder—your teeth marring his already marked skin.

Eventually it would turn purple, fading quicker than usual, but he'd wear it with pride. His own trophy after tearing you apart beneath him.

"Gonna cum?" he asked, mouthing at your breast, moaning at the taste of your skin. "I can feel it."

You nodded frantically, body going taut with each slap of his hips on yours. "C-Can I?"

"So fuckin' polite," he groaned, sucking on your nipple before letting it loose with a pop. Spit dripping down to your stomach. "'Course you can sugar."

Tugging at his hair, you felt the tremble in your thighs spread to the rest of your body. His other hand slipped between your bodies, thumbing at your throbbing clit with a soft moan, dragging you right to the edge of a cliff. A sharp grind of his hips broke the dam within you, flooding you with a mind numbing bliss that scorched your skin.

You cried his name until your throat went raw, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks that he licked up with a smile. The fluttering of your walls dragged a hoarse shout from his chest, his teeth clamping down onto any part of he could reach. He followed you instantly, shoving his cock deep enough to hurt as he filled you with enough cum to spill out.

The echo of your breaths resounded off the wooden walls, his hand dipping down to smear his cum along the inside of your thighs. Coating you in his essence; claiming you with his scent that burned the inside of his nose.

"I did you know," you mumbled, kissing the newly formed bruise on his skin. "Miss you."

He sighed, his forehead dropping to yours. "I know sugar. I missed you too."

"Will you stay this time?"

A grin pulled at the corners of his lips, hips rolling into yours to pull another weak moan from those pretty lips he longed to kiss. "As long as ya want me."

The hesitancy clamped around your heart, filling your stomach with anxiety. You wanted to beg him to never leave again, to spend each moment in the safety of this house. But Logan had always been a ramblin man. He'd never stay in one place too long. Even if eventually he found his way back here, back in the safety of your home.

"Forever?" you breathed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Logan's heart twisted at the sight. "Yeah sugar," he replied, dipping down to drag his lips along yours. "I like the sound of that.”

[rinhaler]

you don't have to if you don't want to but PLEASE PLEASE HEAR ME OUT!

Angsty and Smutty Stepdad!Nanami x stepdaughter y/n where they have to sneak around with each other while mom is at work. Y/N wants Nanami all to herself but nanami explains that they can't cause he married her mom. Then BOOM shyly reveals that we may or may not have a boyfriend soon right!? Riiight this send Nanami into a panic that leads to some begging, some angst, sparkle of romance BUT some heated sex.

okay so the reveal wasn't particularly shy 😭 thank you for this!! very very fun hehe 💕

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, stepcest, cheating, manipulation, begging, DDLG esque, daddy!kink, jealousy, vaginal sex, choking, dacryphilia, calls your pussy 'she'.

words: 1.3k

Nanami freezes outside of your bedroom door as he hears voices. You’re on the phone, no, a FaceTime call? He knocks on the door, slowly opening it before you say he’s allowed in. You spin around on your swivel chair to look at him.

“I’m a bit busy, daddy.” you speak, coldly, as you look him up and down like you’re sizing him up. You look over at your laptop when you hear your… friend, laughing. “Do you need something?” you ask him.

“I can’t believe you call your dad, ‘daddy’.” your friend continues to laugh, quietly.

It hasn’t escaped Nanami’s notice that your friend just so happens to be male. And he can’t deny the jealousy he feels. You can see the envy oozing from your step-father. You can practically smell it on him. He clenches his fists, though it isn’t malicious. He approaches your laptop and looks at the screen.

“I’m sorry, she’ll have to call you back, she’s grounded.” your father tells the boy as he hangs up the call and closes the lid of the laptop. You rise to your feet in a huff, snatching the laptop away before he can confiscate it. “What part of grounded wasn’t clear? Give me your laptop and your phone, now.”

“No! I didn’t do anything…” you pout, “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what? I have my own electronics, I have nothing to be jealous of.” he tells you, lying with ease. You’re impressed, honestly, unable to believe how seamlessly he managed to fabricate a tale that wasn’t even there. “You can have your stuff back in a week, now—”

“You’re jealous of my boyfriend.”

“Y- boyfriend?!” he yells, a bulging vein forms on his forehead as he looks at you with anger. He’s furious. You’ve never seen him like this before. You can’t quite believe what you’re seeing, he’s always so cool calm and collected. But you’re actually a little scared, right now, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you though… right? “What have I told—”

“Yeah, I know what you’ve told me ‘n I don’t care!” you shout back, standing up from the bed and getting closer to him. “I wanna be with you, daddy… b-but you’re married t—”

“Yes, I’m married to your mother. But that does not mean you can—”

“’m allowed to date and fuck whoever I want! If you don’t want me, I’ll find someone who does.”

You’re silenced as Nanami covers your mouth and pins you against the nearest wall. His breathing is heavy and his whole body shakes. All you can do is stare into his soft brown eyes as both of your chests heave alternately. You aren’t sure what’s happening.

He isn’t capable of hurting you, that’s what you always thought, anyway.

Though his eyes that you thought were brimming with anger spill tears. Your body relaxes and your eyes widen in astonishment. He’s crying? Why? He can’t be that jealous, surely. Was it something you said?

“You really think I don’t want you?” he asks. He lets go of you, freeing your mouth so that you can speak. “I love you, sweetheart. I- It’s just… God, I love you.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. Listen to what I’m saying now.” he interrupts you. He wraps a hand, softly, around your throat. You feel him squeeze the sides of your neck, and you can’t keep your eyes off him. Every ounce of focus is given to him as you wait for him to speak. “I don’t want you fucking anyone but me. I don’t love your mother, I love you. But I shouldn’t feel that way, so it has to be a secret. Do you understand?”

“B-But why can’t we be t-together…” you cry a little, not really getting why you can’t be with the person you love. Of course your mother will be hurt, but you don’t care. You want to be happy, with Nanami, so what is the problem?

“Because I’ve been your daddy since you were a little girl, yeah? So it will look very bad. And I don’t want to hurt your mother. We can be together, but quietly. You know I love you, yeah? Answer me.”

“I k-know you love m-e…” your breath hitches and hiccups as you keep crying. You hate that things will never be how you truly wish them to be. But what can you do? You can’t say no when it comes to him. You can’t resist him.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you… daddy.”

“And you want me, yes? You want me to love you properly. Tell me how much. Go on. Beg for daddy.” he continues. Tears flow down your face as you realise you’ll always be powerless to him. He’ll always be able to control you and manipulate you into doing as he pleases. You will never be able to date or love or have a normal relationship because you’re too fixated on him. “C’mon, speak up, sweetheart.”

“Please… please daddy. Need you… need you so bad.” you start, sniffling and shaking beneath his touch as he delicately rubs the tears from your cheeks. “Jus’ need you, daddy… n-nobody else. No one can fuck me like daddy does,” you finish, a small gasp escapes you when you feel Nanami grab your thighs and force you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He kisses you against the wall, and apparently you’ve said the right thing. You’ve begged pathetically enough to earn his favour. And it’s humiliating, but you don’t care. Not when you can feel your daddy’s hard-on grinding against your panty-clad crotch.

You’re soaked. But you were already soaked after he pinned you against the wall. Feeling how dominating he is always riles you up. You forget, sometimes, until you get these little stolen moments.

He carries you to your bed and neither of you can bring yourselves to break the kiss as he unbuttons his trousers. You keep humping against him like a needy little bunny desperate to be bred. Neither of you even see the little damp patch you’ve stained onto his trousers.

You mewl, cutely, as he moves your cotton panties into the crease of your thigh.

“I’m going to fuck your little princess cunt, now, baby.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you sweetly again. “Oh, sweetheart… you’re so cute. So needy, yeah? Always feel better when you get this daddy cock.” he smiles, smothering your lips with his own as he pushes his heavy tip into you.

He devours your moans as he splits your pussy open. Your lips swallow him beautifully as the sticky lewdness of your slick folds reverberates through the room.

His thick length slides in and out of you roughly, and you feel like you’re drowning. His hand finds its way to your neck again. He won’t hurt you, you still think. He loves you after all. But you’ve never felt him like this before. His cock bullying itself as deep as it can possibly go and your braincells feel like they’re detaching from each other.

“T-There she is. My girl.” he speaks, his undoing evidently nigh as he begins to struggle to speak as eloquently as usual. “I know what’s best for my little girl. Don’t I?”

“Y-Yes, daddy…” you squeak out through your restricted airways.

“Didn’t have to flirt w-ith other boys to get my attention,” he continues, his cockhead leaking as he feels himself losing the battle against his self control. “T-This is what you’re made for, sweetheart. And your pussy… I won’t neglect you again. Because she needs- she needs daddy’s milk. No one else can do this. Just m- fuuuuuuuuck. Fuck, fuck.” he pants, emptying his balls into you as he continues thrusting deeper and deeper.

You pant, too, pussy spasming around his length as he hits your sweet spot one too many times.

He collapses on top of you and shows no signs of moving. And you both hum in satisfaction. Proud, though a little ashamed, of what just transpired.

You can’t feel too guilty when you have your daddy like this, though.

He’s mostly yours.

You’re all his.

And for these bittersweet moments, nothing else matters.

© 2023 rinhaler

[bvnnywrites]

Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 1: Apple of His Eye

PAIRING: Eldritch!König x Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As I've said before, English isn't my first language, so this would e fun. Hehe. I'm so excited to share this fic with you guys hehehehe. I'm posting this on both Tumblr and Ao3. Who knows, the story on the other site would be different hm...? I'm not telling when, but hehe. Also, reader is in her twenties, specifically 22, so yayeet. If you don't like how fucked up this story is gonna get then please turn around and go on your merry way. I'll be posting the first chapter here on Tumblr because jesus, my ao3 invitation has yet to arrive. Also, don't forget to write comments, I need feedback because I eat them like it's groceries-

WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARK, SMUT, NSFW, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Fingering, Stomach Bulge, Age Gap, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Implied Discharge, Power Imbalance, Abuse of Authority, No Beta Reader, Dom! König, Size Kink, Size Difference, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Older!König, Eldritch!König, Monster!König, Masturbation, Dark Romance, Blood and Gore, Violence, Monsterfucking

WHENEVER A CERTAIN COLONEL PASSES BY the soldiers would grow quiet, as if he’s sucking the joy with him and then the chatter would continue once his thundering footsteps would fade away into quietness.

A silence would hang over the air for a brief moment – like they’re making sure the danger has passed before proceeding – and the soldiers would continue to chat once they're sure it was safe to proceed. Babbling away but their voices would be a bit hushed, as if their ears were on the lookout for the colonel’s presence.

The colonel was absolutely – you remember his name being König because you saw him score several shots using a sniper rifle in training – wholeheartedfuckingly terrifying.

König strides confidently across the battlefield and KorTac base of Operations in the same damn manner—Arrogant, egotistical, prideful. The mountain of a man walks in like he owns the place, and troops would be so relieved if they see him in the battlefield because they know that he'd be able to turn the tides to their favor.

And the fucker knows it. He knows people look up at him. Looking at him like the fucking messiah that would save them right then and there.

He relished in it.

And he was so fucking gigantic as he is muscular too, to the point his huge hands could definitely crush your head with his fingers if he saw fit. To say he was a Greek God was insulting. No, he was like Kronos.

Destructive.

All-devouring force.

Whenever you stood too close to him—even tho you recall not stepping too close to the colonel because you wanted to respect the five-foot rule for everyone lest they give you the go signal to hog their personal space like Izzy does—you can see the way his muscles would bulge whenever he tightened his fists, or how the veins on his arms were so… alluring, and holy shit he has scars. Battle scars that should've repulsed you but you find yourself wanting to trace it with your fingers.

His form is almost mesmerizing—like how you'd imagine Fenrir slaying Odin from one of the Norse Myths.

However, like Fenris Wolf, he too was bound and shackled to base. Most of the time, at least. You would see him buried and drowning and several paperwork when you go to his office while Roze waited for you by the door.

And you could see his baby blue eyes squint and conjure a glint of annoyance as you hand him your report. He has pretty eyes, that colonel. He doesn’t speak to you, always uttering grunts or huffs. Dismissing you with a wave of his hand—always gestures but never talking.

It reminds you of gray skies and blue muted waters, and sometimes they seemed vibrant when you hear the sinister glee in his voice of bashing an enemies head open like how watermelon breaks – and then he'd look at you and you'd immediately avert your gaze because oh god that would be so fucking awkward if your superior had caught you staring at his eyes like a creep.

As mentioned before, König is mostly quiet, and you didn't really hear him talk since he never talked to you at all. In the battlefield, when he barked out orders, gunfire would drown them and those closest to him would relay the message on to the others.

Lieutenant Izzy – Izanami actually, but she preferred being called Izzy – always spoke in Japanese, but she can speak a few broken English words. She didn’t seem to see you as a liability, often asking you out to grab lunch with her and Captain Roze. The white-haired girl always made sure you never missed your meals, and if you did, she’d make sure to hand you some MREs for the sake of making sure you’re taken care of.

She said to you once, “Be careful of that colonel, he is… what is English word that for… word you use when object is not good to you—harms life.”

“You mean dangerous?” Roze would correct her. “We really need to work on your English, girl.”

“Yes, that the word I’m looking for.” Izzy would laugh. “ローズ先輩、訂正してくれてありがとう。”

Roze, on the other hand, was more closed off. She was ruthless and strict, but you’re convinced that she cares about you the same way Izzy does because she gets this soft glint in her eyes when you tell her that you forgot to eat or missed lunch. Then five seconds later you’d feel an MRE smacking you on the chest, and Roze is barking at you for being stupid enough to not eat and say you’re lucky that her and Izzy are looking out for you.

But you can tell that both are highly protective of you, like older sisters making sure their youngest sibling didn't fuck up on missions or get hung by their rib by enemy soldiers.

Whenever the colonel passed by, you remember Roze’s words “Keep your gaze down” because apparently there was an incident where König had beaten the shit out of a recruit because the poor thing looked at him funny. Something about the recruit scrunching his face in disgust at the colonel or was it because he had mocked him behind his back? 

Either way, the kid was beaten to a pulp. 

The colonel was never given a court martial, however, since he had been able to pull rank it seems. Roze was the one who told you during lunch, voice in a hushed whisper.

Then your thoughts wander back to the nightly horror stories your soldiers would tell to one another. You had a habit of visiting them before making sure they all slept on curfew time. It was fun and it helped boost morale amongst the troops. It also helped that you were a younger lieutenant, so you were able to easily connect to your platoons’ humor and quip remarks. 

You remember the hushed whispers in the barracks, each of them uttering stories of what König might look like beneath the mask.

You often thought maybe he looks so mutilated that it resembles Nemesis from Resident Evil or maybe Salvatore on the Village Version. But you've seen the pretty blue eyes König possessed and you just know that deep down, he was a handsome man. 

Sure, he was old enough to be your dad, had a huge ass age gap that's wider than the forehead of the colonel of the Mexican Special Forces you had previously worked with due to König being forty-five years old, but you'll admit a pretty man if you see one.

However, your soldiers' claims were way more hilarious as they spoke. Each sounding absurd and stupid than the last.

"I heard he has three faces, like the demon Asmodeus. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if he's a prince of Hell in disguise. Have you seen his body? What I'd give to climb him like a tree." 

"I could've sworn I saw worms underneath. Kind of like maybe a maggot-infested lower jaw since I heard the skin of his jaw had been burnt off."

"I think he has the face only a mother could love. Men like that exist."

You had grown up in a small town, people believing heavily in superstitious beliefs. However, once you've left said small town, you realize that they were silly things that old people simply uttered into the wind.

"Did you know a psychic said I would get murdered when I was ten?" You laughed at the absurdity of it all, wanting to add some scary shit of your own.

"Really, L.T?" One of your soldiers said. "Oh, this has to be good!"

“Yeah. I remember she was very old, and if I were correct, I think she moved from Hallstatt? Wherever the fuck that is.”

You told them the stupid little story. How you lost twenty dollars to a fraud only for them to say you'll get murdered, and how it spooked you as a kid and made you all paranoid only to realize you just got scammed out of your money.

"The thing that will kill you is hiding its face. The thing that will kill you has its crown scraping the ceiling. The thing that will kill you has sharpened teeth. The thing that will kill you will charm you with its glamor and false promises. The thing that will kill you will devour you with its appendages and fill you with its seed. The thing that will kill you… you won't see it coming."

The soldiers all laughed, including you, after you've said it in the most croaked voice as you mimicked the old psychic. 

You've never laughed so hard in your whole life, but you were glad that it was your troops that were with you and not stuck up stoic alpha male soldiers. It wasn't real, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. 

All of you got along. 

Sure, most of the soldiers given to you were teens – because the military was just hiring eager and stupid kids, and by God you were going to protect these little shits with your life – but it was fine because they had you. For as long as you live, you promised yourself you'd make sure they were all safe.

And you took them under your wing and you feel bad because they were kids compared to you. They shouldn't be here dressing up as soldiers and being sent off to war zones with you. These kids were supposed to be at home, where they could be safe, and worrying about teen stuff. But then again, KorTac was a company at the end of the day. 

A Private Military Company—basically just glorified mercenaries at this point.

Of course, they would exploit anyone who is willing to serve for their country while also getting paid generously compared to being in a government affiliated military—Hell, you're here, aren't you? Why? Because they can be greedy fucks and capitalism exists, and KorTac rivals Disney in terms of being a well-known PMC in the military world, and you're broke. 

Not to mention that the BAS – Basic Allowance for Subsistence – was fucking higher in KorTac than the government affiliated military you used to serve in. A BAS rate of seven hundred sixty-two point sixty-nine euros for enlisted members, while officers are given the same but with an increased rate of four hundred ninety-seven point fifty- eight euros is better than the current BAS.

You also get the average of six thousand and seven hundred eighty-two euros at an average per month here in KorTac. The pay is way fucking better and you can save up money to the point you were able to pay off your own student and credit card debts and leave your parents' nest since you were basically loaded at this point. 

Money was enough to blind you from the dangers that lurked beneath the still waters that run deep that is KorTac.

"The thing that will kill you… you won't see it coming."

“Did you hear what happened?”

“What?”

“Another soldier went missing again.”

Captain Stiletto changed her mags, examining her scope as she spoke to you with a calm voice—as if she hadn’t just dropped the news of someone going missing. Again. You were ready to hear which recruit was unlucky enough to be whisked away and never to be seen again. That or they turn up mutilated and scared, and the poor things won’t even talk. However, a missing rookie suddenly turns up out of nowhere after months of disappearing without a trace was statistically low.

No, really, it would be low—unusual at best.

The best way to analyze it would be using the Bayesian Inference, and using a probability model to express the uncertainty towards the situation. In this case, using a binary variable would be ideal, $Y$, to represent the outcome whether the missing rookie ever did turn up or not. $Y$ = 1 if the rookie is found, and $Y$ = 0 if the rookie isn’t found.

Then assume that the probability of finding said missing rookie is equal to the proportion of all missing persons who are eventually found. As evidence becomes available, then update the model with that evidence and compute the posterior distribution for the probability of finding the rookie.

In this case, if one of the higher ups discovered the rookie all pale and shaking and are obviously had been terrified to fucking death, the information in that scenario could be used to update the posterior distribution, taking into account that the probability that the rookie had seen something scary in that location, if they were ever found that is.

Once the model with all available evidence has been updated, the posterior distribution to make predictions of the probability of finding the new recruit can now be used. The officers tasked with finding them—at least those who hasn’t given up—will be able to find them within a certain time frame or calculate the probability that they’re are found alive or dead.

Just some basic statistics you’ve learned in ninth grade, that’s all. Or at least from what you can remember.

The scar that ran down the captain’s face was evident like the blood smeared in your hands when you’ve killed an enemy. No one knew why there was a huge damage to her face or why it was there in the first place. You’ve only been in KorTac for a month, almost everyone you’ve met have given you warnings and it was all the same—keep your distance from the colonel. You have half a mind to say “Fuck this” but the pay was good.

Not to mention your contract hasn’t been finished yet and you doubt you’d find a good paying job like this while doing what you love.

“Who was it?” You dared to ask.

Stiletto looks away for a moment, before turning back to you. “Private O’Neil.”

Your eyes widened at the information. You don’t know the person, but to hear a private going missing was surprising. Usually, it was the recruits who disappeared for the most part or at least from your observation in your stay here. Now that’s very strange.

“Huh… a Private? How come it wasn’t a rookie?”

“That’s what I’m thinking too.”

Stiletto responds with the same confusion as you, her lips pursed. She looks worried, unsure to react.

“The colonel had been tasked to investigate the missing cases, but even he isn’t getting any answers.” The captain says, her face troubled. “It’s like there’s a serial killer at base.”

“Like playing Mafia, huh.” You joked.

“Exactly.”

You’re scared of what this could mean. If whoever it was plucking the recruits off like grapes were about to turn to privates, then it won’t be long before your ass is on the line. You have half a mind to help, maybe offer your insights on the investigations, but thanks to Roze and Izzy’s advice, you knew better than to get too close to the colonel…

Unless you want to get beaten by König with your incompetency—what he deems incompetency—since he loves doing things his way according to the soldiers who had worked with him.

It wasn’t enough to scare the rookies, however. They’re still chatty and happy, all of them seemed unaffected by these rumours.

Of course, they’d be unaffected, everyone is telling them that it’s just rumours and the soldier that disappeared had simply been discharged for wanting to leave or go back home. There were a few who didn’t believe it, but those with higher ranks – including you – were reassuring them that it was merely rumours.

That they shouldn’t really worry their pretty little minds about it. And what infuriated you the most was because it worked. They were gullible kids, as young as sixteen to nineteen—basically a six to three years old age gap between you and them. They should know better than to believe the honeyed words from yours or their superiors’ mouth.

But could you even blame them?

They’re just kids. You and the other high-ranking officers were older than them, obviously they would trust you. They expect all of you to guide them, showing them the real ropes of war and violence unlike the trial sessions they’ve had in boot camp and the infantry.

So, really the blame was on every high ranking official—including you.

Everyone from being a specialist to the general of the army were losing their shit over these incidents because KorTac was supposed to promote opportunity and valour, but how can you do that if your fellow soldiers – doesn’t matter what rank they are – are going missing like some monster was plucking them off of their rooms one by one or rather off of the hallways when they’re past curfew.

Curfew falls under your responsibility too, sergeants up to lieutenant colonels were tasked to make sure that every rookie or corporal has to be following the curfew or rather their curfew. KorTac had implemented the curfew for the rookies up to the corporals’ weeks prior to your official employment according to Roze.

The last thing the people who called the shots wanted was a widespread panic amongst their troops.

“Do you have any hunch as to who it might be?” You asked her curiously, wanting to know the captain’s thoughts.

“It could be that newbie before you, Phillip Graves, but he’s mostly out on missions. So, that checks him out.” Stiletto answered, looking at you. “Then there could be the possibility of it being Horangi.”

“Why him?”

“He’s too violent.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Stiletto laughs at your response, shaking her head as if you’re being silly. The captain was nice, in your opinion at least. She pats you back lightly like an aunt would when you remind her of your mom when they were younger. There’s a twinkle in her eyes, one where it makes you wonder just how exactly does Stiletto see you—a daughter, sister or maybe a friend. Either way, you were in her good graces and that’s enough to quell your curiosities for now.

The two of you were practicing alone in the firing range. Those at the lower ranks had gone to sleep or were forced to sleep since it was curfew for them.

The atmosphere had gone heavy.

It was light and cheery in the morning, but at night, the happiness and laxness of the vicinity disappears, and you and the rest of the soldiers with a higher rank are faced with the reality that someone was picking off all of you one by one like candies inside your granny’s bowl of strawberry candy that you don’t see anywhere in the grocery store.

You know, the one’s you get when one day you became a grandma – or great-aunt, or even an honorary old “auntie” – and these things just magically appear at the bottom of your purse. The ones that once they start spilling out of your bag, you’ll find an intricate cut-glass bowl or dish in the middle of your living room and your grandkids or kids would just come and go while pocketing a handful of them, and the refill is somehow always in your purse.

Stiletto hands you a rosary from her pocket. You looked at the long wooden beads coated with silver chains and designs before glancing at the captain. You took it gently, letting the coolness of the holy object cool your skin that wraps around it. Oh, it’s a sweet gesture. Now you have something to wear around your neck, a little good luck charm despite the fact that you don’t really believe in God or a higher being. Her head is tilted to the side, looking at you with an analysing glance as silence befalls the two of you.

“Why…?” You asked her underneath the fluorescent lights of the firing range, riffles forgotten at each other’s side.

Stiletto shrugs, sighing tiredly, “Maybe the thing that’s picking us off one by one would be scared of the Lord.”

“I doubt he exists.”

“He’ll save you in your time of need. He answered my prayers. Maybe He’ll answer yours too.”

“What did you pray for?”

Stiletto is quiet for a moment, looking away before looking back at you with worry. She placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“That you would still be alive the next time I see you… that you wouldn’t be next, lieutenant.”

“You’re the lieutenant that Horangi had referred to the company, ja?”

A voice says with a German accent to it, and by Mary, Joseph, and the Babeh Jesus what an alluring voice he has. It was low and rough, a tad bit raspy—gravelly. You thought to yourself that if you were Persephone and you heard this voice coaxing you into the warm embrace of the Underworld, you too would have cartwheeled and backflipped into Hades’s lap. Leaving the nymphs and the flowers, and the warm sun to drown in the enticing embrace of the God of Death while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

You turned around, half a mind to fuck the brains out of this man until you saw who was speaking to you and all horniness came to a halt as you realized who it was.

König.

You glanced directly at his eyes briefly before averting you gaze, Roze’s warning echoing in your head. You nod your head, confirming his question. You tell him your name and rank, which country you came from, and basically any general information you can tell to confirm your identity. Konig nods his head at your words. His eyes crinkled—was he smiling underneath the sniper hood?—and you can hear a smug tone on his voice.

“Ja, leutnantin, I’ve read your files.”

“Oh.”

Your eyes glanced to the side, seeing some soldiers chattering at the end of the hall. Good. There are people around. A polite smile blossoms on your face, offering it to the colonel – just like you would whenever you bump into a senior officer. Your mind raced why he was suddenly talking to you.

HE BARELY RESPONDED SO WHY WAS HE SUDDENLT BEING A CHATTER BOX?! You internally panicked since he often responded in hums or grunts whenever you give your report, didn’t even glance at you whenever the two of you passed by each other.

So, why now?

“Did you need something, sir?” You asked him politely, tilting your head a little as you crane your head to look at him properly because holy shit, he’s so fucking tall.

“I do, actually, Schatz.” König responds, cold eyes gazing down at your smaller form. “I need your help with a… serious matter. Come with me to my office.”

His strides are big and long as you struggled to keep up with him as he walked down the halls. Your eyes glued to his massive thighs… and oh. The soldiers within the halls part like the sea as König passed by as if he was Noah. They all lower their gaze, chattering going to a halt until only the sound of the storm raging outside can be heard.

“So, why do we need to go to your office?”

But König doesn’t answer, and his hands balled to a fist. You can see the cloth crinkle as his grip dug into his palms, while he ignores your question. Which is, in a way, rude since you were simply trying to gouge out information as to why your colonel was summoning you to his office. You furrowed your brows at his actions.

“It’s the least I should know, don’t you think–”

“Are you always so noisy?”

You blinked owlishly at his words, the colonel barely looking or glancing at you as he continued to walk down the halls of KorTac. Your breath hitches in your throat as you register the slight annoyance in his voice.

He finally looks at you, eyes crinkling as he laughs. And oh god, his laugh. The mere sound of it makes your cheek warm and make both of your lips smile.

“The look on your face earlier is funny, Schatz. However, you’re a lieutenant, no? I’m sure that despite how young you are, you’re mature enough to know that there are classified things that can only be discussed within the confines of an office, ja?”

“I’m sorry, colonel. I didn’t mean to let it slip off of my head.”

You feel like winning the lottery, but the prize isn’t a billion bucks—it’s the fact that you haven’t angered the colonel, and he’s not bashing your head to the pavement or maybe stabbing you where you stand and tearing your flesh with his gloved hands.

You don’t notice the guilt that settles on your face… nor the look of softness and endearment on König’s face as he admires the look of culpability blossoms on you face.

The softness of your face, the way your eyes are filled with such an adorable shyness when you think that he would actually reprimand you for something so innocent. You were so little compared to him too, so fragile… so weak. He relishes in this power over you—power over your reactions and your expressions. You looked so eager to stay on his good side. So eager to please him in your own innocent way. Whether you intentionally do it or not, König is being pumped full of dopamine at just you talking to him.

He's had his eye on you for a long while. The moment you stepped foot on base, beneath the scorching sun of the tarmac, König wanted nothing more than to snatch you and make you his. Drag you away from KorTac, smuggle you to Austria and lock you away in his house by the sea shore, away from prying eyes.

Where he can have you all to himself.

But even his rank and reputation in KorTac couldn’t save or excuse his behaviour if he does that. Everyone would think he was a freak or someone creepy if he were to ever just scoop you up. The way your voice echoes when you bark out your orders to those inferior to you, the way it softens when you talk to your friends – especially to Horangi, and König s gnawing at the cages of his enclosure because he wished you would talk to him the way you would to Horangi.

He wants to talk again without addressing you formally, but he is awkward with connecting to people. Even when he tried to follow his psychiatrist’s advice in trying to open up to people, König still has a hard time trying to initiate a conversation. The words piling up in his throat—stuck there for the rest of eternity.

 König doesn’t know what to do with his hands, resisting the strong urge to grab yours—so tiny and adorable­—and let his giant hand envelope it. You are pouting, gaze averted to the ground, cheek rosy from embarrassment, probably reprimanding yourself that you should’ve known better.

König isn’t sure if he wants you to be scared of him or not – and he hates that you are the first one to be an exception to his desires, because he wanted everyone to fear him. There is something dark, disgustingly predatory almost, in his thoughts as he watched you beat yourself up, but he doesn’t speak, and his fists are balled up because your voice and adorable face were too fucking much and he doesn’t even know how to talk to a girl in his adult years.

“C-colonel, we’re here.”

You hate that you stutter, but you can’t help it since your heart skipped a beat when you looked up and saw König looking at you with such softness and tenderness from his gigantic height. You had to take a deep breath, shaking your head at the delusion it’s not a delusion, you aren’t seeing things runnin in your head.

No.

That was wrong. That idea in itself would be wrong. The colonel was someone wise despite his violent tendencies. He would never entertain the idea of being with a fellow soldier. Not to mention bend the rules just to risk his position and rank. It would be stupid for him. It wouldn’t be worth it for him, and you just fucking know it.

“Ah… right. Bitte, wait a minute.”

You can see how miniscule the keys are to his hand, his form bending down a little and when he stood back up, he was at least three inches taller than the fucking doorway. He turns the lights on and gestures for you to step in. He closed the door behind you as you took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his gigantic desk.

The desk looked proportionate to his form, and the office chair he has accommodates him greatly and it makes your heart flutter because he looks like a king and all he had to do was give out his decree, and you would be scrambling to do said decree to please him because holy shit something about how big he is, is making your insides churn deliciously–

Wait. Bitch, you better stop. Your thoughts screeched to halt, smacking yourself internally because you’re sure you’re not yet in your ovulation week because you just finished your period four days prior… No, that’s not true, you lost track of your cycle due to the recent events that happened at base. The colonel was twiceyour size, and you’re not sure if you can take him.

Not in a fight, of course.

“So, about the recent events happening here at base, I’m sure you’re well aware of it by now.” König starts, leaning at the desk. “Soldiers are disappearing left and right, the younger ones wouldn’t take long before they stop buying our lies, and we need a way to stop whoever it is that is picking is off and making us drop like flies.”

He stopped, eyes roaming as if he’s analysing you.

“Hase, you are quite the prodigy that at such a young age you’ve managed to achieve the rank of lieutenant, and I am completely impressed.” König says, nodding to himself as if he’s proud of you. “Someone of your calibre would be of valuable help to catch the culprit or, rather, the creature that’s currently on the loose in base and hunting us one by one.”

“Creature? Don’t you mean person?”

“I’d like you to look at these and tell me that a human was behind these incidents.”

König slides you a dossier and you merely throw a confused glance at him before opening said dossier, and you almost–No. You do regret opening the fucking folder.

The entrails of the victims are chewed off and sprawled across the floor, the ground was a sea of blood. Some of them had missing parts, but mostly the torso was empty, intestines being the only thing left behind from the inside of the corpses, and there were a few where the eyes hangs out of its socket and runs down their faces like a veiny egg yolk. You want to look away, but you can’t. Some pictures showed the skins have been peeled off, most had been cleanly peeled off. Even the nipples were intact. Never to this day have you seen anything so horrible.

Finally, the urge to puke tore your attention away from the files, smacking it to the table as you swivelled your head away, and your mouth unhinged as the familiar disgusting liquid of your insides went past your throat. Before any of it could spill past your lips, a bucket had been shoved to catch it. König holds the bucket to your mouth. Meanwhile, you did nothing but vomit. Over and over again. Long after it seemed there was nothing more to bring up, you continued to vomit.

At last, after a good solid minute, you stopped. Tears prickled your face as puke-mixed snot went down your throat. König was kind enough to offer you tissues to help clean yourself up before he hands you a glass of water, and getting rid of your vomit.

“I’m sorry.” You weakly said. “That caught me off guard and I–” The words cut off in your thought as you shuddered as the pictures seared into your head. Well, guess this is my thirteenth reason.

“It’s fine, Schatz. Nothing to be sorry about. It is rare for someone to stomach such evidence.” He reassures you.

His giant hand rubs soothing circles on your back and it’s so comforting that you eventually calm down and catch your breath. The taste of bile still lingers and you downed glass after glass of water just to get rid of it but seemingly failing to do so. Yet it is nothing compared to the electrifying touch of König’s fingers that glide behind your back, passing by the wing ang hooks of your bra. Of course, he didn’t mean to do that he most definitely did intendes to do that because he was just trying to ease you out of your sickened state.

“I’m sorry.” You say again.

The pout on your lips was making you adorable and König was glad he was the way that he was right now. Had he been the same age as you, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back. He would’ve pushed you down on his desk, giant hands spreading your legs, tearing your clothes, while he makes you beg for his cock–

“As I’ve said before, Schatz. It’s fine. We have to recompose ourselves from time to time. After all, we’re only human, no?”

You look up at him from where you seat, smiling softly at him. He was so nice. Your eyes flickered to his neck, and then on to his fingers. Seeing the lack of wedding band on him had you feeling butterflies. Was he not married? Who wouldn’t want to marry him? Was he ugly?

His baby blue eyes—like a mixture of storm grey skies and the heartless depths of the ocean—were a soft hint to the fact that he was handsome. You just know. Unconsciously licking your lips, your eyes scanned him over – in the most shameless manner, but that was fine. You can always chuck it up to you just analysing him.

“Now, Schatz.” His fingers wrapped around you chin, coaxing you gently to look up at him. “Lieutenant colonel Allard, Captain O’Neil, and I will be conducting a manhunt starting at 00:00 up until to 04:30 this Friday. Allard would be taking the North side of the base, I’ll be taking the South, and O’Neil would be taking the West area–”

You paid attention to every word he said, nodding your head every now and then. You kept your eyes locked to his, unaware of the growing tent inches away from your face in your colonel’s pants.

“–which is why I called you to my office.” His voice rips you out of your trance. “I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to lend out a hand in catching whatever it was that’s picking us off one by one?”

“Yes, sir.”

The way you responded with such speed had you internally clutching your pearls. You were so confused as to why you had agreed so easily without even asking for the details. Hopefully, your colonel would be kind enough to graciously brief you and the team before he sends you all out to play limbo with this culprit.

König smiles at your eagerness to help the team—to help him. The younger ones weren’t so eager like you; often having to be bribed with a reward just to help. But you? You said yes without any hesitation.

“Are you married, Schatz?”

“No, sir.”

“How come? Most female or male soldiers your age are married. Why aren’t you?”

“Why aren’t you?”

Your body tensed as your mind caught up with that loose mouth of yours, but before you could even stop yourself the words had already been uttered into the world.  Holding your tongue and making you blurt this in front of your superior needs to be fired. Like, bro, pick a different sim to fuck up. Please. You might’ve had the chance to be in his good graces, being offered promotion after promotion because König did say he’s read your files – he’s awfully touchy too, but maybe that’s because he’s comfortable around you. You might’ve had a chance of walking out the office, alive and healthy with nothing but a nod of a head and telling you to be prepared for the operation this upcoming Friday – but now you’ve said those words with such casualness that it doesn’t really suit the dynamic between you two, and could promptly land you to some punishments. You could–

The colonel chuckles, eyes closed as his shoulder’s shook, and the sound of it makes your cheeks flare with warmth.

“What gave it away, Schatz?”

Your body relaxed, seeing he wasn’t offended or irritated by your response.

“It’s uh… um, the lack of wedding ring, sir.”

“Oh? What an observant klein leutnantin.”

He looks at you, contemplating for a moment before König spoke.

“I have trouble finding a… suitable mate, if you will. Mutter often tells me that I’m a carbon copy of my father, which could explain why she’s so distant and hostile towards me. I don’t… I don’t know or saw the need to find a partner until… until recently.”

His gaze lands on you as he said the last two words. You furrowed your brows, wondering who or what could’ve changed his mind. With a tilt of your head to the side, you asked him a question that stems from his words.

“How come your mother hated you just because you looked like your father? You can’t exactly control your looks.”

“Because he was a monster who had forced himself on her, and forced her to carry his child – which would be me.”

Your eyes widened at that. You didn’t exactly expect the colonel to say it so casually, as if it’s a fun fact you’re telling to a kindergarten. You pursed your lips, looking away, feeling awkward and bad now that you had brought up the topic.

“I’m sorry… I… I didn’t… know.” Was all you can muster.

“You seem to not know anything at all, Schatz.” He cooed at you. “It’s alright. You needn’t be sorry. How I was born is something I cannot control, but the outcome of who I can be is.”

König chuckles, walking over to pat your head affectionately and holy shit it has your heart racing.

“Growing up, the children my age shunned me. They had thrown rocks at me, calling me a monster. My mother did nothing to comfort me, dismissing me and shoving a sack to cover my face. I spent most times outside the house, often sleeping on caves by the waters or at the sand by the shore. The lake is something comforting, I must say… I miss it – yearn for it, if you will."

“Lake? Don’t you mean ocean?”

“My hometown was in Hallstatt Lake, Austria.”

His words ring a bell. You could’ve sworn you’ve heard of Hallstatt Lake before. You tried to remember where you heard it, but couldn’t. Oh, well. If I can’t remember it, then it ain’t that important.

 My father travelled from the ocean and dwelled by the lakes of that area. Then he saw mein mutter and... you know how that story went. Anyways, I have learned that I am… hideous. Therefore, that is one of the contributes as to why I am still, in your kind’s terms, single.”

“So you’ve never had partners before? Not even… I dunno… doing the devil’s tango? Sex?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No, Schatz. They back out the last minute.”

You looked at him pitifully. He was a lonely man, wanting to have someone beside him and yet his self-esteem was so low. Maybe fucking him could boost his self-esteem. It’s not like I’m craving him, I’m simply helping. Maybe I could be the first to teach him the intimate touch of a woman. The comforts of the flesh. There was something about damaged men that are just so fucking hot. After all, it’s just a twenty-three years old age gap between König and I – Woah, what?! Pause. Your thoughts screeched to a halt, pinching yourself for letting it wander off that far.

How did it get to this?

How did the two of you get so comfortable to the point he’s literally just trauma dumping on you, and you’re lending an ear to listen. You should be walking out f the door, telling him this was unprofessional but you find yourself glued to the chair, heart going out to König as you empathize with him.

“I may not know what you look like under the mask, but mom did tell me that you can see if a person has a handsome or beautiful face is by looking at the shape of their eyes.”

“Oh? And what have you deduced from just observing my eyes, Schatz? Am I considered monstrous?”

“No, sir… I’d say you’re beautiful.”

König’s eyes widened at your words, his cheeks burning beneath the mask and he’s so fucking thankful that you can’t see his face or what he looks like underneath. His heart thumps louder than it did when he first saw you.

He is fighting the urge to invite you to move in with him to his quarters, keeping you all to himself. König’s sure that his bedroom is way more spacious and comfier than that of a lieutenant’s. The Austrian giant has to physically restrain himself from snatching you, and dragging you into the shadows with him where no one can rip you from his embrace – he can’t bear thinking about you being with someone else.

“Was it offensive… sir?”

“No, liebling. I just think you are blind.”

König would absolutely whisk you away right now. All you need to do was say the word, and he’d be following your words as if they are the ten commandments. He can and will buy you an estate if you want, just pick a place—preferably in Hallstatt, Austria—and that would be easy for him. König would love to just provide for you, to get to go home to someone as adorable and meek as you are – eager to succeed and be praised by the most little of things. You would be protected there. No one would ever disturb you.

His father was never there for his mother. Left nothing to support her other than trauma after he was hunted down by the townsfolk and brutally murdered. König tells himself that he would be different, that he would give you the world. You need only ask. 

He understands that being delusional isn’t healthy, and that his psychiatrist would definitely shoot him with a Nerf gun for letting himself descend into this type of madness, but he was old.

And lonely.

And you’re just so sweet and so nice to him, going so far as to tell him he’s beautiful. And despite spending too much time in waters, König drowns himself in fantasies about you being in a giant house, welcoming him home after his deployment, pregnant and eager to kiss him sweetly. You who can be his everything. A cure for his troubles and woes, even though his psychiatrist had severely advised him to not put your partner on high pedestals because it is extremely unhealthy and co-dependent.

König knows he can’t just blurt shit out as he pleases, lest he scares you away. You would scream at him, call him a sociopath – or a psychopath if you aren’t as knowledgeable as him in the department of terms. He is only self-aware enough to know that he can lose you if he made one wrong move.          

He’s old and tired. And he wants to experience fatherhood before he dies, preferably having you as his klein Frau. But he can’t rush you. He needs to bid his time. In that moment, König decided—regretfully so—to let you go back to your duties for the day.

He needed to get close to you than he ever did before—needed to work with you to have you close to him at all times.

“That would be all, liebling.” König says to you. “You are free to go now. I don’t really want to hold you up here for too long.”

“It’s an honour to be picked by you, colonel.” You chirp happily, eager to maintain this casualness between you two in hopes of getting promoted faster.

The giant, behemoth of a man watches you walk away from him, eyes glued to your hips and adorable, plump ass. Your frame still smaller than him even when you stood up to your full height. It was endearing to him. Soft blue eyes following your every move, watching you as you give him one last smile and a friendly wave before you closed the door shut behind you.

“I’d say you’re beautiful.”

Your words echoed in his head, making the older being flustered as he ran his hands over his face and sighed. He couldn’t get it out of his mind, and he knew he’d be clinging to that until the day he died.

“It shall be the day that the sun is at its peak when you find what you longingly desire. Once the sky is thick with water and the blood of warriors are spilled, the gods will give you a chance to converse with this creature. You should turn them away. Put them at arms-length, but you are a selfish being. You would devour them, drain them until they are merely husks because of your depravities… I pity this young girl.”

He recalls the stupid reading he had gotten from a so-called ‘wise woman’ twelve years ago in her quaint house at Wolfengasse street. Maybe that völva was genuine in her craft before she left Austria.

[skipper1331]

Secret (2) // Alexia Putellas

| Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | extra |

She didn‘t try to follow you.

She didn‘t try to text or call you.

She didn‘t try to fight for you.

She let you.

She let you walk through that door.

She let you go.

They say that you only really appreciate something when it is no longer there - she understood that now. It never occurred to her how terrible it must have been for you to be her "secret," even if she never wanted it that way.

Plagued by the fear of what others would think or what would happen, she dreamed of a love without worries and anxiety; in her eyes, this love only happened behind closed doors. She didn't realize how bad it actually was for you, even though she knew exactly that you wanted a typical romance book love story. She didn't deserve you and even less deserved that you had put up with her in secret for so long.

You, on the other hand, were caught up in your anger. You had put up with this secrecy for over a year, but a limit had been crossed - your heart ached just in her presence.

She had managed to nestle herself in your heart with her charming smile, her sparkling eyes and her elegant but captivating nature. She was Alexia Putellas, of course she had done it. She could do anything when she set her mind to. She had won the Ballon D‘or twice, the World Cup and dozens of other trophies and titles - only the title of calling you her wife, she hadn't managed.

In the nights where she couldn‘t sleep, she had dreamed of marrying you - you were different. Any feelings she knew before no longer existed. It was only you.

And you were no longer hers.

-

After your break up with the Catalonian, your motivation started to rise again as the weight you had been carrying in your heart and on your shoulders wasn‘t there anymore. You went out with your friends, explored the city a bit more and focused on yourself. You deserved to be happy and you knew that. You treated yourself with new shoes (shoes you had been eyeing for awhile) and finally an own Netflix account.

In training, you went to your absolute limits, playing wonderfully and yet having fun - the love to the sport filled your veins again.

You were glowing - the new look suited you.

But when you were at home, it was different. Two people met at the doorstep. Person 1 who glowed and person 2 who sulked. As soon as the threshold was crossed, personality 2 took over your body, mind and soul. Your broken heart showed itself. You hadn't managed to remove the second toothbrush in your bathroom or empty Alexia’s drawer yet. Her clothes were yours too, you wore them as soon as personality 2 needed the comfort which was needed constantly.

You cried.

You screamed into your pillow.

You ate ice cream, chocolate, anything.

Watched sad shows and movies.

And cried more.

Nobody seemed to notice your switch of personality - who should?

No one knew that you and Alexia used to be a couple..

No one knew that your heart was broken..

I‘m capable of handling that on my own.

I‘m an independent woman.

..except one person: Alba.

unknown

hey, it‘s Alba.

Ale told me what happened.

If you need someone to talk to (a friend), feel free to message me:)

You appreciated that she sent you a message, her intention probably kindhearted but she was Alexia‘s sister after all.

You replied with 'thank you' and sort of an appreciation.

Time would heal your wounds. Hopefully.

In the nexts weeks, you focused on the upcoming uwcl matches and getting enough recovery after your training sessions.

You like to think that you didn‘t even look at Alexia but you knew better than that. She‘s Alexia and breathtaking, you could not not look at her.

But you tried your hardest not to give in when she looked at you, looking at you with those sad doe eyes. Sometimes it seemed like she wanted to approach you or even say something yet she never did, she stayed silent.

Was it wrong to hope for her approach? That she would just kiss you in the middle of the pitch?

Maybe it was wrong but you couldn’t help it. You loved her and you knew she loved you too. And love, no matter how much you want it sometimes, doesn't just disappear. It always leaves its mark.

Added to that, Alexia wasn‘t just anybody - she was the first person with whom you truly felt the butterflies and every cheesy book describing feeling.

She could have been your greatest love story - the love story you always wished for.

-

"Good luck" Alexia said, her hand brushing against yours as she walked past you.

She smiled a bit, immediately looking away, joining Aitana and Keira.

"Good luck" you whispered back, surprised that she had spoken to you, nonetheless kindly accepting that she did.

The first leg against Chelsea went alright, Aitana opened the score as you made it 2-0, 5 minutes before the ref blew her whistle.

You shook hands with each opponent and talking to your friends for a bit.

"Oh please, I’m your biggest fan, swap your jersey with me" the dramatic voice of Niamh Charles shrilled through the conversation you were having with Guro and Erin. You laughed, Niamh‘s arm around your shoulder, "oh please, please" she fake cried, the girl nothing but laughter in her voice.

"Aren‘t the dozens of my jersey enough?" you joined, laughing.

It was an unspoken rule whenever Niamh and you faced each other to swap jerseys as the two of you had met in the u-teams, becoming friends in an instant and being close friends ever since.

"Nah, babe, you know I can never get enough of you" she rolled her eyes, pressing a sloppy kiss to cheek.

Disgusted, you wiped it off and shoved her away.

Alexia watched the scene in front of her with fire in her eyes, oh how she hated Niamh - the green eyed monster talking.

"Jealous?" the soft voice of Ingrid pulled her back to reality.

"¿Que? No! I’m not jealous" Alexia’s accent was thick, her voice raspy and mind completely somewhere else.

"You should ask her out, I think she likes you" the Norse proposed, tapping the Catalonians shoulder as she walked to Frido, leaving the captain alone.

Ale had always suspected that Fridolina and Ingrid knew about the two of you because they were your best friends, but that wasn't the case. Alexia realized that only now since Ingrid had suggested asking you out - you had always been honest and respectful with her wishes - accepting them, even though they broke your heart day by day.

No one knew that you were more than just teammates.

They were clueless.

You were amazing.

And she was stupid - stupid to think that you would tell anyone when you hadn't even told your best friends and stupid for letting you go.

-

The second leg ended up in 2-1, 4-1 on average which meant that Barcelona would play in the Champions League final.

You were thrilled when the ref blew his whistle, so happy about the fact that you had the chance to win the trophy.

On the other hand, you felt bad for the Chelsea players, they had given everything as they tried their best to win. Unfortunately for them, it wasn‘t enough. You approached Niamh who had tears in her eyes, pulling her in a hug. You comforted her the best you could but loosing an important match would sting for awhile, no matter how much you praised the defender for her game.

"You know, I will burn your jersey at home" the defender chuckled, nonetheless taking her jersey off while you did the same - swap.

"That‘s only fair" you grinned, wearing now the blue shirt.

Once again, Alexia glared at Niamh, hating the fact that you were wearing 'Charles 21' on the back instead of 'Alexia 11' or 'Putellas and your number' but she knew it was her own fault.

If she had just listened to you or introduced you as her girlfriend with such pride right from the start then she wouldn't be in the situation of a broken heart and jealousy.

She loved you and was forever sorry for hiding and neglecting you.

You deserved better than that, way better.

-

Winning the champions league felt euphoric.

The final match had been intense, both sides fighting for goals as the ref showed many yellows cards.

But Barcelona did it, they had done the unthinkable - beating Lyon and taking their revenge.

It didn‘t matter that the score was only 1-0. That one goal meant more than anything to everybody of the team. You felt so much pride and joy, the stadium chanting while you received your medals and lifting the trophy.

You wanted to cherish this moment forever.

"I‘m proud of you" la reina stated as she stood next to you. You didn’t even notice that she had approached you.

"Thank you, Ale, it means a lot" you smiled at the midfielder. Your smile was so genuine and wide, your eyes sparkly and shiny - you looked so beautiful, in Alexia’s eyes.

She couldn’t help but kiss your forehead.

You let her.

Her lips lingered for a moment, pulling back with rosy cheeks before she walked to her mother and sister who were waiting in the stands.

Your eyes followed the Catalonian, her mother hugging her tightly while Alba looked in the direction Ale came from - she saw you and waved.

-

Back in Barcelona, the team + family/ friends went out to celebrate. Drinks were getting drowned, songs were being yelled and dance moves were being showed. The vibe and mood was amazing, everybody letting loose after the last few intense weeks.

You couldn’t remember how many drinks you‘ve had but it was a good amount - each of them delicious.

Making your way over to the bar, you ordered yet another drink. You wouldn’t say you were drunk per se but you also weren’t sober anymore.

Nobody was, or cared.

You won the champions league, you were allowed to party.

While you waited for your drink, a familiar unfamiliar voice talked to you, "hola"

you turned to the side, seeing the younger Putellas standing next to you.

"hi" you replied.

"Congratulations! Your goal was amazing" she beamed while you smiled and mumbled a thanks. "my sister can be an ass, you know? Oh yeah, you do." she giggled at her own joke - she clearly wasn‘t sober either, "but she loves you. She‘s been sulking for weeks."

You tried to listen the best you could, questioning if you would remember the conversation in the morning.

"She even told mamá about you and how she fucked things up"

You gasped, "no way! She talked about me? I‘m so shocked"

The sister laughed, playfully hitting your chest as you joined her laughter - eyes watching the two of you.

"You should make her jealous"

"Yeah, sure" you replied, rolling your eyes, "as if Ale‘s jealous"

"More than you think. She doesn’t like your friend Charles, for example. 'she should wear my name' blah blah blah" Alba explained, your mind spinning for several reasons.

"How should I make her jealous then?"

"Easy. Follow me" the girl grabbed your arm, pulling you on the dance floor, "hey! my drink" you grumbled, the Putellas sister ignoring you.

She turned around, looping her arms around your waist as yours went around her neck. You followed Alba‘s lead, Shakira blasting through the speakers. Looking around, you searched for Alexia. It didn‘t take long to find those pretty eyes who looked nothing but angry. Her jaw was clenched, hands balled into fists as she shifted uncomfortably around.

She was not enjoying the show.

"Bet she‘ll be here in 3…" Alba leaned in, "2…." as you did the same, "1…"

Strong hands on your hips pulled you away, a protective arm smacking around your waist, Alexia glaring at her sister - so much fire in her eyes, "you‘re allowed to look but do not touch what’s mine" she growled, "now leave" her voice was stern and firm. Your ex girlfriend stood now in front of you, looking at you, checking you out while Alba walked away, winking at you.

"You look nice" the girl smiled charmingly, the green eyed monster completely gone.

"What was that?!"

"I said you looked-"

"No. Do not touch what’s mine?!" you mocked, your heart secretly racing at her possessiveness.

"I won‘t let her kiss you!" her voice was raised, jealousy pumping through her veins again, "I‘m the only one who will do so" the thought of you ever touching, kissing, loving someone else made Alexia furios.

She loved you.

"Do you understand me?"

The alcohol in Ale‘s system made her bold, confident and possessive - she didn‘t care who was watching or listening. All she cared about was you.

You had never seen her like that before - openly jealous, with her hands on your hips and chests touching in public - it was hot. She was hot.

"Yes, I do" you replied, somehow starstruck.

"Good girl"

You died on the spot.

Was it hot in here? It definitively was! Or was it just Alexia?

It was just Alexia.

Your knees went weak, your heart was racing and skin on fire.

In a crowded bar, surrounded by family, friends and colleagues she smashed her lips against yours. You responded as eagerly while she tried to pull you impossibly closer - oh, how she had missed you and your kisses.

This kiss wasn‘t like the ones you shared before, it was pure need.

"Let‘s go" the midfielder mumbled, trying to catch her breath, the same as you did. She waited for a respond - your consent - before she left.

With you.

[millyh23]

Rivalry To Romance

Katie McCabe x Reader

Word count: 13.4k

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

Katie McCabe had always prided herself on her loyalty to her team and her country. Playing for the Republic of Ireland wasn’t just a position—it was an identity. That’s why, when Arsenal announced their newest signing, Katie’s stomach churned with a mix of anger and disbelief.

Y/N Y/L/N from Northern Ireland. Her fiercest rival.

The rumors were true; Y/N had signed with Arsenal, her club, her territory. Katie couldn't shake the memory of their last match, where Y/N's last-minute tackle had nearly cost Ireland the game. She could still remember the cold glares they exchanged, the heated words they spat across the pitch, and the way Y/N stood unfazed by Katie’s ire.

“Hey, Katie, look who’s here!” Leah called, snapping Katie out of her thoughts as Y/N entered the locker room, glancing around the space as if she owned it.

Katie clenched her fists. Here they go.

“McCabe,” Y/N greeted, her voice cool as she acknowledged her.

“Y/L/N,” Katie replied, voice icy.

From that first meeting, it was like the air between them carried an electric charge. Training drills became intense battles; Katie would push Y/N off the ball, and Y/N would retaliate with a perfectly-timed tackle. The team was torn between amusement and exasperation, watching the two rivals go head-to-head every day.

Arsenal’s training grounds hummed with the usual energy, players jogging onto the pitch and taking their positions. The team was warming up, but Katie could feel the static tension creeping up her spine. It wasn’t just the usual excitement of a new training session. It was the unmistakable edge she felt every time Y/N was nearby.

Katie glanced to her right, where Y/N was adjusting her shin guards. She caught Y/N’s eye and rolled her shoulders back, flashing a smirk she knew would rile her up.

“Ready for a proper session, Y/L/N?” Katie said with a challenging grin. “Or are you only fierce when it’s Northern Ireland on your shirt?”

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Trust me, McCabe. I don’t need a green shirt to beat you.”

Their teammates watched as the two squared up, a mix of amusement and anticipation rippling through the group. This rivalry had become daily entertainment.

Coach Jonas clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s go—small-sided games. Five-a-side!” He started dividing players, and by some stroke of either luck or irony, Katie and Y/N ended up on opposing teams.

It was a fierce game from the start. Katie and Y/N seemed to gravitate toward each other, each of them upping the intensity with every pass, every tackle. Katie saw an opening, her teammate Leah ready to receive the ball, but the second she passed, Y/N was there, intercepting the play and charging up the field.

Katie chased her down, getting close enough to snap, “Keep dreaming if you think you’re gonna get past me.”

Y/N didn’t break stride. “Watch me.”

Katie lunged in, aiming to win back possession, but Y/N anticipated it and deftly sidestepped, sending Katie stumbling as Y/N dribbled past. Laughter broke out from the sidelines, and Katie’s face flushed as Y/N shot her a triumphant smirk.

Katie felt a flash of anger surge through her veins. She caught up to Y/N, deliberately closing in too fast, and clipped her ankle just as she went to take a shot. Y/N stumbled, barely staying on her feet, and whipped around to glare at Katie.

“Seriously?” Y/N snapped, her voice sharp. “What’s your problem, McCabe?”

Katie put her hands on her hips, unbothered by the accusation. “My problem? Maybe it’s that you can’t keep up, but you’re always running your mouth.”

Y/N stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “Keep up? I’m leaving you in the dust every time, and you can’t handle it.”

Katie rolled her eyes, putting her face inches from Y/N’s. “Please, you only look good out there because I’m going easy on you.”

“Oh, that’s hilarious,” Y/N shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Keep telling yourself that, Katie.”

The tension had hit a breaking point. They were nose-to-nose, both breathing heavily, eyes locked in a fierce standoff.

Before either could say anything more, Leah stepped between them, her tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Alright, alright, break it up, you two. You’re both as stubborn as bricks.” She looked between them, raising an eyebrow. “If you spent half this energy playing together instead of against each other, we’d be unstoppable.”

Katie huffed, but took a step back, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s.

Y/N finally let out a slow breath, her gaze just as intense. “Fine,” she muttered, brushing past Katie as she moved back into position. “Just try to keep up.”

But as they returned to the game, something had shifted. Every pass, every movement, had an extra layer of intensity, neither willing to back down. For better or worse, training with Y/N had become Katie’s new battle, and she was all in.

Training was in full swing under a blazing sun. The team had split into small groups for a scrimmage, and as usual, Katie and Y/N had found themselves on opposing sides. It was a familiar, tense setup, but today felt different. The energy between them was sharper, like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap.

The game had barely begun when Y/N received the ball in the midfield. She pivoted, sidestepping an opponent, her eyes scanning the field for an opening. Katie saw her chance and surged forward, narrowing in on Y/N like a missile.

Y/N barely had time to react before Katie came in, sliding in with a tackle that was nowhere near clean. Her cleats clipped Y/N’s knee, sending her sprawling to the ground. The sound of the impact echoed, and a few teammates gasped as Y/N hit the turf, hard.

Katie pushed herself to her feet, but before she could turn away, Y/N was already up, her face twisted in fury.

“Are you kidding me, McCabe?” Y/N barked, shoving her back.

Katie staggered a step but quickly steadied herself, her jaw clenched. “What? Can’t handle a little tackle?” she shot back, voice dripping with mock innocence. “Maybe you’re not cut out for the game.”

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides. “A little tackle? You practically tried to break my leg!”

Katie stepped closer, her voice low and menacing. “Maybe if you were quicker, I wouldn’t have to.”

That was it. Y/N’s hand flew out, giving Katie another hard shove, this time with more force. Katie’s expression shifted, anger flashing in her eyes as she recovered and shoved her right back. It was harder, enough to make Y/N take a few steps back, but she recovered just as fast.

Without thinking, Y/N surged forward, and suddenly, they were chest-to-chest, faces inches apart, breathing heavily as anger radiated between them.

“Say that again,” Y/N hissed, her eyes blazing. “I dare you.”

Katie leaned in, her eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. “You heard me. Maybe it’s time someone knocked you down a peg, Y/L/N.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re so full of yourself, McCabe. Just because you’re Ireland’s pride doesn’t mean everyone else is beneath you.”

Katie’s jaw tightened, her expression turning icy. “And just because you wear a badge doesn’t mean you belong here. You’re not Arsenal material.”

That hit a nerve, and Y/N’s patience finally snapped. She grabbed the front of Katie’s training shirt, pulling her closer, but Katie was just as quick, gripping Y/N’s wrist and holding it in a tight lock. The tension between them was palpable, both locked in a furious standoff.

Their teammates were watching in shocked silence, unsure of whether to intervene or let them sort it out.

“Katie, Y/N, that’s enough!” Leah shouted, stepping forward, but neither moved.

Katie’s grip tightened on Y/N’s wrist, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with fury. “You think you can come in here, walk all over everyone, and just fit right in? I’ve been here for years. I’ve bled for this team. You haven’t earned it.”

Y/N yanked her hand free and shoved Katie again, harder this time, and Katie stumbled backward, but she quickly regained her footing, fists clenched. Before she could respond, Beth and Leah stepped in, each grabbing one of the girls to separate them.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Leah said, her voice firm. “You two are acting like children.”

Katie glared over Leah’s shoulder, still breathing heavily. “Tell that to her.”

“Oh, please, Katie!” Y/N spat back, struggling against Beth’s hold. “At least I don’t go around acting like I own the place.”

Beth rolled her eyes, trying to keep Y/N steady. “Look, if you two want to kill each other, do it off the pitch. Right now, we’re a team.”

Katie huffed, finally breaking her gaze from Y/N, though her face was still flushed with anger. “Fine,” she muttered, wrenching herself free from Leah’s grip. She stormed off a few paces, but couldn’t resist one last glare back in Y/N’s direction.

Y/N shook her head, shrugging off Beth’s hold. “Whatever. Just keep her out of my way,” she muttered before turning to walk back to her spot on the pitch.

As the two resumed their positions, their teammates exchanged uneasy glances, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t over. The fire between them had only been stoked, and it was only a matter of time before it flared up again.

Preseason camp had only just begun, and the Arsenal players were still settling into their assigned rooms. Spirits were high as teammates unpacked, talking excitedly about the upcoming season and all the memories they’d make on this trip.

But down the hall, the atmosphere was anything but cheerful.

Katie McCabe stood frozen outside her assigned room, staring at the name on the door next to hers in disbelief. She rubbed her eyes, double-checking. There was no mistaking it.

“Room 14A: Katie McCabe and Y/N Y/L/N”

A frustrated groan escaped her lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

At that very moment, Y/N rounded the corner, stopping in her tracks as soon as she saw Katie standing there. Her eyes fell on the door, and she blanched, reading her worst nightmare confirmed in bold letters.

“No way. This has to be a mistake,” Y/N muttered, her voice dripping with irritation.

“Believe me, I couldn’t agree more,” Katie snapped. “Who thought it was a good idea to put us in the same room?”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “Just great. The one person on this team I can’t stand, and I’m supposed to live with her for the next two weeks?”

Katie crossed her arms, shooting Y/N an icy glare. “Don’t worry; I won’t be throwing you any welcome parties either.”

The two stood in tense silence until Leah walked by, catching their expressions.

“What’s up with you two?” she asked, looking between them with an amused smile.

“What’s up? What’s up?” Katie fumed, hands gesturing wildly. “I’m roomed with her, that’s what’s up!”

Y/N threw her hands up in exasperation. “Oh, don’t act like this is a dream come true for me either, Katie.”

Leah stifled a laugh. “I don’t know; maybe you two will actually learn to get along if you’re forced to spend some time together.”

Katie scoffed, but Leah was already walking away, ignoring her protests.

“Learn to get along?” Katie muttered, turning to Y/N. “She’s delusional.”

Y/N didn’t waste a second to turn away, muttering as she marched toward her teammates who were gathered down the hall. As soon as she reached them, she put on her most pleading expression. “Please, someone switch with me,” she begged. “I’ll take anyone—even Beth, and she snores like a lawnmower.”

Beth raised her eyebrows in mock offense. “Hey, don’t drag me into this! Besides, I think it’s poetic justice.” She exchanged a glance with Leah, both grinning as they enjoyed the unfolding drama.

“You all think this is hilarious, don’t you?” Y/N groaned.

“Absolutely,” Leah replied, not even trying to hide her laughter.

Meanwhile, Katie was ranting to her own little group on the other end of the hall.

“It’s like the universe is punishing me. I finally make it through all the preseason drills, and now this?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “All she does is talk back, glare, and then act like I’m the problem!”

Jen leaned against the wall, clearly amused. “You’re the one talking about her nonstop, Katie. Sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

Katie shot her a glare. “I do not ‘have it bad.’ I have it terribly.”

Down the hall, Y/N continued her complaints to Beth and Caitlin, who were listening with barely hidden amusement. “I’m telling you, I’ll be lucky if we don’t end up killing each other by the end of the week,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “She’s got this whole ‘I’m too good for everyone’ thing going on, like she’s the queen of Arsenal.”

Beth shrugged, clearly unfazed by Y/N’s complaints. “She’s been here a long time. She probably thinks you’re here to take her spot.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “As if I care about taking her spot.”

“Maybe,” Caitlin interjected, smirking. “But she thinks you do.”

Just as Y/N was about to retort, Coach Jonas walked by and caught a few words of their conversation. He paused, taking in the glares Katie and Y/N were shooting each other across the hallway.

“Alright, alright,” Jonas said, clapping his hands. “If I’m hearing complaints from both sides, then maybe this arrangement is exactly what you two need. Who knows? You might actually learn something from each other.”

Katie opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a knowing look. “No room swaps. Consider it a preseason exercise in…team bonding.”

He walked away, leaving Katie and Y/N fuming in the middle of the hall.

Once he was out of sight, Katie threw her hands up, clearly frustrated. “Fine. But stay out of my way, Y/L/N. We’re on opposite schedules. I’ll shower at night; you take the morning.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Great. Fine by me. I’d rather not have to look at you first thing in the morning.”

Katie shot her one last glare before grabbing her bags and shoving her way into the room. Y/N followed suit, dragging her things in and slamming the door behind her.

And so, the rivals were roomed together, forced to share a space and to tolerate each other’s presence. But if one thing was clear, it was that neither would make this easy on the other.

Preseason training was already intense enough, but it quickly became clear that the real entertainment of the camp was Katie and Y/N’s constant bickering. It didn’t matter if they were running drills, passing the ball, or even just grabbing lunch—Katie and Y/N managed to turn every moment into an opportunity to one-up each other.

And their teammates were absolutely here for it.

The day started with a light warm-up, but the tension between Katie and Y/N was thick as ever. They were supposed to be practicing passing drills together, but within minutes, the shouting began.

“You call that a pass?” Katie sneered, catching the ball and immediately firing it back with unnecessary force. “I’ve seen toddlers with better control!”

Y/N scoffed as she trapped the ball. “If you’d stop kicking it like it’s a cannonball, maybe I wouldn’t have to adjust every time.”

Caitlin and Beth watched from the sidelines, exchanging amused glances.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Caitlin whispered, nudging Beth. “Ten quid says Y/N snaps first.”

Beth grinned. “I don’t know. Katie’s got that fiery look in her eyes today. I’d bet on her.”

Meanwhile, across the field, the argument had only escalated. Y/N rolled her eyes at Katie. “Maybe try aiming, McCabe. I’m not out here trying to dodge bullets.”

Katie shrugged with a smirk. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have signed up to play with the big leagues, princess.”

That was all Y/N needed. She fired the ball back at Katie’s feet with a little too much force, and it nearly tripped Katie, who barely managed to regain her footing. A few of the other players tried (and failed) to stifle their laughter.

Alessia, standing nearby with her hands on her knees, was practically in tears. “How long do you think they’re going to keep this up?”

Leah, leaning against the goalpost, chuckled. “With those two? At least another hour. Maybe all season.”

By lunchtime, Katie and Y/N had managed to argue about nearly every topic imaginable. As they filed into the dining hall, Y/N immediately rolled her eyes when she saw Katie heading for the same table.

“Oh, fantastic,” Y/N muttered. “There are about ten other tables here, but sure, sit right here.”

Katie plopped down across from her, eyes glinting mischievously. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Can’t handle sharing a table either?”

Y/N shot her a glare, stabbing her salad with extra vigor. “It’s just bad for digestion, you know? All this hostility.”

Katie laughed. “Maybe that’s your excuse for that horrible passing earlier.”

Caitlin nudged Leah as they sat nearby, enjoying their front-row seat to the show. “I swear, they’re like an old married couple,” she whispered, trying not to laugh too loudly.

Leah smirked. “Right? Just imagine if they actually liked each other. They’d be unstoppable.”

Across the table, the two rivals continued their snarky back-and-forth.

“You’ve got dressing all over your face,” Katie said, smirking as she pointed to Y/N’s cheek. “Or is that just part of the look?”

Y/N wiped her cheek with a napkin, scowling. “At least I don’t inhale my food like a barbarian.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Barbarian? Just because I don’t nibble on my food like a rabbit doesn’t mean I’m a barbarian.”

Beth let out a loud snort, drawing both Katie’s and Y/N’s glares.

“Sorry,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “It’s just…this is the best free entertainment I’ve had in ages.”

The others at the table nodded in agreement, smirking as Katie and Y/N exchanged another round of withering looks.

As they all finished lunch and moved on to free time, the team decided to cool off by the pool. But even there, Katie and Y/N couldn’t seem to stay out of each other’s way.

As Y/N was leaning down to grab her water bottle by the poolside, Katie “accidentally” bumped into her, causing Y/N to stumble forward, nearly losing her balance.

Y/N whipped around, eyes narrowed. “Oh, that was subtle. Are you five?”

Katie shrugged, feigning innocence. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. You’re just kind of…in the way.”

Leah, lounging on a sunbed nearby, turned to Alessia with a grin. “You think if we lock them in a room, they’ll either end up being best friends or kill each other?”

Alessia laughed. “I’d bet on the killing.”

That night, back in their shared room, Katie and Y/N’s bickering reached new heights.

“I can’t believe I have to share a bathroom with you,” Y/N complained, huffing as she watched Katie brush her teeth.

Katie raised an eyebrow, not bothering to pause her brushing. “Believe me, I’m not thrilled either. You leave your stuff everywhere!”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back. “The only thing I’ve left out is a toothbrush, while you’ve somehow managed to scatter your entire life all over the place.”

Katie spit into the sink, wiping her mouth with a towel. “You’re dramatic, Y/L/N. Maybe if you could manage a little…organization?”

“Oh, now you’re giving me life advice?” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “The last thing I need is tips from you.”

Beth, eavesdropping through the thin walls, laughed softly, turning to Leah in the room next door. “They’re still going at it.”

Leah shook her head, chuckling. “At this point, maybe we should let them keep fighting. I think it’s the most energy they’ve had all camp.”

Katie trudged back to her shared room with Y/N after an exhausting day of training. All she wanted was a hot shower and the blissful silence of some music in her headphones. But as she reached the door, Katie slowed down, hearing Y/N’s voice muffled through the wood.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to take phone calls; most of them seemed heated, muttered complaints or irritated sighs that Katie had learned to tune out. But this time, something was different. Y/N’s voice was low and…trembling?

Katie hesitated, hand on the doorknob. She could have walked away or given her roommate some space, but curiosity got the better of her.

“Look, I get it, okay?” Y/N’s voice cracked slightly, and Katie leaned closer, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. “You… you don’t have to make excuses. If you’re done, just say it.”

A thick silence hung in the air as Y/N listened to the voice on the other end, her breathing shaky.

“Right. Yeah, it’s probably for the best.” A forced laugh. “I mean, I’ll still see you around, yeah? At least we don’t have to make a scene about it.”

Katie felt a pang of guilt for listening in, but she couldn’t seem to tear herself away from the door. She heard the faint sound of a sigh, one that held both resignation and defeat.

“I just… I thought maybe this time it would work,” Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I guess I was wrong. Again.”

Another silence.

“No, don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” she said quickly, though her voice wavered. “It’s just… I mean, you could’ve told me sooner, you know? Instead of letting me hold on thinking…”

Katie’s brow furrowed, a strange ache forming in her chest as she listened to Y/N’s words. Y/N, the stubborn and fierce player she clashed with daily, sounded so small, so fragile.

“Right. Well… good luck with everything,” Y/N said, her tone hardening. “Goodbye, then.”

There was a soft click, and Katie heard Y/N let out a shaky breath, followed by the muffled sound of her trying to hold back tears. Katie swallowed, suddenly feeling like an intruder in her own room. But before she could figure out what to do, the door swung open, and there stood Y/N, her eyes red and rimmed with tears.

Katie froze, her usual witty remark caught in her throat as she registered the devastated look on Y/N’s face.

Y/N’s expression turned to one of horror and anger in equal measure. “Were you… listening?”

Katie opened her mouth to deny it, but no excuse came to mind. “I… I didn’t mean to, I just…” She stopped, realizing that anything she said would sound weak.

“Just what, Katie?” Y/N’s voice was tight with anger, but her red-rimmed eyes betrayed the vulnerability behind her words. “Eavesdropping for fun now?”

Katie’s defenses kicked in, feeling suddenly cornered by Y/N’s hurt. “Look, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, okay? I came back to the room and… I just heard you talking. I’m not some heartless creep.”

Y/N laughed bitterly, brushing past her and tossing her phone onto her bed. “Well, if you’re done with the free show, you can leave now.”

Katie hesitated, watching as Y/N crossed her arms and looked away, trying to hide the way her lip trembled.

“Y/N…” Katie said softly, but Y/N cut her off.

“Don’t,” Y/N snapped. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anything from you.”

Katie took a breath, swallowing the instinct to fight back. She remembered the conversation she’d overheard—the pain in Y/N’s voice, the vulnerable words that had cracked her usually unbreakable armor.

“Look,” Katie said, softening her tone. “I didn’t mean to intrude. And I’m… I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to have someone walk out on you.”

Y/N scoffed, clearly unimpressed, though the hurt was still evident on her face. “Oh, great, Katie McCabe is getting all sentimental now. Just what I needed.”

Katie clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. “You think I wanted to see this? That I wanted to hear it?”

Y/N glared, but her expression softened just a fraction, enough that Katie noticed. She took a hesitant step forward, her voice gentle.

“For what it’s worth, it sounds like you deserved a lot better than whoever that was,” Katie said.

Y/N’s shoulders dropped slightly, her eyes darting away. “It doesn’t matter now,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “She… she didn’t want this.”

Katie studied her for a moment, feeling a strange pull to offer something—anything—to take away the hurt in Y/N’s eyes.

“You know…” Katie began, shoving her hands in her pockets, “you don’t have to pretend you’re fine. Not with me.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh, blinking quickly. “Right. Because we’re best friends now, is that it?”

Katie shrugged, feeling a tinge of awkwardness but pushing past it. “Maybe not best friends. But we’re teammates. And even if we don’t always see eye to eye… I wouldn’t want you to go through this alone.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, just stared at her with an unreadable expression. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice softer than before.

“Well… thanks, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, still avoiding Katie’s gaze. “But I’m fine. Really.”

Katie bit back a sigh, nodding as she made her way to her side of the room. She didn’t say anything else, sensing that Y/N wasn’t ready for any more sympathy. But as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, Katie couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just seen a side of Y/N that no one else had.

And as much as she tried to ignore it, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling just a little bit protective.

It started with the water bottle.

Katie noticed it one morning at training. Y/N had been running late, clearly flustered and fumbling through her bag for her water bottle, only to come up empty-handed.

Katie had shrugged, grabbing her spare bottle and sliding it onto the bench beside Y/N’s stuff, just within reach. Y/N, too busy running drills, hadn’t even noticed when she came back for a quick drink, grabbing the bottle and taking a long gulp before heading back onto the field.

Katie rolled her eyes, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. Some gratitude.

But she couldn’t help herself. Over the next few days, Katie found herself picking up little habits to look out for Y/N, in ways so subtle even she didn’t notice at first.

It was as simple as setting a towel aside when Y/N forgot to bring one for cooldown. Or holding the door an extra second when she saw Y/N coming down the hall, still pulling her hair into a bun. Or making sure to hang back at dinner, subtly positioning herself between Y/N and some of the louder teammates whenever Y/N looked especially worn out.

The more Katie did it, the more she expected Y/N to notice. And each time Y/N passed her without so much as a glance, Katie felt a small sting of frustration.

One afternoon after practice, Y/N was struggling with the zipper on her duffel bag. It had been giving her trouble for days, and she kept muttering about needing to get it fixed.

Katie watched, casually leaning against the wall, as Y/N huffed and tried to yank the zipper free. It gave a metallic whine, refusing to budge.

Katie sighed, strolling over without a word. She knelt down and fiddled with the zipper for a moment, pressing her thumb just right to ease the snag. With a tug, it slid smoothly back into place.

“Oh,” Y/N said, glancing down at her now-functional zipper, then back up at Katie. “Thanks, I—” But she cut herself off, barely waiting for a nod from Katie before scooping up her bag and heading for the showers.

Katie watched her go, feeling a mix of annoyance and something strangely warmer, despite herself. Typical.

The next day, during scrimmage, Katie spotted Y/N wincing after a hard tackle. She wasn’t limping enough to stop, but Katie could tell her ankle was bothering her. Katie bit her lip, feeling her usual urge to call Y/N out on pushing through pain. Instead, she jogged over, staying close enough to offer support without being too obvious.

When they got a break, she made a detour to the medical kit, grabbing some extra ice packs and placing them discreetly on Y/N’s spot on the bench.

When Y/N finished her reps and slumped onto the bench, she picked up the ice packs and simply placed them over her ankle, not once questioning where they’d come from.

Katie shook her head with a chuckle. “Anytime,” she muttered to herself.

Later that week, during a team meeting, Katie noticed Y/N stifling a yawn and blinking rapidly, clearly struggling to keep her focus. She could tell Y/N had been staying up later than usual, maybe trying to brush off whatever was bothering her from the breakup.

The trainer’s voice droned on, and Katie waited until Y/N was busy with her notepad before she nudged her coffee closer to Y/N’s side of the table. Y/N glanced down, grabbed the mug absentmindedly, and took a long sip.

Katie waited for a glimmer of acknowledgment—a nod, maybe even a “thanks.” But Y/N just sipped the coffee and jotted down notes, her eyes still fixed on the front of the room.

Katie felt a small surge of irritation but forced herself to push it aside. Why am I even bothering?

Yet, despite her frustration, she found herself continuing with these tiny gestures. An extra granola bar left on Y/N’s seat before team meetings, an occasional shoulder check to steady her if she stumbled during drills, even switching spots with her in line to help her avoid the players she didn’t mesh well with.

Finally, after nearly two weeks of subtle attempts, Katie had reached her breaking point.

During one particularly long cooldown session, Katie found herself stretching next to Y/N. Y/N didn’t seem to notice her there, too focused on a knot in her calf muscle. Katie watched as she grimaced, clearly not getting anywhere with it.

Without thinking, Katie moved closer, reaching out to massage the muscle. “You know,” she said, her voice holding an edge of exasperation, “you could at least say ‘thank you’ once in a while.”

Y/N looked up, her brow furrowing. “What?”

Katie huffed. “You seriously haven’t noticed, have you?”

“Noticed what?” Y/N said, genuinely perplexed.

Katie shook her head, half-amused, half-irritated. “The water bottle? The extra ice packs? The coffee that you practically inhaled every team meeting?”

Y/N blinked, realization dawning slowly. Her mouth opened slightly, like she was about to say something, but then closed again. Her gaze dropped, and for the first time, she looked… apologetic.

“Oh,” she finally muttered, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. “I… didn’t know.”

Katie rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Of course you didn’t.”

Y/N laughed, a small, awkward sound. “Well… thanks. I mean, you didn’t have to do any of that.”

Katie shrugged, masking the warmth that flickered in her chest. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

Y/N smirked, her usual attitude returning. “Oh, is that what you’re doing? Babysitting me?”

“Just think of it as… charity work,” Katie shot back with a grin.

They both laughed, the tension between them dissipating, at least for the moment. And though Katie tried to play it cool, she couldn’t help feeling that maybe—just maybe—Y/N was starting to see her in a new light.

Katie hadn’t planned to tell anyone. But that afternoon, as she sat in the lounge with Beth, she couldn’t keep it in any longer. The Arsenal squad was in rare form, laughter echoing around the room as they wound down after another tough practice, and Y/N, as always, had been at the center of Katie’s attention.

Beth nudged her, eyes gleaming mischievously. “You’ve been staring at her all week, Katie. What’s going on?”

Katie hesitated, glancing around the room. Most of the team was busy in their own conversations, so she leaned in closer to Beth, muttering, “Okay, fine. But you cannot tell anyone. I… might like her.”

Beth’s eyes widened, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Oh. My. God.”

Katie shushed her quickly, cheeks blazing. “Quiet! I mean it, Beth. I didn’t even want to tell you, but… it’s just been eating me up. She doesn’t even notice half the things I do for her, and I can’t figure out if she hates me or if she’s just clueless.”

Beth stifled a laugh, bouncing on her toes with excitement. “Katie, that’s huge! Why haven’t you told her?”

Katie sighed, shrugging. “I don’t even know if she likes me back. I mean, she barely notices anything I do—she probably thinks I’m just being a decent teammate.”

Beth shook her head. “Katie, you’re doing all these things for her! Trust me, she has to have noticed something by now.”

Katie smiled, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, don’t get your hopes up. This is between you and me, got it?”

Beth nodded, miming zipping her lips. “My lips are sealed.”

But Beth’s “sealed lips” didn’t last very long.

Only a few minutes later, Beth noticed Leah, Viv, and several other teammates standing around the table. The temptation was too much for her, and before she could stop herself, she burst out, “Katie just told me she likes Y/N!”

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Katie’s eyes went wide, her face flushing a bright red. “Beth! Are you serious?” she practically hissed, mortified.

But it was too late. Leah’s face lit up with a teasing grin, Viv stifled a laugh, and soon enough, the entire room erupted with whispers and giggles.

Katie felt her heart pounding. She couldn’t bear to stay there a second longer. Without a word, she stood up, gave Beth an incredulous glare, and marched out of the room, ignoring the amused looks from her teammates.

Katie headed outside, needing air. She leaned against the wall, letting the cool breeze calm her as she took deep breaths, trying to settle her nerves. How could Beth just blurt it out like that? she fumed internally, running a hand over her face.

She didn’t expect anyone to follow her, let alone Y/N.

“Katie?”

Katie froze, her heart skipping a beat as she turned to see Y/N standing a few steps away, her expression a mix of confusion and… something else Katie couldn’t quite read.

Y/N stepped closer, her voice soft. “Did… did Beth mean what she said in there?”

Katie took a breath, her heart racing as she nodded. “Yeah. She wasn’t supposed to say anything, though. I didn’t even know if you’d feel the same way, and now the entire team knows, so if this is weird for you—”

Y/N cut her off with a quiet laugh. “Katie, it’s not weird. Actually… I’ve been wanting to tell you something too.”

Katie’s eyes widened, her heart pounding as Y/N closed the gap between them.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” Y/N began, looking down, cheeks tinged with a soft blush. “But over these past few weeks… you’ve been doing all these little things. Looking out for me in ways no one else does, even when I’m too dense to see it. And I guess… I’ve kind of been waiting for you to say something.” She paused, biting her lip nervously. “I like you too, Katie.”

Katie blinked, almost unable to believe her ears. “You… you do?”

Y/N nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, I do. Even though we were at each other’s throats when I first joined, I think I just tried to deny what I was feeling. But… the way you’ve looked out for me, Katie, it’s hard not to feel something.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air between them. Then, Katie finally let out a small, relieved laugh. “I was terrified you’d laugh in my face.”

Y/N grinned, taking a small step closer until they were just inches apart. “Oh, I’m laughing, just not in the way you thought.”

With that, Y/N reached for Katie’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Katie felt her heart leap, the warmth of Y/N’s hand grounding her, making all the embarrassment from earlier disappear.

Inside, the team was still chattering excitedly, clearly wondering what was going on. But as Katie looked into Y/N’s eyes, she found she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was right here in front of her.

Y/N squeezed her hand, giving her a playful smirk. “Now, what do you say we head back in there and let them have their fun?”

Katie laughed, shaking her head. “Fine, but if they start planning our wedding, I’m holding you accountable.”

Y/N grinned, tugging her hand gently as they turned to head back inside, this time together, ready to face the team—and whatever teasing awaited them—with their newfound feelings finally out in the open.

Katie and Y/N paused just outside the team lounge, exchanging sly looks. The buzz of conversation inside was unmistakable; their teammates were clearly still talking about Beth’s big reveal.

Katie raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you say we make them sweat a bit?”

Y/N smirked. “I’m in. Let’s give them a little show.”

With that, the two of them arranged their faces into tense expressions, putting on their best fake scowls before stepping back into the room.

As soon as they entered, the chatter quieted, and all eyes turned to them. Katie glanced at Y/N with an exaggerated look of disdain.

“You know what, Y/N? I don’t know why I even bothered!” Katie said loudly, throwing her hands up. “Trying to be nice, trying to get along… I’m done with it.”

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring right back. “Oh, you’re done? Trust me, Katie, I’m the one who’s done. You don’t make anything easy, do you?”

Their teammates exchanged wide-eyed looks, glancing at each other nervously. Leah, who had been watching with an expectant grin just moments before, now looked on in alarm.

“Uh… guys?” Beth said hesitantly, guilt creeping into her voice. “This wasn’t… I didn’t mean for you two to—”

Katie cut her off, waving a hand. “You know what, Beth? Maybe next time, don’t go blabbing about things that aren’t your business.”

Beth’s mouth dropped open, her face a mix of shock and regret. Leah stepped forward, trying to smooth things over. “Hey, maybe we can all just, uh, talk this out?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Katie and I don’t need to talk it out, Leah. Maybe everyone just needs to mind their own business.”

Viv and Alessia looked around nervously, while Beth buried her face in her hands, clearly mortified.

Katie shot Y/N a quick, barely perceptible wink. “You know what, Y/N? I’d say you’re insufferable, but I think that’s what I’m starting to—”

“Love about you,” Y/N finished, barely able to keep a straight face as she leaned toward Katie with a smirk.

The whole team froze, blinking in confusion as they processed what they’d just heard. It took only a beat before Y/N and Katie broke into laughter, dropping their ‘argument’ and looking around at their stunned teammates.

Katie grinned, finally breaking character. “Honestly, the lot of you are terrible at keeping secrets. Who does Beth blurt my business to the second she hears it?”

Beth’s face went from horror to relief as she realized they’d been messing with her. “Oh, come on! I just—well, it’s your fault, Katie! You’re the one who’s been acting all lovesick and obvious.”

Leah crossed her arms, trying to look stern but failing to hide her grin. “So, all this fighting was just to get back at us for meddling?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to keep a straight face as she raised an eyebrow. “What can we say? This is what happens when people get nosy.”

Alessia let out a dramatic sigh of relief, clutching her chest. “Honestly, I thought you were about to rip each other’s heads off. That was terrifying!”

Viv laughed, shaking her head. “Katie, you and Y/N put on quite the performance.”

Katie chuckled, leaning back against the wall. “Glad you all enjoyed the show. But seriously, maybe next time let me handle my own feelings, yeah?”

Y/N joined her, their hands brushing together subtly as she added, “Yeah. We don’t need the whole squad poking around in our business.”

Beth raised her hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, fine, we’ll leave you two alone… for now. But I make no promises if you keep acting so obvious!”

Katie smirked, glancing sideways at Y/N. “Well, then, it looks like we’ll have to give you even more to talk about, won’t we?”

The team groaned, but the laughter filled the room once more, and Katie and Y/N couldn’t help but share a quiet smile. Their secret was out, but they couldn’t have cared less. They had each other’s backs—and they’d gotten a good laugh at everyone’s expense in the process.

It had only been a few months since Katie and Y/N had made things official, but to the rest of the Arsenal squad, it felt like they'd been together forever. The two of them were always bickering over the most trivial things, and yet, anyone could see they were absolutely smitten.

This morning, their “married couple” energy was on full display.

As the team gathered for breakfast at the training camp, Katie spotted Y/N piling her plate with pancakes and shook her head in disbelief.

“Seriously, Y/N?” Katie huffed, grabbing the last banana from the fruit bowl. “Do you ever think of eating something healthy?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sprinkling powdered sugar on her stack with a flourish. “Relax, Katie, it’s not like I’m eating this every day.” She took a big bite and chewed dramatically, as if daring Katie to say something else.

Katie squinted at her. “You say that, but I’ve seen you at every team breakfast loading up on pancakes like they’re going out of style.”

Y/N shrugged, unbothered. “I need my fuel to keep up with you, don’t I?”

Beth, sitting across from them, tried to hide a laugh behind her coffee cup. Leah, on her right, leaned over, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Are we sure they’re not already married?”

Katie shot Leah a mock glare. “Oh, don’t start, Williamson. You should be grateful I’m trying to keep her in check!”

Y/N scoffed, reaching over to grab a bit of fruit from Katie’s plate. “I think we both know you’re more high-maintenance than me, Katie.”

Katie smacked her hand away, giving her a playful glare. “Get your own fruit!”

Viv, sipping her tea nearby, raised an eyebrow. “This is seriously like watching my parents fight,” she said, shaking her head with an amused smile.

Katie and Y/N both shot her glares, in perfect sync. “Excuse me?” they said in unison, which only made the team laugh even harder.

Rolling her eyes, Katie sighed dramatically. “Alright, fine. Go ahead, eat all the pancakes. But don’t come crying to me when you’re too sluggish to keep up in training.”

Y/N put her hand over her heart, feigning offense. “I would never blame you for my poor training performance, darling.” She winked, causing Katie to flush just a little as the team watched with knowing grins.

Beth nudged Leah, barely able to contain her laughter. “This is top-tier entertainment.”

After breakfast, the team gathered for a light warm-up, and Y/N, still high on carbs and a little bit of mischief, kept tripping Katie up by tapping her ankles or nudging her playfully whenever Katie wasn’t looking.

“Will you stop it?” Katie snapped, swatting Y/N’s hand away for the third time. “You’re like a child.”

“Oh, come on, you love it.” Y/N smirked, running ahead to avoid Katie’s inevitable comeback. Katie shook her head, unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

Later, during a water break, Y/N handed Katie her water bottle, and Katie took it, squinting at her suspiciously. “Why are you being nice all of a sudden?”

Y/N shrugged innocently. “Can’t a girl do something nice for her girlfriend without being accused of having ulterior motives?”

Katie narrowed her eyes, then reluctantly took a sip. “Fine. Thanks, I guess.”

Just as she was about to take another drink, Y/N added, “By the way, I might have accidentally taken a sip out of that earlier.”

Katie’s eyes widened, looking at the bottle with mock horror. “Oh, you’re disgusting.”

Y/N gave her a cheeky grin. “You’re just figuring this out now?”

They continued their playful back-and-forth as the training session wound down, and their teammates could only shake their heads, thoroughly entertained. By now, it was a given: if Y/N and Katie were in the room, a bit of banter was sure to follow.

As they walked back to the locker room, Katie nudged Y/N, speaking just loud enough for only her to hear. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

Y/N grinned, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, trust me, I know. And I love you too, even when you steal all the bananas.”

Katie scoffed but leaned into her, their usual bickering temporarily replaced by a comfortable silence.

From behind them, Leah whispered to Viv, “I swear, they’re like an old married couple.”

And for once, neither Y/N nor Katie could argue with that.

The Arsenal squad had been dropping hints all week, not-so-subtly trying to convince either Katie or Y/N to take their relationship to the next level. With every passing day, the nudges and winks became more obvious.

During a team meeting, Leah leaned over to Y/N and whispered, “So, when are you finally going to propose? Don’t you think it’s about time?”

Beth joined in, nudging Katie. “You’re both head over heels. One of you has to pop the question sometime.”

Katie and Y/N exchanged a quick look, and that was all it took for them to come up with the perfect plan. If their teammates wanted drama, well, they’d get some—but not in the way they expected.

That Friday, right after training, the team was lounging in the common room, chatting away. Katie and Y/N entered the room together, but the air between them felt… tense. They both wore exaggerated frowns, and the whole squad quickly sensed that something was off.

Katie sighed loudly, folding her arms as she glanced around the room. “You know what, Y/N? I think we need to talk.”

Y/N crossed her arms as well, turning to face Katie with an indignant glare. “Oh, I’m the one who’s difficult? Right, because it’s never you, Katie.”

Their teammates immediately exchanged panicked glances, sensing trouble. Viv’s mouth dropped open slightly, and Leah subtly motioned for everyone to keep quiet.

Katie sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t think I can deal with this anymore.”

“Oh, I don’t think I can deal with you anymore!” Y/N shot back, her voice getting louder. She placed her hands on her hips and turned to the team. “Can you all believe this? She thinks she can just tell me what to do like I’m some rookie!”

Beth’s eyes widened in horror as she looked at the others, mouthing, “What did we do?”

Leah, clearly caught between intervening and staying out of it, held up her hands. “Hey, guys… maybe we can talk this out? I mean, no need to… break up or anything.”

Katie scoffed. “Why not, Leah? Maybe it’s exactly what we need. It’s not like she listens to me anyway!”

Y/N threw her hands in the air, her voice tinged with mock hurt. “Fine, Katie! If that’s how you feel, maybe we’re just better off apart!”

The whole room fell into a stunned silence. Alessia looked horrified, Beth looked guilty, and Viv was on the verge of intervening. Just as they were about to step in, Y/N turned her back to Katie, but not before giving her a tiny, knowing smirk.

Katie matched her smirk and kept her voice stern. “Fine. Then let’s be done with it.”

At that, the team could no longer hold back.

Beth jumped up, wide-eyed. “No, no, no, don’t do this! This is all our fault. We pushed you two too hard!”

Leah held her hands out pleadingly. “We’re sorry! You two are great together. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Katie and Y/N shared a quick glance, barely containing their laughter. But they kept up the act a little longer.

Y/N shook her head, turning toward the door. “Maybe if everyone minded their own business, we wouldn’t be here.”

Alessia let out a desperate sigh, looking at them with puppy-dog eyes. “Please, just… don’t break up because of us. You two are like… Arsenal’s power couple!”

Finally, Katie and Y/N couldn’t hold it in anymore. They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs as they doubled over. The rest of the team looked on, baffled.

Y/N, still giggling, looked up at them and said, “Relax, we’re not actually breaking up.”

Katie wiped a fake tear from her eye. “But maybe you all should consider giving us some space before you end up with real relationship drama!”

The realization dawned on them, and the team’s horrified expressions turned to annoyed glares.

Beth threw a pillow at them. “You two are the worst! Do you know how much we panicked?”

Leah shook her head, laughing despite herself. “Honestly, I’ve never been so terrified. Thought you two were about to kill each other!”

Y/N grinned, wrapping an arm around Katie. “See, maybe this is a lesson. Next time, stay out of our business, alright?”

Katie gave Y/N a wink. “Or we might have to pull something even bigger on you lot.”

Viv crossed her arms, her lips quirked in amusement. “Duly noted. Maybe we’ll just let you propose when you’re ready.”

Katie and Y/N exchanged a secret smile, knowing that their real proposal would happen when they were ready—not a moment before. And for now, they were more than happy to keep their teammates on their toes.

It was a crisp autumn day at Arsenal's training ground, the air buzzing with anticipation. It had been exactly a year since Katie and Y/N’s infamous “breakup” prank, and Katie had been quietly planning a real surprise that would catch everyone off guard: a proposal. But, naturally, she couldn’t do it without one last prank.

The plan was simple: after a light morning training, Katie would gather everyone, fake a “heated argument” with Y/N, and then propose right when things seemed tense enough. With the ring already secured, she felt confident it would be a day no one would forget.

Training went smoothly until Katie called everyone over during the warm-down. Y/N, feigning confusion, trailed behind the team, giving Katie a questioning look as she shot her a conspiratorial wink.

“All of you, come here!” Katie called, looking as serious as possible, her tone carrying an edge that made everyone straighten up.

The team gathered around, exchanging wary glances. Leah raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. “Katie, what’s going on?”

Katie crossed her arms, putting on her best frown. “I’ve had enough,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Y/N widened her eyes in mock alarm, playing her role perfectly. “Excuse me? You’ve had enough?”

Katie jabbed a finger in Y/N’s direction. “You never listen, Y/N! I can’t deal with this anymore.”

Beth’s eyes went wide as she exchanged a look with Viv, who mouthed, “Not again…”

Y/N crossed her arms and threw her head back. “You’re really doing this now, Katie? Here, in front of everyone?”

Katie clenched her fists, doing her best to look frustrated. “Yes, right now. Because apparently, nothing gets through to you otherwise!”

Leah stepped forward, looking horrified. “Guys… please, don’t do this again.”

Katie glared at Leah, not breaking character. “Stay out of this, Leah. This is between me and Y/N.”

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, then. Say what you have to say.”

The tension was thick, and the entire squad looked on, barely breathing. Alessia clutched Beth’s arm, her voice barely a whisper. “Are they seriously breaking up again?”

Just as the tension seemed unbearable, Katie sighed deeply and reached into her pocket. “You know what, Y/N? There’s only one thing I have left to say to you.”

Katie took a deep breath, pulled out the small black box, and dropped to one knee. The entire team gasped, jaws dropping in unison as realization hit them.

Katie looked up at Y/N, her eyes softening. “Y/N, you’re my everything. I love you more than I can even say. I’m done pretending, done pranking—well, after this one, anyway.” She chuckled softly. “Will you marry me?”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide as she took in the ring in Katie’s hands. Then, after a beat, she broke into a wide grin and nodded, letting a few tears fall. “Yes, Katie, of course!”

The team erupted in cheers, jumping and hugging each other in excitement and relief. Beth clapped her hands together, looking overjoyed. “Oh my god, this is amazing! Finally!”

Leah had tears in her eyes. “Katie McCabe, you scared us half to death again. But this time… I guess we can forgive you.”

Katie, still on her knee, shot them a mischievous grin as she slid the ring onto Y/N’s finger. “Didn’t think I’d let this go down without a bit of drama, did you?”

Y/N laughed, pulling her fiancée up into a tight hug. “You’re an absolute menace, you know that?”

Katie smirked, pressing a quick kiss to Y/N’s lips. “You love it.”

The team huddled around, bombarding them with hugs, questions, and a few well-deserved playful shoves. Viv crossed her arms, feigning annoyance but with a huge grin on her face. “You two need to stop toying with us!”

Beth wiped a tear away, grinning. “You’re officially banned from pranks after this. Next time, just get married in private and save us the heart attacks!”

Katie laughed, holding Y/N’s hand and looking around at her teammates—her family. “Alright, alright, no more pranks. But now you all owe us a huge celebration.”

And as the room filled with laughter, cheers, and a few well-placed jokes about “prank-ception,” Katie and Y/N shared a look, feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by the people who loved them, ready for this next chapter together.

It had been a few weeks since Katie’s dramatic proposal, and things had finally settled down. Y/N wore her engagement ring with pride, and Katie seemed to love showing off her fiancée at every opportunity. But Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe Katie deserved a little payback for all the times she’d pulled off elaborate pranks over the last year. So, Y/N hatched a plan of her own.

On a sunny Thursday morning, Y/N decided to start her prank. She went about her morning as usual, chatting with Katie and joking around as they got ready for training—but she purposely left her engagement ring on the dresser. Katie didn’t seem to notice at first, so Y/N held back a smirk as she joined her fiancée in the kitchen for breakfast, acting like nothing was amiss.

Katie, completely oblivious, handed Y/N her coffee and started talking about the team’s drills for the day. Y/N kept the conversation going, waiting for Katie to catch on, but Katie remained oblivious until they arrived at training.

In the locker room, Y/N made sure to keep her hands visible as she changed, hoping one of the girls would notice first. She could see Katie a few lockers over, chatting with Beth and Leah, so she subtly flashed her left hand to Viv, who immediately noticed.

“Y/N… where’s your ring?” Viv asked with a surprised look.

Katie’s head whipped around so fast it could have caused whiplash. She immediately zeroed in on Y/N’s bare finger, her eyes narrowing.

Y/N feigned a casual shrug. “Oh, must’ve forgotten it this morning.”

Katie’s face fell, clearly caught off guard. “Forgotten it? How do you… forget it?”

Y/N kept a straight face, casually slipping her socks on. “I don’t know, Katie. Just did.”

Katie stared at her, brow furrowing, clearly perturbed. “Didn’t think it was something you’d forget,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Beth and Leah exchanged amused looks, sensing the tension. Leah, never one to resist poking the bear, gave Y/N an exaggerated gasp. “Y/N, isn’t that ring, like, supposed to be your most prized possession?”

Y/N bit back a grin, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible. “I mean, it’s important, sure, but people forget things, right? Just a ring.”

Katie’s mouth dropped open. “Just a ring?!” she repeated, louder than she meant to. “You do know I picked it out especially for you, right?”

Y/N gave her an innocent look. “Of course I know, babe,” she said sweetly. “I’ll just… wear it tomorrow, okay?”

Katie’s face went through a rapid cycle of emotions—disbelief, annoyance, and, finally, resignation as she turned to Beth. “Can you believe this? I spent weeks picking that ring out, and she just forgets it.”

Beth, barely able to keep from laughing, put a sympathetic hand on Katie’s shoulder. “Hey, maybe she just needs some time to get used to it.”

Katie looked back at Y/N, an incredulous expression on her face. “Are you serious, Y/N?”

Y/N stifled her laughter, holding Katie’s gaze. “What? I’m dead serious. It’s not a big deal. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Katie huffed, mumbling under her breath, “If I’d known you’d be this casual about it…”

The rest of training was filled with Katie throwing occasional glances Y/N’s way, muttering to herself whenever she saw that bare finger. The team, now fully aware of what was going on, watched with barely concealed amusement. Katie was wound up, and Y/N could tell she was doing everything she could not to bring it up again in front of the team.

After training, as they headed back to the locker room, Katie finally pulled Y/N aside, her voice low and urgent.

“Alright, what’s going on, Y/N? Are you… are you having second thoughts?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she could see genuine worry in Katie’s gaze. Immediately, she softened, realizing she might have taken the prank a little too far. But the teasing part of her couldn’t resist one last push.

“Second thoughts?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe about who’s better at pranks…”

Katie blinked, processing what Y/N had just said, then narrowed her eyes, realization dawning. “You… you’re pranking me?!”

Y/N laughed, reaching out to take Katie’s hand. “Guilty. Thought you could use a taste of your own medicine. Didn’t like thinking I’d forgotten the ring, did you?”

Katie’s face turned from annoyance to a playful smirk. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Y/N grinned, pulling her fiancée close. “That’s why you love me.”

Katie sighed, rolling her eyes with a reluctant smile. “Fine, fine. But don’t ever forget that ring again—or I’ll find a way to make you pay for it.”

Y/N laughed, bringing her hand up to show the ring she’d stashed in her pocket the whole time. “I could never actually forget it. Just needed to remind you that I can keep up with your pranks any day.”

Katie leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Noted. But next time, just wear the ring. I like showing off my fiancée.”

As they headed back to the team, hand in hand, they could hear the cheers and applause of their meddlesome teammates, who’d been watching the entire exchange. Katie just rolled her eyes, but Y/N squeezed her hand, grateful for every second of their ridiculous love.

A quiet evening had settled over London, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Katie and Y/N had the night all to themselves. No pranks, no training early in the morning—just the two of them, sprawled out on the couch, a bottle of wine between them, with an old movie neither of them was paying much attention to playing softly in the background.

Y/N swirled her wine glass and leaned back, a lazy smile on her face. "Remember when you hated me? How I 'ruined' every Arsenal training session?"

Katie snorted, nearly spilling her wine as she nudged Y/N with her shoulder. "Correction: you ruined my training sessions. And yes, I remember. Loud and clear."

Y/N rolled her eyes, chuckling. "The first time we trained together, you went for my ankles like I’d stolen your dog."

Katie threw her head back laughing. “You’re not far off. In my defense, you were showing off a Northern Ireland crest tattoo , and I was not ready to see that at my club.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And that justified tripping me every five minutes?”

Katie smirked, leaning a little closer. “You kept saying you’d 'walk right back to Ireland' if I tripped you one more time. I was just… testing your resolve.”

Y/N let out a fake gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oh, so you were helping me develop mental toughness?”

Katie grinned. "Exactly. You should be thanking me."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You were ruthless, McCabe. Always muttering something under your breath. I thought you’d genuinely curse me every time I touched the ball.”

Katie shot her a playful glare. “Oh, believe me, I was close. I couldn’t stand seeing you on the pitch. And you didn’t make it easy with your cheeky little comments about the ‘inferior side’ either.”

Y/N snickered, taking a sip of her wine. “I don’t know why I did that, honestly. Probably because of the look on your face every time. It was priceless.”

Katie rolled her eyes, but her expression softened as she looked over at Y/N. “The thing is… somewhere along the way, I kinda started to look forward to those arguments. It was the highlight of my day. Even if it drove me mad.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes warm as she studied Katie’s face. “Me too. I never thought I’d actually like you, let alone… you know, love you.”

Katie softened, a little smile tugging at her lips. “You’re pretty impossible not to love.”

Y/N’s smile grew wider, and she nudged Katie’s leg with her foot. “Careful, you’re getting sentimental on me.”

Katie laughed, leaning into her fiancée’s shoulder. “Fine, no more mushy talk. But I’m glad we got past all that rivalry stuff. I couldn’t imagine my life without you now.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting to the city lights through the window. After a moment, Katie broke the quiet.

“Do you think we’d still hate each other if we played on different teams?”

Y/N pondered it, tapping her fingers on her glass thoughtfully. “Probably. But I’d also be wondering what you were up to, wondering if you’d still get all mad whenever I got near the goal.”

Katie chuckled, shaking her head. “Knowing us, we’d probably be rivals forever, but the kind that secretly roots for each other.”

They both smiled at the thought, and Katie leaned closer, resting her head against Y/N’s shoulder, intertwining their fingers. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was comfortable, the kind of peace that comes when you’ve been through enough ups and downs together to appreciate the simple moments.

Katie eventually broke the silence again, her voice a soft murmur. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

Y/N gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We really have.”

For a while, they just sat there, sharing the quiet, letting the past fade as they enjoyed the present, right where they were supposed to be—together.

The stadium was buzzing as the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland lined up across from each other. The energy was electric, and the fans were on their feet, ready for an intense ninety minutes of international rivalry. But neither team was as fired up as Katie and Y/N.

Katie met Y/N’s gaze from across the pitch, her eyes narrowed with a fierce, competitive glint. Y/N shot her a smirk, giving a small, taunting wave. Katie rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Katie muttered as she jogged past Y/N in warm-ups, a hint of playfulness in her voice. “We’re taking you down today.”

Y/N snorted, tilting her head. “Good luck with that, McCabe. Northern Ireland’s ready for anything you throw at us.”

The game kicked off with both teams giving their all, and Katie and Y/N held nothing back. The crowd watched in awe as Katie, with her usual intensity, threw herself into tackles and pushed her team forward at every opportunity. Y/N matched her, intercepting passes, making blocks, and turning every corner into a chance to push Northern Ireland on the offensive.

There was a moment in the first half when they clashed, literally. Katie went for a sliding tackle, and Y/N dodged it just in time, but the two ended up shoulder to shoulder, glaring at each other with intense, unwavering stares.

Katie huffed out a laugh, her voice just low enough for Y/N to hear, “You’re not getting past me, Y/N.”

Y/N smirked, leaning in just a bit. “We’ll see, Katie. You’re not as tough as you think.”

Katie’s eyes narrowed, and for the briefest moment, Y/N thought she saw a twinkle of amusement there. “Keep dreaming, Y/L/N,” Katie shot back before sprinting after the ball.

As the game wore on, Northern Ireland managed to secure a goal, and the crowd went wild. Y/N, barely containing her excitement, ran back down the pitch, purposefully catching Katie’s eye with a smirk. Katie clenched her fists, determination blazing, and pushed her team even harder.

In the final minutes, with both sides exhausted, Katie got the ball in midfield and went on a run, weaving past Y/N and narrowly missing a goal with a powerful shot that hit the crossbar. Y/N bit back a sigh of relief as the whistle finally blew, signaling the end of the match.

Northern Ireland had won.

Katie, catching her breath, stayed on her side of the pitch, hands on her hips, looking frustrated but undeniably proud. Y/N jogged over to her, eyes gleaming as she slowed down right in front of Katie.

“Guess the best team won, huh?” Y/N teased, her smile mischievous.

Katie rolled her eyes, trying to hold back a grin. “Don’t start, Y/N. We’ll get you next time.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “You sure about that? Looked like your team was working pretty hard to keep up.”

Katie huffed, crossing her arms in mock annoyance. “You’re lucky we’re off the pitch right now, or I’d wipe that smirk off your face.”

Y/N chuckled, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between them. “Oh, would you now? Guess we’ll never know.” Her voice softened as she nudged Katie’s shoulder, eyes softening as she spoke. “You played amazing, Katie. I mean it.”

Katie’s faux-scowl melted as she looked back at Y/N, a smile breaking through. “You too, babe. Guess we really do bring out the best in each other, huh?”

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then quickly pulled Katie into a hug, burying her face in Katie’s shoulder for a brief moment. Katie hugged her back just as tightly, whispering, “I love you, but I’m still mad you won.”

Y/N laughed, pulling back with a grin. “You’ll survive. And besides, this just means I get bragging rights all month.”

Katie groaned, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her smile. “Fine, fine. But don’t get too used to it.”

They exchanged one last look before heading back to their respective teams, but both knew they’d be right back in each other’s arms as soon as they could slip away.

Back at the hotel that night, after a post-match dinner and some inevitable teasing from teammates, Y/N finally managed to catch Katie alone in the hallway. Katie smirked as soon as she saw her, folding her arms.

“Don’t think this means I’m letting you off easy. You might’ve won today, but I’ll be back,” Katie said, trying to keep her tone serious but failing to hide the sparkle in her eyes.

Y/N grinned, stepping close and resting her hand on Katie’s arm. “I’m looking forward to it, McCabe. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Katie gave her a teasing glare. “Just you wait, Y/L/N. Next time, it’ll be me teasing you.”

Y/N laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Katie’s cheek before pulling her into a hug. “Bring it on. But until then, you’ll just have to deal with the fact that I’m the winner.”

Katie groaned but hugged her tighter. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while it lasts, Y/N. I’m coming for that win next time.”

They held each other close, the rivalry left on the field as they enjoyed the comfort of each other’s arms. All the banter, all the competition—it only made this moment feel even sweeter.

Three years had flown by, and Y/N and Katie’s lives had changed in ways they’d once only imagined. Now, not only were they partners in life and still teammates on Arsenal’s pitch, but they had a little girl, Ava, who had quickly become the light of their lives. With Katie’s fiery attitude and Y/N’s quiet determination, Ava had inherited quite the personality—and a strong set of lungs to match.

The whole team had gathered at the park for an impromptu picnic. As Ava toddled around, squealing in delight as she chased the team’s soccer balls, Katie and Y/N watched on with quiet smiles, occasionally casting each other amused glances.

Leah, watching Ava attempt to kick a ball with all her might (and only managing to send it rolling gently forward), chuckled and leaned over to Katie with a smirk. “So…have you two decided yet?” she asked mischievously.

Katie squinted at her, confused. “Decided what?”

Leah tilted her head toward Ava, grinning. “Which team Ava’s going to support, Republic of Ireland or Northern Ireland?”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, don’t get her started, Leah. She’s already making plans.”

Katie nudged Y/N, giving her a mock glare. “Oi, plans? She’s obviously going to support Ireland—my Ireland.”

“Oh really?” Y/N shot back, folding her arms, a playful challenge in her eyes. “She’s as much my daughter as yours, Katie. Northern Ireland’s got plenty to offer.”

Katie scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. “Name one thing Northern Ireland’s got that beats a Republic of Ireland jersey with ‘McCabe’ on the back.”

Y/N grinned. “How about an NI jersey with Y/L/N on it?” She glanced over to see Ava waving the soccer ball at Leah, who was playing along by dramatically pretending she couldn’t catch it. “See? She’s already got Leah wrapped around her finger. An arsenal fan, through and through at least.”

Katie gasped in mock offense, clutching her chest. “Leah, you traitor!”

Leah shrugged, holding back laughter. “Hey, don’t drag me into this! Besides,” she teased, winking at Katie, “everyone knows I’m Ava’s favorite. So, maybe she’ll grow up as a Lioness.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “Lioness? Not a chance. You’ll see—first time she sees her mama in green, she’ll be cheering with pride.” She reached over and scooped Ava up, spinning her around, and Ava squealed with delight. “Right, Ava? You’ll wear green like your mama, won’t you?”

Ava’s tiny fists pumped into the air as she babbled excitedly, though neither Katie nor Y/N could make out a single word. But Ava’s enthusiasm was enough to make Katie beam, certain she’d just gotten the confirmation she wanted.

Y/N laughed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “We’ll see about that, Katie. I’ve got time to win her over.”

Katie turned back, smirking. “Oh, it’s on, Y/L/N. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re dealing with a McCabe superfan in a few years.”

The two shared a laugh, but as Katie pulled Y/N in close, their teasing faded into warm smiles. Ava squirmed between them, clearly ready to return to her soccer ball, and Katie set her down with a grin. They watched Ava charge toward Leah, babbling in her own language as she went, and Katie squeezed Y/N’s hand.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Katie murmured, her voice soft and full of affection.

Y/N leaned her head against Katie’s shoulder, eyes on their little girl. “Yeah, but whatever team she ends up cheering for, she’ll always be our little star.”

Katie nodded, resting her head against Y/N’s. “Our little Ava—future football legend, no matter the color.”

As Ava squealed with joy, Leah joined the couple, shaking her head in amusement. “I’ll say this, though—Ava’s got the luckiest parents in the world. And if we’re being honest,” she added with a grin, “she’s going to be one heck of a player no matter which team she roots for.”

Katie and Y/N exchanged a proud smile, both knowing that Leah was absolutely right. Their daughter was already shaping up to be just as fierce and full of heart as her mothers.

Seventeen years had passed, and the day Y/N and Katie had always joked about—but secretly dreaded—had finally arrived. Their daughter, Ava, now a young football sensation in her own right, was making her England debut. England. Of all teams. She was a Lioness.

As the stadium buzzed with excitement, Katie sat grumbling in the stands, arms folded across her chest. Y/N was next to her, frowning at the England flag waving on the big screen as it showcased Ava’s name. Meanwhile, Leah, sitting on the other side of Y/N, was practically bouncing with pride, her England scarf wrapped around her shoulders.

Katie leaned toward Y/N, muttering in a voice loud enough for Leah to hear, “Unbelievable. How did we let this happen?”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “Years of her godmother whispering in her ear, that’s how.”

Leah laughed, unfazed by their grumbling. “Oh, come on, you two! You can’t deny she’s right where she belongs.”

Katie scoffed, her arms still crossed tightly. “I can’t believe I’m about to cheer for England. My own daughter… in a white jersey!”

Leah rolled her eyes, turning to Y/N. “Come on, back me up here, Y/N. You’ve been through her endless debating, the sleepless nights before choosing. You know she loves this team.”

Y/N groaned, torn between her pride for Ava and her allegiance to her own roots. “I know, I know. But it’s still surreal, Leah. Our little Ava could’ve chosen any team.”

Katie shot Y/N a look, nodding in agreement. “Exactly. Republic of Ireland was right there.”

Leah laughed again, shaking her head. “Oh, come on. We all knew from the time she was little that she’d choose England. I mean, look at her godmother.” She winked and pointed proudly to herself, her England scarf gleaming under the stadium lights.

Katie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, exactly. Look what we’re stuck with. This is what happens when you let Leah be a godmother.”

Y/N chuckled, nudging Katie’s shoulder. “Oh, stop it. It’s not the worst thing in the world. At least she’s playing for someone’s team here.”

Katie huffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Fine, but I’m blaming Leah for the rest of my life.”

At that moment, the players ran out onto the field, and Ava’s name flashed on the jumbotron. Leah jumped to her feet, clapping and cheering, while Katie and Y/N joined in, though their clapping was far less enthusiastic.

As Ava glanced up toward the stands, she spotted them, giving a big grin and a wave. Katie softened just a bit, nudging Y/N. “Look at that face. She’s having the time of her life, isn’t she?”

Y/N smiled, a mix of pride and amusement in her eyes. “She is. And she looks just like you when you played your first match. Well…minus the green jersey.”

Katie rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. “Alright, alright. I admit it. I’m proud. But I’ll be even prouder if she scores against Leah’s team.”

Leah laughed again, clearly enjoying every second of this. “In your dreams, Katie. Ava’s going to make you eat those words when she scores her first England goal!”

As the whistle blew, the game kicked off, and for all their grumbling, Katie and Y/N couldn’t take their eyes off their daughter, watching her every move with a mixture of awe and pride.

And when Ava did finally score—her very first goal in an England shirt—the stadium erupted in cheers, with Leah leaping to her feet, shouting, “That’s my goddaughter!”

Katie let out a groan but stood up, clapping nonetheless, and muttered under her breath, “Fine… maybe England isn’t all bad.”

Y/N squeezed Katie’s hand, her eyes misty as she watched Ava celebrate with her teammates. “Yeah, maybe not. Just this once.”

Leah smirked, her face filled with triumph. “I knew you two would come around eventually.”

Katie shot her a playful glare. “Don’t get too smug, Leah. She may be wearing white now, but she’ll still always be our daughter first.”

Leah threw an arm around both of them, laughing as the three of them watched Ava jog back to the halfway line, glowing with pride and excitement. “Lucky for her, she’s got the best of both worlds.”

Y/N and Katie exchanged a look, finally giving in and laughing along. For all their teasing and the years of rivalry, nothing could change the love they felt for their daughter, no matter what colors she wore.

After the international break the transfer season opened up, and with it a whole other can of worms.

Ava’s transfer to Chelsea had been the talk of the league for weeks, but when the official announcement dropped, it hit harder than any of them expected. Ava McCabe-Y/L/N, a product of the Arsenal academy, and the daughter of two Arsenal legends, was making the switch to their fiercest rival.

When Katie and Y/N arrived at the pub, the mood was thick with tension, and every player they passed wore expressions ranging from shock to outright betrayal. By the time they reached the tables, the team was buzzing with mixed emotions.

Katie put her hands on her hips, eyeing everyone. “Alright, everyone, calm down.”

Leah, looking stunned and visibly heartbroken, crossed her arms and let out a deep sigh. “Calm down? Your daughter—who we’ve all practically raised at this club—is now playing for Chelsea, Katie. Chelsea!”

Y/N let out a small laugh, though it held a hint of nervousness. “Oh, believe me, we didn’t see this one coming, either. You think we’re happy about this?”

Beth groaned dramatically. “How could she do this to Leah? How could she do this to me? To all of Arsenal? And, uh, to you two, of course,” she added, glancing apologetically at Katie and Y/N.

Katie grumbled, crossing her arms with a huff. “Tell me about it. But we’ve got to support her, don’t we?”

The room erupted in laughter, though it was more out of disbelief than humor. Viv, shaking her head, muttered, “This is unreal. She grew up at that club. Arsenal is in her blood.”

Y/N sighed, shrugging helplessly. “We thought so, too. But she’s her own person, and she wanted to follow her own path.” She exchanged a look with Katie, who looked like she was fighting an internal battle of pride and frustration.

“Her own path at Chelsea,” Katie scoffed, though a small smile broke through as she shook her head. “A part of me can’t help but respect her for it.”

Leah threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re on board with this already!”

Katie chuckled, giving in. “No, no, of course not! I still can’t believe it. But we both know Ava’s always had a mind of her own.”

Y/N gave Katie a soft nudge. “She’s a McCabe—she was bound to do something this dramatic at some point.”

The entire locker room dissolved into laughter, with Katie shaking her head in defeat. “Alright, alright. I suppose she gets that from me.”

“Absolutely,” Leah said, wiping away a tear of laughter. “But you two better not show up in Chelsea blue any time soon, or I’m done.”

Katie threw her hands up in surrender. “Relax, Leah. We’re Arsenal through and through.” Then, leaning back with a smirk, she added, “Though, if you ask Ava, she might have other ideas.”

The room filled with laughter again, with the team gradually accepting that, while Ava’s decision was shocking, it wasn’t the end of the world. She’d always be their Ava, even if she wore the wrong colors. And though Katie and Y/N weren’t thrilled with her choice, they couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her fierce independence—even if it meant she was now the product of their greatest rival.

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

The End

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

—PART SEVEN

PAIRING: LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM! FALLEN ANGEL! READER

FANDOM: HAZBIN HOTEL

GENRE: ROMANCE

WARNINGS: CURSING & ADAM

NOTES: I tried to write the fight scene but I think it's shit sooo anyways, hope you guys like it lol

PART ONE | PART SIX | FINALE

“Are you worried...?” [y/n] asked softly against Lucifer's chest as they cuddled on his bed, his thumb rubbing circles on her back. These past few months they have gotten closer, though unsure how to speak about their growing feelings for each other. They both know but also don't know how to approach the other and talk about it. They had a mutual unspoken agreement that both of them aren't ready yet, especially Lucifer who cannot yet part from his beloved wedding ring.

Lucifer sighs, clearly worried. Today is the extermination day and he is scared for his daughter but despite his power, he doesn't have enough to intervene unless heaven breaks their contract then he'll have to do something about it.

“Of course, I am.” he whispers, his hand squeezing [y/n]'s waist slightly, [y/n] noticing it immediately and sighs before pulling herself away from his embrace and sitting down beside him on the empty spot of his bed, making Lucifer pout slightly at the loss of contact.

“I understand but if something does happen, we will both be there to help them.” [y/n] says with a small smile, poking the redness of his cheek. [Y/n] admired him, the soft pink lighting coming from the tinted windows caressing his light complexion, adding depth to his otherworldly beauty. Truly divine.

His eyes half-lidded as he gazed at her, she was sitting against the streak of light, the shadows accentuating her features, he admired her [e/c] eyes hidden behind her long eyelashes, the plumpness of her lips, the softness of her cheeks. All of her is beautiful to him.

Lucifer quickly shakes off his thoughts, what were they doing again?

With a sigh, he smiled at her, “Yes, we'll be there to help if something ever goes wrong.” he says, slowly intertwining his hand with hers and with her squeezing his in return after. The two looked at each other with smiles on their faces, eyes dilated as they saw the other through heart shaped glasses.

Unfortunately, the peaceful atmosphere was broken as Lucifer's eyes widened, something that [y/n] noticed immediately which made her worried.

“Is there something wrong?” [y/n] asked, worried as she can clearly see the distress look on Lucifer's face. He quickly sat up and held her shoulders.

“We have to go, now!” Lucifer exclaimed, distressed and [y/n] can already tell that something happened with Charlie. She nodded and allowed Lucifer to hold her hand as he pulled her inside with him to a portal he just opened.

Finally arriving, anger flashed within their veins. Realizing the situation, Charlie getting choked by none other than Adam, Vaggie being held back by Lute, and the others surrounded by multiple exorcists.

Lucifer and [y/n] looked at each other, not needing to speak what they wanted to convey to each other.

“I'll handle Adam.”

“Then I'll handle Lute and the others, stay safe.”

“You too. Please, I can't lose you too.”

Then they nodded and separated their ways. Lucifer immediately swoops down to save Charlie by punching Adam on the face and quickly catching the girl in his arms while [y/n] quickly swooped in to push Lute away from Vaggie.

Both Charlie and Vaggie's eyes widened, finally seeing the two powerful angelic beings they know.

“Dad!?” Charlie exclaimed, surprised but thankful he came to help her and her friends, turning to look at Vaggie who was supported by none other than [y/n], holding the girl's body in support.

“And Miss [y/n]?” she added, surprised that the woman is also here. Lucifer smiled down at his daughter, gently putting her down on to the ground.

“Sorry we weren't here sooner, sweetie.” He says softly, patting the girl's head. Charlie was just glad they are here.

[Y/n] turned to look at Vaggie, helping the poor girl by healing her wounds. “You poor thing, are you alright?” [y/n] asked her and Vaggie just nodded, shoulders relaxing as she felt her exhaustion and pain going away as the older woman healed her.

“Yes, now that you healed me. Thank you.” Vaggie says and [y/n] smiles before turning around at the sound of Adam grunting.

“Seriously! How many of you freaks do I have to fight?” Adam angrily says as he climbs back up the roof. Lucifer smirked as he began to pull his sleeves up as he approached Adam and Vaggie heard [y/n] whistle slightly.

“Oh I'm the only one that matters, see, you messed with my daughter and now... I am going to FUCK YOU!” Lucifer exclaimed proudly with a smirk on his face.

Silence. Clearly taken aback by the king of hell's statement. Some smirking and raising an eyebrow at him.

Me first... Wait who said that? [Y/n] thought to herself, almost chuckling. Vaggie looking at her, almost as if she could read her mind. [Y/n] just giving the ex-exorcist an innocent smile.

Charlie hesitantly leaned towards her father to whisper to his ear, “Its fuck you up, dad.” she says and Lucifer looked at her with confusion, “Wait... What did I say...?” he asked and was quickly pushed by Adam.

[Y/n]'s eyes demonically reddened in anger and her nails sharpened for a brief moment as she saw Lucifer getting hurt but quickly disappeared as Lucifer was able to come out unscratched. A sigh of relief left [y/n]'s lips. Vaggie just stood terrified next to her, the first witness to her demonic side.

[Y/n] gave a raised eyebrow at the girl, confused why the girl was so terrified of all of the sudden but quickly shakes her head as she flies down to help the others.

Snapping her fingers, golden chains came out of the ground and grabbed the exorcists' wrists. Flicking her wrist to flick the exorcists away from her friends. She's unsure if she's allowed to kill them so she opted in just throwing them as far as possible.

“You're the most hated being in all of creation!” Adam sneered angrily, annoyed as Lucifer kept dodging his attacks.

Lucifer smirked, “Whoah! Well your first wife didn't seem to hate what I have to offer or the second~! bow-chika-bow-wow!” He says, doing some thrust gestures which angered Adam even more.

“I'll fucking end you!” Adam growled as he tries to catch up to Lucifer.

She chuckled as she could slightly hear Lucifer making fun of Adam, Lucifer is clearly enjoying himself.

Turning around to look at the Hazbin Hotel crew, “Are you guys okay?” [y/n] asked and Angel Dust smirked, “Yeah, now that you guys are here toots!”

[Y/n] giggles, her wings flapping behind her back to keep her afloat, “Glad to know! Keep yourself safe? Mhmm? I'm going to help him a bit!” she says and Angel gave her a salute and continues to gun down the other exorcists.

Flying back to the roof to see Lute fighting Vaggie again, quickly summoning her chains to wrap around Lute's neck, “Leave her the fuck alone!” [y/n] screamed angrily, eyes burning red in anger and she quickly swung the chain, throwing the Lieutenant away from Vaggie. Charlie running towards them in concern.

“Vaggie! Are you okay?!” [y/n] asked worriedly, her normal appearance returning but her eyes widened as she saw Adam about to fire a large holy beam towards her, Charlie and Vaggie.

Without thinking, [y/n] quickly pushed the two girls away into a safe place. Making the two girls let out a surprised yelp.

The beam easily sliced through the hotel like a piece of cake. Caught off guard, [y/n] wasn't able to move her body into a proper flying position, rendering her wings useless. Making her fall, she screamed in surprise. Lucifer realizing that she's falling, his heart thumping in fear as he quickly swoops down, begging himself to reach her on time.

“[y/n]!” three people screamed in fear for her. She closed her eyes in fear, trying to calm herself down.

[Y/n] felt gentle yet strong arms catching her. She opened her eyes to see Lucifer looking down on her as he carried her princess style in his arms. He smiled at her, “I got ya.” he says with a charming smile, though [y/n] can tell he was scared for her based on his tone.

She smiled at him but she noticed something approaching behind Lucifer, realizing it was Adam who was approaching them in fury. [Y/n]'s eyes widened, her sclera turning red again.

“Lucifer look out!” [y/n] screamed in anger, her hand was able to catch Adam's punch, her now demonically long nails gripping into the first man's skin in anger.

Lucifer was caught off guard at [y/n]'s demonic form, this is the first time he's seen it and he assumed it just manifested. Despite her terrifying demonic appearance, he still found her very attractive.

He shakes off those thoughts, clearly not the proper time to have them. His own eyes turn red in anger from Adam. He then pulled Adam's arm and pulled the man in front of him and kicked him down to the cold hard cement.

He gently let go of [y/n] allowing her to fly by his side despite the absolute fury he was feeling. His more demonic side showing.

[Y/n] found him to be absolutely breathtaking. So this is the king of hell. She thought, her red sclera eyes admiring him. She didn't even notice that she too was in her demon form. Goat-like horns curled at the sides of her head, her teeth slightly now sharper, eyes now red, nails are now sharper. Her halo above her head is now dark red.

[Y/n] watched as Lucifer approached Adam, holding the man's collar as Lucifer began to punch him.

“You come at me and my family! Don't forget, you're in my house bitch!” he grins maniacally and was about to give him a finishing blow as he held his hands above his head, a ball of fire forming on his hands but Charlie stopped him.

“Woah, whoah, dad stop! He's had enough.” Charlie says and Lucifer was brought back to reality. Lucifer calmed down and walked away, “How does mercy taste like you little bitch?” he asked with a smirk, flying up the crater in which [y/n] helped him up by offering her hand in which he gladly accepted.

Both of them calming down, their demonic features slowly disappearing. “Are you okay?” [y/n] asked him softly and Lucifer shrugs with a small smile, finally taking in her new features—the curled up goat-like horns and dark red halo above her head. Beautiful as always.

“I'm fine, I love your horns.” He says with a small smile and [y/n]'s eyes widened, her hand immediately reaching up to her head to feel the new horns that grew. She looked at him with slight nervousness, “Does it make me look weird?” she asked and Lucifer shook his head, “Never. Horns or not, you looked beautiful as always.” he says with a charming smirk, making [y/n] blush, “Charming as always.” she says with a giggle but their attention was diverted to hear Adam groan in pain.

“No... You don't get to end this.” Adam growled in pain, weakly standing up from the rubble of where he crashed, “I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man!” he yelled, turning to look at Lucifer and [y/n], “And you're just some fucking clown and you're just a bitch or something!” Lucifer's eyes sharpened when he heard what he called [y/n], “What did you call her?!” Lucifer sneered and he was about to give the angel a piece of his mind when [y/n] held out her arm to stop him and she shook her head at him.

“I started everything on earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts!” Adam exclaimed and [y/n] visibly looked disgusted at Adam as she listened to him talk.

“You all should be worshipping me! You ungrateful, disgusting, fucking, loser—aaah!” he screamed in pain and the others just looked at him in surprise to see something impaled the first man.

“Uhh... You got something stuck in your...” Lucifer hesitantly pointed at Adam's chest and [y/n] nodded, visibly concerned.

Adam passes out face first and it revealed that Niffty stabbed him.

“Niffty?!” [y/n] and Charlie exclaimed, Niffty just gave a maniacal grin as she began to continuously stab Adam, “YEAH STAB STAB STAB STAB!” the smaller girl giggles insanely before walking away.

“Noooo! Sirrr!” Lute screamed in horror, quickly approaching Adam and calling out to him.

Lucifer approached the two, clearly still mad, “It's over.” Charlie says standing beside her father, “Take your little friends AND GO HOME!” Lucifer growled, fuming before immediately smiling, “Please.” he added.

Lute glared at him, taking Adam's halo with her. “ALL EXORCISTS FALL BACK AND RETREAT!” She orders, flying up as a portal opened for the exorcists' to pass through.

The others watching the angels leave and also watch the portal closed.

Lucifer turns to look at them with a grin on his face, “So... How about some pancakes?” he asked and Niffty raised her hand excitedly. [Y/n] just chuckles and shakes her head, turning to look at the chaos and destruction the angels left. There's still so much to fix.

TAGLIST

@selvyyr @leo4242564 @blushhpeachh @lunanight1021 @dvc4 @nehy019 @lu-ferri12 @lilteamushroom @froggybich @eddiemunson4ever @who-let-me-write-this @gurutan27 @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @hcneyiced @valerie-36 @jovialcat123 @b0nn1e @raeinn @wally-darling-hyperfixation @faefanatic @trashbin-nie @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @luleck @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @hxzbinwrites @snoozewritezz @juskonutoh @mayhimouto513 @hcneyiced @koirb @viylikescats @ren-ren23 @kouyoumarryme @dou-dou @thatsquitepoggers @rosecatlady18 @avitute @rosecatlady18 @crescent-z

[theonottsbxtch]

🐴 hi again! I loved the oscar series. So I have an idea but this time for Max again! (I’m a max girlie through and through 🙂‍↕️)

Okay so! Could you possibly do a cowgirl!reader x cowboy!Max? Maybe a barrel racer!reader and bull rider!Max (he seems like a bull rider ngl). Its maybe second chance for Max? He started to be there for her, showing up for her when she needs it. Something happened to the reader (up to you) and he showed up for her once again which causes the reader to reevaluate him. And the rest? Up to you! :)

Psps i love giving you my ideas and seeing them come to life! Goodbye for now, 🐴

WHAT'S LEFT BEHIND PT.1 | MV1

an: as an honorary texan (i've been friends with one for seven years) this was so fun to write ehehhehheh ANYWAY ENJOY THIS SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE!!

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 4.2k

8 years ago

The crowd roared, but she barely heard it. The adrenaline coursing through her veins drowned out everything but the rhythmic pounding of Luna’s hooves beneath her, the barrels blurring in her vision as she pushed harder, faster, urging her horse around the final turn. They were almost there.

Almost.

The split-second misstep was enough. One wrong move, and Luna’s front hoof caught the edge of the last barrel. The world tilted, her balance slipping. And then she was falling—weightless for just a breath before the ground came up to meet her, hard and unforgiving. Pain exploded in her leg, white-hot and blinding, shooting through her entire body like wildfire.

She barely registered the panicked shout from the stands. The sound of boots hitting the dirt. Then hands—his hands—on her.

"Don’t move! I’m here, I’m here!" Max’s voice was frantic, the fear clear in his eyes as he knelt beside her. She could see the tremble in his hands, but his grip was steady, reassuring as he cradled her head and kept her still. "Help is coming, sweetheart don’t move.”

She tried to breathe through the pain, tried to focus on his face, but the edges of her vision blurred. All she could think about was how everything had changed in a heartbeat. She’d trained for this her whole life. Barrel racing was all she had, all she’d ever wanted. And now it was slipping through her fingers.

She reached out, her hand finding his. “Max…”

“I’m right here,” he whispered, squeezing her fingers. His voice was hoarse, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening either. "You’re gonna be okay, I promise."

But she could see the fear in his eyes. Fear that mirrored her own.

That was all she remembered when she passed out.

And when she woke up, she was in the hospital.

The antiseptic smell of the hospital was a far cry from the dust and heat of the rodeo arena. She lay in the sterile bed, her leg encased in a cast, throbbing with a dull ache that barely scratched the surface of the pain inside her.

The doctors said the break was bad. Real bad. Recovery would be slow. And even then… they weren’t sure she’d ever race again.

She hadn’t cried when they told her. She just stared at the ceiling, feeling like a hollow shell of herself, like her whole world had caved in on her. The only thing keeping her tethered to the present was the thought of Max. He hadn’t left her side at the arena, had promised her she’d be okay. He’d said he was there for her.

So where was he now?

The door creaked open, and she looked up, expecting him, hoping for him. But it was her mother who stepped inside, her face drawn tight with an expression that immediately set alarm bells ringing in her head.

“Mom?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is it time for my meds?”

Her mother hesitated, wringing her hands together. “Honey… I have something to tell you.”

The calm that had settled in her chest evaporated. “What is it?” she asked, anxiety prickling at the back of her mind. “Is it about my leg?”

Her mother stepped closer, the shadows under her eyes deepening. “No, it’s… it’s about Max.”

“Max?” The name felt heavy on her tongue, like a weight pulling her down. “What about him?”

Her mother sighed, her expression torn between sympathy and something else—anger? Disappointment? “He’s gone.”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating, and for a moment, she couldn’t process what she’d just heard. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“He left,” her mother said gently, her voice shaking. “After the rodeo, there was a scout. He got an offer… a chance to go pro. He packed up and went. He didn’t want to tell you while you were still in the hospital.”

A cold wave of disbelief washed over her. This can’t be happening. “No,” she said, shaking her head slowly, as if denying it could change the reality. “He wouldn’t do that. Not to me. Not after everything.”

Her mother reached out, a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it only made her feel more trapped. “I know it’s hard to understand, sweetheart. He was excited about it. He thought… he thought it would be better for both of you.”

“But I needed him!” The words burst out, sharp and raw, like the pain throbbing in her leg. “I was hurt! I thought we were a team!” She could feel her heart racing, each beat echoing the disbelief and betrayal that coursed through her veins.

“I know,” her mother said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But he didn’t see it that way. He thought it was his chance to make something of himself. He didn’t think you’d want him to stay behind.”

The room felt as if it were closing in on her, the walls pressing down like the weight of a thousand expectations. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All those memories of the two of them, the laughter, the promises—they felt like cruel jokes now. The pain in her leg was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

“What did he say?” she demanded, desperation lacing her words. “Did he even look back? Did he say goodbye?”

Her mother looked away, a pained expression crossing her face. “He… he didn’t want to see you like this. He thought it would hurt more.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, surprising even herself. “So he just left? Just like that?” The anger bubbled up, a volcano ready to erupt. “He’s chasing some stupid dream while I’m stuck here?”

“He’s just a kid, too,” her mother said gently, but the words felt like a weak balm on a festering wound. “He didn’t know what to do. He thought it was best to leave you with the hope of recovery, not the reality of…”

“Not the reality of him abandoning me!” she snapped, rage surging through her. “I don’t care about his dreams! He was supposed to be here!”

The tears finally spilled over, streaking down her cheeks as she let the full weight of her heartbreak crash over her. Each sob felt like a release, but it didn’t take away the gnawing emptiness inside. Her mother’s arms enveloped her, but she felt distant, lost in a sea of despair.

“It’s not fair,” she cried, her voice muffled against her mother’s shoulder. “It’s not fair that I’m the one who’s hurt, and he just gets to run away.”

“I know, honey. I know,” her mother murmured, holding her tight as if to shield her from the pain. “But you’re stronger than this. You’ll get through it.”

But in that moment, as she clung to her mother, she felt anything but strong. The world outside the hospital window continued, people going about their lives as if nothing had changed. But for her, everything had shifted, and she didn’t know how to find her way back.

PRESENT TIME

The barn smelled like hay, leather, and the faintest trace of saddle soap—familiar, comforting scents that grounded her. She moved with practised ease, brushing down Luna, her mind quiet for the first time in days. Her mare’s grey coat shimmered under her hands, and the steady rhythm of the brush helped drown out the restless thoughts that always lingered too close.

Out here, surrounded by the soft sounds of the horses shifting in their stalls, she could almost forget. Forget the past, forget the pain, forget the way her life had derailed eight years ago and the way it had never really gotten back on track.

The barn door creaked open, and she glanced up to see her childhood best friend, Heidi, walking in with a stack of freshly folded saddle pads. She and Heidi had worked this barn together for years now, caring for the horses, prepping for the local shows. It was their world, their escape from everything else. Although, as her and her boyfriend Daniel were getting serious, she was working less hours.

Heidi set the pads down on a tack trunk and stretched her back, groaning as if she’d been doing manual labour for hours. "Why do we do this again?" she teased, eyeing Luna. "Surely there’s an easier way to make a living."

"Could always take up bull riding," she shot back dryly, not looking up from her work. "I hear there’s good money in it."

Heidi snorted, leaning against the stall door. "Yeah, well, we both know what that road leads to."

Silence fell between them for a second, thick and familiar, before Heidi cleared her throat. “So… guess who’s back in town?”

She didn’t even pause her brushing, keeping her movements smooth, controlled. “No idea,” she muttered, eyes fixed on Luna’s glossy coat. “Who?”

“Max.”

The name hung in the air like dust motes caught in a sunbeam—small but impossible to ignore.

Her hand stilled for just a moment, her grip tightening on the brush. She forced herself to keep going, resuming the strokes over Luna’s back like nothing had changed. “Huh,” she said after a beat, voice carefully neutral. “Didn’t think he’d come back.”

Heidi folded her arms, watching her closely. “Yeah, well, he’s here. Saw him at the feed store this morning. Said he’s back for good.”

“Good for him.” She switched sides, moving to Luna’s other flank. “Guess the big, glamorous rodeo life didn’t turn out the way he wanted.”

Heidi’s eyes narrowed, her lips twitching into the slightest smirk. “You don’t care?”

“Why would I care?” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s been eight years. I’m 25 now, have my life and I’ve moved on.”

“Have you?” Heidi’s voice was soft but knowing. She didn’t move from her spot at the stall door, and for the first time, her friend’s presence felt a little too close.

She gritted her teeth, focusing on the repetitive motion of the brush. It was easier that way, focusing on something else. Something solid. “I don’t see what it has to do with me,” she said after a moment. “He left, I stayed. End of story.”

Heidi raised an eyebrow. “Right. Except it’s not the end, is it?”

She didn’t respond, didn’t trust herself to say anything without the flood of emotions she’d worked so hard to bury spilling out. She hadn’t even thought about Max, not really. He was just a part of the past, a chapter she’d closed long ago. Or so she told herself.

But the truth was, she had thought about him. In the quiet moments, when the ache in her leg flared up and the memories of that day—the day everything fell apart—came rushing back. She hated herself for it, but sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if he had stayed, if they’d faced it together instead of him running off to chase his dreams.

“You know…” Heidi’s voice softened, her teasing edge fading. “It’s okay if it still bothers you.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t. He’s nothing to me anymore. That part of my life is over.”

Heidi didn’t buy it. She never did. They’d been friends too long for that. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Her chest tightened, the brush stalling in her hand again as the words scraped against the raw parts of her heart. She hated how Heidi could see through her so easily, could read the cracks in the armour she’d built so carefully. “Heidi, I’m fine. Really.”

But Heidi wasn’t letting it go. “Come on. You can act like you don’t care, but I saw the way you froze when I said his name. You think I don’t know? It’s okay if this shakes you up. You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending.” The words came out a little too fast, too sharp, and she winced at the way they echoed in the barn. She set the brush down, her hands suddenly trembling, and wiped them on her jeans, trying to shake off the feeling that had wrapped itself around her chest like a vice. “I’m not.”

Heidi didn’t say anything, just stood there with that same patient, knowing look. She had the decency not to push further, but she didn’t need to. The damage was already done, the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface now.

She let out a long breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Look, I’m just focused on work right now, okay? Max can do whatever he wants. He’s got nothing to do with me anymore.”

But even as she said it, she knew she was lying. Knew Heidi could see the truth. And somewhere deep down, she was afraid—afraid that no matter how much time had passed, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Max Verstappen still had the power to turn her world upside down.

Heidi gave her a long, searching look, then finally nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly. “But just know, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I know it’s not as simple as you want it to be.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Thanks.”

As Heidi turned to leave the barn, the silence rushed back in, pressing heavy on her shoulders. She picked up the brush again, returning to Luna ’s side, but her movements were slower now, distracted. The rhythm was gone, replaced by a tangled mess of thoughts she couldn’t quite push away.

He was back.

And as much as she wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, she knew it did. More than she’d ever admit.

And after that news, there was only one person she wanted to see.

The familiar creak of her mother’s screen door was like stepping into another life, one she wasn’t sure how to fit into anymore. The house hadn’t changed—same wooden porch swing, same flower pots overflowing with wild daisies. It was the kind of place that felt frozen in time, which used to be comforting. Now it just felt suffocating.

She knocked once before pushing the door open, stepping into the cosy warmth of the kitchen. Her mother stood by the stove, stirring something that smelled like cinnamon and butter, her apron tied loosely around her waist.

“Hey, honey,” her mother said without turning around, as if she’d known she was coming before the door even opened. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”

She shrugged, kicking off her boots at the door like she always had. “Just thought I’d stop by.”

Her mother glanced over her shoulder, her brow creasing slightly as she took in her daughter’s tight expression. “Everything okay?”

She didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to the kitchen table and pulling out a chair. The wood scraped against the floor, breaking the silence between them. “He’s back.”

Her mother stilled, the spoon pausing mid-stir. For a moment, there was nothing but the ticking of the old clock on the wall and the faint sound of the wind rattling the windows.

“Max?” her mother finally asked, her voice cautious.

She nodded, running her hand over the worn edge of the table. “Yeah. Heidi saw him earlier and said he’s back for good.”

Her mother sighed, setting the spoon down on the counter before wiping her hands on a dish towel. “And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t.” She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “It doesn’t matter to me. He can come and go as he pleases.”

Her mother gave her a long, patient look—the kind only a mother can give, the one that sees right through every defence. “You sure about that?”

She scoffed, glancing away. “What do you want me to say? That I’m still angry? That I haven’t forgiven him? Because I haven’t.”

Her mother pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, folding her hands on the table. “I’m not saying you need to forgive him right away. But holding onto all that hurt… it’s not good for you. Carrying that grudge for so long—it eats away at you, whether you realise it or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mum, please. Don’t give me that wisdom-of-the-ages crap. He left me when I needed him. That’s not something I can just… let go.”

“I’m not saying you should forget what happened,” her mother said softly. “But holding onto the anger? That’s like drinking poison and hoping the other person gets sick.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, standing up so quickly the chair legs scraped against the floor. “I’m not drinking anything. I’m just—” She broke off, her voice cracking. “I’m just fine. I don’t need to forgive him, and I don’t need your advice on how to deal with it. It’s done. It’s been done for years.”

Her mother didn’t flinch at the outburst, only watched her with that same calm, understanding expression. “I’m not trying to tell you how to feel, honey. But you’re not the same girl you were eight years ago. Neither is he. People change.”

“Maybe,” she muttered, grabbing her keys from the table. “But I haven’t changed that much.”

Without waiting for her mother to respond, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, her boots thudding against the wooden floor. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye before she stepped back outside into the cool evening air, the sting of her mother’s words still fresh.

She yanked open the door of her truck, sliding behind the wheel with more force than necessary. The engine rumbled to life, and she gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Grudges aren’t healthy? How could her mother even say that? Of course she was still mad. He’d left her when she was broken—physically and emotionally. Just up and left without a word. She’d been nothing to him, just a stepping stone on his way to glory. And now that glory had turned sour, he wanted to come crawling back?

She slammed her foot on the gas, sending the truck down the dirt road leading away from her mother’s house. The sky above had turned a deep, bruised purple as the sun set behind the hills, casting long shadows across the fields. She didn’t care where she was going; she just needed to get away from the conversation, from the memories that her mother had stirred up.

But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.

Not five minutes down the road, the truck sputtered, jerked violently, and then… silence.

“No, no, no, no…” she muttered, hitting the steering wheel in frustration as the truck coasted to a stop. “Not now.”

She turned the key again, but all she got was the tired groan of an engine that had given up on her just like everything else. Perfect.

She rested her head against the steering wheel, closing her eyes. It was almost laughable, really—how her life always seemed to fall apart at the worst possible times. Here she was, trying to outrun her past, and now she was stuck on the side of some desolate back road with nothing but her thoughts for company.

The irony wasn’t lost on her.

After a few minutes, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the fading light. The road stretched out before her, empty and quiet, with no sign of anyone else for miles. She kicked at the dirt in frustration, her boots scuffing the ground. There was nothing to do but wait.

She leaned back against the hood of her truck, arms crossed, staring at the horizon. She hadn’t wanted to think about him, hadn’t wanted to feel anything about him. But now that he was back, it was like every carefully built wall she’d put up was crumbling all over again.

And maybe—just maybe—her mother had a point, as much as she hated to admit it.

But there was no way she was ready to deal with that. Not yet.

She kicked the dirt under her boots and stared down the empty road, arms crossed, the fading twilight casting a purplish hue over the fields. Her truck sat stubbornly in the middle of the gravel, as immobile and obstinate as her memories. She’d called a repair service, but out here, that could mean waiting an hour or two—or more.

As she leaned against the hood, the air cool against her skin, she heard the low rumble of an engine in the distance. A truck approached, its headlights cutting through the dusky shadows. She straightened up, squinting as it drew closer, a vague sense of unease settling in her chest.

The truck slowed, and as it pulled up beside hers, she recognised it immediately. Of course.

Max.

He leaned out the open window, his expression a mixture of concern and hesitation, like he knew he had no right to stop but couldn’t help himself. “You alright?”

She stared at him, arms still crossed, a muscle ticking in her jaw. “I’m fine.”

He glanced from her to the truck, then back at her. “Looks like you’re stranded.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Sharp as ever, I see.”

He ignored the jab, shifting the truck into park as if he were getting out. “I’ve got some tools in the back. Let me take a look.”

“No.”

He paused, hand on the door handle, confusion flickering across his face. “No?”

“You heard me.” She pushed herself off the hood and walked a few steps toward him, her eyes hard, voice cutting like glass. “I don’t need your help. Didn’t need it eight years ago to get better, and I sure as hell don’t need it now.”

His brow furrowed, his jaw tightening slightly as he held her gaze. She saw the flash of guilt there—the same guilt she’d been holding onto for so long—but it didn’t make her feel better. Not like it should’ve.

“I’m just trying to—” he started, but she cut him off.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Max.” Her voice was sharp, cold. “You feel bad, right? You think you can fix everything with a wrench and a couple of well-placed apologies? But this isn’t something you can fix. You can’t just pop the hood on the past and make it all run smoothly again.”

He stepped out of the truck, shutting the door behind him with a quiet thud, but stayed at a distance, not getting too close. “It’s not like that. I just saw you were stuck. Thought you might need a hand.”

She barked out a laugh, humourless and bitter. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I don’t need you riding in to save me, Max. I can handle my own problems.”

His eyes softened, his voice low as he spoke. “I know you can handle yourself. You always could. But it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

She glared at him, fists clenched at her sides. He didn’t get it. He couldn’t get it. “I’ve been doing it alone since the moment you left. I didn’t have a choice.”

The words hung heavy between them, the weight of years of anger and hurt settling like dust around them. He took a breath, about to say something, but her eyes flicked to the back of his truck.

The bed of his truck was cluttered with various tools, and there, half-buried under a coil of rope, was a large, well-worn toolbox.

“Give me your tools,” she said suddenly, her voice hard. “That’s all I need from you. Hand them over and go.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “You want to—”

“I said, give me the tools,” she repeated, the steel in her voice leaving no room for argument. “I’ll fix the damn thing myself. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty like those podium princesses you’ve been hanging around.”

The barb hit its mark, his expression tightening just enough for her to notice. But instead of snapping back, he walked to the back of the truck, pulling the toolbox out and handing it to her without a word.

She snatched it from him, the weight of it familiar and grounding. “Thanks. Now go.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, looking at her like he wanted to say something more, something important. But she wasn’t in the mood for whatever half-baked apology or explanation he thought would make up for everything.

She glared at him, daring him to argue, to push her any further.

Finally, with a slow nod, he turned and walked back to his truck. She watched as he climbed in, the door shutting with a soft click. He didn’t look back at her as he drove away, the sound of his engine fading into the distance.

She stood there for a long moment, the toolbox in her hands, her chest tight with the familiar swirl of emotions she couldn’t seem to shake.

This was better. She’d handle this alone, just like she always had. She wasn’t that broken girl anymore, waiting for someone to come along and pick up the pieces. She didn’t need anyone—especially not Max Verstappen.

She set the toolbox down and crouched beside the truck, wrench in hand, ready to prove to herself, once again, that she could do it. That she didn’t need anyone else to fix what was broken.

part two

[wreckedandpolemic]

regret me - matty healy

(mdni) in which an enmity with a certain infuriating singer turns mutually beneficial. 11775 words.

warnings: oral (f and m receiving), semi-public sex, mild exhibitionism, praise, degradation, switch!matty

Entering Battle of the Bands at your local had started off as a joke. Mostly. Your bassist Sabrina had pointed out the poster last time you were there for drinks, and you’d signed your name. It’d be a laugh, you’d reasoned, a good way to get into playing live shows and meet some other local bands. Plus, a hundred quid cash prize couldn’t hurt.

But that was before you met Drive Like I Do. Or, more specifically, their insufferable little twerp of a lead singer, Matty.

He meets your eyes across the bar, smirking like he likes what he sees, and, honestly, he doesn’t hurt to look at, so you lift your drink in his direction and beckon him over. “Hi,” he grins. “I’m Matty. Are you staying for the show?” You nod, but he interrupts you before you can elaborate. “We’re on last, so you might have to sit through some right shit before it gets good. Have you seen some of the names on the lineup? I mean, True Romance? I bet they just named it that ‘cause it sounds pretty. Probably haven’t even seen the film.”

You glower, and it’s obviously not the reaction he expects, his face screwing up in confusion. “That’s my band. And True Romance is one of my favourite films, not that it fucking matters.” You get up from the table, scowling at him. “And I have a name, thank you so much for asking.”

Annoyingly, Matty’s right; most of the bands on the lineup are shit. But you figure that means you’ll wipe the floor with them, having actually rehearsed and learned your own songs that aren’t covers.

You look out at the crowd, adrenaline pumping in your veins as Grace tunes her guitar. This is probably the most people you’ve ever played for, you realise with a jolt, swallowing around the lump in your throat and stepping up to the mic. “Hello, everybody! How’s everyone feeling tonight? You feelin’ good? Yeah?” The crowd cheers back at you, and you grin blissfully. “Alright, I’m not here to dick about, I’m here to play some fuckin’ songs! We’re True Romance and this is Dream Girl.”

You throw yourself into the set, your hair sticking to your forehead as you sweat under the lights. Your gaze keeps wandering to Matty, sat in a booth with who you assume are his bandmates, nodding along and watching you with intrigue. He quirks an eyebrow at you and you tear your eyes away, grateful for the heat that hides the flush in your cheeks. The crowd is practically frenetic, cheering wildly as the final note whines out of the speakers, and you join hands with your bandmates and bow.

You blow a kiss to the audience and step off stage, passing Matty as he and his band take their positions. Checking the lineup, you scoff when you read the name of the band playing directly after you. Drive Like I Do? And he had the audacity to call your band’s name shit? But you quickly realise they could have the longest, most nonsensical name in the world, and it wouldn’t matter; they’re really fucking good. Matty looks like he was born for the stage, soaking up the crowd’s attention and magnifying their energy tenfold. It doesn’t even matter what they’re singing about (as far as you can tell, a video game) — every girl in the bar is screaming her head off, giggling to her friends when one of the boys so much as looks at her.

Okay, so maybe you’re a little smug that Matty won’t stop looking at you. You’re not blind, after all. Doesn’t make him not a cocky little prick. He comes straight over to you when his set finishes and you roll your eyes. “What, are you expecting me to fall at your feet ‘cause you can hit a few notes behind a mic stand?” you scoff, and he laughs.

“Oh, come on, love. No need for the only two good bands in here to be fighting. Promise I’ll buy you a drink after I win.” You scowl. “Oh, and she’s even prettier when she’s angry. Was it something I said?��� he smirks.

“Fuck off and die,” you say with a saccharine smile.

Sabrina slides into the seat Matty just vacated. “He’s into you,” she says, passing you your pint with a slight wrinkle of her nose. You give her a look, and she scoffs, the pair of you so attuned to each other by now that you can communicate without words. “Oh, don’t be all you about it. He’s hot,” she laughs. “If you don’t, I will.”

“Be my guest. He’s a dick.”

She snorts into her Sex on the Beach. “The way he’s eye-fucking you? Tenner says he goes home alone tonight.” She leans in, smirking conspiratorially. “Or with you.”

You roll your eyes. Betting on a stranger’s sex life is… strangely on brand, for the two of you. “I’ll take that bet. Look at the state of him.” You wave a hand in his general direction, a pint glass in one hand and some girl’s ass in the other, her skirt hiked inappropriately high in plain view. She’s pouting, though, his attention clearly not on her even as he paws at her ass, gaze locked on you instead.

Sticking your middle finger up, you turn resolutely away as the other two members of your band wander up to the table. You lose yourself in the conversation, still wild with adrenaline from playing a proper show, and for a moment you forget why you were playing in the first place. When you’re announced as the second place holders, though, you remember, scowling openly because you know there’s only one band who could possibly be winning.

Matty extricates himself from the girls clinging onto him as the cheers start to die down and strolls over, setting a drink in front of you. “Here. Told you I’d get you a drink when I won,” he smirks, and you accept it grudgingly. Look, you’re not about to turn down a free drink, alright? “Don’t sulk, love. We…” He waves a hand, indicating both your band and his. “Collectively, wiped the floor with every other fuckin’ person in here. C’mon, don’t be a sore loser. Let me get you drunk, you won’t pay a penny, I swear.”

And as much as you want to punch his smug little face in, pour your drink over his vintage band tee, one you recognise as being horribly expensive, you’re tempted by the offer of getting smashed on Matty’s tab. Plus, Grace is giving Drive Like I Do’s bassist the eyes, so she’ll be fucking off over there either way.

So you take him up on it, downing vodka cokes until you can barely see straight, screaming in Matty’s face that Blur is obviously better than Oasis, come on! You don’t know how it happens, but you find yourself dancing with them and not hating it? Spinning breathlessly between Ross and George (who are actually pretty sound, in all honesty), you grab Grace and Sabrina by the hands and let them pull Alice, your drummer, into a circle, kicking your legs and laughing wildly.

Lost in sticky floors, thumping bass and a spirit-fuelled haze, you don’t push Matty away when his hands find your hips. You grind your hips back against him, let him press damp kisses to your neck, licking the sweat off your skin. A shudder runs down your spine, faint threads of desire creeping under your skin. “Stopped bein’ a sore loser yet?” he taunts, and your good mood vanishes like a snuffed-out candle.

You turn, slinging your arms around his neck and leaning in close. Matty’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips distractingly, the skin plush and soft. You have a sudden craving to bite down on the skin there, feel it tear beneath your teeth, taste blood in your mouth. You want him, and you want him wrecked. “You,” you say, low voice carrying all the intimacy of a kiss. “Are the most self-absorbed, insufferable piece of shit I’ve ever met. Bathroom. Five minutes.” Matty’s face splits in a wicked grin, leaning so close he could kiss you. You stay like that for a moment, sharing oxygen, the feeling of breathing him in intoxicating, like you’re drunk all over again.

The sticky air of the pub feels impossibly cold as you break away, Matty’s gaze burning into your back until you’re swallowed into the crowd, weaving your way into the bathroom. Matty clicks the door open a few moments later, glancing around furtively before slipping inside. All the air rushes from his lungs as you slam him against the door, one arm braced against his chest and the other tensed beside his head. A gratifying flash of fear crosses his face and you smirk at him, leaning close to speak against his lips. “Am I scaring you, baby?” He swallows thickly. “Good,” you breathe, connecting your lips in a harsh kiss.

Matty moans into your mouth, the taste of gin spilling from his tongue as you devour him. You kiss to hurt, to injure, to bruise, biting down on his lower lip and licking over the wound. He whimpers a little, from pain or arousal you can’t tell, but you have a sneaking suspicion it’s both. “Fuck, you kiss like an animal,” he gasps, chest already heaving.

You grin viciously. “Only when I hate you. C’mon, on your knees. I haven’t got all night.” Matty pouts a little. “Oh, what, did you think I was gonna let you fuck me? I don't know where you’ve been, you fucking whore.” His eyes widen, liquid desire pooling in his irises. “I’m waiting,” you hiss, and he obeys unthinkingly.

His hands come greedily up to your waist, fumbling with the chain looped through your jeans. Finally, he pulls it free, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down your thighs. Seemingly unable to resist, he presses a kiss just above the waistband of your panties, and you clench your jaw against the shudder that runs through you at the contact. “God, you’re so fucking pretty,” Matty groans, tipping his head forward so his curls brush against your lower stomach.

“Get on with it,” you growl, shoving your panties as far down your legs as they’ll go. Matty stares unabashedly at your cunt, slick with the only evidence of your desire you can’t suppress. You gasp as his fingers find your clit deftly, rough and calloused over your swollen nerves.

Without warning, Matty grabs your hips and pulls you towards him, so forcefully that you stumble on your feet. His tongue swipes through your folds, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips, and he smirks up at you. “Taste so sweet, darling. Like a fucking peach.”

You roll your eyes, gripping his hair and dragging him back to your cunt, his tongue lapping deliciously over your clit. “Use that pretty mouth for something better than talking,” you snap, moaning softly as he obliges. Matty’s fingers dig into your hips, nails biting crescents of frantic desire into your skin. He laps at you starvingly, tongue-fucking you deep and fast, the punishing rhythm making you dizzy. Heart rolls up your spine, his name poison-sweet on your tongue as you grind your hips down against his mouth.

You fist a hand in his curls, tugging sharply, Matty’s answering moan reverberating through you. “God, you are a fucking slut,” you groan, pleasure swirling low in your belly. “Like that I’m hurting you, hm?”

“Uh-huh,” he moans, indistinct and muffled as the sound vibrates through you. Liquid desire drips down your spine, pooling between your legs and melting on Matty’s tongue, hungry and sure as he buries it deep inside you. He pulls away to suck on your clit, your legs turning jelly-like as a pulse of blinding ecstasy washes over you. You aren’t sure if the bare bulb in the dingy little bathroom is flickering or if your vision is going dim, lost in mind-wiping desire as Matty braces your hips to press his tongue even deeper into you.

Whining, you clench your cunt around his tongue, holding him in place as his fingers come up to play with your clit. You’re barrelling towards an earth-shattering end, twined with the intoxicating power of having Matty whimpering on his knees. “Think you’re so much better than me, huh?” you murmur. “This is where you belong, on your fuckin’ knees for me.” He clings to you like you’re a mirage, like you’ll dissipate and leave him if he lets go, hard and begging and alone with your taste lingering on his tongue.

He draws sloppy figure-eights on your clit, euphoria spreading in your limbs, burning up your blood as you moan his name into the liquor-laced air. Your fingers scramble for purchase against the poster-plastered walls, losing your grip on reality, your impending orgasm stealing the breath from your lungs. A string of honey-slick moans fall from your lips, one hand buried in Matty’s curls as you roll your hips down against his mouth. He makes out with your cunt messily, wantonly, like he’s been starved.

“I’m so close, Jesus fuck—” you cry, slapping a palm over your mouth to keep from screaming as Matty bites down gently on your clit, the flash of pain enough to tip you over the edge. You tumble into oblivion, pleasure burning so hot in your veins that you aren’t sure you have any blood left. Matty licks at you, sucks on your clit, fucks you with his tongue as your cunt flutters around him, swallowing every drop of your arousal as you come undone on his mouth.

Matty’s eager, fucked-out grin is the first thing you see when you come back to Earth, legs weak and skull throbbing. Mustering up your dignity, you sneer down at him like he hasn’t just given you probably the best orgasm of your life in a cramped, dirty bar bathroom. “Just because I let you eat me out, you think that means I’m just gonna put your filthy fucking dick in my mouth?” you scoff. Casually swinging a leg, the tip of your boot meets Matty’s clothed cock, not quite a kick, but not much of anything else either. A helpless little moan tumbles from his lips and you laugh condescendingly, tilting his chin up so he’s looking in your eyes.

He grinds down against your boot, power thrumming heady in your veins. “Baby, please,” he whimpers, the sound dizzying and gratifying. 

“Pathetic,” you say, low and sweet. “Getting off on my shoe like a fuckin’ animal. Bet you’d let me do whatever I wanted, huh?” He nods frantically, desperate to please, his jaw coming compliantly open when you pull down. A thrill steals up your spine as a wad of spit lands on his tongue, chased by a bolt of desire when he swallows obediently. “Don’t come back out until you can fucking control yourself.”

You dress yourself, Matty still panting at your feet, his chin slick with your arousal, and slip back out of the bathroom. Like you’d predicted, your friends are too hammered to question your absence much, accepting your excuse of having gone for a smoke without question. The four of you laugh and sing and dance the rest of the night, Grace slipping away with Ross at a tasteful two a.m., you and Sabrina exchanging a knowing look at her lack of subtlety. At some point, Matty had joined you again, throwing you looks so venomous you’re a little scared.

Just as you’re calling it a night, you scrawl your number on a damp napkin and shove it into his pocket. “In case you’re ever after a rematch,” you say, low enough not to be overheard, and his answering smirk is wicked.

Sabrina sighs dramatically at his retreating back. “Hate to see ‘em go, love to watch ‘em leave.” You snort, shoving her playfully. “Alright, pay up. What did I say? Alone, or with you.”

Groaning, you dig in your wallet and slap a ten-pound note in her outstretched palm. “Alice, have I ever told you you’re my favourite?” Giggling, the three of you stumble out to the taxi rank, the sting of your loss almost forgotten against the heat still tingling between your thighs.

Matty doesn’t text you until the next evening, and you’ll take the grin that split your face at the sight of his message to your grave.

So about that rematch?

Don’t beg it’s pathetic

Had enough of that last night

You know where to find me when you’re ready to put up a real fight

You don’t hear from him for a little while after that, but something tells you the pair of you aren’t done yet. Or maybe that’s just his voice in your head while you bury your hand between your thighs.

Sabrina throws a house party for her twenty-first, because she’s still barred from every good club within ten miles for underage drinking. You’re a little tipsy, a little high, singing along to the CD spinning in the player and sipping a cocktail while you wait for everyone to arrive. The house is a sweaty, heaving mass of bodies by eleven, screaming drunk as you stumble onto the patio. You’re alone except for one other boy with his back to you, his silhouette blurred in the dark as you fish for your cigarettes, alcohol making your body uncoordinated and slow to obey direction.

Sliding one between your lips, you call out, “Have you got a light?” The boy turns, and your heart skips a painfully embarrassing beat. Matty smirks back at you, annoyingly gorgeous with a cigarette dangling from his lips, clad in a floral shirt and a worn leather jacket.

“Long time no see, darling,” he grins. “Was wonderin’ if I’d run into you.” It’s a fight to rein in your thoughts, running wild as want licks up your spine. It’s fucking Pavlovian, you tell yourself, getting off to the thought of him setting off some instinctual reaction to his presence.

“Been thinking about me a lot?” you tease, privately curious as to the answer.

He steps closer, and you try not to flinch. “Oh, I’ve been pulling the absolute cock off myself thinking about how you kicked me in the dick and left me on the fucking ground. Kind of scenario wet dreams are made of,” he snaps.

You laugh like he’s recalling a fond memory to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks at the image of him touching himself. “Oh, don’t be a baby. Shouldn’t have made it so satisfying to kick you in the dick, then.”

Matty flashes his teeth. “You were plenty satisfied already, if memory serves. Jesus fuck, I’m cumming, oh, God, Matty, fuck,” he taunts, putting on a high, breathy affect of your voice, taking another predatory step towards you. He breathes smoke out over your face, the grey cloud curling in front of your eyes, blurring the planes of his face and casting him in a hazy glow.

“You’re making me want to kick you in the dick again,” you threaten, but it lacks any edge, all the fight draining out of you as Matty lifts your hand to slip your forgotten cig between your lips. The touch sparks under your skin, stacked kindling waiting to catch alight, burn you up in the blaze.

“Breathe in,” Matty says quietly, leaning in to press the end of his cigarette against yours, the flame passing between you in a shared breath, smoke burning in your lungs as you draw the moment as long as possible, pulling it like elastic between your hands.

You blow out your smoke, twin exhales staining the air between you. “Kiss me,” you murmur, a breathy plea delivered from chapped lips, blackened lungs, through cold air into unreadable honey-brown eyes.

Matty takes a deep drag on his cigarette and flicks it away, taking your jaw in both hands while the smoke sits in his mouth. You try not to envy that it curls on his tongue, your lips parting instinctively for him as it pours from his mouth into yours. Your inhale is quick, perfunctory, an aside to what comes after you blow it out. His lips are soft, your bite mark healed now, moving against yours with what you could almost mistake as tenderness. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing gently and pulling you flush against him.

When he slides his tongue into your mouth, you can’t help your relieved little moan, something cool and sharp and dangerous lodging itself in your ribcage. “Oh,” he says, delighted. “Missed me, have you?”

“If I say yes, will you fucking touch me?” you snap.

“So needy,” he croons, fingers skirting just below the hem of your skirt. “Wanna stay out here where anyone could see how needy you are for me?”

You stamp on his foot childishly. “If anyone ever finds out I let you touch me, I’ll kill you,” you say, the threat familiar on your tongue, a fraction of your control reigned back in.

Matty laughs. “You’d miss me too much.” You scoff. “Alright, let’s find somewhere to keep this secret, then.”

You practically drag him to Sabrina’s bedroom, and he raises an eyebrow. “If I tried shagging in one of my boys’ rooms, I wouldn’t live long enough for you to kill me,” he remarks.

“Oh, please. You think you’re the first guy I’ve ever fucked in here?” You don’t miss the way his grip tightens around your wrist, stiffening slightly. You don’t want to examine what that means.

He sits on the edge of her bed, legs spread and face expectant. “Your turn, love. On your knees, yeah?” You pause, and he laughs darkly. “Oh, you thought you were gonna get fucked?” he taunts, the words a mocking echo of your own, and you feel them like ice thawing in your spine. “Love, the first time I fuck you isn’t going to be in someone else’s bed at a house party. I wanna take my time with you, tear you to fucking pieces.” Your cunt pulses desperately, forcing you into obeisance even as you wear your disgust plainly on your face. “Oh, you want it bad, huh?” Matty murmurs, low and cruel as you unbuckle his belt and pull his cock free from his jeans. “Fuckin’ gagging for it, aren’t you? Go on, darling, get me hard.”

Your jaw falls open, saliva dripping from your tongue and trailing down his cock. You wrap a hand around him, his hips jolting at the contact. Pumping him slowly, his cock fills in your palm, precum sticky on your fingers when you dig your nail into his slit. You lean down, kitten-licking over the head, and he bucks his hips up with a gasp. “Someone’s eager,” you smirk, pushing his hips down with a smirk.

“Shut up before I shut you up,” he says, darkly threatening in a way that makes you believe him, arousal pooling between your legs.

Matty gathers your hair into a crude ponytail in one fist and you look up at him through your lashes. “If you push my head down, I’m biting your dick off,” you warn, lowering your head and wrapping your lips around his tip.

He moans, fighting not to thrust into the warmth of your mouth as your lips creep down his cock. “That’s it, baby. Go on, take it all. Take this filthy fucking dick. Good girl,” Matty croons, moaning as his cock bumps the back of your throat and you swallow a gag. You bob your head, inhaling deeply through your nose and trying to take all of him. Your nose meets his skin and you grin victoriously around his cock, sugary praise falling from his lips and his eyes fixed on you. “Look so pretty on your knees, baby. If you keep being good, I’ll let you swallow my cum,” he adds, and a bolt of lust strikes your core, tinged acrid with shame at letting him hold power over you.

You jam a hand between your legs, rutting wantonly against it, the friction hot as your clit grinds against the seam of your jeans through your panties. A moan spills out around Matty’s cock, the salt of him filling your mouth as he bucks his hips a little. Pulling up, you swallow around him, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. Matty moans your name, the sound so sweet in your ears that you want to press it into a vinyl, layer it in the back of a song you can listen to over and over. A string of spit connects your skin as you pull away from him, sitting back on your knees to look in his eyes. “I changed my mind,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them, an unbidden admission from a hazy head and swollen lips. “Fuck my mouth.”

Groaning, Matty lets go of your hair and brushes it out of your face when it falls. “Fuck, love, are you sure?”

You smirk up at him, holding his gaze in challenge. “C’mon, Healy, you know you want to. Fucking ruin me, wreck my voice, make me cry,” you say. It’s a demand, not a plea, and he knows it. Knows that he’ll be giving you what you want, conceding territory in your battle, letting you knock a piece off the chessboard. But he wants. His hand tangles in your hair, his eyes closing as he moves like he doesn’t want to see himself capitulate. The sting in your scalp feels like victory, the ache in your jaw a triumph. Matty fucks your mouth with abandon, dragging your head and thrusting up to meet the back of your throat, moaning as you gag around him.

You’re helpless, your panties soaked with arousal and your cunt clenching around nothing. Pure, unadulterated need rises in you, needy whines slipping out around his cock while he fucks your face like a toy. “You getting off on being used like this?” he taunts, eyes lidded and face flushed. “Little slut. Not so fuckin’ mouthy now, huh? Such a fuckin’ bitch until you’re on your knees gaggin’ on my cock.” Lewd, wet sounds fill the room, his words pushing you to the precipice of submission threatening to overwhelm. You grind pathetically against your palm, desperate for more than the feeble embers flickering in your belly. “You wanna cum, darling?” he murmurs, lifting you off him, your breaths coming hard and heavy and impossibly loud in the sudden quiet.

“Please,” you whine, past the point of caring for your fractured dignity. “M’so wet, Matty, I need it so bad.”

“I shouldn’t let you,” he says musingly. “Not after what you pulled last time.” He grins, knocking your knees apart with one booted foot. “But I’m a gentleman. These, off,” he orders, kicking at your thigh to indicate your jeans. You scramble awkwardly out of them, kicking them into a pile of Sabrina’s clothes that you’re definitely going to pick up a new shirt from later. Matty presses his boot between your thigh, the pressure on your clit so glorious you swear you almost cum, a wave of pleasure knocking the breath from your lungs. “Go on, baby. Get off on my shoe like a fuckin’ animal,” he growls, your stolen words hitting you like a shock of ice water.

You hate yourself just a little as your hips roll, taking his cock in your mouth and moaning as he takes up his punishing rhythm. The lace of your panties is rough and scraping over your clit, pain and pleasure mingling in your belly and dripping on Matty’s shoe. Tension winds tight in your belly, a fist clenched so tight it almost breaks skin. Matty fucks your mouth messy and frenzied, his hand tight in your hair and your name sticking to his lips. It sounds like a curse, or maybe a prayer — is there a difference, if God doesn’t exist?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna cum, darling, don’t stop,” Matty groans, head thrown back in rapture. You pull out every trick, swallowing and humming around him, swirling your tongue across his skin until he’s spilling in your mouth with a broken groan. “Fuck, yes, good girl, take it all,” he says. “My little cumdump,” he adds, the words striking at your core, pouring liquid heat directly over your nerves, achingly hot.

You pull off his cock with an obscene pop, opening your mouth to show off your painted-white tongue. A string of cum drips from your mouth, landing over his wet cock. You lap it up eagerly, Matty hissing at the contact to his sensitive skin. Your hips grind faster, cunt throbbing with need. With your mouth now freed, you whine out filthy pleas, tasting burning shame in the back of your throat. “Matty, please, I can’t—” you whimper, cut off when he grips your chin and forces your jaw shut, smirking meanly.

“You can, and you will. M’not gonna help you, baby. Can get off on my boot or not at all.” His cool, impassive tone is belayed by his flushed face, lips parted and eyes wide as he watches you grind pathetically against him. Pleasure coils under your skin, tangling with the burn of humiliation, your head thrown back and incoherent whines falling from your lips. “Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ wet dream,” Matty moans out, dragging you by the hair so your gaze falls back on him. “Pretty girl. Can’t wait to make you fall apart on my cock, shit.”

Your cunt throbs near-painfully, molten ecstasy turning your organs to liquid, your climax sweet and hot on the tip of your tongue. “M’so close,” you whimper, pleading little gasps stumbling from your lips. You grind your clit harshly against the tough leather of Matty’s shoe, fucking debasing yourself as you chase your orgasm. Digging your nails into his calf, you moan helplessly, gripping him like a lifeline as your head starts to float clear of your body. His eyes glitter triumphantly, holding all the power while reducing you to a pathetic, pleading mess grinding against his shoe.

Ecstasy swirls in your belly, dizzying. It’s thick in your lungs, stoppering your thoughts until all you know is Matty’s cruel little smirk, his lust-blown eyes, his shoe pressed against your cunt. Your final, last-ditch act of rebellion comes when the thread tethering you to your sanity finally snaps. You might have sunk low, lower than you ever thought you could, but you will not plead to cum on his shoe. That final thought circles as pleasure knocks you breathless, a keening wail ripping from your throat as your cunt pulses. Matty’s hand tightens in your hair as you cum, aching bliss coursing through your bloodstream. “Fuck,” you mumble, your legs weak as you crumple to the floor.

“That feel good?” Matty asks, flashing teeth.

“Fuck you,” you snap, painfully conscious of how little effect your words have when you’re on the floor below him, your cunt still pulsing with aftershocks.

“I will,” he says sweetly, and you groan.

Trying not to stagger, you get to your feet. “This,” you gesture in the air between you. “Means nothing, alright? As far as everyone we know is concerned, we can’t stand each other. In fact, I can’t stand you.”

“S’that why you got on your knees so fast?” Matty smirks, still leaning insouciantly on Sabrina’s bed. You scoff, disgusted with yourself, and turn to leave. “Might wanna clean yourself up, love,” he calls as you shove the door open. “You look like you just sucked a dick.”

You don’t realise that leaving was a concession until the door clicks shut and you catch his smirk before he disappears from view. Slipping into the miraculously empty bathroom, you realise he’s right; you do look like you’ve just sucked a dick. Your hair is wild, raked through and tangled, mascara running down your face and your lipstick smeared over your chin. The matching ring that must sit around the base of Matty’s cock makes you smirk to yourself, a tangible reminder of the encounter that he’ll have to work to remove.

You manage to tame your appearance and wander back downstairs, finding Sabrina and Alice deep in conversation with Matty and George. “There you are!” Sabrina gasps, loud enough to be heard over the screaming music and loud background chatter. “Thought you’d fucked off home. Was just telling the boys about our gig,” she grins. Oh, right. Your actual fucking gig, where you have to play your songs to a crowd of fans there for somebody else, and somehow hold their attention for an entire set. And you’d just stopped feeling fucking nauseous about it.

“Love, why didn’t you tell me?” Matty says, mocking in a way that only you can sense, prodding at a wound only he can see.

“Oh, please.” You pour yourself a strong drink and take a long sip before you continue. “I’d rather not spew over the front row seeing your ugly fucking mug in the crowd.” George snorts and Sabrina swats your arm.

“Don’t be a cowbag, it’s my birthday,” she scolds, eyes lighting up as they land on an undrunk bottle of tequila. “I know how to loosen you up a bit,” she grins, brandishing the bottle and digging in the fridge for a net bag of limes. “Body shots!” She spins around, wiggling her eyebrows, and you tip your head back with a groan.

She grabs a knife from the kitchen drawer and wobbles over to the counter to start chopping the limes, forcing you to your feet before she lands herself in A&E. “Calm down there, Ghostface,” you laugh, grabbing the knife before she can do any damage. Slicing the limes into neat wedges with bartender-practised ease, you grin at Sabrina and clamp a slice between your teeth. She brushes salt across the top of your tit, her tongue hot over your skin when she licks it up. The shot glass slams on the counter before you even register that she’s picked it up, her lips ghosting against yours as she bites into the flesh of the fruit, the juice spilling across your mouths.

You spit the rind to the floor and cup her jaw, melting into a passionate kiss like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Licking the taste of lime out of her mouth, one of your hands threads in her hair, and Ross whistles. “Fucking hell, are we interrupting something?”

Sabrina snorts. “If that’s got you blushing, the things we’ve done to each other would make your head spin, pretty boy.”

You risk a glance at Matty, rooted to the spot with eyes as wide as saucers, like he can’t believe what he just saw. Interesting. “Who’s next?” you crow, delivering the words as a deliberate taunt to him. “I’ll even take my top off, give you some more space to work with,” you grin, peeling off your top and gratuitously squeezing a tit. 

“Do we get a snog, too?” George smirks, getting to his feet.

Sweeping your hair off your neck, you tilt your head and smile tantalisingly. “Only if you’re good.” Matty’s jaw clenches. Very interesting. Salt scrapes over your skin as George licks you clean, something molten and dangerous pooling in your core at Matty’s intense eye contact. George bites the lime out of your mouth and spits it to the floor, his lips finding yours waiting.

He’s a good kisser, his mouth sure and firm against yours, tongue brushing against your lips as he cups your jaw. Parting your lips for him, the sharp taste of lime lands on your tongue once again, George tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling slightly when he pulls away. Matty looks at you like you’re a future regret, like the narrative is written and he’s only stepping into his role when he comes towards you.

Ever overdramatic and impaired by liquor, you drape yourself over the table, lifting your head to grin up at him. Matty reaches for a shot glass, and you chide him, meeting his gaze in challenge. “C’mon, it’s called a body shot, after all,” you goad, and he swallows, gripping the neck of the tequila like a lifeline.

“You’re insane,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. The liquor is cold as he pours it into your belly button, splashing from his trembling hands. The muscles of your stomach twitch, contradictory heat pooling in your core as anticipation creeps under your skin. Salt pours between the valley of your tits, Matty cleaning it off eagerly as you fight not to squirm. You swallow a gasp as Matty sucks and licks the alcohol from your body, the feeling of his tongue swirling gratuitously against you falling straight to your cunt.

With a grimace, Matty straightens, leaning down to grip the lime between his teeth, sharp tartness soaking your bruised lips once again. You savour the sting, Matty’s eyes wide with desire as he leans in. The kiss is messy, all top lip and tongue as you lick the tequila out of his mouth, slowly sitting up and slinging your arms around his neck.

One of his hands tangles in your hair, the rest of the world melting away the longer you lose yourself in his kiss, reality tunnelling down to Matty’s skin on yours. He exhales regret against your lips, pulling away slowly and thumbing over your swollen lip. Fuck, that stings. Matty smirks like he can read your thoughts, like your pain is sweet on his lips.

“Jesus, get a room!” Sabrina scoffs, chucking a lime at your head that you don’t have the facilities to dodge. Matty goes red, wrenching his gaze away from you and fumbling for a cigarette before stumbling out of the room. Sabrina squints at the space he vacated. “Like, will the two of you just fuck already? Instead of subjecting us to whatever that was?”

You glare, folding your arms and screwing up your face as if you can’t think of anything worse. “Don’t be gross.”

Sabrina gets up, turning to face the room at large. “Right, show of hands. Who thinks she just needs to fuck Matty and get it over with.” Six hands go up, and you scowl. Okay, maybe you do want to fuck him, but does everybody need to know about it?

“Please,” groans George. “He’s insufferable when he gets like this about a girl.” He puts on a high effect of Matty’s voice, and you snort. “‘Oh, do you think she’s gonna be there? Will she like this shirt? Does my hair look pretty?’” You roll your eyes, praying the heat in your cheeks is indistinguishable from the flush of the alcohol.

“Ugh,” you say, forcing a shudder. “Get me checked for a brain tumour if I ever fall for that.” You grab the discarded bottle. “Anyway, I’m done being a shot glass. Someone else’s turn.”

Your head spins as you take shot after shot, licking salt from Sabrina’s neck, Ross’ chest, George’s belly. The passage of time slips from your grasp, and before you know it, the party’s mostly over. The last few stragglers are drifting out, Sabrina nowhere to be seen, having slipped upstairs with a girl you vaguely recognise from high school about half an hour ago. Probably shouldn’t tell her that she’s not gonna be the first (or even second) person to get off in her room tonight.

You end up crashing out on the couch, stripping out of your tight jeans and leaving them crumpled next to you — your shirt is long gone. Not a big deal, you can nab one of Sabrina’s in the morning. By some miracle, your headache in the morning is only mild, easily quelled with a glass of water and some painkillers. The house is still, the previous night lingering in sticky floors and plastic cups littering every surface.

One of Sabrina’s guitars is propped against the wall, and picking it up unlocks a vague memory of picking the beginnings of your first song on it, before you had one of your own. You smile fondly, lifting it into your lap and kicking one leg over the arm of the sofa. Your fingers move instinctively, coaxing out the melody you’ve been working on, repeating it over and over and groaning when the next notes just won’t come.

“You’re really good.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re still here?”

Matty shrugs, sloping into the chair next to you, seemingly indifferent to your matching states of undress. “Hann was designated driver, and he fucked off somewhere between the body shots and the karaoke,” he snorts. “Brina said I could stay.”

“Don’t call her Brina,” you snap. “You’re lucky she’s so nice. If it was up to me, you’d be in a ditch somewhere right now. Or flattened on the motorway. Wouldn’t that be nice…” you say, wistful as if you’re daydreaming about his viscera splattered across tarmac.

“You’re such a bitch.” It’s a compliment, you can tell, despite his derisive expression.

Not dignifying him with a response, your fingers creep across the strings, plucking out a familiar riff that you can’t quite place. Matty’s smug little grin flashes you back to the day you met, and you realise with disgust that you’re playing the first four notes of Robbers over and over. Your scowl silences the taunt on Matty’s lips. “Shut the fuck up and stop looking at me like that before I make you.”

Matty shudders, shifting in his chair. “You’re so mean. Who hurt you?”

“This conversation is hurting me. Talking to you feels like voluntarily hitting my own head with a brick.” Matty just smirks at you, conspicuously dropping his hands into his lap. “Oh, my god. Is this getting you hard?” you scoff.

An infuriating smirk creeps across Matty’s face “I can’t help it,” he says. “You’re hot when you’re mad at me.”

“I’m always fuckin’ mad at you.”

“Exactly.” His grin is filthy, legs spread wide as your eyes trail down to where his cock is straining against his boxers.

Still plucking idly at the guitar, you speak without looking at him. “Touch yourself for me,” you say, snorting as Matty chokes on his inhale.

He makes a spluttering little sound, and you don’t look up from the guitar in your lap. “Are you being serious? Here? Now?”

You shrug. “You don’t have to. But don’t pretend you don’t want to. Go on, give me a show. S’just about the only thing you’re good for.”

Matty moans, the resolve in his face visibly crumbling as you lift your gaze to meet his. His cock is flushed and dripping as he frees it from his boxers, throwing his head back with a groan. Heat creeps across your cheeks, the display of him obscene. Arousal clenches in your belly as your name spills involuntarily from his lips, cock disappearing into his fist as he strokes himself.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that,” you murmur, breathing slow and deep to keep yourself controlled. Matty’s moans are sweet and syrupy in your ear, low and melodic against your skin. Almost without your knowledge, your fingers dance across the guitar strings, pulling the next notes of your broken melody free instinctively as you watch him. “So pretty like this, baby. Know you can be louder than that. Let me hear you, yeah?”

Slick sounds fill the room, tangling with his moans flowing freely from his lips. Your cunt is dripping in your panties, pleading for attention as Matty fucks his fist, the guitar finally abandoned in your lap. Your hips shift needily against the sofa, the tiniest pulse of pleasure humming through you. “Come here,” he groans, the dominance in his tone sudden and intense.

“What did you just say?” you say, tone carrying a low threat that you don’t even think he notices.

“Can’t make a mess, can I? C’mere, come finish me off. Can see how fuckin’ needy you are from here, love.”

Carefully sliding the guitar off your lap, you stand so you’re towering over him. He gazes openly at your tits, cupped together in your bra, breath hot against your skin. “Who,” you say, voice gentle but full of steel, sliding a hand into his curls. “Do you think you’re talking to?” you demand, fisting your hand and dragging Matty’s eyes up to meet yours, his little pained whimper falling straight to your cunt. “You fucking piece of shit,” you scoff, lowering yourself into his lap. “Get your hands off.” He obeys with a whimper, and you laugh scornfully. God, he’s too fucking easy. “You fucking disgust me,” you murmur against his lips, low and reverent like you’re pouring praise against his mouth. “Who the fuck do you think you are, talkin’ to me like that?”

You tuck him back into his boxers, rolling your hips down and tipping your head back as pleasure runs through you. “M’sorry,I—” You press two fingers against his lips to silence him.

“Gonna let you get off like this. That way you’re only making a mess of yourself, yeah? Say thank you, baby.” Matty ruts his hips up against yours, hungry lips meeting your neck and greedy hands tangling in your hair.

“Th-thank you,” he stammers, breath shaky against your neck. Want pulses sickly in your belly, rising into your chest and squeezing hard as Matty bucks his hips. It doesn’t take long until your name pours free from his lips, tangled in moans and expletives, and he goes limp under you.

Despite your desperate cunt screaming out in protest, you climb off his lap and smile patronisingly down at him. “Fucking filthy,” you say, staring down at his soaked boxers and committing the sight of him to memory, chest flushed and heaving. “You can get dressed and get the fuck out, now. Hope nobody points out the cum stain.”

Matty gives you a look that’s pure loathing, tinged with needy lust, and you jerk your head at him as if to say go on. “Just you wait,” he mutters darkly. “Just you fucking wait. I’ll fucking wreck you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You don’t see Matty face-to-face for a little while after that, but that doesn’t mean he stops plaguing you. A concerning number of your nights are spent with your phone on your pillow, listening to him moan in your ear as you fuck yourself on your fingers. You have to bite down on his name when you’re fucking other guys, the word bitter as you swallow it back down, longing to spill free. It only makes you hate him more.

You hadn’t thought he’d actually come see you play, but George and Ross’ silhouettes are unmistakeable in the crowd of fans screaming for the band you’re opening for. As is the head of dark curls next to them. Your heart catches in your throat, bleeding over your tongue as you step up to the mic stand. The lights shine into your eyes, adrenaline pumping and nerves jangling. You introduce yourself, introduce the band, the few scattered whoops not even making a dent against the unimpressed faces of the front row. George shoots you an encouraging grin, clapping over his head to make sure you see, and it soothes you a little; enough that your body loosens and you can coax your fingers into strumming on your guitar.

By the third song, you’ve relaxed into it, instinctive. Your hair is plastered to your forehead, jewellery tangled around your neck, sweating into your shirt. The crowd has warmed up a little, nodding their heads and swaying, even a few people singing your choruses back at you. You feel electric, a current zapping through you and echoing out of the speakers. Matty is transfixed, you can just about see — his gaze hasn’t left you for more than two seconds at a time since your set started. His thoughts are so plain on his face that you can practically hear them, filth pouring from him and pooling around you, warming your core and… Jesus. Focus.

Mentally dousing yourself in ice water, you lean close to the mic and catch Matty’s eyes. “This next song… I feel like it’s a story every girl knows. You’re at a bar, you’ve had a few drinks, and you’re lookin’ for a bit of fun, right? And you meet a boy and you think he could be the one, at least for tonight. Then he opens his mouth,” you pause as everyone laughs. “And he just won’t. Stop. Talking!” You launch into the song, unable to keep the grin off your face as Matty recognises the melody, the one you played while you watched him get himself off. The memory heats you from the inside out, identical film reels flickering in both your and Matty’s heads as your insides burn with desire.

Apparently, the song resonates with more than a few, the crowd and the cheers wilder with every song now you’ve finally attracted their attention. Disappointment twinges in your gut as you realise you’re onto the last song. “You guys have been fucking phenomenal tonight. You looking forward to the main event?” Obviously, the crowd cheers louder than they have for you all night. You try not to take it to heart, though. “Thank you guys so much for having us, seriously. You up for one more song? Yeah? Let’s fuckin’ go!” Adrenaline rushing to your head and inflating your ego, you grip the hem of your shirt and tug it up to your neck, soaking in the cheer that goes up as you show off your bare tits.

There’s only one reaction you care about, though, Matty’s jaw going slack and his gaze hot and heavy against your skin. The room melts away, the tension stringing between you a living thing that roots you to the spot. The fuse is lit and you know it, can’t stamp it out. All that’s left is to find out which of you ignites first.

You slip into the back of the crowd just before the main act starts, and immediately get suckered into a sweaty, congratulatory group hug from the boys. You don’t even push Matty off when he smacks a kiss at your temple, his low good fucking girl murmured in your ear making you shudder.

The band you opened for are a little stuck-up, but nice enough, so you take them up on their offer to celebrate after. Their frontman’s grin when he tells you to bring some friends, if you like tells you that he’s going to be very fucking disappointed, though, when the friends you bring are four blokes from a well-known local band instead of the girls he’s clearly imagining. His face falls when he sees them, pushing off to chat up a group of girls hovering around the bar.

Which leaves the eight of you in the now-familiar position of being crammed into a too-small booth, with you once again half on Matty’s lap. “Can’t believe you wrote a song about me. You’re too sweet, darling, you shouldn’t have.” he remarks, and you swing your heel back and laugh at his hiss when it connects with his shin.

“Oh, please. You think you’re the first good-looking asshole I’ve ever met in a bar? Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You think I'm good-looking?” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin, too comfortable pushing your buttons in public. You need to grind him beneath your heel, put him back in his fucking place.

You drop your hand under the table, tracing circles in his thigh and feeling the muscles tense under your touch. “And he’s got selective hearing, too. Who's surprised?”

His hips shift needily against your hand, squirming as he tries to force you into giving him what he wants. “Oh, come on, darling. We both know this only ends one way.” He’s full of shit, false bravado layered deliberately in his voice that you can see through like he’s wrapped in cellophane. 

“In your dreams,” you bite out, pressing your hand against his cock in the same moment, kneading softly and watching blood rush into his cheeks as he swallows down a moan.

“Oh, every night, darling.”

Sabrina gags, breaking the two of you out of the bubble you’d been in, the hazy edges of your reality suddenly back in sharp focus. “Can you two stop being gross for two fucking seconds, please? For all our sakes?”

Rolling your eyes, you set your drink down on the table, dangerously close to the edge. “Oh, it’s my fault he’s fucking obsessed with me?” you scoff. “Read my fucking lips, Healy. Never. Gonna. Happen.”

You focus back into the conversation, relishing in the way Matty’s responses fall shorter and shorter as you tease, his voice going weak and breathy with barely-concealed need. With your free hand, you pull your phone out to type him a text.

i was fucking incredible on that stage today

hope youre ready for a long fucking night

not gonna stop unless you beg me.

Matty’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly as his gaze flickers across the screen, staring resolutely forward even as his hips shift and his cock fills under your palm. You slide your other hand under Matty’s jeans and boxers a moment later, his cock twitching needily in your palm. His knee jolts at the feeling of your hand against his bare skin, sending your full glass toppling over him, covering him in a sticky combination of soda and alcohol.

Withdrawing your hand, you gasp, turning and pretending to fuss over him. “Fuck’s sake, Matty, you- Oh, my God!” You give a spluttering laugh. Matty’s eyes go wide with fear, pleading with you as he correctly predicts your next words. “Do you have a boner?” you demand incredulously, pulling away from him in fake disgust. The table erupts into laughter, Matty’s face fire-engine red as his hands fall to his lap in a desperate attempt to preserve what’s left of his dignity. Oh, God, he looks so fucking good embarrassed like this, and it makes you squirm a little in your seat to know the humiliation is just turning him on more.

“He totally fucking does!” crows Sabrina, cackling and craning her neck for a better look.

“What’s got you all worked up, mate?” George taunts. “Been so long since you got your dick wet that you’re popping one from being next to a hot girl?”

“No,” Matty snaps. “I mean– I get my dick wet plenty, thank you very much. And I don’t have a boner,” he adds, attempting to push past you and escape. “I just— not feelin’ well. I should go.”

You elbow him harshly, and he winces, biting his tongue around a whine. “Aw, George, you think I’m– give me a second, sex pest, I’m having a conversation– you think I’m hot?”

He grins. “I think you’re a knockout, love. Hey, are you free tonight?”

You snort. “Not for you,” you shoot back, George holding his hand to his chest, mock-affronted. You finally take pity on Matty and let him out of the booth, surreptitiously sliding your hand into his pocket and dropping your spare key. Dramatic? Yes. A bit much? Maybe. But you’ve never claimed to be anything less. “I know it’s gonna be tough, but try not to stick your dick in anything that’ll cause permanent damage on the way home!” you can’t resist shouting at his retreating back. When he’s gone, you pull out your phone to text him your address.

go and wait for me, sit on your hands if you have to, but do not fucking touch yourself

if you’re good, i *might* let you cum tonight

do u want me to break in or something

check ur pocket

you’re insane

ill be home in an hour

can u behave until then?

He doesn’t answer, and you’re looking forward to finding out what that means. You stay for another two rounds, anticipation thrilling in your belly at the prospect of what (or rather, who) is waiting for you at home. Walking into your bedroom, you find Matty face-down on your bed and grinding desperately against your sheets, still fully-clothed as needy little whines slip from his lips. “God, you are just fucking pathetic, huh?” you murmur, your thighs clenching at the pretty picture he makes.

Matty gasps. “M’not touchin’, m’not touchin’,” he promises frantically, and you click your tongue.

“I know, baby. But that doesn’t look much like sitting on your hands, either,” you murmur, peeling out of your shirt and kicking off your jeans. “Couldn’t even be a good boy for me for an hour? Worthless little slut,” you scoff, and he whimpers in response. “Least you kept that pretty dick hard for me. Does that feel good? Grinding on my sheets like a little fucking whore?”

He whimpers, still face-down but not moving, like he won’t be able to control himself if he lays eyes on you. “Yes. M’sorry, feels good. Not as good as you. Didn’t mean to be bad, m’sorry,” he babbles, his desperation obvious.

“Look at me, baby, eyes on me,” you order. Matty obeys instantly, a punched-out groan slipping from his lips as he takes in the sight of you, his eyes glued to the silver barbells glinting teasingly in your nipples. You snap the waistband of your panties against your waist, the action beckoning his gaze down your body. “D'you think I look pretty?” He nods furiously, but you cut him off before he can start lavishing you with praise, rolling your eyes condescendingly. “Didn’t wear it for you, before you start. Thought maybe I’d finally find some hot guy to take me home and fuck me like I deserve,” you hiss, climbing onto the bed next to him. Taking his jaw in your hand, you brush his curls out of his face. Matty shudders under your touch, pliant and needy as he melts into your palms. “Do you think you can fuck me like I deserve, Matty?”

His pride wars openly with desire in his face, eyes glassy as his tongue flickers out to wet his lips. “No,” he says finally, the admission ghosting feebly against your lips. He succumbs so sweetly that you press your lips against his, licking the taste of sugary surrender from his mouth.

“That’s what I thought. I could be getting fucked right now, you know. Could’ve had any man I wanted. But no. I get your whining, pathetic ass in my bed instead, fuckin’ rubbing yourself off on my sheets like a disgusting animal. S’bad enough that you’re making me do all the fucking work, least you could do is behave,” you snap, and Matty squirms, your cruel words rooting in his brain, digging claws tearing his every coherent thought to shreds.

“Can make you feel good, promise,” he whimpers. “Let me make you feel good, let me make it up to you, please,” Matty begs, reaching out to tug at the elastic of your waistband.

You slap his hand away, and he whines. “Behave. So greedy,”  you chide. “Did I say you could touch me?”

“N-no.”

“Do you think you deserve to touch me?”

“I— no.” You grin, wide and predatory, and tug his shirt off over his head, running your hand down his slim, toned chest. Unbuckling his belt, you help him out of his jeans, the sticky, wet spot near the waistband of his boxers evident and growing.

You thumb over it gently, pressing the digit into Matty’s mouth as he moans and accepts it eagerly, swirling his tongue pornographically. “So fucking wet,” you murmur. “Needy little whore soaking his pants for me,” you tease. “Come here,” you order, sliding your panties down your legs, cool air kissing at your wet cunt. Matty scrambles to obey, laying between your legs and gazing up at you adoringly, seemingly unsure where to look as his eyes dart between your face, your nipple piercings catching the light, and your glistening cunt inches from his lips. “Go on. Beg for it. Beg for the privilege of touching me, of tasting me, of making me cum.”

“Fuck- fuck. Please let me get you off, sweetheart. Let me taste your pretty pussy, let me make you feel good, make you forget everything. Please just fuckin’ use me, I want— mmph!” You cut him off, pulling his face into your cunt by his hair, his pained little whimper spiralling deliciously through your body.

“Forgot how fucking annoying the sound of your voice is,” you groan, rolling your hips up against Matty’s face as he licks at your cunt like melting ice cream. “Put that mouth of yours to better use, hm?” You take his wrist in a punishing grip as he attempts to slide it up your thigh. “God, it’s like you don’t even want to cum. I never said you could touch me. Can make me cum with just your mouth or you can get up and walk out of here with nothing but that little problem between your legs, okay?”

Matty mumbles something that sounds vaguely agreeing into your cunt, pleasure coiling in your veins as Matty makes out with your hole sloppily. “Thank you s’much for lettin’ me… taste so fucking good, baby,” he moans, whining pitifully when you tug harshly on his curls.

“Don’t talk.” Your grip in his hair is punishing as he whimpers into your cunt, sucking and licking like a man starved. “God, such a fuckin’ slut, baby. You like it when I hurt you, hm?” His muffled moan of yes, fuckin’ love it vibrates through you, shivering pleasure ricocheting through every corner of your body. Matty sucks greedily on your clit, your hips bucking and legs kicking in the air.

It would be a lie to say knowing he’s getting off on the degradation doesn’t turn you on beyond belief. Your cunt pulses against his mouth, his tongue starving and wild over your clit. Matty tongue-fucks you, ravenous, his moans vibrating through your body deliciously. “Fuck,” you moan out, pulling hard on his curls to grind his face harder into your cunt. Heat thrums under your skin, biting your lip so hard you taste blood to swallow your moans. You must be suffocating him, his tongue buried deep in your cunt, but he just keeps going. A moan tears free, low and shameful, and he redoubles his efforts, swirling his tongue over your clit. You’re writhing under his attentions, dripping in his mouth as he starts tongue-fucking you at a dizzying pace. Tension pulls tight in your belly, close and electric under your skin as you clench around his tongue, Matty’s name spilling free from your mouth in a crazed entreaty, tugging on his hair just to feel his answering moan spiral through you. 

His teeth scrape over your clit, the flash of pain finally tearing you loose from your body, ecstasy cascading over you as your cunt pulses against Matty’s mouth. He laps at your dripping cunt, bliss flooding against his tongue as your body wracks with sensation. “That’s right,” you groan, desire pulsing through you, leaking into the corners of your body with every thud of your wild, insistent heartbeat. “Fuckin’ swallow my cum. All of it. Yeah, just like that. Good boy.” The words only spur him on, cleaning you up with helpless enthusiasm, essentially locking himself into an impossible task. Every swipe of his tongue only serves to make you wetter, his moans stirring arousal that pools in his mouth. You pull him off you by his hair, tugging him up to meet you.

Matty grins, already hazy and fucked-out, his lips and chin soaking wet. You commit the sight to memory for a second, bruised lips and lidded eyes, your own personal, yielding little doll. “Thank you,” he says without prompting, and you grin. All it takes is a few sugared words, and he’s putty in your hands.

“Been such a good boy,” you croon, swiping your thumb across his mouth and sucking your own taste off your skin. “You wanna fuck me?”

A flash of something dances across his face, some aborted desire he’s not brave enough to voice dying on his tongue. “Yeah. I– yeah. I want that. Really bad. But… I might not… last, uh, very long. M’so fuckin’ hard, I just want–”

You prise open his jaw, silencing him as his eyes go wide. “Don’t push your luck. I’m letting you cum, ‘cause you’ve been such a good boy for me. Cum without my permission and I’ll make you wish you weren’t born,” you threaten lowly, spitting in his open mouth to seal your words.

He swallows eagerly, nodding hard. “Okay. Uh-huh, okay. M’sorry. Won’t cum, I swear.” You push him onto his back, staring impassively down at him as you straddle his waist. “Can you– I want– please,” he stammers, words tripping over themselves to escape his mouth as you laugh meanly down at him. 

You dig your nails into his chest, anchoring yourself and scraping a mark into his skin. You start to trace your first initial, something droning and possessive buzzing in your ears, then think better of it. Slowly, you circle your hips, teasing the tip of his cock at your dripping hole. “You want me? Want me to fuck you like this?” Matty grasps needily at your hips, whimpering uncontrollable pleas into the thick, lust-drenched air of your room. He cries out as you slam your hips down, unable to stopper the moan that falls from your lips as your cunt stretches wide around him.

Grinding your clit against his stomach, you gasp as Matty thrusts up into you, fucking you impossibly deep. “Shit, Matty,” you hiss, pleasure pulsing under your skin. His gaze is fixed on your tits as you bounce on his cock, timed with his thrusts so he fills you as deep as possible. Running a hand up your body, you squeeze one of your tits, twisting the barbell just enough that it smarts a little, a pained gasp weaving effortlessly between your moans. You whine as Matty’s calloused fingers come up to circle roughly over your clit; sloppy like he can barely control his limbs. “Fuck, baby. You tryin’ to get me off faster so I don’t notice how quick you cum?” You grab his jaw so he can’t look away. “Pathetic.”

Matty doesn’t even speak, just moans helplessly as you ride him, rolling your hips and bouncing on him. Liquid heat pools in your veins, your thighs starting to burn and your heart pumping ecstasy into every nerve of your body. The slick sounds of your hips meeting echo off the walls, tangling with heavy breaths and wanton moans in a lurid melody you wish you could press to vinyl. Your nails dig into his shoulders so hard you break skin, leaving a tangible, lasting mark in the unblemished marble of his skin.

You circle your hips, head swimming with desire. Matty’s desperate little moans only turn you on more, his hips stuttering as he gets closer. Pleasure hums under your skin, a soft throb in the back of your skull and the base of your spine. Your thighs are beginning to burn with the effort, but you barely feel it as you fuck him harder, chasing your own release as it hangs tantalisingly out of reach. “You feel so good,” Matty whines, breathless and needy as he fucks up into you with abandon. His blunt nails dig into your hips, pulling you down to drive deeper into you. White spots dance in your vision, everything in your world going hazy but the point where Matty’s skin meets yours. 

Pleasure courses up your spine in a sweet, sparkling arc, moans flowing freely as Matty’s fingers tease back over your swollen clit. “Fuck, feels so fuckin’ good,” you gasp. “Doin’ so well, baby. Gonna make me cum all over your cock, yeah?” He moans, rubbing tight, frantic circles at your clit. Tension coils tightly in your belly, the thread pulling taut until it finally snaps, arousal burning up your veins and flooding out against his skin, moaning helplessly as he keeps fucking into you. Dizzy, you fall forward, bracing your arms over Matty’s head and cunt pulsing around his cock. Matty’s lips close around your nipple, licking and sucking feverishly as you ride out your orgasm. “Shit,” you mutter, his other hand twisting your piercing as he groans, every motion tinged maniacal with need. “Did so well, Matty. You gonna cum for me? Go on, baby. Fuckin’ fill me up, yeah?”

Your words tip him over the edge, cock pulsing as he spills inside you, moaning your name around your tit. He gasps and whines, writhing helplessly under you. “God, feels so fuckin’ good,” he moans. “Thank you s’much,” he adds, smiling dopily up at you as you climb off him and test your weight on your feet before you stand. When you come back from cleaning yourself up, Matty’s dressed again, looking so miserable that you can’t help but take pity on him. “I’m goin’, don’t worry.”

You scoff. “Come back here.” Matty freezes, spinning on his heel so comically slowly that you stifle a giggle. “Jesus. I’m not evil. S’fucking freezing out there, I’m not making you trek back to fucking Wilmslow after that.” Matty just stares, and you roll your eyes. “Come back before I change my mind.”

Matty strips to his boxers embarrassingly fast, but you kind of don’t have it in you to tease when he slots himself sweetly into your arms. It’s almost… nice. Blech. “Did I do good?” he murmurs, his voice soft and sleep-thick.

You scratch your nails over his head and he hums happily. “Yeah, did so good, baby. Dunno what happened to all that shit you were talking about wrecking me, though. Kinda seemed like the other way around…” you tease.

He laughs softly. “I’ll get another chance. Gonna look so pretty crying on my cock, love.”

“Promises, promises,” you say, the muscles of his stomach tensing as you trace idle patterns in his skin. “Are you gonna keep them?”

“Piss me off enough and you’ll find out.”

Excitement thrills in your belly, the words sealing the two of you into some kind of promise, a brutal, delicious game of chess that you honestly couldn’t predict the winner in. “You know I will.”

[eetherealgoddess]

Can you make a fem reader whose is a martial artist with a yan bonten but she doesn’t let them get her easily

ik it's been a while y'all but don't worry bc i will be getting through your requests!!

idk much about martial arts so I’m just gonna do my best with the fighting scene. hope you enjoy!

also, why am i more inclined to write when i’m high 😩

ꨄFight For Your Lifeꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You’ve been on the run from your childhood friends❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Fight For Your Life

The platforms of your shoes slap against the wet concrete, puddles of water splashing as you ignore the rain falling on your skin. Your bloody clothes hugging against your body uncomfortably as the street lights glow amongst the dark sky, the empty buildings sitting under as you run past with squinted eyes. Your lips are apart as you take in quick breaths, though you tried to keep the panting steady. The adrenaline running through your veins made it easier to ignore the goosebumps caused by the cold air hitting your dermis and the red liquid running down your nose.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you ran from your totaled car. It was amazing how you slipped away, not expecting the driver of the car to have died on impact. You knew exactly who sent the sheep, snarling as you remember the men you couldn’t seem to escape for long. Although you made it far enough to stay in a motel a great distance away from Japan, you still had a long way to go.

I’m so tired of this shit.

It’s frustrating having to travel from place to place, continuously spending a limited amount of money just to be free from the grasp of the yakuza. If you would’ve known that you would be abducted as an adult by your childhood friends who disappeared without any warning, you wouldn’t have become close to them in the first place. To have been so devoted to them and the rest of the gang, only for them to abandon you and reappear without warning, snatching you up and treating you as property rather than a person, murdering most of your loved ones without a care of how that could affect you. Not only is the situation painful but demeaning. How could they treat you like that? No explanation for the disappearance nor the behavior, not that you needed it. Who they are now explains everything you need to know.

Ignoring the tightness of your chest became harder as you slowed your pace, halting your movements before bending over, hands on your knees. You gripped the fabric of your pants as your eyes closed, head dropping as you struggled to steady your breathing. Your tears of frustration mix with the droplets of rain, finally lifting your body and rubbing your sleeve against your eyes, only for the moisture to return.

Your eyes widen as bright lights flash behind you before you swiftly turn your body to face the car speeding toward you. The loud engine roars as the vehicle darts down the hill through the fog. You search around your surroundings for a good hiding spot amongst the empty stores. You huff before running behind a structure closest to you. You find a dumpster, cursing as you open it and climb in, ignoring your discomfort for bacteria as you cover your nose and close yourself into the darkness, praying to not feel anything crawling on you as you rub your face with both hands, smearing the blood from your nose.

You breathe in through your nose and release from your mouth, ignoring the overwhelming stench as you listen for anyone close. The pouring rain made it difficult to hear any footsteps if someone were to walk near. You closed your eyes as you pant into your cupped hands quietly. You patiently stay in your spot for what feels like a while, planning to hide in the dumpster all night long if you have to. The phone you bought when you ran from Bonten was lost in the wreck, hidden behind the broken machinery and shattered glass so you had no way to contact anyone to help, not that you knew anyone. You also didn’t know if the police would help you anyway considering Bonten has some of them wrapped around their fingers.

The top of the dumpster is snatched open, rain pouring as the sound of your screaming covers the droplets landing on the full sacks of trash. You struggle against the hold on your wrist as you’re yanked out of the hiding place, feet meeting the ground.

“The more you struggle the harder this will be for you!” The man growled, attempting to hold you in place. When he pulls you toward him with his grip tightening, you straighten your posture before pulling your head back and slamming it against his forehead causing him to release you as he grabs his head in pain. Running on nothing but adrenaline, you dash away from the man as you ignore the throbbing ache of your head, only to run in the direction of two more men speeding towards you.

“Shit!” You hiss before turning back around.

“Get her idiot or it’ll be our asses!” One of the men exclaimed on his way toward you as he faced the original male whose face is still scrunched in pain.

Just as you were about to pass the man who attacked you, he reached for you in which you dodged before continuing to make your escape. Before you could succeed, you are snatched by the collar of your top and yanked back. You gasp as you feel the sting from the sudden pressure on your neck, though your shock doesn’t last long.

“Gotcha you bit-!” He grunts and bends over, releasing you in the process when you elbow his stomach with as much strength as you could muster, so much so you release your own throated shriek. Before you could run the next man comes forth, pulling his arm back before landing a punch on your cheek. Your face hangs to the side in reflex as your palm immediately meets your cheek, eyes wide as you wince in pain.

Before he could make another move, you use your fist to back hand the man’s face before landing a punch on his cheek with the same arm, his body wobbling back as he tries to keep balance. You shove him just as the third male comes to ambush you from the side, both of you landing painfully on the ground with you at the bottom. The puddle of water mixed with dirt and grime splashes as you thrash in his hold as he grasps your wrists and forces them next to your head, squeezing as you howl in agony.

Seeing an opening all the while your face is scrunched with fresh blood oozing down your cheek, you take the opportunity to knee the man’s midsection. His eyes widen as his grip loosens, mouth hanging open with a silent scream. You make eye contact before shoving him off of you. Before you can pick yourself up, the original man places the platform of his shoe on your stomach before pressing down hard. Your nails claw at his covered ankles as he glares down at you with a smirk.

“Oh? What is this?” You watch as the color drains from the man’s face. Your own eyes widen at the realization that you had just been caught.

Your head slowly turns to the side, your own eyes meeting two pairs of purple orbs. A certain mullet haired man tsked as he stood in place, flicking the cigarette butt from his fingers before lifting the black gun held by his other hand. A blaring shot echoed in the air, your eyelids met just in time before the red liquid could splatter in your eyes.

As a result, a weight was lifted off of your stomach as you opened your eyes, watching as the other two men had an expression of bewilderment, freezing in their spots as they watched the bloody corpse drop to the ground, pieces of the brain and skull lying all around the wet ground. You stare at the situation with wide eyes as you slowly sit up, leaning on your trembling arms as you watch both males take a step back with their hands in surrender.

“Come on boys, don’t cower on us now.” The tall man says, running his fingers through his short streaked hair, a sly smile on his face as his other hand holds the black umbrella both him and his brother stood under.

“Pathetic.” Rin states before he turns on his heel, slowly walking away from the scene, Ran follows alongside. They don’t give you another glance.

Escaping your trance, you went to jump up, only for your arms to be grabbed by the two men. You thrash as your feet lifts from the ground, your biceps slightly sliding against their wet hands as the rain continues pouring. You didn’t stop your struggle even when nearing the familiar black suv that caused your heart beat to accelerate. Sweat mixed with the droplets sliding against your forehead as the pressure in your chest became more prominent the closer you got to your entrapment. You pull your arms with all your might against the growling males’ holds, attempting to use your feet to kick them, only for them to dodge and grips tighten.

“Don’t do this.” You plead, bargaining for your freedom.

“We got no choice, lady.” The guy on your left responded.

“You have to have a wife or daughter or something, guys! Please!” Your eyes burn with moisture caused by frustration, your eyebrows furrow as you glance between the men who hold you.

“Shut up!” The guy on your right hissed. “We’re doing this to keep them safe. Your well being is worth nothing to us so just accept your fate.”

Your head hangs low as you’re dragged to the car, the tinted window rolling down as a blur of white reaches your peripheral, right before the men holding you halt in front of the vehicle. You hear footsteps before a tight grip reaches your chin, forcing you to meet golden eyes that seem to glow through the rainy night. A blonde strand hanging on the left side of his face, the rest of his black locks pulled back in a messy ponytail. His empty orbs bore into you as you seem to internally cower from the strange expression.

Your discomfort increases as time goes on, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement masking the silence as you continue to hold eye contact. The corners of his lips curve upward before you can comprehend his next move. The tight grip released on your left arm before you hear a thud against the ground. Your eyes widened as you eye the injured male, turning your gaze back to the man who gives a sheepish smile, rubbing his bruised knuckles as he chuckled.

“You really know how to make a guy angry, Y/n.” He scratched the back of his neck before looking to the side as his smile dropped. “Running off like that wasn’t cool.”

You scoff before shaking your head angrily. You couldn’t believe his deflecting. They treat you like a pet. It’s degrading and abusive. The lack of respect as close as they were before is disgusting. Before you could respond, the cocking of a gun snatched your attention away from the tiger tattooed male in front of you and towards a certain pink haired man who now stood outside of the car. The barrel of his gun aimed right at your torso, your body tightening as you lose your breath.

His scars stretch as he snarls shifting his aim quickly before pulling the trigger. A loud shot rings out, echoing throughout the empty street. Your breathing slows down as the pounding of your heart is the only sound you can hear, followed by a ringing in your ears as the final grip releases you to the ground. The water pellets fall on your face as you feel pressure on your front as you stare at the sky, a warm liquid forming under your torso as your lips hang slightly apart.

You barely hear the car doors opening as your hearing goes in and out, five figures hovering over you as they observe your figure. Crouching down closest to your face, the platinum haired male who gives you an expression of emptiness uses a hand to caress the left side of your face, thumb tracing your temple. He leans over, his warm breath connecting with your ear.

“If you won’t let me have you, death will.”

As your hearing comes back and vision clears you watch as the men with solemn gazes turn and leave your vicinity. Mikey pulls back before picking himself up and following his men. You listen as you hear footsteps fade and the car doors open and close. The engine roars before they speed away, leaving you on the wet street.

You were in slight shock considering you couldn’t believe you had just been shot. You knew they were capable of it but the thought of yourself being murdered is unsettling. You stay on the ground for a moment, relieving yourself of the panic attack you just had before you slowly sit up and eye your surroundings. Seeing nobody in the area, you look down and pull your shirt up, grabbing the busted sack that once held fake blood from your cushioned vest. Staring at the sack you took a deep breath before releasing.

This is perfect because now they think I’m dead.

Although you were surprised about the gunshot, you wore a bulletproof vest, along with the fake blood sacks since you had escaped because you knew that there was a chance you might die trying to leave them. Your hands couldn’t help the trembling as you eyed the bloody puddle under you. Seeming to escape the trance, you hopped up from your seat and began to walk in the opposite direction from where you came.

The car’s atmosphere was thick with tension and grief. Although all the men held the same stoic and zoned out expression, their emotions were going haywire with their decision to kill you. Do they regret it? No. They don’t regret it as your punishment nor as a blockage for you to be able to move on without them. Do they wish you had just listened so it wouldn’t come to this? Indeed. Kazutora wipes the stray tear as his head turns to the side, eyebrows furrowed as he leans back in his seat with crossed arms and a crossed leg. Sanzu slowly cleans the gun used to take your life, wiping in slow yet rough strokes, all the while trying to focus on everything but the memory of your body landing on the ground. Now that his anger was gone, he lacked the adrenaline he had originally.

The Haitani brothers sit next to each other in the back of the black suv, Ran smoking a cigar with a tired expression as well as Rin removing a flask from his suit’s jacket and throwing his head back for a good sip. Mikey sat in the passenger’s seat, eyeing through the windshield with nothing but an empty void filling the inside of his chest. He feels nothing and everything at the same time. You used to be so close to all of them. It was a shame but he knew that he couldn’t allow you to live without him. You chose this. This is your fault.

A sudden ringing interrupts everyone as Mikey grabs the phone and hands it to Kakucho who uses one hand to direct the wheel.

“Hello?”

“You what?!”

Everyone’s eyebrows furrow at his reaction. He lowers the phone before handing it to Mikey with a concerned expression. Mikey sets the phone on his ear as he listens to the other person.

“Boss, her body is gone. She’s nowhere to be found.” Kokonoi says as he crouches down to get a closer look at the busted sack. Using a gloved hand to pick it up before it hangs from his fingers and the remaining liquid leaks.

“I have a feeling she faked her death and has escaped.”

Mikey stares ahead with a more focused expression, his eyes slightly wider than usual as he narrows his gaze.

“Find her, now.”

You eye the two lines with wide eyes. Your hands tremble as your fingers barely hold up the test.

“I-I’m pregnant?!” You hiss. You hop from the toilet and slam open the stall door, tossing it into the trash before walking to the sink and recollecting your memory as you try to search for how this could’ve happened because you genuinely had no remembrance of any sexual encounter in the last few months.

“I-I can’t feel…” The tingling in your limbs causes them to limp as you attempt to move your body around, though hands around your wrists prevent you from budging. Legs sit in between yours as the person on top of you leans over to your ear.

“How much of a dosage did you give her this time, Sanzu?” Kazutora asks before he licks a slow trail from your neck to your ear. You squirm under him as you try to find an escape before your body slightly shuts down and you become still as your eyes become heavier.

“G-guys…” You whisper, trying to come back to reality as you feel him adjust on top of you. Your mouth hangs open in a silent grunt as you feel a firm pressure enter your vagina.

“Enough.” The blue eyed male responds while rubbing his thumb along your forehead, taking in your scrunched nosed expression as Kazutora slowly thrusts into you.

“Fuck.” He whispers as he pressed his cock against your cervix, holding it there as his hands snake to the back of your head and neck, squeezing before he pulls his hips back to repeat the same process.

You shut your eyes tight as the girth stretches you, a stinging sensation surrounding your core before your pussy engulfs his cock perfectly. The pain switched to a conflicting pleasure that your own drugged body couldn’t handle. Your head falls back as Sanzu leans over and pulls you into a heated kiss, while Kazutora holds you tightly, his head on the other side of your neck as he accelerates his pace, hips rocking in a steady rhythm purposefully aiming deep against your g-spot.

Ran watched the display to the side with his brother, enjoying the show as they patiently waited for their turn with Bonten’s signature doll. He man - spreads while sitting with his arms resting against the top of the sofa, one arm slightly behind Rin who has his arms crossed. Both brothers ignore their erections as their pants become tighter, listening to the sounds you make as well as the juices colliding.

Mikey sits in a chair, similar to a throne next to the sofa, eyeing the session with his legs spread, leaning over to where his arms rest on his legs. From this angle, you both make eye contact when Sanzu pulls back.

“P-please stop!” You whine out as tears fall, hoping for Mikey to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, the only response you get are Sanzu’s thumbs smearing your tears and groaning from Kazutora in your ear.

Suddenly, he stops his thrusting and pulls back. He sets your legs on his shoulders as he looks down at you with a glazed over expression, red covering his face along with sweat as he repositions himself before leaning over your thighs and thrusting hard. His pace accelerates once more as he brings you both closer to your release. His forehead rests on yours as he thrusts his hips rhythmically against you. His cock slides in and nearly out of your walls as the head kisses your g-spot repeatedly.

“You're taking his cock so well, sweet girl.” The pink haired male whispers against your ear before nibbling the lobe, his hand sliding on your chest towards your neck before circling his fingers around the surface and slightly squeezing. The stimulation becomes too much, the sensation overwhelming as it mixes with the effects of the drug. Your hips meet his deep thrusts as you cry out.

“So. *thrust* Fucking. *thrust* Good, baby.” Kazutora’s raspy soft spoken words meet your ear as his eyes bore into yours. Biting his lip, he watches as your hands meet his chest as his grip tightens on your legs, along with the thrusts forcing you into having a violent orgasm along with sending him into his own as he moans out your name and his hips move sloppily, riding out both of your orgasms as sweat drips from your skin.

Your hand shakily reached your mouth as you recall when they would drug you up and proceed with sexual acts against your will. You have no clue which of them would even be the father. You knew you had to figure something out but you just didn’t know what. You quickly leave the public restroom and ask to use the cashier’s phone. Once you dial the number, you set it to your ear.

“Draken? C-can you please help me?”

“Ugh, girl come here!” You sigh as you eye the mess left from the little devil.

“What is this?” You question your child, eyeing her golden eyes as you point at the red paint that spilled all over your carpet.

“U-uh, I don’t know mama.” The eight year old responds with a cheeky smile. You shake your head, irritated because of the mess but you breathe out a sigh considering the paint is washable and will be able to be cleaned.

“Yeah, okay. You’re gonna help me clean this up.” You shake your head as your daughter nods. You chuckle to yourself before stating, “And don’t try to lie to me anymore, I can see right through you.”

Your daughter shrugs before leaving to grab some of the supplies. You couldn’t believe how much she grew to look like Kazutora. It was haunting and hard to deal with at times but she had nothing to do with it so the love for your child was enough distraction from how she was created. Before you could follow and help her, you heard a knock on your door. Your eyebrows furrow, not expecting anyone to have appeared so you ignore it.

Once the knocks stop, the ringing of your phone catches your attention. You snatch the device from your pocket and lift it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say to the unknown number.

“You have something of mine, and I’ve come to get it.” Before you could react, your windows were shattered as you crouched down and covered yourself. Immediately going into action, you run to the storage closet in the hallway to grab your child.

“Mama?” She cries out in surprise at the commotion.

“We have to go now!” You snatched her with one hand and pressed a contact with another.

“D-Draken! They broke i-!” Before you could finish, the phone was knocked out of your hand and you were forced to the ground, releasing your child in the process as she’s snatched by a person you hadn’t wanted to see.

“Awe, you really do have my eyes.” Kazutora says warmly with a smile as he holds your child in his arms, the poor girl crying in confusion and fear.

You're cuffed before you’re forced to stand up and face five of the men you never wanted to see.

“M-Mikey, please! She needs me! Don’t t-take her from me!” You yell in hopelessness, the tears falling uncontrollably as you watch Kazutora caress your daughter’s hair. The leader only stares down at you before turning on his heel and walking away, motioning for the other men to snatch you and follow.

“Wow, Y/n. You know, you really had us fooled.” Rin says as he grabs one arm. Ran stands on the other side and mimics his brother’s hold on the opposite arm.

“It’s silly really. We knew only an hour after you escaped and followed you up until this point.”

“You should be thanking the king for not killing you on the spot.” Sanzu growls with his head turned slightly back to make eye contact with you.

“On the bright side we can all be a family, now.” Kazutora beamed.

Truth be told though they would never say it out loud, they were all thankful that you hadn’t actually died. They found it humorous that you thought you could escape their radar at all. Now having been caught, you could only stare ahead, in hopes that if you comply, you could possibly come up with a plan to safely take your child and completely leave your past behind.

[turtletaubwrites]

Sweet Abduction ~ Part 2

I loved the request for Part 1, and thank you to everyone who voted on fluff or smut for the honeymoon. Smut won out, but oops! I fully intended on this being all smut, but I went too hard on the fluff. So we'll be getting a very smutty final part 3, I promise!

Pairings: Katakuri x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2175

Ao3 Link

Summary: Your new husband takes you to his private home after the wedding, and lets you choose if you'd like to have a real relationship with him or not. But there's another promise you need to make first.

Rating/Warnings: SFW, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Light Angst, Grief, (reader's dad has passed and she thinks about him a lot), Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Eventual Smut, Mildly Suggestive, Human/Monster Romance, He's freaking 16 ft tall, Reader is too sweet for this world

A/N: I swear the smut is on the way! I just love these two cuties so much, and had to give them some more fluffy buildup 😭🍩💜

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Where are we going?”

You hardly felt the ocean breeze from the crook of your new husband’s arm. You stretched your legs out over his forearm, fluffing the fabric of your wedding dress. Then you snuggled in against his chest, that giant fur scarf like the softest pillow you’d ever felt.

“We are go–”

“What kind of animal did this fur come from? They must be huge! Do they live on your island too?”

Katakuri tilted his head down, his warm, scarlet eyes shutting up your nervous chatter.

You gave an embarrassed smile, and felt more than heard a pleased hum from him. 

“We are going home, and we’re almost there.”

He stepped off the boat, setting you back on his shoulder, so you could get a better view. 

His home, his mansion, his castle? You couldn’t be sure since it was so massive.

“It’s beautiful! But you don’t live at the Whole Cake Chateau? I mean, I know this is your island. I guess I won’t be living at the doughnut shop anymore...”

He’d turned his head, looking at you from the side, and you saw his brows furrow when a sudden panic hit you.

“Am I still allowed to work at the shop,” you asked, your voice a bit high. You realized that you’d been digging your nails into his shoulder on either side of your hips. 

He offered his hand, and you reached out, letting him hold you in his palm. 

“You may do anything that makes you happy, Y/N,” Katakuri promised with that lovely voice of his, holding you at eye level. 

Releasing a deep breath along with your panic, you smiled at him. 

“Take me home, please.”

~

There were a few servants outside, but you didn’t notice any as he carried you through the echoing halls. 

“I have had a room prepared for you. Please let me know if there’s anything else you require.”

He set you gently down, leaving you to crane your neck.

“But… you’re not leaving, are you?”

Katakuri cleared his throat, going to one knee to close the distance a bit.

His gorgeous eyes poured over you, and you held your breath as he began to unravel his scarf. 

That wide, scarred mouth, and almost tusk like fangs had definitely been surprising. 

But he was still so pretty.

“Please don’t leave me here alone.”

His eyes seemed to soften, and you relaxed into his touch as he traced over your hair, then smoothed his hand over your back. 

“You want to stay with me?”

“I do, Katakuri,” you promised, touching his wrist to help him believe you.

He seems so sad.

His tells were subtle, that calm exterior so powerful.

But when he revealed himself to you, it was like he couldn’t quite hold up that wall. 

His eyes shifted away, and he nodded slowly. 

“It’s time for my merienda.”

“Your–”

“Y/N, I did not want you to be forced into this.”

You started to soothe his guilt. You’d already chosen him, but your words got caught in your throat as you watched him pull those white gloves off of his fingers. 

His hands were so big, but they were also strong, and you could see blood pulsing through his veins. 

“You are my wife now,” he sighed, breaking you out of your reverie. “If you truly want a real relationship with me, then I will have to trust you with…”

His lips were parted as he stared down at you. 

“If? Well… I’d like a real relationship if… if you’d like to be with me?”

Your breath hitched, anxiety racing as he closed his eyes, hanging his head.

“Oh,” you said, voice awkwardly high again. “It’s okay if you–”

“I’ll just show you.”

You yelped, jumping as the massive room around you was filled with a rolling, slightly sweet smelling substance. It rippled as it stretched to encompass the whole room, leaving you encased inside with your husband, and a very large table. 

“What’s happening?”

Katakuri pulled a large tray off the table, and sat cross legged in front of you. 

He set it down, and you frowned. 

“It’s my doughnuts?”

You decided to sit down as well, the squishy surface beneath you not helping with your dazed mind. 

“Please, Y/N,” he started, leaning down toward you, his voice soft. “What I’m about to share with you is something I trust no one with. I promise to be kind, and I promise to protect you. Whatever you need to be happy.”

Noticing that you had your hand on your chest, you took in a breath, the suspense making you almost jittery. 

“This secret is the most important thing in my life. It protects my family.”

You wanted to touch him, to comfort him with whatever this struggle was. But you waited.

“I know you already promised yourself to me, Y/N,” he said as quietly as his voice seemed able to go. “But if we are to truly be together, I need you to make another promise.”

He watched you nod, his scarlet eyes staring for so long, as if he could read your reaction before opening himself up. 

“When I was a child, my sister was hurt because of me.”

You leaned forward without realizing it, and tried to keep yourself still to fully hear him.

“I was attacked for the way that I look, but I was stronger. While I was relishing my victory, while I was relaxing, they hurt Brulee instead.”

You remembered his sister’s scar, ripping across her face, and your heart hurt for them both. 

“Since that day, I vowed to never drop my guard. I covered the face that had gotten my sister hurt. I became that best brother I could be, so that I could protect my family.”

You pushed yourself up from that squishy surface, making your way to him. His fingers were digging into his knee, so you reached out.

You were about a head taller than his knee while he was standing, and you gave a small smile at how close he was now as he sat like this. 

“That sounds very lonely,” you said softly, laying your hands on his strained fingers.

“It’s my duty,” he countered after a pause.

“Is that why,” you asked, leaving a soft kiss on his knuckles, “you never lie on your back?”

His fingers had relaxed as you touched his warm skin. The strange glow of the light filtering through this soft cocoon he’d trapped you in made his face seem softer, and you kissed his hand again.

“This is my secret, Y/N. I am trusting you to never betray it. To let me keep up this image of the perfect brother, so that I can protect my family.”

The hand you weren’t touching lifted, stroking your hair gently as a small smile touched that wide mouth of his.

“You’re my family now too.”

Shivers ran down your body. You hadn’t had family in so long. 

“I promise, Katakuri. I will protect your secret.”

He released a breath, clenching his eyes shut for a moment, and you wondered what this heavy secret could be. 

“Will you take a few steps back?”

You obeyed his request, your shoes pressing into that strange material.

He turned so his side was facing you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Then he let his back touch this soft ground, lying down as you grinned, and ran toward him. 

“Is this it,” you almost laughed, touching his shoulder so he would tilt his head to see your smile. 

“You’re not… disappointed?”

“Why would I be disappointed? Now I know that my husband can relax, and that we can lay down together. That’s wonderful,” you rushed out, your excitement and nerves returning as you squeezed his shoulder.

“There’s something el–”

“Katakuri, why don’t you just tell me all of it now. I promise I won’t be disappointed, or think less of you, or anything like that.”

“Alright,” he agreed, rolling onto his side to prop his head up on an elbow, his gaze so close.

“I made this room with my devil fruit power, the Mochi-Mochi Fruit.”

You almost bombarded him with questions about that, but chewed the inside of your lip.

“I use it to create a private space. This is where I come to relax. Not to meditate and prepare for battle,” he huffed, tapping his free hand against his thigh. “This is the only time and place that I get to be free to enjoy myself, without the weight of… everything.”

“What do you do to relax?”

“I lie on my back.”

You shocked yourself by giving him a playful slap against the expanse of his muscled chest, needing to pause for a moment before speaking.

“That can’t be the only joy in your life. I refuse to believe it.”

Did he blush?

Katakuri pulled the huge tray with tea and boxes of your doughnuts between you, opening the lid to grab five of them at once.

I should make bigger ones for him.

“I’ve loved doughnuts since I was small. I love your doughnuts very much,” he praised, his deep voice making your toes curl in your shoes. 

“When I take my merienda’s, I… I’ll just show you.”

Your gorgeous, frightening husband rolled onto his back, ate your doughnuts, licked his fingers, and sang.

You may have been stunned by the way his jaw stretched so wide while he ate, but then his sweet, silly voice filled the air, and you couldn’t believe you’d ever seen him as frightening. 

🎶Oh, doughnuts!

So delicious, doughnuts!

Delicious to the hole, doughnuts!

By myself, I eat doughnuts!

Lying on my back, I eat doughnuts!🎶

He trailed off as he glanced toward you, moving to sit cross legged as he wiped his fingers on his white, wedding clothes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Are you scared? Are you alright?”

Hot tears were burning your cheeks, falling too fast for you to catch as they dripped off your chin onto the mochi below. You tried to nod, but quiet sobs had filled your chest, and you couldn’t seem to move.

“I–I am sorry. Please, what can I–”

“My…” you choked out, your lips quivering as you clutched your chest.

“My dad… My dad used to sing like that.”

You looked up, hoping he’d understand what you were feeling since you couldn’t form any more words.

His eyes lost their near panic and pain, and you sobbed more as you watched them fill with so much sweetness. It fueled the overwhelming, bittersweet joy that had taken you over.

Memories flooded your mind, so real you could feel them. Your dad kneading dough, showing you how to glaze, smiling as his customers sighed with contentment after eating his doughnuts. 

And his silly little songs that he would sing and hum all day. His gentle soul shined through everything he did.

Without him, it was as if the sun had gone from the sky. He was the warmth that kept you safe, that taught you how to live, how to love. You tried to live the way he’d taught you, to be kind, to be grateful for everything you had. But the lack of his sweet, silly songs made joy harder to find.

“Y/N,” he breathed, reaching his hand slowly toward you, as if not sure what to do with it. 

“Thank you,” you choked out, your knees going weak.

He caught you under your arms before you fell, and you clung to his hand as your sobs started to calm.

“Is there something I can do,” he asked, speaking quietly while your breathing evened out.

“I’m sorry, Katakuri, it’s just– You've just…”

A smile broke out across your tear stained face.

“You’ve just made me very happy.”

Stumbling toward him, you fell over his knee to hug his thigh.

He let out a soft grunt, then lifted you easily to his chest. 

His thumb rubbed gently over your back as he pressed you to him, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

He smells so good.

“So you really…” he started, his words vibrating though you. “You really like my singing?”

“I love it,” you laughed, pressing a warm kiss to his neck. 

Katakuri’s body seemed to vibrate, and you could feel the chills run over him. The intensity of his reaction sent chills running through you, and you became intensely aware of how much of his skin you were touching.

“Is it alright if I look at you?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded against him, brushing the remains of tears from your face.

I must look a mess.

You sat in his hand again, a rush of feelings warming you. Your feet dangled, kicking softly back and forth as he looked at you, an almost puzzled look on his face.

“So was that the big secret,” you teased, hoping there wasn’t more. “Because I’m ready to see our bedroom now.”

Your sweet husband let out a pleased laugh, sending all that mochi away as he held you against his chest. 

“Anything to make you happy, Y/N.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I just want to squish their cute little cheeks 😭

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 3 (End)

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[holdmytesseract]

Hello sweetie!!!

Good to know that you've opened requests because do I have A WONDERFUL request for YOU!

Okay okay, of course for me I'm going to request Loki so here goes...

Loki and Reader are arranged to marry and have never met before (either Reader is a princess or just a lady). The day of the wedding, reader suggests a first touch with her fiance - how could Frigga deny that? So they do it. Then, when they see each other at the altar, it's as if the world stops for them both.

I left it a bit vague so you can expand but I am so excited to see what you make of it! I love you so much and please do DM me if you need something 🫂🥰❤️

~LRM

Marrying a Stranger

Loki Odinson x fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: You are arranged to marry Prince Loki of Asgard. Fear and pre-wedding nerves get the better of you and you can't help but ask Frigga for help. Of course is the good-hearted Queen more than willing to help out...

Warnings: arranged marriage? angst, fluff, sweet Loki

Word Count: 2,5k

a/n: I actually wanted to post a new chapter of 'Through the Years' today, BUT the birthday of my wonderful friend @lady-rose-moon is definitely more important. 🥰 Therefore, I'd like to post this lil' oneshot as a gift. 😊 Again, happy (belated) birthday, friend!

Ps. I'm also incredibly sorry that his took me so long to write... I hope you like it nevertheless! I love you, too! 💚

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds (Continuing in the comments!)

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

The day had arrived. The day you looked forward to in excitement and anticipation, but also with fear and nervousness. Your wedding. Your arranged wedding, to be precisely.

You were a princess. Only daughter of the king and queen of Vanaheim. And due to the royal blood pumping through your veins, you were not allowed to choose the man you'd marry. The man would be chosen for you. At first, you didn't approve of this and were literally appalled by the mere imagination of marrying a strange man you had never seen before, but your mother and all your tutors had quickly put you in your place.

There was no way out of this - and you had to accept that. It was your fate. Your destiny. The destined path for a princess.

This is not of importance, sweetheart. You don't have to meet your future husband, in order to marry him.

A few centuries ago, when you had reached womanhood, your marriage was arranged and announced within the kingdom. You were bespoken to king Odin's and queen Frigga's youngest son... Prince Loki of Asgard.

Throughout all the years you had never met your betrothed.

That is the man I shall marry?

That was what your mother had answered to your question if you could meet the prince you were going to marry.

So, the topic was off the table. You had been taught to obey your mother, so why would you dare to ever ask her again? The decision was made. No meant no. You only ever heard stories of your future husband... That he was quite special - and not in the good way. Most people spoke of his mischievous and cunning nature. Some even said villainous, brute and rebellious. To hear those words scared you.

You had dreamed of true love and romance. Of being courted and wooed. You dreamed of a sweet, kind man who would treat you like you deserved - and not of a brute who would treat you like his maid. You spent endless sleepless nights within your chambers, thinking about your future with Loki. What if he truly was just a harsh, mischievous scamp? What if your dreams were about to shatter?

And now, suddenly the moment had come...

But then you started to hear other stories of Loki Odinson as well. About how charming and witty he is. How gentlemanly and eloquent. And how utterly handsome he shall look.

You were torn. Torn by every story they told you - and the worst part was that you never got to find out what the truth was and which talk was cheap. At least not until the day you would marry him. It left you a mess.

You were standing in a huge chamber in the royal palace of Asgard. The room bustled with maids, who were preparing everything to get you ready for the wedding ceremony. You nervously fumbled your fingers; constantly tugging at the soft fabric of your wine red dress. Your mother had just left the room along with your father; leaving you and your troubled mind alone.

From the first encounter with Frigga, you could tell that she had a heart of gold. She was so kind and lovely. Perhaps the most good-hearted person you ever met. You got along with your future mother-in-law instantly. She had welcomed you with open arms. And right in that moment, you couldn't picture another way out.

You couldn't deny the anxiety any longer. It hit you full force; realisation dawning on you like the sun... I can't marry a man I never saw in my life.

So, you decided to order a maid to fetch the only person you hoped would be kind enough to help you. Queen Frigga. The Allmother. You and your family had arrived about a week ago and even in that week you never got to see Loki. Only the king and queen. Not the princes.

Frigga gently took your hands in hers and led you over to the bed; sitting down with you. "What is the matter, dear? The fear within you is stronger than your nervousity. I can feel it." You swallowed hard, "I- It's... It's just..." and had to take a deep breath. "I'm afraid of marrying a man I never saw in my life. I-I know that this is not of importance and probably even forbidden, but-" A radiant smile forming on the queen's lips interrupted you. You furrowed your brows; were confused. Even more when she started to chuckle.

Only a few moments passed, before the young maid returned to your chambers; following the queen.

"Y/N, my dear..." She immediately walked up to you. "You called for me?" You just nodded; anxious eyes meeting Frigga's beautiful blue ones. "I-I did. Could we... Could we talk in private?" "Of course!" She reassured you, then clapped her hands twice. "Would you all please leave and give us some privacy?" All the maids stopped in their tasks and immediately rushed to leave your chambers.

"My son requested the exact same. Barely before you called me to your chambers, I sat with Loki and spoke about this with him as well. I guess you are quite similar in that case." She chuckled again and reached for your hand again. You just stared at her; not quite believing what she just said. "I understand you, dear. I couldn't do such a thing either. Back when I had to wed my husband, I demanded to at least see him and share a few sentences with him beforehand as well. It helped me to adapt to the situation I was in. Therefore, I can't deny yours, neither my son's wish." Frigga stood up and offered you her arm. "Come on."

You swallowed hard; feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest, as you approached the little pavilion.

You blinked; were utterly speechless. You knew Frigga would understand you, but that... That wasn't something you anticipated to happen. Still a bit stunned, you stood up and took her offer. She led you out of your chambers, down several hallways you had never seen before, until you were outside the palace and had reached a beautiful garden. She stopped, nodding towards a small pavilion quite a few meters away, which was surrounded by rose bushes and cherry trees.

"My son is waiting for you in the pavilion." Frigga let go of your arm and gave you a smile. "You have about an hour before the maids will return to get you both ready for the ceremony. Make sure to be back at your chambers by that time." With a wink and a soft pad on your arm, she turned around and left.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Carefully - almost shyly, you peeked around the corner.

A man was standing in the middle of the small pavilion, with his back towards you; hands clasped behind his lower back. You could see that he was wearing a green tunic and black leather boots. Gold accents highlighted his whole outfit.

He had long hair - as black as the feathers of a raven. It fell in soft curls over his shoulders. Your gaze climbed up and down his body. He was tall. Norns, he was so tall - and his hands were big. You could tell. They would swallow yours whole.

"H-Hello?" A dark, smooth and slightly high-pitched voice spoke. "A-Are... Are you Princess Y/N?" You could tell by his voice that he was nervous, too. Probably even afraid - just like you.

You didn't even notice how your mouth fell agape. Or how you made another small step forwards; totally enhanced by the God you saw standing in front of you.

Barely after you set one foot in front of the other, a small twig snapped underneath the weight of your body. You flinched - and the man quickly turned to face you; flinching the slightest bit as well. The gust which was created by Loki's quick spin was sent directly into your direction and no second later, his scent hit you; invaded your nostrils... Leather, something dark and musky, charred wood and a slight hint of mint and something fruity. It smelled so rich, so divine, but also so addictive and cosy. You almost fainted.

You needed a moment to get yourself together. "Y-Yes, I-" Your words faded into a gasp as your eyes met his for the first time ever. He had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. Blue like water and as deep as the oceans. They held so many emotions. Nervousity and fear, but also curiosity and excitement. But above all kindness - the same kindness which sparkled within his mother's eyes.

Loki smiled and took a few cautious steps towards you. "It is my utmost pleasure to meet you, my princess." He gathered a bit of his bravery and hesitatingly reached for your hand, taking it gently in his. With a soft bow, he bestowed a small kiss upon your knuckles; soft, smooth lips brushing against your cold skin. A shudder rippled through you.

"The- The pleasure is a-all mine, my prince." You more or less stammered out, now utterly distracted by his chiselled facial features. High cheekbones, sharp jawline and a perfectly shaped nose. Norns, you thought. He looks like carved out of marble.

Loki gave you a smile. "Thank you for agreeing to this little... secret meeting. I-I just had to see you before the ceremony, I-" You gave his hand - which still enveloped yours a soft squeeze. "I know. I felt the same way." A nervous chuckle left his lips, followed by an even bigger smile. "That makes this situation so much easier..." You reciprocated his smile. "Indeed, my prince."

You took a seat on the small, cosy bench and decided to use the time you had left to talk and get to know each other at least a little bit, before you'd become husband and wife. It was exactly what you - and Loki needed. But especially, it calmed your fears of marrying a brute, despiteful man. They had been wrong... Oh so wrong. Loki was not like that. He was like you hoped he'd be. Kind, gentlemanly, sweet - and utterly romantic. His heart may be battered and bruised, but you could feel that this man would do everything to be a good, loving husband for you.

The hour flew by way too fast; within the blink of an eye and soon it was time to part ways - for now.

"Thank you, my pri-" "Loki. Please... It's Loki for you." That made you blush even more - if that was even possible. "Thank you, Loki." You smiled. "I can't believe I'm going to be wed to such a handsome, polite and sweet man either."

"Again... Thank you for agreeing to this." Loki said; voice soft. You shook your head. "No need to thank me. I wanted this, too, you know..."

Silence settled over the both of you, until he let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "I can't believe I'm marrying such a beautiful, kind-hearted woman in barely a few hours." You blushed in the darkest shades of crimson at his words; suppressing a girlish giggle to slip past your lips.

That caused Loki to blush.

A nervous chuckle bubbled from deep within his chest. "Thank you-" "Y/N." You interrupted him. "Y/N." The way he rolled his name off your tongue almost send you into another dimension - you were sure of it.

His words hit you straight into your heart. You could swear it was aflame by now, burning for this man you knew so little, but were going to wed in a few hours.

"Are you still nervous?" Loki asked then; eyes soft. You nodded. "Y-Yes, I- I'm afraid it's going to get worse..." You giggled nervously; desperately trying to play it cool, but failing.

He took your hand in his again; gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. "I know this is normal. I-I am nervous, too, but... Please don't worry. You are not alone in this. I'll be there - and I won't ever let go of you."

You took deep breaths; smiling brightly. Now you could say that you were really looking forward towards your wedding. For the first time in centuries.

"T-Thank you. That is really reassuring to know. I-I won't let go either." Loki smiled, "That's good to know, my darling." and leaned in for a delicate, small peck on your lips. It was gentle and barely lasting - but it felt so right. So good.

Before you were able to answer something, his hand slipped from yours as he was passing you by; stepping out of the pavilion and out of your sight.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart." Your mother said with tears in her eyes. She placed her pointer finger underneath your chin. "It's time for you to enter the next chapter of your life. A lot is going to change, I know - but your whole life was spent preparing you for exactly that moment. You're a strong woman, Y/N. Never doubt that. And Loki is going to be a wonderful husband. He's the perfect match."

By now, you had to fight off the tears as well.

Your mother leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. "I'm so proud of you, just like your father. I love you." You smiled; swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in your throat. "Thank you, mama. I love you, too." She gave you a loving, motherly smile and left to sit with the other wedding attendants.

You took a deep breath and with the sounds of the fanfare, you stepped through the golden doors and slowly walked down the red carpet towards Loki - who stood at the altar; dressed in his ceremonial armour, waiting for your arrival.

All eyes were on you, but you only had eyes for your prince.

When his eyes landed on you, they widened immediately; his mouth falling agape. He watched how your wedding dress swayed softly with each step you took.

She looks absolutely beautiful, he thought; feeling his heart beating rapidly against his chest.

It was all you needed in that moment.

You walked slowly, gracefully - like you've been taught. It felt like an eternity, until you finally reached him.

Loki immediately stretched out his hands for you to lay yours in his - and you did. The moment you touched, it felt like you could finally breathe normal again. His skin was so soft and warm; giving you the feeling of warmth and comfort. For you, his touch was a safe haven. He was anchoring you; preventing you to get lost in the sea of no-man's-land.

You looked up. His endless blue eyes met yours for the second time - and time seems to stand still around you. In that moment, it was only you and him.

You smiled and finally weren’t afraid anymore of the future. Not if it involved the man right in front of you.

[libraryoffandomsuniverse]

Trust

Series masterlist

YNN: your nickname

My first time writing something steamy (ish). Hopefully it's not too clunky.

Sometimes romance is a date to a restaurant. Sometimes it's plotting murder together. 😉

~~~

"I want him dead."

Although she spoke quietly, Rhaenyra's voice seemed to echo around the room.

You twisted your head to look at her in disbelief. You had just finished making love after hours. You'd coaxed her to pleasure several times using your hands, mouth and cock. How could your darling wife be thinking about murder when you were still barely capable of stringing words together?

"I need you to repeat that," you said slowly, "because it almost sounds like I haven't made you come enough if you're thinking about murder. It's not mine, is it?"

She giggled and moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Your arms instantly wrapped around her, an echo of the countless times you'd held each other like this before.

"Of course it's not you," she rubbed your chest in reassurance. "I'm talking about Otto Hightower."

At the mention of the Hand, your good mood plummeted.

Ever since Lord Strong's resignation, you had been cursed with Ser Otto's presence. The fact that he became the Hand again was beyond a joke, given that his ambitions to make his grandson Aegon King was a secret only to Viserys.

The sight of Queen Alicent strutting around the Red Keep with her supporters flaunting their green robes made you seethe. Coupled with the divide between both camps of supporters and it made for an increasingly poisonous atmosphere in court.

You and Rhaenyra had not been idle. The return of your father as Master of Ships, along with your promotion to Master of Laws had caused quite a bit of grief to Ser Otto's plans. The sight of the vein throbbing on his forehead whenever you managed to persuade the King to agree with you was a beautiful one, and it took everything you had not to smirk or snigger like a child or Daemon.

The thought of your goodbrother reminded you of his and Laena's recent return from Pentos. If anyone knew of a way to remove the Hand, it would be them.

"He will die," you whispered. "I'll make certain of it. Laena will know of something that may help."

"Not Daemon?" Rhaenyra tilted her head to face yours.

You snorted. "Daemon's solution would probably involve a dagger and a catspaw. We need to be subtle and leave nothing for the Queen to accuse us of murder. Laena will know; she was always interested in plants."

"If she finds a way, who will replace Otto? Your mother? Daemon? Tyland Lannister?"

"Actually," you began. "I thought it could be you." She lifted her head and looked at you with shock. "Let me finish," you continued. "You became cupbearer at eight, you've had a seat on the Small Council for almost ten years. You've seen how it works, you know about the issues the other Masters face. When Lord Lyonel was Hand, you regularly met with him to discuss solutions."

Your voice had risen as you'd argued your point, but your hands remained gentle as they cupped her face.

"Think of it as extra training for when you become Queen," you said.

Rhaenyra's face was uncertain. "You are so sure of yourself. How do you know it will happen?"

"I'll make it happen, my love," you promised before reaching up to kiss her.

"I do not feel ready, YNN," she confessed. "Every time I sit at that table, I feel like a pretender, like a girl again."

"Rhae," her name rolled on your tongue. "I don't think anyone is ever really ready to wear the crown. But there have been good kings, bad kings and kings that were middling. There have also been excellent and terrible Hands. You becoming Hand will not cause the Seven Kingdoms to collapse. I would always be happy to advise you if you wished, but you're more knowledgeable than you think you are. If you can't believe in yourself, believe in me and the fact that I trust in you."

The kiss she gave you was hungry, full of teeth and passion. You pulled her up so that she lay on top of you. Her hands made their way to your hair, while yours slowly crept down her back.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were red and bruised. Her cheeks were flushed while her white hair fell loosely around you both, creating a veil that hid you both from the outside world.

"When my wife makes a request, what loyal husband wouldn't strive to see it done?" your lips brushed against hers. "I'll fly to Driftmark tomorrow to ask Laena."

"I want Otto Hightower dead," she ordered.

Like a Queen.

Your wife's reply was not in words.

[yourpenpaldee]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION.

I don't usually put myself out there as it makes me nervous. But I've been a lurker for way too long, and it's about time I step out of my comfort zone. So, hello! I'm Dee (she/her), twenty-two, and have found my voice with storytelling.

Writing has always been a passion of mine, and continues to be the tool I turn to when I need an outlet to freely express myself. I have, unfortunately, hit a rough patch with consistency, and I'm here to bring all of that motivation and inspiration back. Especially since there are one too many WIPs sitting on the backburner, and they're all calling my name.

As someone who loves to dip their toes into every genre of fiction, I will read anything that peaks my interest. However, when it comes to creating, my works usually fall under romance and mystery. With practice, I intend on branching out into other genres I don't write often. There's a lot to explore in the world of writing, and I don't want to limit myself to only two categories.

Creating this blog provides me the space I need to accomplish the many goals I often dream of achieving. I acknowledge that it all starts with the ability to hold myself accountable. To show up for myself. To become comfortable with the uncomfortable. Putting myself and my projects out into the world is only the first of many steps, and it feels quite liberating.

I aim to use the voice I've found to not only contribute to the progression of POC representation, but to touch on several topics that remain heavily stigmatized in today's media. There’s a joy that runs through my veins every time I see someone like me on my screen or in a book. I feel seen, heard, and proud. I feel important. But as a creator, there’s that itch that can only be scratched when I create. When I make something that lets the next person know that they’re not invisible. That they're valued, loved, and appreciated. That's what I hope for when someone reads a project of mine. For them to feel the same rush of joy flowing through them as it does me.

Wow, I’m a yapper. I'd like to close this intro off with some fun facts, so here are some of my top five favorites with sidenotes because I still want to yap a bit more about the things I adore.

SOLO ARTISTS:

ARI LENNOX ✧ ˚ · . CHOCOLATE POMEGRANATE — GET CLOSE — GOAT — POF — UP LATE

HALSEY ✧ ˚ · . 100 LETTERS — I HATE EVERYBODY — NIGHTMARE — ROMAN HOLIDAY — THE LIGHTHOUSE

HOPE TALA ✧ ˚ · . CHERRIES — EDEN — I CAN'T EVEN CRY — LEAVE IT ON THE DANCEFLOOR — SUNBURN

MELANIE MARTINEZ ✧ ˚ · . ALPHABET BOY — DEAD TO ME — EVIL — NOTEBOOK — STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

HALIMA ✧ ˚ · . DOWNTOWN — FORD CARDINAL — IF LOVE WAS GREEN — SAMANTHA — TALK

BANDS:

5 SECONDS OF SUMMER ✧ ˚ · . AIRPLANES — BETTER MAN — KILL MY TIME — LONG WAY HOME — TEARS!

FALL OUT BOY ✧ ˚ · . BANG THE DOLDRUMS — CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO — HEADFIRST SLIDE INTO COOPERSTOWN ON A BAD BET — NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER — WHERE DID THE PARTY GO

FLO ✧ ˚ · . CARDBOARD BOX — FLY GIRL — IMMATURE — SUITE LIFE (FAMILIAR) — WALK LIKE THIS

PARAMORE ✧ ˚ · . BIG MAN, LITTLE DIGNITY — CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE — FRANKLIN — MISGUIDED GHOST — PART II

THE INTERNET ✧ ˚ · . DONTCHA — HOLD ON — LOOK WHAT U STARTED — SOMTHING'S MISSING — SPECIAL AFFAIR

GAMES:

CORAL ISLAND ✧ ˚ · . IF I START LISTING NAMES, I'M GOING TO MENTION EVERYONE. BUT I'M A LOYAL MARK GIRL. AND NOAH... AND MILLIE, EVA, BEN, Y—

DISNEY DREAMLIGHT VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . THIS IS SUCH A COMFORT GAME THAT SOOTHES MY INNER CHILD.

DON'T STARVE [TOGETHER] ✧ ˚ · . I MAY OR MAY NOT STILL SUCK AT THIS GAME AFTER A SOLID THREE YEARS, BUT I'M A WIGFRID MAIN.

STARDEW VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . I LOVE SEBASTIAN AND LEAH, AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL IF I HAVE TO.

THE SIMS 4 ✧ ˚ · . WHERE I SPEND A LOT MORE TIME IN CREATE-A-SIM AND BUILD MODE COMPARED TO PLAYING THE ACTUAL GAME.

TROPES:

FAKE RELATIONSHIP ✧ ˚ · . MHM... JUST SAY YOU LIKE EACH OTHER ALREADY.

FATED MATE ✧ ˚ · . I'M A BIT PICKY ABOUT THIS TROPE THOUGH. THINGS TEND TO MOVE VERY QUICKLY BUT I ENJOY IT NONETHELESS.

FRIENDS TO LOVERS ✧ ˚ · . A CLASSIC THAT DOESN'T NEED AN EXPLANATION.

REUNION ✧ ˚ · . ESPECIALLY IF THEY WERE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND THEY REMINISCE OLD MEMORIES, OH MY GOODNESS. I EAT THIS TROPE UP EVERY TIME.

SLOWBURN ✧ ˚ · . NO DOUBT THIS IS MY MOST FAVORITE TROPE. THE BUILDUP TO EVEN THE TINIEST PIVOTAL MOMENT ALWAYS MAKES MY HEART THUMP.

TV SHOWS:

CRIMINAL MINDS ✧ ˚ · . YES, I��LL WATCH ALL 16 SEASONS FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME AND FALL IN LOVE WITH PRENTISS EACH TIME. WE WERE ALSO ROBBED OF BEARDED HOTCH CONTENT.

BRIDGERTON ✧ ˚ · . DO I CRY EVERY TIME I WATCH GEORGE AND CHARLOTTE'S STORY? YES. WILL I CONTINUE TO REWATCH IT AND RECITE THE LINES EVERY TIME SOMETHING REMINDS ME OF IT? ASOLUTELY.

THE BEAR ✧ ˚ · . I WISH I KNEW OF AYO EDEBIRI BEFORE THIS SHOW BECAUSE THAT WOMAN IS AMAZING??? LIKE, HELLO???

THE EQUALIZER ✧ ˚ · . *mini spoiler* STILL CAN'T STOP THINKING OF DANTE'S GRIN WHEN HE GOT TO SEE MEL, ROB, AND HARRY'S LITTLE WORK SPOT FOUR SEASONS LATER.

SWEET MAGNOLIAS ✧ ˚ · . HELEN, MADDIE, AND DANA SUE IS HOW I PICTURE MY FRIENDS AND I IN THE FUTURE. MARGARITA NIGHTS, BEING AUNTIES TO EACH OTHER'S CHILDREN, UGH. I LOVE THEM WHOLEHEARTEDLY.

And that concludes this introduction on me and this blog. I would love to connect and befriend other authors, so please don't hesitate to reach out as my DMs will always be open! I'd love to support and read your works, so don't be hesitant to share them with me if you'd like.

I hope you all will enjoy reading my works as much as I enjoy the process of bringing my ideas to life.

divider creds to strangergraphics ♡

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 1)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Disclaimer ─ In Part 1 of the series, the main characters are introduced, setting the stage for the encounter of Evan and Y/N to unfold and the sexual energy between them to build up. Things get super steamy and smutty in Part 2.

Warnings (for Part 2) ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, handjob, nudes, handjob, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill :)

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ > If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You step out of the shower, steam stirring around you as you wrap your hair turban-style in a towel. The anticipation of a proper night-out since you made the bold move to quit your job in Europe and pursue another life in the US tingles in your veins. It feels like forever since you’ve let loose, and tonight promises to be nothing short of epic.

Plopping down onto your bed, you grab your go-to jar of coconut body butter from the dresser. You squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm and rub your hands together. The creamy texture blends in as you work it onto your skin, leaving it smooth and oh-so-soft.

As you immerse yourself in your ritual, you hear the familiar buzz of a FaceTime call. Glancing over at your bedside table, you see “Ad💗,” your friend’s name (Adria for full) glowing on the screen. You pick up your phone, still coated in moisturiser, and her face pops up. A look of desperation is written all over her features.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” you chirp, propping the phone on your desk to finish off your pampering session.

She lets out a dramatic groan. “Send help,” she whines, her voice tinged with panic. “I’m having a meltdown over here. I swear, I got nothing to wear.”

You can’t help but giggle at her faux-crisis. “First-world problems, brain rot,” you tease, sneaking a peek at the heap of clothes behind her. “I see you’ve got quite a selection to pick from.”

Adria pouts, swatting playfully at the camera. “Nah, these don’t count. I need everyone to be ‘she ate and left no crumbs.’ What’re going for tonight? I need some inspo!”

You chuckle sympathetically, holding the phone aloft as you pivot to show her your fit for tonight laid out on your bed. “I’m going for less is more—my thrifted mini satin dress and racing black leather jacket with my military boots and white tube socks for a touch of sass.”

She gives you a strained smile as she takes in your outfit. “Ahh, you pull off that casual vibe effortlessly, babe.”

You flip the camera back to you, shrugging nonchalantly, “I’m casual and proud!”

Adria rolls her eyes with a teasing glint. “Okay, but what about makeup? You gotta glam it up… you know the LA sparkle! That’s how we do it in East Hollywood, at least!”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m feeling the au naturel look. You know I suck with makeup big time—I’d probably end up looking like Pennywise.”

Rather than rehashing your “Why makeup should be banned” manifesto, you choose to dig further into the evening’s plans. “So, who else’s joining us tonight, Ad?”

She rattles off a list of names, both female and male—some known, others unknown—and you nod along. “Gotcha. I’ll be ready by 10.”

“Perf. I’ll swing by to pick you up then. Buckle up for a wild night, biyyyatch!” she exclaims, wiggling her brows at you.

You let out a choked laugh as you observe her grimacing. “Alrighty, catch you soon!”

Once you hang up, you slip into your outfit and let your hair fall loose, fluffing it up for a bit of volume. No need for fancy blowouts tonight—you’re all about that breezy, air-dried look.

With a spritz of perfume and a final check in the mirror, you grab your essentials and head out into the dazzling city lights.

As you strut into the club with your gang, the uplifting beats hit you like a wave of energy. The nostalgic tunes of early 2000’s R&B thump in your chest, urging you to groove with every step. You all weave through the sea of nightclubbers, the party mode building up inside you like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“Let’s hit the bar!” Tommy, one of the guys and Adria’s boyfriend, shouts over Missy Elliot. You all nod in agreement, eager to keep the high spirits flowing with some booze.

You slither through more partygoers who dance erratically, all while juggling their drinks. Some move smoothly to the rhythm, while others simply jiggle around out of tune.

Neon lights flash and strobe, casting an electric glow over the bartender as he polishes a row of whiskey glasses with cool confidence. A cheeky smile plays on his lips as you hop onto an empty stool before him.

“What can I get you started?” he roars over the music, his voice cutting through the din.

“Coronas all around,” you holler, matching his tone with equal fervour. You hand him a wad of cash chipped in by everyone.

“Coming right up.” With a flick of his wrist, he expertly pops the cap off the bottle, sliding them your way with a wink.

“Thanks,” you mouth, shooting him a grin before heading back to your friends with a tray.

You take a long, satisfying gulp, the crisp taste of beer quenching your thirst. With your beverage in hand, you pace to the dance floor, your friends in tow only metres away.

Your hips swing in harmony with the melody, and your feet glide effortlessly across the ground. Heads turn and whispers follow your path. Some even reach out, uttering unintelligible words, or brush against your shoulder as you pass by.

Ignoring the distractions, you grab Adria and Jasmine, dragging them into the heart of the dance floor while the rest of the group forms a circle around you. The music engulfs you, momentarily sweeping away the grim memories of your pre-relocation life.

With each song that blares through the speakers, your body twists and twirls with fluid grace, each move perfectly timed to the tempo of the music. In that moment, you feel more alive, more liberated than ever before.

As time trickles by, the music continues to pump and the lights swirl around you. You notice Joseph, the lone blond dude in the squad, inching closer and closer to you as the night stretches on. 

“Heyo, Y/N! How’s it going?” he greets you with a tap on the shoulder, his voice rumbling near your ear.

“Hey! All good now. How’s you?” you retort with a tight-lipped smile, bringing your Corona to your lips for another sip.

“Now that I’m chatting with you, much better!” he quips back, a hint of mischief in his tone. “How are you liking the States?”

Just as you’re about to respond, joyous screams erupt from Adria and a couple of other girls from your group, catching your attention. Before you can fully process what’s happening, Adria dashes toward you and jumps into your arms, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Girl! Are you on Molly or something? What’s going on?” you mock, smoothing out your dress on the cleavage before you start flashing whoever’s at close vicinity.

“Omg, you won’t believe it!” Adria squeaks, frantically clapping her hands.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Try me.”

“Ahh, my fangirling is through the roof right now! Evan Peters is here,” she cries out, bouncing up and down, squeezing your hand tightly.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Who?” 

“Evan Peters, Y/N! The hottie from American Horror Story… Kai Anderson, Cult? Kit Walker, Asylum? Seriously, don’t these ring any bells? Umm… Dahmer? Come on—you’ve watched that series!” she insists, her voice pitch rising as she tries to jog your memory.

A flicker of recognition crosses your face as your friend’s description sinks in. “Oh, right, Evan Peters,” you concede with a faint smile. “I remember now…And?”

Adria’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “And?? He’s in the same space as us, breathing the same oxygen, Y/N!”

You shake your head, trying to inject a dose of reality into her Hollywood-induced haze. “Okay, but let’s be real here. He’s a mega star, so totally out of league. I mean, we’ve got about as much chance with him as a blue whale does with climbing Mount Everest,” you quip and fold your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “And you’ve got a boyfriend, in case you forgot.”

Adria’s enthusiasm deflates slightly as she’s reminded of Tommy. “It’s not the same,” she protests sheepishly, fiddling with her bracelet. “You know how celebrity crushes work. How can I not crave Evan when he’s graced the world with his Tate Langdon role?” 

You can’t help but laugh at her delirium. “Ugh, Adria, it’s giving obsession and borderline restraining order from Peters if you keep this up. Let’s just focus on having a blast tonight and drop the celebrity fantasies, okay?”

A couple of hours melt away, and the energy of the dance floor begins to wane. Most of your friends retreat to a nearby table to freshen up. But not you. With two others by your side, you’re on a mission to keep the party alive, letting the music guide your body with a fierce determination.

Mid-twirl, though, your eyes snag on something unexpected—a figure lingering at the fringes of the dance floor, his attractive gaze burning into you like a laser beam, sending a bolt of lightning down your back. It takes a moment for you to register who it is, but when you do, your heart kicks into overdrive.

Evan Peters.

You try to play it cool, biting down on the inside of your cheek to stifle the grin that’s itching to break free. You try to pass it off as just a coincidence, a trick of the light or a delulu figment of your imagination, but when you steal another glance in his direction, you find his eyes still trained on you. This time around, he offers a timid smile.

Your throat feels like it’s swallowed a golf ball as you sense his eyes fixed on you. Desperate to shake off the sudden self-consciousness, you rummage through your tiny shoulder bag for your phone. Your fingers jitter as you feign interest in your screen, scrolling aimlessly through your main menu or typing out gibberish in your notes app.

But even as you try to stay composed, his stare weighs on you like a ton of bricks. Are you tripping? Feeling more awkward and exposed than ever (you don’t have Evan Peters laying eyes on you every day), you motion to your friends that you’re heading to the restroom. Anything to escape the spotlight, even if it’s only for a sec.

This time, you bulldoze through the crowd, head low, with the toilets being your last glimmer of hope for salvation. Or so you think. Just as you’re about to slip away, a warm, soft hand gently closes around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you slowly turn to confront the person obstructing your way. And there he is, Evan Peters in the flesh, standing before you with an enigmatic grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you face him, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. Your mind races a mile a minute—Is this real life? Did you manifest this? Is Evan Peters actually in front of you?

Fuck, Adria’s right. He’s hot as hell, you ruminate, feeling your breath clutching in your throat.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he greets you with a seductive rasp. “Hey.” His eyes seal with yours in a way that makes your knees turn into jelly.

I just saw you and heard you in person, Evan! Scrap everything I said to Adria. Forget the restraining order. Just slap the handcuffs on me, and do whatever you want... Erhm, I mean, take me into custody cause staring at you should definitely be illegal.

You freeze, unable to tear your eyes away from his handsome dark brown (almost black) eyes and silky tousled curls. A feeble “Hi” is all you manage, your voice barely above a whisper as a nervous flutter stomps onto your stomach.

“Having a good time?” he checks in, his smile widening by the second.

“The asphyxiation I feel right now must be a sure sign that I’m enjoying myself, right?” you reply, fanning your hand in front of your face for dramatic effect.

His throaty laughter bubbles up from deep within him, the sound instantly cranking up your heartbeat. It’s genuine and infectious, like he’s letting down his guard and inviting you into his world, flashing those perfect teeth like they’re on a billboard.

“If you’re suffocating from excitement, then you must be doing something right. But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out on you. If you turn purple, I’ll dial 911,” he teases, gently lifting your chin with his index finger and giving you a full inspection with feigned seriousness. “Nope, we’re good. So far, all I see is beauty, no signs of death.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, so you instinctively lower your head, hoping to hide your rose-tinted face. 

You battle to keep it together, but the fact that his hand hasn’t budged from your wrist since your eyes met screams, ‘fainting spell incoming.’ As if that’s enough, his thumb traces soft circles on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. “You make me cringe, do it again,” you joke, and you both share a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see what card I should pull next. Here it comes, drumroll—on behalf of everyone in here, I testify to your: ‘I got some serious moves and conquered the dance floor, but I need a breather now.’” he rambles and raises his free hand in mock ovation, his grin laced with mischief.

You chuckle, a surge of confidence brewing within you. “Well, it takes the greatest of them all to verify this. A lifetime of dancing lessons didn’t go down the drain, I guess. I appreciate your testament, sir, and the panel’s verdict,” you coo, bowing theatrically.

Once again, his laughter fills the space between you, warm and hearty.

After a few minutes of silence and a staring contest that makes it agonising for you to breathe, you finally utter, “I said this would be my night, and, apparently, I meant that,” discreetly eyeing him from head to toe, semi-drooling.

“Yeah? Any highlights of the night?” he inquires, his tone dripping with curiosity, and you can’t resist playing along after letting your thoughts slip out loud.

“Nothing yet. But I’m counting on your highlighter to illuminate my way,” you spill out, playfully tilting your head to the side. A sly grin spreads across your lips as you throw the bait, hoping he’ll keep up with your pun game.

His “strike” is immediate as he edges closer to you. “Believe it or not, I’ve got one on me that can change your night from the inside out,” he shoots back, his smile growing, clearly on the same innuendo-laden wavelength as you. You’re a match made in flirtatious banter heaven, true that.

“I need some inside work, that’s for sure. Glad you’re volunteering,” you reply, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. Then, you quickly transition, turning his wrist stroking into a handshake as you introduce yourself.

He hums, gently taking your hand in his, his smile stretching wide enough to reveal his adorable dimples that only add to his charm. “Evan.”

“I know,” you admit, unable to contain your broad smile. “But just an FYI, I haven’t binged-read your fanfics or analysed our astrology charts to see if we’re soulmates. I’ve gone as far as watching Dahmer. Stellar performance, by the way,” you blurt out, still shaking his hand.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to suppress another giggle. “Okay, chill. No need to prove you’re not a psycho. Wanna grab a drink to cool off?”

“No need to ask,” you fire back with equal enthusiasm, both of you grinning like kids in a candy store. Without hesitation, you just follow his lead, diving headfirst into the moment with a reckless abandon, thinking, ‘I’m all in, no matter what crazy idea you’ve got up your sleeve, baby boy.’

He cups your hand in his, his palm firm and reassuring, as he guides you through the throngs of people toward a quieter bar setup located upstairs in the club. The touch makes your head spin, feeling the familiar sensation of heat pooling between your thighs, leaving your undies all moist. You’ve felt sparks like this before, but never quite so intensely, and certainly not so quickly with anyone else.

As you trail behind him, you can’t help but lightly graze the back of his hand, mapping the pathways of his veins with your fingertips. You love a baby face paired with strong arms—he’s exactly your kind of man.

“Maybe it’s better…” he begins once you reach the bar, but the music swells out of the blue, drowning out the remainder of his sentence.

You involuntarily scrunch up your nose and squint, struggling to concentrate and hear him over the blasting tunes. “Come again, sorry?”

Before you can react, he draws closer to you. His breath is warm and tickly against your ear, causing a tremor through your entire body. Not to mention his voice: husky and velvety, making your cunt pulsate for him already.

Damn, things are moving at lightning speed, and you’re struggling to keep pace.

As Evan gets nearer, you catch a subtle yet alluring whiff of cinnamon and cologne. But, actually, it’s the natural scent exuding from his body that has a chokehold over you. Those pheromones he unleashes are like full-blown intoxication, making you lightheaded, your pulse thudding.

You lean in to mimic his gesture and whisper to his ear, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he gently clasps your hand, signalling for you to hold on. As he removes his earplugs, he explains, “Sorry I’ve got very sensitive ears.”

You chuckle, a wicked spark in your eye as you lift a tuft of hair to reveal your own ear protectors. “Great minds think alike,” you cheer.

“No, you didn’t,” he exclaims, eyes widened as you burst out laughing in sync.

As your laughter subsides, Evan’s expression shifts. His eyes bore into yours with a smouldering intensity as if he’s on the verge of revealing a long-held secret or daring to make a move.

But before you can form coherent thoughts or pluck up the courage to speak, Evan blinks fast, breaking the spell. “Shall we get those drinks at last? What’d you like?”

You clear your throat, trying to snap out of your nasty thoughts with Evan being the main character. “I’m down for another Corona, thanks.”

He flashes a quick two-finger salute to the bartender before turning back to you, his lips curving up in a cute, crooked smile. “So, who are you here with tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you confess, your voice trailing off as he raises his bottle to clink it against yours in a toast. His eyes remain glued on yours as he takes a sip, his defined jawline and slender neck at full display begging for your kisses. The intensity of his gaze makes your legs all wobbly. “A-and yourself?” you stammer, breaking eye contact to nervously trace a circular pattern on the rim of the bottle glass with your fingers.

“Same, I came to visit friends during my break. I’m flying back to Vancouver in ten days to carry on filming Tron.”

Your grip tightens around the cool glass of your drink as Evan drops the bombshell. You feel the liquid catch in your throat as you choke, a sudden surge of panic hitting your chest. You cough, the sound harsh and uncontrolled, your body reacting instinctively to the news.

“Canada?” you manage to croak out between coughs, your voice hoarse. You struggle to swallow past the lump, your throat raw and constricted. Your chest heaves as you fight to regain control.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks with a sense of urgency, his forehead creased with deep lines of worry. Leaning in, his eyes search yours for any sign of distress. His hand reaches out to steady you, giving you comforting back rubs.

You nod weakly, your eyes watering from the effort of suppressing another coughing fit.

“Let me fetch some water for you,” he offers, his voice soft and soothing. He sprints to the bar, returning seconds later with a glass of water and a concerned frown etched on his forehead.

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting the glass with a trembling hand, keeping the bottle of beer in your other hand. The cool water soothes your parched throat, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you as Evan tenderly ruffles your hair and massages your scalp to calm you down. Hint: his hands on you work wonders.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, looking up to meet his gaze again, your heart hammering. Everything else fades away, leaving only the reassuring presence of Evan before you.

You can practically sense the sexual tension between you. His stare flickers between your lips and eyes, his own mouth slightly parted. It’s like a silent invitation that hangs between you like a charged wire ready to ignite, daring you to take a plunge and smother his face with kisses. And then suck his dick so hard that his stomach caves in like a Caprisun.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve just met; he has you at hello and you’d spread your legs for this man without a second thought…

You gulp as you realise he’s almost inches away from you. You shudder when his fresh breath—an irresistible blend of mint and alcohol—wafts into my mouth, blowing stray strands of hair off your face. “You’re leaving in ten days?” you sigh, puckering your lips and giving him a puppy-eyed look.

“Yes, but I’m still here,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on your lips as he leans into your stool. With a single knee, he slowly splits your legs and slides in between them.

“You’re here now. Wanna be at my place next?” you suggest, and he stares back at your eyes with a crooked smirk, his lips curled mischievously.

Without warning, his lips brushed against yours, throwing your arousal off the chart. The torturously slow pace that his lips slide along yours makes your sex leap, pop, and drip. Soft moans escape your bodies as he grabs your ass to pull you in, squeezing it along the way as his chest cushions firmly against your breasts.

He smiles against your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair and part your mouth, giving him the green light to roughen the kiss. His hard rock boner already presses against your wet centre when his tongue invades your mouth with primitive force, swirling and twirling with yours in a passionate dance.

“How long to get to yours?” he grunts out of breath, wincing from the uncomfortable angle his stiff cock has now taken in his trousers.

“It’s roughly a ten-minute ride, give or take,” you pant, adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Off we go.”

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