#immediately followed by the Olympics???

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

i somehow always forget how impossible it is to be productive during major football tournaments. like it’s so embarrassing that weeks of my life will be lost as i avoid every life responsibility for hours and hours because some random guys are kicking a ball around.

[mx-melancholic]

"We can always tell" ppl in the icu right now. You can barely tell your left and right my guy

[n1ghttiger]

screaming losing my mind have you ever known two mutuals who post almost exactly the same genre of posts but they never cross reblogs so you can tell they are blissfully unaware of each other, like diurnal and nocturnal creatures who occupy the exact same niche but bc of their circadian rhythms they are never learn that the other exists

[dekuneho]

husband of the year ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — in your defense, who would've thought he would barge in while you're at work? clearly not you.

The TV was broadcasting and heatedly narrating Dynamight's current Villain-of-the-Week takedown when your co-worker, Yaeko whom you remember by her pin-straight waist-length hair and delight in a bunch of hearsay, taps on your shoulder for attention.

"Mm?" you murmur distractedly, incapable of tearing your eyes away from how the camera has easily captured the swift fluttering mid-air, even if just barely. No ordinary person could keep up with the force that is Bakugou Katsuki.

"Ayane-chan clocked out early."

"Did she?"

Yaeko settles on the plastic chair on your right, watching the #1 Pro Hero absolutely pulverize the villain with the most elegance, Bakugou style. She doesn't take it in with the same rapt. Doesn't hold her breath or tighten her grip on her knees, not like you.

"Her husband picked her up. They're having dinner," Yaeko sings, then sighs dreamily. "Oh, if only mine would pick me up with a nice, sleek car."

The villain finally registers he's clearly overestimated his plan for victory and starts begging for mercy. Dynamight appears too distracted to even feel victorious about it.

"That would be nice," you agree, though you're not really sure what she's saying anymore as Dynamight takes the last win. His expression looks off — far away.

'And once again, #1 Pro Hero Dynamight proves why he's at the top, breaking his last three-minute record! Looks like he'll be securing this year's ranking as well.' The reporter gushes like it's some Olympic Sport. Dynamight would grin like a fucking bastard, too, usually, but not today, it seems.

"How come I never see your husband?" Yaeko asks all of a sudden.

"That would be no good," you say, chuckling. "He's busy enough as he is."

Yaeko appraises your assured smile. "Hm. Is that what he says?"

The reporter continues gushing, "And he flees the scene in a signature Dynamight hit-and-run. He might be off to save another city; who knows!"

"That's what everyone says, really," you say cryptically, moments later. You wonder why Dynamight looked so distracted. It wasn't like him.

In the immediate silence that follows, you spare a glance at your co-worker. Yaeko looks thirsty for prying, but as soon as her shoulder comes in contact with yours, she rears back with a gasp.

"You're still sick!" she admonishes, not unlike in the tone a mother hen if they could speak and grip both your shoulders. "I was wondering why you even came today when you were all but dying last night."

You jerk away. "I was just feeling a little feverish. Nothing too bad.”

Yaeko clicks her tongue. The chair slides back as she pushes off to get water from the dispenser near the TV. The reporter drones on about how fortunate they were to witness the Pro Hero in broad daylight, followed by the dispenser's buzz.

"Your husband let you out like that?" she asks.

"He doesn't know," you murmur shamefully.

Yaeko appears unimpressed, holding the cup to your lips. You sigh and move to keep the glass yourself, feeling a little petulant about it.

Commotion begins to pick up in volume from outside, muted by the walls. Yaeko pays no mind to it, but your hair picks up on its ends. When there's a stifled sound of explosion, you understand why. The news moves to a different topic, though it seems that the headlines made its way to you himself.

"Shit. Hide me, Yaeko-san. Please."

Yaeko frowns. "What? Hey, don't move so much."

The door slides open and presents the #1 Hero himself, sweating and seething and still looking like a dream. He has to twist his upper body, the door for ordinarily built men unable to accommodate his solid, beefy arms.

"You," he growls, eyes blazing.

"Noo." You shield your face with the crook of your arm, but there isn't a single wall in the world that Dynamight can't break through.

Behind him, the security guard emerges and looks rightfully guilty. He makes a gesture of 'I tried, sorry. It's up to you now.'

He grips your elbow and pushes it out of view until your face is bare, and you're witness to his very, very angry face. "I told you not to punch in for work."

He did say that. "Uhh…"

"You went all," He pitches his voice somewhere obnoxiously high, "'Don't worry, baby, I won't!' — we lyin' to each other now?"

You did also say that.

"Baby?" Yaeko whispers to herself, stunned.

Dynamight scowls, ripping his glove out to press it on your forehead, his skin ice-cold. You wonder if this is how the villain from earlier felt, though maybe with a little less arousal at the sight of his eyes. "Fuckin' idiot," he mutters under his breath.

"D-Dynamight, sir," Yaeko pipes up, looking shell-shocked, "please unhand my co-worker."

"Ha? You the one who asked this idiot to clock in?"

"No." You shield Yaeko's terrified expression with your hand. "No, she didn't. I did it myself."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a dumbass on your own," he says, and now the familiarity of bickering feels more like your Katsuki in the walls of your home. Your husband, who seriously came all the way here after kicking some ass. Katsuki turns to Yaeko. "Tell your boss we're leaving. Don't call."

And he pulls you up and drags you off. You half-expected him to throw you over his shoulder, but his neck brace might dig into your side painfully, and Katsuki has already considered it despite his boiling anger at your disobedience.

"Katsuki," you whine, heating up at the stonished staring while you're tugged off into the exit. "Did you really fly all the way here just to kidnap me home?

"The hell's with that," he snaps. "I'm clocking out for the day 'cause I'm not stupid like your stupid ass."

"Katsuki!"

"'sides," Katsuki gives you a long look over his shoulder, and oh, is this what he was thinking about the entire time? Your heart does a bit of somersaulting. "Who else is gonna take care of you?"

Yaeko can keep her nice, sleek cars. Nothing beats this.

[suiana]

(yandere! zombie x gn! survivor reader) (im such a youtube shorts kid bruh this idea came to me because of a video i watched)

did you know that zombies retain their habits from when they were humans?

well you sure as hell do now, because why is your annoying neighbour still following you around?? he's literally fucking rotting???

"shoo! go away!"

you hiss at him, shooting a rubber band at him before quickly climbing up a tree. phew, you wouldn't be bothered by him from here. it's been like this for a few days now, your undead neighbour following you around as you did your best to survive in this ruined world.

you never really liked him, your neighbour that is. he's always been that one weird guy that keeps annoying you ever since he moved in. constantly knocking on your door and asking to have meals together, to getting to and from work at the same times as you... you're so sure that he was stalking you. how could it ever be a coincidence that he just somehow knew when you were going out and coming back from work?

but now you wouldn't ever know and it's not like you wanted to know anyway. ignorance is bliss after all. oh! he's also very stubborn and it's quite apparent in his zombie form.

"bweh."

"go away!"

the zombie hits at the tree you were sitting down on as he looks up at you with what seemed to be puppydog eyes. you could only grimace at the sight before checking through your supplies. shit, you're running out of stuff.

"ugh... i'll need to scavenge for food-"

"guh!"

you raise an eyebrow at your undead admirer before humming. right, you suppose it isn't that bad that you have him around... he gives you stuff that's useful and scares away other mobs (you think he eats them if they get too close to you). you would've actually coddled him like a dog if he wasn't trying to get into your pants or kiss you every second.

"thanks."

you lean forward and snatch the bad of chips from his rotting hands before stuffing it into your bag. mn, you could probably have that for your lunch and dinner tomorrow.

"let's see... i need to find a good place to sleep tonight."

"bwa! buh beh!"

your zombie immediately starts scratching at the tree bark before jutting his lower lip. huh...

"no, i'm not sleeping in your apartment."

"gah!"

you think you're starting to understand zombie language because why are you holding full on conversations with him??

"don't give me that face. you know our apartment complex is riddled with zombies. i don't want to be turned."

"kh... gur! rh..."

"you think i'm trusting you? i swear i saw our old neighbour lurking around there and he was an olympic sprinter."

you shake your finger at the zombie before sighing softly. why did this apocalypse have to happen? things were going great for you before this. you just had a raise and you were so close to landing a date with your hot boss!

if you didn't know any better you'd have thought that your little zombie admirer was the one who kickstarted this zombie apocalypse because of his jealousy. what did he work as before he turned? a scientist?

"tn... jhn... ngh..."

"don't act all sassy with me right now. it's not like i want to sleep in your place to begin with. you'd probably lock me in there with you and i'd be trapped."

"bah!"

rolling your eyes at the sassy undead man, you rest against the trunk of the tree and shut your eyes. might as well get some rest before setting off again.

"i'm going to rest now. help me keep an eye out."

"kah kah. jah?"

"no, i won't kiss you. and no, i most certainly won't reward you with myself. you're rotting, damnit! how many times do i have to tell you that?"

"ui..."

what in the sassy zombie apocalypse have you gotten yourself into?

[finelinefae]

reaching out [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: just one moment out of very many of tennis!h pining over y/n before they teamed up.

word count: 5.5k

contains: enemies to lovers, pining h, angst, abusive parents, mentions of physical abuse, tennis rivals, fluff

a/n: very first tennis!h blurb omggg - i missed my babies so much!! For those who don't know, this is a blurb for my tennis!h series which you can read here !!

. . .

Harry stretched his legs, working his calf muscles, as people settled into their seats in the stands. Today was a big day, one that had drawn a large crowd, but he paid them no mind. Performing in front of a big audience never shook Harry’s confidence. When it came to tennis, his focus was entirely on the game.

It was the county cup semi-final. Harry had competed in the same event last year, finishing in second place behind Henry Waver, who took home the gold before heading to rehab a month later for using performance-enhancing drugs. Harry had come a long way since then, and he was determined to make it to the final and claim first place.

Some might have thought Harry no longer needed to compete in these smaller events, given his path toward qualifying for the Olympics, but he couldn’t stay away. Maybe it was the rush of winning, or perhaps the quiet focus that settled over him when the game began—just him, his opponent, and the swift rhythm of the ball being hit back and forth between them.

He walked over to his bench, some people cheering as he walked onto the court. He was wearing all white, a towel around his shoulders and his racket bag hanging from his shoulder. He reached for his water bottle, pouring it into his mouth. 

His eyes scanned the growing crowd, but there was no sign of his parents—not that he had expected anything different. He caught a glimpse of Mitch chatting with a few girls from their year group on the stairs, but Harry's focus shifted immediately to the center of the stands, only to find it empty.

A frown tugged at his lips, the first sign of emotion since this morning. He glanced around, searching for the one person his heart longed to see, but before he could spot her, his coach clapped him on the back.

"Remember what we worked on yesterday—don’t overstep the baseline and make sure to follow through," his coach muttered, his tone more routine than encouraging.

Harry barely registered the words. He shrugged off his coach’s hand, distracted. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbled, his mind still preoccupied with trying to figure out why she hadn’t shown up yet.

The opposing crowd erupted into cheers as Lionel Boyce stepped onto the court, raising a hand to acknowledge their applause. Harry barely spared him a glance. He had crossed paths with Lionel plenty of times in his tennis journey and knew the truth behind the polished exterior—Lionel was an arrogant opportunist, desperate for sponsorship deals.

Harry took a swig of water, his grip tightening on the bottle as he set it down and reached for his racket. The game was drawing closer, but the empty seat in the center of the stands—the one he had been watching all afternoon—remained vacant. His chest tightened at the thought of someone else filling it. He wasn’t sure how he’d play with a stranger sitting there instead of the person he was hoping for.

The umpire climbed into his seat, and the announcement for the game’s start echoed across the court. Harry felt a firm pat on the back from his coach as he stepped forward.

“Go show him what you’re made of,” his coach said with a nod.

The crowd erupted as Harry walked onto the court. Most of the cheers came from the Crestwood supporters, and while it wasn’t the loudest reception, it was enough to steady his nerves.

Across the court, Lionel sauntered into position, basking in the applause. Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling as Lionel flashed his best grin to the crowd. He didn’t miss the way a group of girls in the front row seemed to swoon, whispering excitedly among themselves.

The umpire adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat, his voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, play shall begin. First set—Harry Styles to serve."

Harry stepped into position at the baseline, gripping his racket tightly. As always, he raised it and pointed toward the center of the crowd—a ritual that steadied his nerves and granted him good luck for the game.

But this time, his breath hitched.

There she was, sliding into the seat he’d been watching all afternoon. Y/N.

Her eyes found his almost instantly, and for a fleeting moment, the world around him fell away—the roaring crowd, the pressure of the match, even Lionel’s smug presence on the other side of the net. It was just her, sitting there with that familiar stoic expression.

A small smile tugged at Harry’s lips. She was always like this at his matches, focused and intense, watching every move with the same concentration as if she were playing herself. Her unwavering focus sent a spark of determination surging through him.

He adjusted his stance, exhaling slowly as he prepared to serve. With her gaze burning into him, he played to win the entire thing. 

. . .

Mitch had thrown a party to celebrate Harry’s victory over Lionel, just as he always did whenever Harry won anything. It was a tradition Harry had grown fond of, even though he often found himself dreading the expectation to win every time he played. Victory wasn’t typically celebrated in his world—it was expected. But his friends? They always found a way to make a big deal out of it, and Harry appreciated that, even if the attention wasn’t his favorite part. Being around his friends was.

Harry stood in the kitchen, holding a cup of something he couldn’t identify. Mitch was across the room, chatting animatedly with Sarah. Harry was pretty sure Mitch had been infatuated with her ever since she’d transferred to Crestwood four years ago. Watching them, he wondered if Mitch would ever work up the courage to act on it.

He couldn’t help but glance around, hoping to spot someone else. He knew Sarah’s best friend and roommate might be here, too, but there was no guarantee. Unlike Sarah, who thrived on Crestwood’s social gatherings, her quieter counterpart was more selective about where she spent her evenings.

“Hi, Harry.” He turned to see Astrid approaching, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her skin glowing with a fresh tan from her recent holiday in the Maldives. He’d only known about it because his mother, after scrolling through Facebook, couldn’t resist mentioning it during their last phone call.

“Hey, Astrid,” Harry said with a polite smile. He didn’t mind her company, but unlike most of the guys in their year, he didn’t feel attracted to her in the same way they did. Sure, she was stunning—legs for days, an effortless smile—but their shared interests barely went beyond tennis and the fact their parents were friends. Friends who, annoyingly, had been dropping hints about the two of them dating for as long as Harry could remember.

“Congrats on the win. You were amazing out there,” she said, her voice smooth and practiced.

“Thanks. I heard you did well at the Championships the other week,” he replied. He hadn’t actually seen her match but knew through their coach that she’d won.

“Yeah, I’m hoping to qualify for the Australian Open,” she said, her grin widening.

Harry nodded, letting the conversation drift until his gaze caught something—or rather, someone—in the living room. His heart skipped a beat.

There she was.

Her smile lit up her face, radiant and warm, eclipsing even the moonlight streaming through the large windows. Her hair spilled to one side, leaving her neck bare, and she was wearing a sleek black maxi dress paired with chunky heels—an outfit so out of the ordinary for her that it was almost disarming. Harry’s eyes lingered on her longer than they should have, but he didn’t care. He’d been hoping she’d come.

His smile faltered when Adam appeared beside her. Harry’s stomach tightened at the sight. He knew Adam had a soft spot for her—he’d admitted as much—but assured everyone he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Still, seeing them together made something uneasy churn in Harry’s chest.

“Harry?” Astrid’s voice snapped him back to reality. He blinked, realizing he hadn’t heard a word she’d been saying. She followed his line of sight and spotted Y/N. Her tone shifted, tinged with something that wasn’t quite approval.

“Oh, Y/N’s here,” Astrid remarked flatly. “I’m surprised after…everything.”

Harry’s head whipped toward her, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t know?” Astrid asked, her surprise seeming genuine. “One of my friends was at the Country Club a couple of weekends ago. She got lost trying to find the bathroom near the pool and overheard her dad yelling at her—apparently for getting a bad grade on her report card. She said he slapped her.”

Harry’s stomach dropped, cold fury replacing the unease. “He what?”

Astrid shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’ve always thought her family was messed up. My dad had a horrible experience at their Country Club—almost sued them after Mom got food poisoning there.” She kept talking, but Harry wasn’t listening anymore.

His attention snapped back to Y/N, watching her closely. Something was different. To anyone else, she probably seemed the same, but Harry knew her too well. He noticed the way her fingers twisted together, fidgeting nervously. Her smile, though bright, didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her makeup seemed heavier than usual; she rarely wore much or applied it sparingly, but today, it looked as though she was trying to mask something—maybe a shadow or imperfection on her cheek, though he couldn’t be sure.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. If what Astrid said was true, there was no doubt in his mind—he’d track down her father and make him regret it in ways that didn’t bear sunlight. But first, he needed to talk to her, to make sure she was okay. The problem was, Harry knew her well enough to realise she wouldn’t just open up if he asked. They weren’t even friends. In fact, Harry was pretty sure Y/N didn’t like him at all. 

It wasn’t really a surprise, considering how they’d met—and the fact that he’d spent most of his days tormenting her just to get her attention. It was childish, he knew, but it was easier than admitting how much he actually cared. And he did care—more than he should, more than she probably realised. Beneath all the teasing and arguments, she mattered to him. So, if she was hurt, none of that other stuff mattered. He just needed to make sure she was okay.

When Harry saw Adam walk away, he seized the opportunity to sneak in. As if she could sense his presence, Y/N looked up, her smile immediately fading, and her jaw tightened. Harry couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. There was something exhilarating about her reaction, the way she shifted from neutral to visibly irritated, even if it was driven by nothing but disdain for him.

“I’m surprised you were willing to show up, love,” he said, his voice carrying the familiar, mocking tone.

Y/N’s eyes flashed with irritation at the nickname, her posture stiffening even further. Harry had always loved calling her that—it was almost like a reflex, especially since she absolutely hated it. He relished in the way she bristled, every time.

“Not so willingly, as a matter of fact,” she shot back, her arms folding across her chest. “I’m only here because Sarah wanted me to come.” She still hadn’t taken a sip from her drink, Harry noticed, as if it were some kind of shield between them.

“Excuses, excuses.” He clicked his tongue with a grin, leaning casually against the edge of the table. “What did you think of the match?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his question. “You care what I have to say?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice.

“No,” Yes. he replied, his eyes gleamed with a spark of challenge. “But I know you’ve got something to say anyway.”

She gave him a wry smile, the faintest hint of a laugh on her lips. “Well, it wasn’t one of your best, that’s for sure. Your tracking was terrible. You were lucky Lionel cared more about his appearance than his technique.”

Harry couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped him. He knew she wasn’t wrong—tracking had been off, and Lionel had certainly played a little too carefully. The dig was unsurprising to say the least but he took it all on board.

“You always have such charming critiques, don’t you?” Harry smirked. “Should I be worried about your career in commentary?”

Y/N’s replied, the sarcasm was back in full force. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stick to calling it how I see it. You wouldn’t last five minutes with me in your corner, would you?”

Harry leaned in a little closer, their banter familiar and comfortable despite the tension. “You’d be too distracted by my charm to focus,” he said with a grin, savoring the challenge in her eyes.

Y/N scoffed but couldn’t entirely hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Right. I think you’d find me too busy pointing out all the flaws you refuse to see.”

“Sounds like a good time,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t look away, the intensity between them palpable in the silence that followed.

“So,” Harry started, the tone shifting slightly, more serious, “what else? What else did you think of the match?” He genuinely wanted to know—part of him knew her critique might actually help him. But the other part of him just liked the way she made him think.

Y/N seemed to hesitate for a split second, the walls she kept up around her cracking just enough for him to notice. “Your footwork was off, too. You were slow on some of your returns, and—”

Harry laughed, cutting her off. “I thought you said you weren’t a fan?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not. But I’ve watched enough matches to know when someone’s not giving it their all.” Her gaze flicked to his eyes, sharp and clear. “And I know you can do better.”

Harry’s smile faltered, something unspoken passing between them, something that felt almost like respect. He had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about the match anymore.

“Well,” he said after a beat, straightening up, “I guess I’ll have to show you just how much better I can be, then.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away, her lips pursed as if she were weighing her options. Finally, she shrugged, that same familiar look of defiance in her eyes. “We’ll see.”

Harry’s eyes lingered on her for longer than he intended, “What about you?” He took a sip of his drink. 

She frowns, “What about me?”

“I haven’t seen you training recently,” He said. 

Y/N’s expression faltered, her eyes flashing with something like hurt or fear. “I haven’t had time.”

“What do you mean? I don’t think I’ve spent a day where I haven’t seen you on the court.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry’s brows furrowed as he studied her. There was something about the way she shifted on her feet, the subtle way her fingers tightened around the cup in her hand. It wasn’t the first time he’d sensed something was off, but hearing her say she didn’t want to talk about it made his curiosity spike. It was rare for Y/N to hide anything, especially from him. He’d spent enough time observing her—dissecting her every reaction, every word—to know when something wasn’t right.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, leaning forward, his voice losing its usual teasing edge. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He almost regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Not because he didn’t mean them, but because he knew she wouldn’t believe it—not after everything.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Harry thought she might brush him off entirely. Instead, she let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. “Yeah, right,” she muttered, not meeting his eyes. “Since when?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. She was right—he had never given her much reason to trust him. But right now, as much as it pissed him off that she was shutting him out, he couldn’t help but feel... protective. There was something going on with her, something more than she was letting on, and it was like a switch had flipped inside him.

“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice softer now, “I’m not gonna push you, but if something’s going on, you don’t have to go through it alone. You know that, right?”

Her eyes finally met his, and for a brief moment, Harry thought he saw a crack in her tough exterior—a flicker of vulnerability—but it was gone in an instant. She shook her head, her gaze hardening.

“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Harry didn’t buy it, and he didn’t think she expected him to. He knew he was on dangerous territory—one misstep, and no doubt she would lash out at him for putting his nose into business that was nothing to do with him. But something in him refused to let this go. He couldn’t just sit there, watching her shut him out.

“Come with me,” he said, motioning for her to follow him, the command in his voice surprising even him.

Y/N glanced at him, confused, her arms still crossed defensively. “What?”

“I’m taking you outside,” Harry said, already standing and grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. He could tell she was about to protest, could see the hesitation in her eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of something—determination, maybe, or a mix of things he couldn’t quite name. “You need a break. You’re tense as hell, and I don’t like seeing you like this.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Harry cut her off. “Trust me. It’ll be good for you.”

For a moment, Y/N seemed like she might just walk away, but then she sighed, as if giving in to the inevitable. “Fine. But don’t get any ideas.”

Harry smirked, fighting the urge to laugh. “No promises,” he teased, already walking toward the door.

Outside, the late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the empty tennis courts. Harry tossed her a tennis racket, watching as she caught it awkwardly. He was doing this for her—for whatever was weighing on her, for whatever had her retreating behind that wall. He wasn’t sure if tennis was the right call, but it was something he knew they both shared, something that might bring down some of her defenses.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious about this?”

“Dead serious,” Harry replied, stepping onto the court. He grinned at her.

She hesitated before stepping onto the court, but when she did, Harry could see a flicker of something else in her—the tension in her shoulders loosening, just a bit. She wasn’t fully on board yet, but the corners of her lips twitched upward, and that was something.

They began to rally, hitting the ball back and forth with the kind of casual ease that came from years of practice. Y/N’s form was sharp, fluid, and Harry couldn't help but be impressed, as he always was. But it wasn’t just the way she played that had him captivated.

It was the way she laughed.

The sound was light, unguarded, a sound he hadn’t heard from her in so long. It was like the weight of everything had lifted for a moment, leaving behind only the carefree side of Y/N he rarely got to see. She had a natural smile, the kind that reached her eyes and made them sparkle with a mischievous glint. Harry couldn’t look away.

Her laughter filled the air, echoing across the empty courts, and for a fleeting second, everything felt right. Harry’s heart skipped in his chest as he watched her, the way her eyes shone with a genuine sense of freedom. It wasn’t just the way she looked in that moment—it was how she felt, and how much he wanted to be the reason she smiled like that.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He had always known he had a thing for her—he didn’t even try to deny it anymore. But this was different. He wasn’t just in awe of how she looked, or the way she challenged him to be better—he was infatuated with her.

The thought hit him hard, and he tried to push it aside, to focus on the game. But with every smile, every laugh, Harry found himself falling deeper, in a way that he couldn’t control. There was something about her—the way she made everything feel effortless, the way her presence seemed to fill up the space, making everything more vibrant. She was everything he wasn’t—bold, unafraid, untouchable in some ways. And Harry was starting to realize how much he wanted to be the one to reach her.

When Y/N hit a particularly good shot and spun around with that radiant smile, Harry felt a flutter in his chest. He swallowed, his throat tight, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he could handle being this close to her without completely falling apart.

“You’re not half bad,” she teased, breathless from the rally.

Harry grinned, the praise warming him in a way he hadn’t expected. “I know. You should be honored to play with me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re insufferable.”

And there it was again—her laugh, the way she made everything feel lighter. Harry caught himself smiling at her, not the cocky, playful smile he usually wore, but something more sincere. Something that spoke volumes of how much he was starting to feel for her—how much he had already felt.

They rallied for another few minutes, the sun dipping lower as the evening air turned cooler. But Harry wasn’t paying attention to the time, or the way the game was unfolding. All he could focus on was the way her hair caught the last of the sunlight, the way her eyes gleamed with happiness—and how damn beautiful she was.

“You’re good,” Harry finally said, his voice quieter than usual, almost like a confession.

Y/N gave him a curious look, then smirked. “You finally noticing?”

He wanted to say more, to tell her exactly what he was thinking—but it would only complicate things. Instead, he just nodded, watching her carefully, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I’ve always noticed,” he said, his voice a little too soft, betraying the quiet ache he felt inside.

Y/N paused, her expression softening for a brief moment before her usual mask of sarcasm slipped back into place. “Well, I’m glad you finally decided to admit it.”

The smile she gave him in return was genuine, full of warmth. And for a moment, Harry forgot about the rest of the world, just watching her, heart in his throat, wondering how he had gotten so lucky—and so lost in someone who would never even look at him the same way.

Y/N took a few steps back, wiping a hand across her forehead, trying to shake off the intensity of the game and the weight of the conversation that had been hanging between them. Harry still stood there, watching her, his breath a little heavier from the rally but his focus unwavering. It was as if he was waiting for something to break, for her to say the words he didn’t want to hear but somehow feared.

She didn’t look at him for a moment, her eyes scanning the ground like she was trying to find some way out. But then, when she spoke, her voice was softer than usual, almost reluctant. "You were right earlier... about me being tense," she said, barely above a whisper.

Harry tilted his head, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. His heart rate picked up, and he took a tentative step toward her. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated, clearly at war with herself, as if saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real. But Harry could see the way her fingers curled tighter around her tennis racket, the way her shoulders were drawn up protectively.

“Something happened... with my dad,” she finally admitted, the words slipping out in a rush, like she couldn’t stop them once she started.

Harry’s chest tightened, but he kept his expression neutral, unwilling to push her too much. "What happened?"

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes redder than usual, her face more vulnerable than he'd ever seen it. "He... slapped me," she said, the words a simple admission but heavy enough to make the air around them thick with tension.

The air in Harry’s lungs seemed to stop for a moment. His chest tightened, fists clenching at his sides as the words echoed in his mind. Slapped her.

He was careful not to let the anger build, though it was hard. The thought of anyone hurting her—let alone her father—lit a fire of fury inside him, but he knew he couldn’t let it show. Not now. Not when she was looking at him like that, so fragile and raw.

“Y/N,” Harry said softly, stepping closer. His voice was low, almost as if he were afraid the words might break something inside her. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, her lips trembling slightly. “You don’t have to apologize,” she murmured, her voice thick with something he couldn’t quite place. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry replied quickly, his gaze steady. He took a slow, steadying breath. “I’m angry, though. At him. But I’m not pitying you, Y/N. You’re... you’re strong. You don’t deserve that. You never have.”

She blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to steady herself. Harry could see her fighting it—fighting the tears, fighting the emotions that were threatening to spill over.

“I got a low grade on my report card this semester,” she whispered after a beat, her voice so small it almost hurt to hear. “My parents think it’s because I spend too much time playing. They threatened to stop funding my schooling if I didn’t quit. Not that I’m going to quit, but I have to lay low for a while.”

Harry’s heart broke at her words. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, the thought of her in such a difficult situation, but he forced himself to stay composed. She was so strong, but there was only so much someone could take.

“Does he…” Harry hesitated, the words feeling too heavy to speak, but he forced them out anyway, “Does he do that often?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak but paused, her gaze dropping to the ground for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, and Harry felt that pit in his stomach grow deeper with each passing second. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

“It wasn’t the first time,” she said, her voice faltering. “But he doesn’t do it often.”

Harry’s eyes darkened with barely-contained anger. His hands clenched at his sides, a reflex he couldn’t control. “Y/N, he shouldn’t be doing it at all,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice low and tight. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her close and hold her, but something held him back. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he didn’t want to push her further away.

“No man should ever lay a hand on you,” he added, his voice raw with emotion. “Not ever. You don’t deserve that. No one does.”

Y/N stayed quiet for a long time, her face a mixture of exhaustion and something else Harry couldn’t name. She looked up at him, eyes glistening, but there was no hint of softness in her expression. She had her walls up again, already rebuilding what little had cracked.

“I don’t want your sympathy, Harry,” she said firmly, her voice regaining some of its usual sharpness. “And I don’t need you to protect me. I’ll deal with it.”

Harry’s chest tightened, frustration bubbling to the surface. “But you don’t have to do it alone,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice softer now. “I can’t just stand by and pretend like nothing’s wrong. You shouldn’t have to carry this by yourself.”

She shook her head, but this time, there was no bite in it—just a sad resignation. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, her eyes darting to the side. “I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected. I don’t want your help. I just want to get through this on my own.”

Harry could feel the walls she’d built between them—walls made of pain and pride—climbing higher, and the instinct to break them down was strong. But he knew, deep down, he couldn’t force her to open up, especially not when she wasn’t ready.

“I’m not trying to save you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice tinged with something like regret. “I’m just here. Whenever you need someone to listen, or... whatever else you need. Just know that.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, but he could see the smallest tremor in her shoulders as she exhaled. Finally, after a long pause, she spoke again, her voice quiet but firm.

“I don't need help,” she said, her words like a wall being slammed shut. “I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need anyone to try and fix me.”

Harry’s heart dropped, the weight of her words hitting him harder than he wanted to admit. But he understood. She was trying to keep control of a situation that was already slipping through her fingers. And maybe she wasn’t ready to let him in, no matter how much he wanted to be there for her.

“I’m not trying to fix you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now, the weight of his emotions slipping through despite himself. “I just... I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Her eyes flicked to his, sharp and guarded. “I don’t need help but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry’s chest tightened, but he didn’t let his gaze drop. “Alright,” he said softly. “But I’ll be here. Whenever you need me.”

Y/N didn’t respond, and Harry didn’t push. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, looking at her, wishing he could say more—do more—make her feel safe, but knowing it wasn’t his place to force anything. For now, all he could do was wait.

And somehow, that felt worse than anything.

“Want to go another round?” Harry asked, his voice lighter, searching for a way to ease the tension.

“I think we should probably head back. Sarah might be looking for me.” Y/Ns expression softens.

“Right” the last thing Harry wanted to do was leave this pocket of space they were in together. He savoured any rare moment of time he had with her alone and this was one of them.

They walked side by side, the silence between them not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken truths. As they approached his flat, Y/N glanced at him, her voice quiet but firm. “This doesn’t change anything, you know. I don’t want you to look at me differently just because I couldn’t defend myself against my dad. I’m strong—it just… it caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Harry stopped, turning to her with an earnestness that made her chest tighten. “Y/N, this doesn’t change a thing. Not about how I see you, or what I think of you. You’re still the strongest person I know.”

Her lips quirked in a small, tentative smile. “Good,” she said softly. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she added, “And you better win the final.”

Harry chuckled, his own smile breaking through. For her, he would.

For her, he’d do anything.

. . . 

Harry walked into the school the next day with his tie askew, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show his white t-shirt underneath, and his blazer slung casually over his shoulder, hooked with his middle finger. He had no particular reason to look so disheveled—he just liked the chaos it seemed to cause.

As he passed Mitch’s locker, he caught sight of Y/N walking down the hallway. Her eyes were trained straight ahead, like she was in her own world, but Harry couldn’t resist. He flashed a smirk and called out, “Hey, love.”

She immediately paused and turned to face him. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, then the corner of her lips twitched slightly, but her eyes were all ice.

“Seriously?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, seriously,” Harry teased, not backing down. “You got something against me saying hello?”

“Not really,” she replied dryly, her arms crossing over her chest. “But I’m guessing you’re doing it just to get a reaction.”

“You know me too well,” Harry said with a grin. “But still, can’t help it. You just look... irresistible when you’re pissed off.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement hiding beneath the irritation. Without saying a word, she lifted her middle finger and gave him a quick, deliberate flip-off. Then, as she turned to walk away, she allowed herself to smile, just a little—just enough for Harry to catch it.

He watched her walk off, his smirk fading as something tighter, warmer, filled his chest. He had always loved the way she carried herself—so confident, even when she was annoyed with him. He liked that she never made it easy. But right now, as she walked away, all he could think was how much he was falling for her.

"God," he muttered under his breath, watching her disappear down the hallway. "I’m so screwed."

[ozzgin]

I looveee the Monsters x Heartbreaker reader. Especially how reader is a b**ch.

So what about a motherly reader with the monsters? I do love to give those monsters an awakening breeding kink and future family when they meet motherly reader lmao

TW: monster smut, breeding kink, pregnancy talk

I think it definitely adds another layer of possessiveness. Reader is not only a player, but also a caring Darling who just happens to be hornier than the average person. So she will lovingly accept the courting of any monster, with a lot of preparation and plenty of aftercare.

The realization doesn't immediately settle in. Obviously they've never dealt with a human before, so pregnancy is borderline ridiculous and out of the question. The monsters just follow their instincts and filling Reader with their seed is merely a kinky finale to their play.

And then it happens. Maybe it's a pregnancy scare, maybe more knowledge comes to light, but the important conclusion is that Reader can indeed be bred. It's the ultimate way to mark their territory and permanently brand her as theirs. What better way to say "She's mine" than turning her into the mother of their children? Bite marks, scratches, rough handling, they all go away with time. This is permanent.

Except, you know, this flawless logic implies there's not a horde of suitors waiting for their turn. "You're all mine", but multiply it by Lord knows how much. Yet, regardless of the reasoning, the urge prevails. No rational approach would convince the beasts in heat that they should take a step back. Even the ancient, all-knowing eldritch creature is clouded by tremendous jealousy at the idea that some other pathetic brute would gain the upper hand with Reader. Absolutely not.

It's a terribly crass way of putting it, but once this desire develops within the monsters, Reader will be dripping every step of the day. Whatever was happening under the sheets before has now turned into who can fill Reader up the most.

*insert multiple gas pumps meme*

(Ah, yes, that's where the Breeding Olympics from the previous ask come in. I almost forgot. Naturally, only the best of the best may have the chance to procreate with the one and only human of their realm. Funded by the Mayor of Monstertown, the historical event will ensure that Reader doesn't waste her time - and birthing resources - with anything less than elite.)

[flemingsfreckles]

New Name

Synopsis: You and Jessie find a way to subtlety announce your marriage.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: none :)

A/N: stuff in italics is in the past, previous stuff that happened… I promise replacement and drunk dial are being worked on… just sometimes you need a little bit of a fluffy break

Jessie smirked as she walked around into the locker room, immediately making a brisk walk toward her cubby where her jersey for the game today was hung. She could see it from across the room, everyone else’s, back of the jersey facing the room, names obviously on display, except hers.

Hers had been turned around, just as she has requested. As she reached it, she took a deep breath before reaching for the hanger and turning it to look at the back. For the first time she read not only her own last name, but followed by a hyphen and your last name. Unable to contain herself Jessie felt a huge smile break across her face as she quickly grabbed out her phone snapping a photo of the back before sending it to you.

You were at home, cleaning up from the breakfast you had made for your newly made wife before she headed out for pregame work. She had told you she needed to go in for something early, you didn’t question it. Jessie often had meetings, media, little extra training she wanted to do, small stuff that she’d add on before or after her game days so this was nothing new. What she didn’t tell you was why she had gone in so early.

That surprise came in the form of a photo. You opened your phone after seeing the notification from your wife, smiling when you remembered she was your wife now, not just your girlfriend, not just your fiancée, she was your wife.

Jessie 🫎❤️: had to come in to make sure this was all set

Jessie 🫎❤️: Attachment

You clicked on the picture and your jaw dropped. You saw the all too familiar image of a jersey, Jessie’s name and number on the back. Only now, your last name sat side by side with your wife’s. You stared and stared at the image.

Jessie 🫎❤️: Hope that’s okay, I’m thinking now that I should’ve double checked that it was okay to do today. We talked about it for the first game back but, I’m sorry.

You: I’m speechless, definitely not upset

Jessie 🫎❤️: okay, I still should’ve checked with you, I just thought it would be a cool way to announce it, and I figured it’s a good time to do it.

You: So everyone will know we’re married after today, I like that.

Private but not secret has been the motto that describes your relationship with Jessie. The two of you had been dating since she was at Chelsea. Neither of you ever publicly announced you were dating, but the speculation was abundant. The two of you were always together. You posted photos of Jessie with you at farmers markets, at coffee shops, on hikes, you always attended her games and she’d come see you in the stands, you weren’t hiding it by any means. PDA was never something you were big on so it didn’t bother you to be reserved around your girlfriend when others were present. After nearly 3 years together in London, when Jessie made the move to Portland, you followed her, only solidifying the rumors and assumptions that the two of you were together when fans spotted that Jessie was still coming over to the same girl after her move.

After a year in Portland together, you proposed, Jessie said yes and the two of you slowly began planning a wedding. Unfortunately with the Olympics, international windows, the NWSL season, on top of your job, little to no wedding planning was done by either of you. Not that you minded, it was fine, you’d get to it when you did. You were committed regardless, a piece of paper and a party weren’t going to change that.

It had been an off week for Portland, you and Jessie had been having an easy morning, both of you on the couch, books in hand enjoying each other's company.

“Would you ever have considered eloping?” Jessie puts her book down looking across the couch at you and nudging her foot into your thigh.

“Hmm?” You hum, engrossed in your book not fully hearing what Jessie had said. You finish reading the sentence you were on before putting your own book down to give her your attention. “Sorry what?”

“Eloping? Would you have ever considered it before?” She asks flatly before adding. “It’s in my book, I just was curious.”

“What do you mean ‘before’?” You shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket up more.

“Like we’ve discussed having a big formal wedding obviously, I mean like, before we discussed that?” Jessie clarifies.

“I mean, sure, I think I’d still consider it honestly, easy, quick, intimate. I’m honestly surprised you were more into the idea of the big wedding.” It was true, despite the small planning you had done, the guest list had been one of the first things, when it was all said and done the two of you were looking at a couple hundred names of people you planned to invite.

“I’m not, I actually always liked the idea of eloping. Just me and my future wife, somewhere with a view. I thought you wanted to do the full formal wedding, and I think it’s just been programmed into my head that I have to invite all my teammates and by default that’s a big wedding.”

You hesitate for a moment, listening and processing Jessie’s statement. Just as she goes to reopen her book you speak up. “Want to then?” You say, raising an eyebrow at her and giving a shrug of your shoulders.

“Want to, what?” She puts the book back into her lap.

“Elope?” You say casually, unsure of how Jessie had lost her way in the conversation you were having.

“Seriously?” Jessie squints across the couch at you.

“If you are?”

“When?” She cocks her head at you.

“I’m free tomorrow or if not tomorrow I’m also available the next day?” It’s true, you both were free, no plans, no responsibilities.

You watch Jessie squint at you before a smirk begins to show on her face. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding with me or not.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.” She sighs and laughs. “Tomorrow then.”

“Okay, let me make some calls.” You immediately hop off the couch, making a run toward your phone that sat charging. You hear Jessie laughing at the way you frantically jumped from the couch, that was a sound you were ready to listen to for the rest of your life.

It took 2 phone calls, one to Jessie’s sister and one to a local company that helped you sort out everything you’d need. Jessie’s sister had always been Jessie’s best friend and since the two of you started dating, you became closer and closer with her, she was already set to be Jessie’s maid of honor, it made sense to call her and ask if she’d be your witness. You both also knew you could trust her not to let out your little secret before you wanted everyone to know.

The following day the two of you, Jessie‘s sister, a photographer, and the man who would marry you arrived at the trailhead of a quiet path that you and Jessie frequently hiked.

The five of you hiked to a small opening within the trees, a view of a mountain in the clearing. While everyone got set up, you and Jessie walked over, hand in hand, taking a second to admire the view.

“This is perfect.” Jessie said her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you looked out.

“I know.” You let out a satisfied sigh. “I can’t believe we were going to do the big party instead.”

“I don’t know what we were thinking.”

Just minutes later you and Jessie stood hand in hand, looking at each other with stupidly happy grins on your faces and joyful tears in your eyes as you were officially pronounced as wives. The two of you had just exchanged silicone wedding bands, all you could manage with a 12 hours notice, agreeing you’d get metal ones once you broke the news to everyone.

Jessie pulled you in for a sweet kiss, sealing your marriage. “I’m your wife now.” She said quietly as she pulled away, her forehead resting on yours as the two of you looked at each other.

“You’re my wife.”

Jessie sat in her cubby, jersey still hung up behind her as she nervously bounced her leg. Her other teammates would be showing up any minute, she wasn’t sure how to go about it. Did she make it a big deal? Make a formal announcement? Did she just wait for someone to notice?

That’s when Janine came around the corner first, giving Jessie a quick smile and wave that the urge to tell someone broke. Had it been anyone else Jessie might have been able to hold the news in, but her best friend, she couldn’t do it.

“We got married!” Jessie nearly shouts at her teammate who whips her head around from where she was standing at her own cubby.

“What?”

Jessie turns, grabbing the jersey behind her and holding it out to Janine. “We, last Friday, we got married, we eloped.”

“Holy shit!” She comes up, grabbing the jersey to hold it out and look at it herself. “Wow. I can’t believe it. Shy little Jessie, married before me.” Janine teased. Jessie could feel her face flush slightly. “Is this your announcement?”

Jessie nodded. “We decided might as well let everyone know, confirm the suspicions everyone has had for years now.”

“That’s really exciting Jessie, I’m so happy for you both.” Janine pats Jessie on the back before pulling her in for a quick hug.

“What’s exciting?” The two turn to see more teammates trailing in. A couple of them looked over where Jessie and Janine were standing.

“Go ahead, show it off!” Janine hands her back the jersey and Jessie wanders over to where the group of teammates stood. She slowly starts telling her teammates the news. It's only a few minutes before her whole team knows and the locker room is filled with congratulatory applause and cheers from her teammates as they all learn the news.

A few hours later you’re standing in the family section, sporting a jersey of your own, your new shared last name across the back. When you arrived at the stadium to get your friends and family credentials, a member of the equipment staff had met you, presenting you with a jersey that matched the one in the photo Jessie had sent you. A small note from Jessie attached to it.

‘For my wife, I love you.’ You smiled at the note, the fact that wife was your official title now still had yet to set in. You thanked the staff and quickly found a restroom to change in before heading to your seat.

You found yourself sitting watching, your right index finger and thumb playing with the silicone band that now rested on your left ring finger. It felt weird. Not bad, but new and different, exciting, every time you touched it you thought of Jessie and your perfect little wedding. A few of the other player’s family had asked about the jersey, some of them making jokes that you two needed to hurry and actually get married until you told them you had. You received the same congratulations that your wife was getting from her own teammates.

When the speaker came on to announce the starting eleven for each team you nearly held your breath waiting for Jessie’s name to be called. You didn’t know if she was having them say it, maybe she’d keep it just her name for the lineup. When you heard her first name called, your ears perked up, not only was her last name announced, but your last name followed hers, just as it was written on the jersey. You noticed a murmur in the crowd after the initial cheers died down. No doubt people were confused about her name but you didn’t care.

The game was an easy one, Portland beating Seattle and you got to watch your wife score a beautiful goal. As it landed in the back of the net she immediately bolted over to where you were standing, holding out her left hand toward the direction in which you stood before kissing her ring finger. She then turned to celebrate with her teammates, but the celebration definitely got the message across.

When the game finished you made your way down to the pitch to find Jessie. “Hi wifey.” You say, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her to pull her close.

“Hi wife.” She says, pulling her attention away from her conversation with Quinn who quickly congratulated both of you.

“My last name looks good on you.” You say as you lean over putting a small peck on her cheek.

“I know it does, we should’ve done this years ago.”

[kithtaehyung]

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one  rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments. 

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes. 

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding. 

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over. 

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch. 

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen. 

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology. 

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too. 

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience. 

However. 

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction. 

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar. 

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other. 

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home. 

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps. 

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted. 

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!” 

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look. 

“Suit yourself!” 

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?” 

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued. 

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle. 

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?” 

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already. 

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave. 

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier. 

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable. 

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :( 

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car. 

And all you can do is stare at your screen. 

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :) 

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile. 

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!! 

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser 

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre. 

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there! 

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench. 

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard. 

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar. 

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same. 

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?” 

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?” 

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone. 

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds, 

“Turns out Jimin was right.” 

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.” 

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!” 

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.” 

—

—

—

fin. :)

-

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

[delusional-day-dreamer]

paige x olympian gymnast hcs!

‣ paige bueckers x olympic gymnast reader!

‣‣ synopsis: gymnastics has always been your entire life, and your dedication truly paid off when you made team usa for the 2016 rio olympics, but what happens after your injury while in the running for the 2020 tokyo olympics? #uneditedfornow

‣‣‣ a/n: just a few headcannons i have in mind for this story, if i were to make this a full blown series it MIGHT be a wattpad story with an oc or just a full tumblr series because of how long it would be... 👀

your life leading up to and including the 2016 rio olympics:

you've been doing gymnastics since you were three years old

at the age of thirteen your parents switched you to online school so you could train full time, but during this process it set you back a year, making your graduation year 2020 (same as Paige)

at the age of just fifteen you qualified for the rio olympics (meaning you were born in 2001)

your roommate that year was simone biles, and you competed at the olympics, taking home two golds (all around team and beam) and one silver (beam).

following the olympics, you became very popular for your skill at such a young age, leading you to signing many brand deals, sponsorships, photoshoots, etc.

it just so happens that your popularity reaches a certain basketball player, miss paige bueckers. in her slam interview in 2019, when asked about an athlete she admires outside of basketball, she says you. you have no idea who she is, but dm her regardless thanking her for her kind words. this is the only interaction you two have until uconn.

you continued online school for the rest of highschool, and throughout the next three years you received thirty recruitment offers out of the sixty-two schools that had a women's college gymnastics team.

your dream school had always been the University of Connecticut, but their gymnastics team didn't impress you throughout the recruitment process.

your graduation year is 2020, which happens to be the same year you got injured, right before choosing a college to commit to.

injury-related; 2020-2021:

in february of 2020, you got into a car crash while driving home from a late night practice.

you tore your left acl, dislocated your right shoulder, fractured your left collarbone, had a concussion, and suffered a left femoral fracture (ouchies i know)

thankfully you were mostly okay, but the accident completely put you out of the running for the 2020 (now moved to 2021 due to the pandemic) olympics, and doctors told you it would take at least two years to fully rehabilitate before you could even beginning training for competitions again.

your left leg had quite a few complications with the acl tear and the femoral fracture, and you had four surgeries in total on the leg.

during this time, you decided that since you couldn't compete in gymnastics, you might as well commit to the college of your student-life dreams, the university of connecticut.

UConn Era!!:

you commit to uconn for your undergrad in the sports management program, since you couldn't compete, you still wanted to remain in the athletic world.

your freshman year classes (2020-2021) was fully online due to your injuries and the pandemic, but it just so happens that you're placed as an intern with the women's basketball team for your sports management program.

you meet the team before the school year starts, and it just so happens that paige bueckers has remained a huge fan of yours.

the only reason the team recognized you immediately before you were even introduced is because of how much she has fangirled over you

you get your own apartment at uconn due to the program and your status (okay olympic privilege), which meant the team loved to hang out at your giant, well-furnished place.

you become extremely close with the team, and your first two years of rehabilitation seem to go well. it also happens that in your sophomore year, your best friend paige also fractures her meniscus, so the two of you are the resident cripples of the team!

paige has always had a huge fangirl crush on you, but over the years of you being friends, it seems those feelings develop into a little bit more...

one night while you were having a sleepover with her during her acl recovery she confesses, and the two of you start dating on the very down low

during your junior year is also when you are fully cleared to start re-training and you start getting back into gymnastics with a new coach (idk who yet!)

while balancing school and your duties with the wbb team, you start to train only four days a week, slowly getting back old skills on all four events.

you start competing in the 2023-24 season (i believe that’s how it’s measured?) and qualify for the 2024 olympics at the 2024 Xfinity U.S Gymnastics Championship

it’s safe to say your girlfriend and the entire wbb team were your biggest supporters apart from your family

Actual Olympics:

i can see you being roommates with Hezley Rivera, since she reminds you so much of yourself and you’re able to form a connection because of that.

Paige is unfortunately not able to make it to the first half of the Olympics, but she is your biggest supporter from home, constantly posting and hyping you up.

While competing, you definitely wear jewelry that she gifted you for good luck, and your hair has two braids going up into your bun, just to keep a piece of your girl close to you. Maybe even a purple ribbon braided into your hair at some point?

You also definitely took half of her closet of hoodies with you so that you could wear them and have her scent with you at night

the entire uconn wbb team, both current and players from your earlier college years, show support for you on social media, but paige’s is a little.. different than theirs

while all the girls post you on their stories or tweeting about you as, so proud of our husky 💙🐺, that’s my our uconn girly!!, etc. Paige’s are a little more special, hinting at your relationship, ex: so proud of my girl 🫶🫶

there were rumors about you and paige circulating since your freshman year, but you never bothered addressing them, and this only fueled them further.

You definitely text Paige as much as possible during meal times, facetiming at night, sending selfies all the time, etc.

The other girls definitely make fun of you if they overhear you on the phone with her, mocking you since you call each other baby as a term of endearment. They also make a tiktok cut together of a bunch of clips, basically every single time you were texting or atp with paige. the tiktok has over 50 clips!

“can you pass me that y/n?” suni asked you

“yea sure, here” you passed her the makeup brush

“thanks, baby,” she teased, making you blush

After the olympic athlete who ran straight to his girlfriend after breaking the Olympic record, I can definitely see Paige flying out to surprise you for a week or so in Paris.

Her flying out to come visit is when you guys actually hard launch, posting pictures of you at dinner with the captions, “my girl is finally here” or “yk i had to come cheer my girl on in person”

a/n: this is #uneditedfornow but that’s all i have for now yall! idk when i’m gonna make this a series but i have so many ideas for it i just might have to, but i also have two other unfinished series rn so… 😓😓

[ladybyakuya]

TWILIGHT -> female!reader x sakusa kiyoomi : : [ sakusa wants you to perform the special ritual before his match day like he generally does. ] fluff, soft smut, kissing, established relationship, endearment terms, love confessions but make it poetic, mention of pregnancy, wrote this to get hubby!kiyo from my head for a while; word count - 1k. part of summer olympics collab by @tetzoro | redirect to blog navigation.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is awake, so is the night sky: full of twinkling stars and whispering to each other. The weather app displayed the sunrise at 6:30 A.M. He walks out of the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his torso and another in the grab of his palm lightly dabbing his wet hair. He takes slower steps than his usual pace making sure it is soundless. Standing in front of the mirror he looks at himself for a few seconds thinking what exactly he is supposed to do now. He then picks up the bottle of your moisturizer and then looks at you. You’re sleeping. Perfect. He is about to flip the moisturizer bottle open but it is your sleep-induced whine that makes all his movement pause. 

Your eyes are still closed. As you yawn, Sakusa’s jaw drops to the floor. The towel that was in his hand had already made itself comfortable around his nape. The bottle lands on the dressing table with a thud. He whispers, “Babe, why are you awake?”

Rubbling your eyes you exclaim with a dragging tone, “Why’re you whispering? We’re in a hotel. There is no one else in the house.”

Right. But you were sleeping so he did not want to wake you up. You finally open your eyes and see your husband standing five feet apart. Kiyoomi’s curls are sticking to his forehead making the moles barely visible. He takes two steps towards you saying in a soft gentle carcass, “Today is the day we part. . .” His morning voice hits you awake. 

There is a chair near the end of the bed. You smilingly exclaim, “why're you talking like that? It's as if we’re never gonna see each other again,” as he tugs at your nightgown. You understand the cue of his gesture. So, you take a step closer to him. 

In a swift moment, he pulls up your dress shoving his head underneath it. You feel his lips move against your ever-so-slightly baby bump followed by a grumble of words saying something. . .  God! . . you are always so warm. . . . something! He has been whiny about it since the day he found out how your body temperature is always a little warmer than usual. The reasoning never made it to his head whenever you tried to explain. He always ends up complaining about how God is unfair in his choices. But he is grateful that he has your warmth now, for the rest of his life and perhaps thereafter. . .

Letting out a giggle you ask, “Babe, what’re you doing?”

If you were not pregnant, he would have pulled you into his lap but he has been extremely cautious and protective ever since you conceived, always being wary of you. 

“I asked the coach if you can stay with me or not, especially in this condition. They rejected my proposal” You sit on his lap and adjust yourself to get comfortable as he continues. “It was Miya who objected first. That fucking miya,” You take the towel from his nape, his head involuntarily tips down a little to ease the process.

“Heyyyyy.” You immediately protest. At first, his eyebrow grows closer in confusion and then when the realization hits him, one of his limbs coils up to cover up his mouth but there is no hint of remorse on his face rather you can say he is hiding his toothy grin. Your eyebrows relax as you start to rub the towel upon his wet hair, drying it. It has always been a ritual since you started living with him: helping him to get ready before his matches. He says you are his lucky charm but has it ever occurred to your deat husband that he doesn’t need one? Once you asked him why he says that even if he is oozing with sportsmanship, talent, and stamina to which he said, “Because you would cry for me when I’m in defeat.”

Sakusa’s face vision is limited to your chest and lap as you dry his hair veiling his hair with the white towel. Of course, there is a hair drier but Kiyoomi prefers it this way. A low perpetual grunt escapes from him suggesting how pleasuring it is for him. 

“It's funny how you trust the other miya,” you quip biting your bottom lip in zeal.

“Nu-uh” Sakusa tips up his head raking away his vision from your chest to your face putting his index finger up, “I don’t. You trust him.” You grab his index finger and put it down on your lap. He realizes he is getting agitated for trifle reasons. Osamu will be coming soon to visit you. Sakusa does not want you to leave you unsupervised. Yeah! He worries too much. He does not need to know that you will be helping Osamu with his onigiri business. No! For now, he doesn’t. All he needs to do is to focus on his match. He will leave one week before the date on which the official match has been set to meet up with his team. He specifically chose to stay with you in a hotel rather than the Olympic Village.

You remove the towel from his head. There is a crease amongst his eyebrows. He mumbles, “I don’t trust the Miyas,” You snort out a laugh.

Sakusa’s limb latches onto the armrest so that you do not fall as you warp your waist to throw the towel onto the nearby basket that is kept beside the dressing table. Bingo! It’s a goal.

When you look back Sakusa is smirking. It is the kind of smirk that declares pride but not about himself. “It's not every day Osamu compliments someone.” He divulges pulling the strings of your night dress and getting a peek of your cleavage.

“I know right? I’m good with my hands.”He smirks seeing you garnish yourself once again being reminded of such a fond memory.

“Yeah tell me about it!” he whispers against your lips before kissing you. It's soft, tender, and fiery. Sakusa’s hand slips under your dress. He dips his index finger enough to pull the elastic of your underwear and run across his finger.

“We can’t.” you insist trying to swat his hand away but that hand had long ago sought a heaven in your body.

“Of course we can baby,” He pecks your nose. “The bus is going to be here after my lunch.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 2

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Good morning, Your Highness." One of your servants opened the heavy curtains of your bedroom.

"Morning." You groggily rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up in bed. Your head pounded from the remnants of last night's alcohol. "What's my schedule today?" you asked, wincing as the bright light from the open curtains hit your eyes. Every movement felt like a struggle, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy from the overindulgence.

"We've made sure to clear it until noon because you're not in the best condition." Even the servants were used to your drunken state.

"Perfect." You sighed. With some effort, you got out of bed and started getting ready.

Your head still felt dizzy from last night's drinking. You shouldn't have drunk so much. What had triggered you to drink until blackout was seeing another of your friends getting married. You felt happy for her, but deep down, you were jealous because they could marry without any objections.

But your father is the king. And to make it worse, he's a tyrant king. He controls every aspect of your life, dictating whom you can and cannot love.

As you finished dressing and stepped out of your room, Bucky was waiting for you, as always. His eyes softened with concern as he saw you.

"Headache?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle.

"A little bit." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I went overboard again last night, didn't I? I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his chest, seeking comfort.

His fingers gently brushed your hair, soothing you. "Don't drink like that anymore," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pain. He hated seeing you hurt yourself like this.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Then, you took his hands in yours. "Let's go. We can't waste more time."

Bucky followed you, his grip firm yet tender. Walking hand in hand through the hallway was the longest moment you could be together like a real couple. This short walk was your favorite part of the day, a fleeting taste of the life you both wished you could have.

As you moved through the palace, the sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and shared glances. Bucky's presence was a steady anchor in your tumultuous life, and these stolen moments were your refuge from the storm of royal duties and impossible expectations.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently promising each other that, no matter what, you would always find a way to be together, even if only in these brief, precious moments.

But the moment ended when you entered the dining room. Bucky couldn’t join you; only royalty or invited guests were allowed. He had to stand outside. It was always difficult to let go of his hand.

"You need to eat," Bucky reminded you gently.

"Can’t we eat together?" you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine."

Suddenly, one of the guards interrupted, causing you to release Bucky’s hand. The guard greeted you and announced, "The king has returned."

"Okay," you replied. Then you realized the gravity of the situation and looked at Bucky, "Fuck. Wasn't he supposed to come back next week?"

Bucky immediately switched into professional mode. He spoke through his earpiece, issuing commands, "Prepare for the entrance."

The king had been on a world tour for conferences and the Olympics. While he was away, you had used the opportunity to be close to Bucky. But now, that had to end since your father was back.

After two hours, the entourage and the king arrived. As the princess, you had to welcome him at the grand entrance along with the ministers. While waiting, you kept glancing at Bucky, who stood far to your left. He looked strong and imposing, like a knight straight out of a storybook, his posture radiating vigilance and strength.

The horns blew, signaling the king's arrival.

"King Leonard Damon II has arrived!"

When the announcement was made, everyone bowed. The large doors opened, and the most important figure in the country stepped into the castle.

King Leonard Damon II was a man in his 50s. He looked dignified and confident, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, however, seemed lifeless, devoid of any warmth or feeling. It was understandable; he was known as the tyrant king.

Leonard acknowledged everyone with a curt nod, but his gaze lingered on Bucky for a brief moment before returning to you. It made your heart race.

"Continue with today's agenda," the king commanded as he walked, not pausing for rest despite just arriving.

You felt a sense of foreboding. Glancing at Bucky, you saw your worry reflected in his eyes.

As the king walked past, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. His return meant a return to strict protocols and the end of the small freedoms you had enjoyed. Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering what his sudden return would bring.

Bucky stood tall, his eyes following the king while staying alert to potential threats. His presence was a silent reassurance, yet you couldn't shake the unease in your chest. The king's glance at Bucky had been brief, but it carried a weight that made you anxious.

You straightened your posture, preparing to follow the day's agenda, but your thoughts were still with Bucky. You managed a small, reassuring smile in his direction before turning to follow your father.

👑👑👑👑

The meeting primarily involved discussing the results of the king’s world tour. The Veridian Economic Minister, Hugo, who had accompanied the king on the journey, excitedly explained, "Many foreign investors are interested in investing in our beloved country. It will boost the economy significantly."

"They won’t be taxed?" you interjected.

"Ahem, that’s right, Your Highness." Hugo was always startled whenever you spoke up. He glanced nervously at King Leonard, but the king didn't seem to mind his daughter interrupting the presentation.

"That's great," you continued. "But I hope that as Veridian's GDP rises, we will also support the younger generation who want to start their own businesses. We should offer small loans and assistance because they are the future pillars of our country."

As you spoke, everyone listened intently.

"I agree, Your Highness. I see that you've met with young entrepreneurs during our absence," Hugo remarked.

"It's good to see you engaging with them," King Leonard added.

Everyone nodded in agreement. "She’s perfect as the next ruler," Hugo commented.

"She only needs one thing: a spouse," someone interjected. The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but you flinched at the mention.

"I already have candidates in mind," King Leonard announced.

After his declaration, the room fell silent, followed by applause. "That’s wonderful. If it's King Leonard's choice, the person must be the best," the ministers echoed their support.

You sat there, your nails digging into your thighs, looking at your father with a mixture of anger and frustration, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

👑👑👑👑

Everyone left after the meeting was over except you and the king.

You fixed your gaze on Leonard, who appeared unruffled, as he always did in moments of confrontation. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as he lounged back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of him.

His eyes, cold and calculating, never wavered from your face as if he could read every thought passing through your mind.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his gaze bearing down on you. Slowly, deliberately, you spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "I already said that I won’t get married unless it’s Bucky."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Leonard's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a half-smile, devoid of warmth or amusement. "Over my dead body," he replied coolly, the threat underlying his words unmistakable.

"Should I take your life first so I can be with the man I love?" you retorted, your voice shaking with emotion.

"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He studied you with a cold, almost amused detachment, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

"You’re not a killer like me," he continued, his voice smooth and unyielding.

The word 'killer' sent a shiver down your spine. Because it was true, you were different from him. The reason why King Leonard Damon II was called the tyrant king was because he was a cold-blooded killer.

Leonard had killed his own siblings to secure the throne. He felt no remorse after taking their lives. Not just relatives, but also anyone who objected to him being king. This included the family of the queen, his own wife, your mother.

"Do you hate Bucky because of what happened to my mother?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard fell silent, then hurled his glass of wine across the room. "Never mention that woman."

"There’s no evidence that she ran away with her bodyguard," you insisted. This was the kingdom's biggest secret. Outside the castle walls, everyone believed the queen had died of illness. But the truth was, she was missing. You didn’t know if your mother was alive or dead.

You understood why your mother might have run away from your father. He never acted violently towards her, but his actions against her family made her hate him. She had never wanted to be a queen. One day, she vanished, and her guard also went missing a few days later.

Leonard became obsessed with finding his wife. He spared no expense, sending out the kingdom’s most skilled trackers and investigators to scour the land. Despite their efforts, every lead turned cold, and every trail went nowhere.

You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of your family's complex dynamics. "If I’m not married, will you still pass the throne to me?"

The lack of an immediate answer gnawed at you, amplifying the uncertainty of your future. You knew your father’s mind was a labyrinth of ambitions and schemes, where even the most straightforward question could hide layers of strategy. His silence spoke volumes, a testament to his unwillingness to relinquish control or reveal his true intentions.

"Father?" you prompted.

Finally, Leonard spoke, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. "Maybe. Perhaps after 10, 15 years," he said, his tone betraying no hint of reassurance.

You hadn’t expected this. "I should’ve known. You never planned to make me a queen," you said, feeling a surge of despair. Without becoming queen, you couldn’t marry the man you loved.

Leonard's face remained expressionless, his eyes cold and unyielding. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt a mix of anger and hopelessness. Your dreams of a future with Bucky seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. He had always been calculating and ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own power. The realization that he never intended for you to rule cut deep.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. "So, my fate is to remain a pawn in your game?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You will do as you are told, for the good of the kingdom," he declared, turning to leave.

As he walked away, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were trapped in a gilded cage with no way out. Your love for Bucky seemed destined to remain unfulfilled, crushed under the weight of your father's tyranny.

When Leonard reached the door, he paused and looked back at Bucky, who had been waiting outside. "Remember your place," he said coldly before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts and fears.

Bucky’s grip tightened as he watched the king leave. Once Leonard was out of sight, he rushed to your side. As he entered, his eyes immediately found you already on the ground, knees pressed against the cold stone.

Shock mingled with concern in his eyes as he took in your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Seeing you in such distress tore at his soul. He wished he could shield you from the pain, protect you from the harsh realities that surrounded your life.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "I'm here." His words were simple but carried a world of comfort and unwavering support. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and gentle.

Seeing your pain, Bucky's heart ached. What had the king said to you?

Without a word, you collapsed into his arms, your body trembling. He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his uniform.

"Oh, Bucky, what should I do?" you cried, your voice breaking.

Bucky gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in soothing circles. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he whispered, though he knew the words felt hollow. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the king's cruelty.

A/N: Did you enjoy Chapter 2? What would you like to see in the next chapter?

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A Ghost In The Gym

(Ghost x Fem!Reader)

It was another day at the gym for you, only, today... There was a man in a rather scary skull mask glaring holes into the mirror across from him as he used the dumbbells...

You paid him no mind, some people wear masks in the gym. Could be allergies or... Something

Your eyes can't seem to focus on anything else around you, because whenever you look in the mirror, you see he's staring at you

It immediately concerns you, and you try to shove your discomfort aside.

You put in your headphones and try to tune the world out and focus on your routine.

You were ten minutes into your slow climb to a trot on the treadmill when you looked up and he was suddenly right there

You almost trip as you hit the stop button on the mill, and look up at him because he's leaning very close all of a sudden. Your voice is very sheepish and concerned.

"Can I.... Can I help you?"

"I didn't mean to startle you. There's two men staring at you, they followed you in here. They're talking about trying to convince you to come home." His rich voice grumbles softly.

You swallow and casually glance around the gym, spotting the men in question, who suddenly acted like they were busy. You were so concerned with the big scary man in the mask you didn't notice the two guys dressed in street clothes. They looked familiar...

"I told them to fuck off." He says, standing up straight. "Hope you don't mind, but I told them that you were my girlfriend, that you were meeting me here."

"Oh... Um.... Thank you."

He tilts his head, his chocolate eyes softening as he notices you're still on-edge; and honestly? Who could blame you in the situation?

He takes a step back. "My name's Simon. If you like, I can spot for you while you work out and keep them off of you."

Your body relaxes a little bit, comforted by the man's respect of your personal space.

"Y... Yeah. Thanks." You babble, awkwardly fiddling with your water bottle as you take a sip. "You're uh... A big guy, ain'tcha?"

"I'm military. Pays to be big." He replies, tilting his head.

"Oh! Oh... Yeah, I can see why." You laugh awkwardly.

Simon's eyes crinkle at the corners; a smile beneath his mask. You're not sure why, but that twinkle in his eyes makes your cheeks heat up.

"So, what's next on your workout routine?"

"Uh... Well, I use the medicine ball and do some curls... some squats."

"Alright then, luv. Let's get to that. Let me know if I get too close or make you uncomfortable."

He was... Surprisingly respectful. Most guys at the gym who got so close to you were creeps who couldn't keep their distances from you.

Ugh, and don't even get started on the mouth-breathing many of them did... Or the shameless staring at your tits.

But this Simon, your... uh, Gymbro Avenger as it were, was rather kind. He kept track of your sets even when your frazzled mind lost track; even while he did his own. But then again, the man probably worked out so often that it was muscle memory for him to do it without needing to count.

You two got to talking while you exercised; he was some sort of high-class soldier, couldn't tell you more because of how "classified" it all was.

He told you about his unit; his friends. His family, basically. The "Old Man" Price, his annoying "battle buddy" (a US military term that someone named Alex told him) "Soap", Gaz, who apparently always had a "kicked puppy" face...

It made you laugh, some of the stuff he told you.

Talking with you... it made him feel... human. Almost normal.

When was the last time he felt like that?

Too long, it felt.

You had gotten comfortable to the point that you hardly noticed when he'd put a hand on you to correct your form.

You ignored your heartrate spikes when he did, of course. You also had to remind yourself to stop ogling his thick arms or how his veins bulged or how intricate his tattoo was...

The two of you explored the gym and did things you didn't normally do. He helped you use the Olympic bench, the rowing machine...

He stood outside the showers (a respectful distance away, mind you) to make sure those guys didn't creep on you on the way out.

You didn't notice when your stalkers gave up and left, seemingly irritated that Simon "was" your "boyfriend" and wasn't going to leave you alone.

You bought him a smoothie as a thank you.

He'd gotten a phone call halfway through and seemed saddened that he couldn't stay with you, but said his Captain called and he had to go.

You almost protest when he hands you some money to pay for the smoothie, but as you look up he was already leaving, his bag over his shoulder as he mounted his motorcycle.

You open the small wad of bills and realized that he left a scribbled note in it. A phone number.

"Call me when you need to go to the gym or don't feel safe, birdie. I'll be your scary dog privileges."

[russellsppttemplates]

Just say the word (Max Verstappen)

A secret relationship is hard enough to deal with when you don't have people constantly shipping your boyfriend with someone else

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first time I'm writing athlete!reader, so I thought about the sports I know better and swimming seemed fitting for what I wanted!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: secret relationship

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"You're alone today, Y/N?", one of the other girls, Ella, asked as you retrieved your waterproof workout plan sheet from the folder.

"I'm going away tomorrow and I won't be back until Monday morning, so I squeezed in my Saturday session now; Carol is coaching with the younger group today later", you explained the fact that you were at the pool without your coach.

At first, swimming was an after school activity since your parents worked long hours and they needed you to be occupied and somewhere with someone looking after you, but as you grew older, your passion for the activity became more serious. Combined with your natural skill and hard work - and, truth be told, a dust of luck from deep pocket sponsors - you were able to become a full time swimmer. Tokyo 2020 Olympics was the proudest moment of your career as you stepped on the podium next to two of the people you looked up to the most, wondering if you were ever going to stand in the top step and hear your national anthem play. Baby steps - Carol told you immediately - this is already a huge achievement, Y/N!

"Do you want to stretch together?", Ella wondered, throwing a foam roller for you to catch once you nodded and getting one for herself.

"Where are you off to this weekend?", she asked curiously. You were playing a risky game, you knew that much, going away only on weekends and travelling to countries where, coincidentally, the Formula One Grand Prix was being held.

Luckily for you, no one seemed to make the connection as the last two years you managed to keep your relationship a secret. You first met Max in a sponsor party at the beggining of your professional career when you needed to up your earnings as the costs of travelling to competitions was getting higher and heavier on your savings. It fell through, but other sponsors came your way and you and Max started hanging out after it. The Dutch driver was funny and charming and after winning your first Olympic medal, you felt unstoppable and confessed your feelings for him. When he admitted he felt the same for you, you went from there on. At first, the decision to keep it secret was both strategic, as Max didn't want you to miss out on any sponsorships or teams backing you because you were in a relationship with him, and personal as he didn't want the world's prying eyes on your relationship.

Two years later, you felt like there had never been a right time to do it so things stayed the way they were, and most of the time, you didn't mind it.

"Austria", you kept the city to yourself as you worked on your hips as they were still tight from yesterday.

"Didn't you go there last year?", she quirked an eyebrow.

"Last year, I had more of a city break weekend, this time around I'm going for a nature approach, you know? No phones, no Internet, digital detox and all of that", you offered, doubling up the excuse so she wouldn't expect to see and Instagram stories or posts from your weekend away.

"Sounds nice! It can really get in your head when you're too long on them - I have a timer on my phone because otherwise I won't even notice the amount of time I spend on social media", she smiled before silently asking if she could take the foam rollers back to their box.

Getting yourself on the water and used to the temperature, you started with your usual warm up routine before following the plan you stuck to the platform.

On some days, the session felt quick, before you knew, the other athletes were already stretching and getting prepped for their own session. Today, it seemed like it would never end, as you looked at the clock and only fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time you checked it. At least your times were improving, you thought, drinking some water before going back to practice your butterfly stroke as dictated by the workout sheet.

It was already evening time when you sat down on your bedroom floor, packing everything you had laid out to take on your trip with you when your phone rang.

"Hey, liefje", Max said as his face showed up on your screen, "how was your day?".

"Good. Had training in the morning, then a physio session because my hips kept hurting, and I found some time to buy a replacement for my moisturiser before I came home to have dinner and pack", you showed him the suitcase, "and you? The car seems good, a nice gap to the others as well", you mused.

"The same old Friday, really. Woke up, came to the track, a little debrief with Alice and then we headed to the track. Only tomorrow will tell, but I'm confident on the pole", he smiled, "can't wait to have you here with me and see your gorgeous face up close".

"You can see it now", you ridiculed as you rested your chin on your phone and looked into the camera so Max could have an interesting angle of your features, "beautiful, am I right?", you joked.

"The most beautiful", he complimented, "are you nearly done packing?", he wondered.

"Yes, just my charger and a few other last minute things left - I'll put them in my backpack tomorrow morning", you reasoned.

"You better get to sleep, your flight is early", your boyfriend encouraged, "I really need it - a proper shower first and then I'll go to bed", you assured, "I love you, Max, see you tomorrow", you blew him a kiss.

"I love you too, gorgeous! Text me updates from your flight, okay?", he smiled, smooching his lips for you to see before you ended the videocall.

The shower helped you unwind for the night, a little list on your kitchen counter to remember you of the last minute things as you turned off the lights and got back to your bedroom, your bed waiting for you so you could sleep a decent amount of hours.

Sitting on the waiting area of the airport, you placed your backpack on your legs and rested your elbows there, grabbing your phone to scroll through social media.

Ella was right, people did spend too much time on these. Everyone around you seemed to be on their phone or tablet devices.

A photo of your boyfriend showed up in your explore page, a fan page showing his walking back to the garage after FP1 and Alice was trailing right beside him.

Scrolling through the carrousel of pictures, you found a small video of them laughing together about something. The comments under it were the same as usual.

No one can convince me they're not together!😌 (to be read as I know I'm delulu)

If they're not, I'll volunteer to show them how good they would be for eachother! 🫣

Such a power couple 😮‍💨🥵

When they finally knock some sense into eachother's head and realise they're meant to be together, I'm claiming them as my parents! 🥹

No matter how many times you saw it, it never got easier. For all everyone knew, Max was single, so they weren't acting as a disregard of you. They didn't knew a regard of you to begin with. So they took interest in his love life and hoped he was in a relationship with some of the women he interacted with. Max usually didn't let many of them start to begin with, but Alice worked for the team, he could only get so far away and be distanced from her.

Max wouldn't cheat on you, you knew that. But the comments made you wonder. Would he be better off with someone else? Someone who could follow him anywhere?

The thoughts often plagued your mind, and they hadn't yet turned to the your other insecurities, so you had to be thankful for that.

Boarding on the plane, you played some music on your earbuds as you fished out your kindle to continue reading the book you started at the beggining of the week.

The buzz was installed on track as you found your spot in the stands just in time to see the marshalls tidying up whatever was left on the concrete so qualifying could start without a hitch.

This was usually how you did it. On Saturday, you would watch qualifying from the stands, waiting a little in the fan zone before Max whisked you into the hospitality with Gianpiero's help. On Sunday, you either stayed on the stands and repeated the same procedure or you arrived early to the track and stayed in his driver's room so to not lift any suspicions. You had been invited to watch a few races with the Paddock Club pass with some of the other Olympic athletes, but it hadn't happened in a while.

To anyone, you were a regular fan. You had your RedBull cap on and sunglasses, and you had never been recognised in one of the races, so you felt calm. The tricky bit of keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye was going to be later, for now, you could just wait and appreciate the fast laps.

"I'm sorry, you're Y/N Y/L/N, right?", a girl in a Ferrari cap called your name. Crap.

"Hi, I am", you smiled, "I'm sorry to ambush you like this - I am a big fan and you're a big inspiration to me. I also swim", she reasoned as she fumbled with her phone, "do you mind if my father takes a picture of us?", she politely asked.

"That's okay, yes", you smiled, taking off your sunglasses briefly as the older man snapped a picture before he shook your hand, "she won't shut up about your achievements! Did you tell Ms. Y/L/N that you're going to be in the qualifiers for Paris?".

"It's Y/N, please", you requested, "That's fantastic, congratulations! I hope it all works out for you and I'll see you around there!", you hugged her quickly before she thanked you and found their seats.

She seemed nice enough and it wasn't like you were a public figure, at least to the general public anyway really, so between all of the people who could've spotted you, she was fine.

"C'mon Max!", you yelled as he and Charles seemed to be separated by a few tenths of a second, cheering loudly when the times were set and your boyfriend got the pole position.

The timing was perfect as Max took a little longer than expected on his interviews, fans scattering to the fanzone and track experiences while you spotted Max's engineer, walking with him when no one seemed to be paying attention to it.

"I'll tell Max you're already here", he smiled before he closed the door of the driver's room.

It always felt a little odd. Like you were doing something forbidden and illegal by being there.

"Yes, we'll meet in a bit", Max told whoever was in the corridor after he opened the door, closing it back when you jumped on him, legs wrapping around his waist, "hey, pole sitter", you smirked, nuzzling your face on his neck and kissing the soft skin.

"Hello, liefje", he mumbled against your skin before you pulled away, "kiss?", you asked for his lips to settle on yours for a bit, filling up on eachother's presence.

"No one saw you come here?", he asked. You shook your head, "everybody was paying attention to other things, the only people I encountered already know so we're safe", you stated.

Max noticed the change of tone, but you wouldn't have time to properly discuss it so he let it slide for now, telling you instead about the session and how the car felt, as well as the dinner plans her had for you since the room service menu was "so varied we could make our own little buffet".

You stayed in the room while he had the debrief, leaving together when you made sure no one would see you two.

"Room service called back, they said they'll bring the food in ten minutes", Max said as you got out of the bathroom, dressed in pyjamas and fresh out of the shower, "That's good, I'm starving", you smiled as you sat down.

Max always received the food at the door to ensure no prying eyes would see something he didn't want, along with other precautions like packing up all your things in case someone from housekeeping enjoyed the gossip and took the rumours somewhere else.

"I know something is bothering you", Max began you had taken a piece of chicken to your much, "I noticed it when we were in my room, and even now there's something", he nudged your arm.

Chewing and swallowing afterwards, you moved the broccoli around your plate, gathering your thoughts before speaking up, "do you know people ship you and Alice?", you spoke up.

"Don't change the subject, darl - is that it?", Max tried to understand.

"People seem to think you'd make a great couple, like, they have your whole relationship panned out. Everyone thinks she's very pretty - and I agree with them -, and that you two have chemistry and that it would be nice for you to be with her - looks exchanged and all sorts of ideas", you mumbled.

"Liefje, I'd never do that to you, I don't interact with her that way", Max replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone - and they know who that person is, so really it's just a matter of putting two and two together!", you let a tear fall down your cheek.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much and bringing you such sadness", Max cupped your cheek, thumb wiping the tears that followed suit and looking into your eyes.

"I can ask the team to issue or statement - or we can go public. I don't care what we do as long as you feel better about it", he comforted.

"Do you want to go public?", you asked, afraid of the answer.

"Y/N, my love, being secret was just to protect you, for your good. If going public is the solution for this, I'm the first one to walk into the paddock tomorrow with you, holding hands and everything", he moved his hands to cradle your own.

"You mean that? It's just, I don't want people to assume you're single and throw themselves at you - or throw someone at you! I know Alice won't do it, but other people might and I'm tired of having to lie to people about where I'm going and saying no to dates they try to set up and why I gave a RedBull rain jacket on my car", you chuckled at the last one, remembering your coach's reaction when she saw it, "Since when do you follow F1?", Carol questioned.

"We'll do it tomorrow if you want, or whenever you feel ready, Y/N. I'll be by your side, always", he smiled kissing your lips lovingly.

"I don't have any paddock wag outfits with me", you giggled, "have to make a good impression".

"Please, you could go in these pyjamas and you'd still be the prettiest woman there", he pulled you to sit on his lap as you finished your dinner.

The next morning, people couldn't believe their eyes as Max walked hand in hand with a young woman, the pair of them talking about something between them as they giggled.

A few were unsure of it was really you while others asked their colleagues to please repeat your name, googling you quickly and finding out your achievements.

Soon enough, pictures flowed social media with the paddock's new power couple, gossip Instagram pages having a field day and it wasn't even lunch time.

"This is news", Daniel said as he spotted Max. He had been one of the few people outside of the team who knew about you two, you having made him swear that he would never tell anyone, and if by chance he did let something slip, you trusted him to make a joke out of it and for people to assume he was just teasing Max indeed.

"You won't have to keep it to yourself anymore, Danny", you said as you hugged his side quickly.

"That's good, actually, I think that's what has been keeping me from being focused in racing, it's a real relief, Y/N", he stated and for two seconds, you felt bad for putting such pressure on him, "I'm just kidding! C'mon, you know what I'm like", he gave you a big smile, "now, I have to go, will pop by to see you though!", Daniel said as he waved while he carried on to his team's garage.

Your interactions with Daniel and the team spurred curiosity as the media started thinking and hypothesizing that maybe your relationship was as new as they thought it was. As it turns out, once again, Max Verstappen knew how to keep private aspects away from the media.

For now, they would try to dig more and find out how the Olympic medalist swimmer stole the heart of the Formula One driver.

[mxnhoo]

to me. (l. hs)

"where's the trophy? he just comes runnin' over to me." ╰➤ athlete!heeseung x fem!reader ft jay, sunghoon, jake, riki (enha) genre. romance, fluff, basketball (majority of the plot LOL), semi-proofread w/c. 3.6k warnings. mentions of injuries/hospital, giving up on dreams, idk if this needs to be mentioned but a lot of praying cly's note. i tried my very best to recall all the basketball terms from when i still played in a team, and with the olympics taking over my tiktok, i just HAD to write something after seeing all those cute edits. hope ya'll enjoy this one! don't forget to like/reblog/comment if you did<3

now playing : the alchemy - taylor swift

Loud cheers reverberate from every corner of the room, each individual having their own team they were cheering for. The basketball court that centred the huge hall consisting of athletes that were running back and forth, bouncing the basketball and making moves that one could easily miss if you blinked. The athletes had serious expressions on their faces, anyone being able to immediately sense the tension as the game continues to progress. However, even with all the chaos that was happening, your gaze was fixated on one player, and one player only. Your boyfriend, Lee Heeseung.

Your eyes followed him as he sprinted from across the court, skillfully dribbling the ball with his hand as he successfully gets pass his opponents, finding himself open and having the opportunity to shoot a shot. He picked up the ball in his hands and took his shot for the hoop, the ball spinning around the hoop before finally falling in. You stood up in excitement and cheered loudly, the audience surrounding you quickly following and filling the area with loud cheers.

Heeseung, with his right hand dangling in the air after his shot, quickly curled his fingers into a fist and shook it in triumph, feeling proud after being able to help his team earn a point. The camera quickly panned to him, his face appearing in the big screen and he took the opportunity to nod his head and flash a pleased expression. He ran back to his court to defend, and while the opponents were still at the opposite end of the court dribbling towards them, Jay, who was Heeseung's teammate, took the opportunity to fistbump him.

As the opponents quickly approached, Heeseung stood in front of the dribbler, his feet never stepping beyond the 3-pointer line as he held his hands up, observing his opponent's every move and as his opponent quickly passed the ball, Heeseung made an attempt to intercept the pass and it succeeded, allowing him to take hold the ball and he wasted no time to dribble across the court again.

The opponents were quick to respond, and with them blocking Heeseung's way, he passed the ball to Jake who dribbled in, picking up the ball to do an lay-up which was quickly interrupted by his opponent's hand, the ball instantly being blocked and it flew behind Jake, the opponents having the ball again.

The match quickly went on and before you realised, it was already the break period before the last quarter. The scoreboard was currently a 1:2, and nervously glancing at the sidelines, you saw the athletes feeling clearly pressured, their realisations setting in that if they don't buckle up the next quarter, they were going to lose. Your eyes fell on Heeseung who was sitting on the bench, speaking to all of them with a serious expression on his face, probably coaching them. His teammates were all standing up, surrounding him and listening to him attentively as they listened his instructions on what to do next and right before they could finish their discussion, the referee blew his whistle to indicate the start of the next quarter. The different teams did their cheers accordingly before setting foot back into the court.

Heeseung prepared for the jump-ball, staring at the ball that the referee was holding between him and his opponent, and with the whistle blowing, the refereee threw the ball in the air and Heeseung jumped upwards, his hands reaching for the ball and flicking it towards him where Jake was. Jake took hold of the ball and dribbled in, managing to earn a point from a lay-up effortlessly despite the amount of tension he was feeling inside. Jake cried out in relief, his faith slowly crawling back to him as he managed to start off the quarter well for his team.

Points have been earned multiple sides from the two different teams, and currently, the opponents were ahead by 6 points. There were only 6 minutes left, and features of worry were taking over your featuresas many 'what-if''s filled your head. What if something goes wrong? What if Heeseung's hand starts to hurt again? What if he gets injured again? What if they don't win this quarter? Will they manage to do it? What if they don't win?

You bit your lip as you carefully watched the match, your fingers fidgeting as you aggressively rubbed the top of your thumbnail. The loud cheering that filled the entire hall slowly start to disappear as your head starts to get filled with the different thoughts. Your eyes that were fixated on Heeseung watched his every move, realising his serious expression as he observed the opponent, and you glanced at his right hand that was slightly shaking.

You recalled the moment when he had badly injured his right hand a few years back, how there were many sleepless nights in the hospital because the boy fractured his hand, leaving everyone worried that he possibly wouldn't be able to ball again for the rest of his life. You prayed every single night, shed so many tears, begged for a miracle to magically happen that he would just be okay again. That he can have the chance to achieve his dreams again.

The best day of your life, other than Heeseung asking you out a little before he got injured, was when the doctor announced that Heeseung would be just fine, but that he needed a year to fully recover, and that he wouldn't be able to play basketball the same way he used to. You remember the grief-striken expression on Heeseung's face when he found out, recalling those nights when he silently cried to himself which shattered your heart, but he never gave up, working hard constantly and earning himself an opportunity to play basketball again on his dream stage.

You recalled the days he had to practically re-learn basketball with his left hand, the journey becoming even more difficult since his left hand wasn't his dominant hand, but he was determined. He always woke up early to go to the gym, working out to achieve his ideal physique and then played basketball afterwards with his mates, using his right hand as minimally as possible.

You recalled one night when you and Heeseung were on a basketball date out, you in his jersey and him in his tank top, both of you just continuously doing bounce passes to each other as you both walked and looked into each other's eyes. The sun has set, the only source of light from the post lights in the court, and it was starting to get chilly. The cold breeze blew onto your faces and your hair lightly flowed in the air, and Heeseung gave you a smile that you'd never get tired of.

You both talked about random topics, whether it was about controversial questions such as "M&M or Skittles", or if it was about serious topics. One thing you'll never forget from that night was the sight of his exasperated look when he asked you, "Do you think I even have a chance?" while doing a hard bounce pass to you, the sound of the ball bouncing being the only thing that could be heard. He never specified what he meant, but you already knew.

He never admitted it, but you could tell that he was so close to giving up, and upon hearing his question, you immediately set the ball to the floor and walked to him, opening your arms and bringing him into a warm embrace.

It was an embrace he never knew he needed so much. An embrace of comfort, an embrace of reassurance. It's honestly pretty heartbreaking when it seems like you can't professionally play a sport you dedicated your entire life to. His whole world was crashing down.

You gently patted his back as you felt him cry out, nuzzling his face into your shoulders as you felt his tears on your skin. You hated to see him like this, you hated to see him so helpless and unfaithful.

"I know you'll make it," you speak up after a moment of silence, still continuing to pat his back slowly. "I'll always be here, Hee, I'm always supporting you."

That was the day you realised that it wasn't just his journey, it was a shared journey between the two of you. You pulled him up from his dark moments, and the bond between the two of you only depeened.

From that day on, Heeseung started to take trainings even more seriously, all while still taking care of his right hand, and you could see him drastically improve, whether it was his faith that he could achieve his dreams, his hand condition, or his skills in basketball in general.

You were so proud of him, and you never once gave up on him. And now you were watching your boy kill it on his dream stage, though you were worried something could happen to him again. Your teeth sunk hard onto your bottom lip until it formed a cut, but the pain didn't even register until you heaved a sigh of relief as your boyfriend scores another lay-up. 4 points gap.

All is good so far. They were closing the gap, and they had a chance to win. Everything is going well.

However, the sense of relief quickly crashed down as you looked at the clock and realised there was only about 4 minutes and 38 seconds left, panic starting to grow in you again. Everything was happening so quickly, you didn't even want to blink and your eyes were starting to dry out. You grabbed the waterbottle that was placed beside you and opened the cap, gulping down on it as you kept your eyes fixated on the ball, your eyes following it as it constantly gets passed from player to player.

Your breathing starts to pace up as you feel the anxiety inside you accumulate. Heeseung dribbles the ball, trying to strive in for a lay-up until the opponent brutally knocks into him onto the ground. You gasped loudly and stood up, your hand flying to your mouth as the crowd let out loud multiple "oooh" and "ahh"'s. The referee instantly blew his whistle and announced that there was a foul, giving Heeseung the opportunity to get 2 free-throws.

At this point, you didn't even care that Heeseung had the opportunity to score extra points to close the gap. You were only worried if he had gotten hurt in any way, watching as his teammates help him up from the ground and how his hand shakes more aggressively than earlier. You slowly sat back down on your seat, biting your lip and even tasting your own blood as you placed the palms of your hand together, almost as if you were praying to God that everything would be okay.

The camera panned to Heeseung who stood behind the free-throw line, bouncing the ball on the spot as he stares at the basketball net intensely, mentally taking his aim. His teammates and opponents all stared at him intensely, this nerve-wrecking moment possibly being a game-changer. The timer stopped, allowing Heeseung to take his own time to score, and as he picked up the ball, he shot his shot, his right hand dangling in the air.

One shot in. 3 points gap.

Everyone around you cheered and you felt the tension inside you ease down, realising that if he could still shoot just fine, he was probably okay and a small smile appeared on your face, praying for the best for his next shot. If he makes this shot, the gap between the two different teams would only be 2 points, and there was a high chance for them to be able to tie this quarter, and maybe even score more points than the other team if all goes well.

The room grew quiet, everyone staring at Heeseung as he bounces the ball once again, his eyes on the hoop as he takes aim once again, bringing the ball to his face just slightly below his eyes, and he takes his shot again, the ball going in and the number on the scoreboard for his team going up. Everyone cheered and you stood up again, bringing your hands to cover your face as you felt emotional. Your boyfriend was going to achieve his dreams of winning, you just know it, and you were going to be there to experience this achievement with him.

2 points to close the gap. 2 points until his dreams could possibly come true.

Heeseung roared out loud, looking at the camera once again, showing a rock hand gesture to the camera which you knew damn well was directed to you. You and him always enjoyed doing the rock hand gesture to tell each other "I love you" in sign language. You could see people in your peripheral vision mirroring Heeseung's hand gesture, and your heart warms up as you eventually do the same.

With the last 4 minutes and few seconds remaining, you can immediately feel the change in atmosphere. If the atmosphere was fierce earlier, you could say this one was suffocatingly intense. In the last few minutes, getting an opportunity to score was getting increasingly impossible and your worry returns once again, all the thoughts washing over you. You knew he could do it, you knew he had the skills to do it, but with the clock running, you'd hate to admit that your brain is starting to have second thoughts.

Since the quarter scoreboard was still a 1:2, if they win this quarter, the game would be tied and the game masters would then look at the total number of points scored. In the first quarter, Hee's team won with 34 points. Second quarter, the opponents won with 42 points, and 23 on the next. So this means the opponents currently have a total of 65 points, and if Hee's team is going to win, they'd need a total of 66 points, which also means 32 points alone in this quarter.

You looked at the current scoreboard, noticing how their current scores were a 30:32. 2 more points to catch up, and 3 more to take the lead and secure their win.

The fourth minute passes by, the ball being aggressively passed across the court and fought for.

The third minute passes by, and up till now none of the teams score. Your hands aggressively fidget against each other, and the audience grew silent, attentively watching as the match progresses.

The second minute, the opponents almost manage to score a lay-up, but Riki managed to block and get the rebound, managing to pass the ball to Sunghoon who dribbed swiftly across the court.

The last minute. The last minute for any magic to happen. Up till now, no teams have scored, and the supporters for the opponent team have basically relaxed in their seats, being sure that their team have secured their win already. You remained silent, along with the other supporters and you felt sweat trickle down your temple. Your breathing slowed down as your eyes flickered from player to player.

It was so evident that all the players were tired, and that they just wanted for everything to be over, and when you looked at Heeseung, the exhausted expression on his face broke your heart. He brushed his damp hair back with his hand, wiping his forehead with his jersey as he observed the opponent approaching him, preparing to make an attack.

30 seconds.

The opponent managed to dribble past him, catching Heeseung off-guard and causing him to fall on his butt. Your face turned sour as you watched the scene unfold in front of your very eyes, watching how the opponent picks up the ball to do a lay-up while Heeseung was still on the ground.

25 seconds.

Jake jumps in front of the opponent, successfully jumping the ball from going in and the ball flew to the air, all the athletes eyeing the ball and finding every opportunity to get the rebound. Sunghoon jumped into the air and took the ball, an opponent running up to him in an attempt to snatch the ball away.

20 seconds.

Sunghoon and the opponent continue to snatch, Sunghoon yelling out that he needed someone to be open, and Jake immediately responded to his call, stepping into an area where there were no defenders. Sunghoon successfully wins the ball, and passes the ball to Jake, and you could see Heeseung standing back up to his feet, his state so obviously weakened.

15 seconds.

Jake now has the ball, and he dribbles across the court. Heeseung was still at the opposite end of the court, at the brink of fainting as his teammates try their damn best to score at least another shot. Jake was frantically blocked by the opponents, not having any opportunities to strive in or shoot, so he tries to find anyone open to pass to.

"Heeseung! C'mon!" Jake calls out, immediately causing Heeseung to snap back and run towards the other court where all the other athletes were.

10 seconds.

Heeseung runs outside the 3-pointer line, holding his hands up for Jake to pass the ball to him, but one of the opponents constantly block the pathway between Jake and Heeseung, making it difficult for Heeseung to be able to receive the ball. However, there was a moment when the opponent let his guard down, allowing Jake to successfully pass the ball to Heeseung.

5 seconds.

Heeseung, standing outside the 3-pointer line, takes his last chance to shoot his shot, praying that this shot makes it.

Everyone remained silent, their eyes watching the ball.

The sounds of the ball perfectly falling in between the hoop echoed through the whole hall, and the ball bouncing on the ground after the shot was the only thing that could be heard.

They did it. They won.

33:32. Quarter scores were a 2:2, but with the points accumulated, they won.

The referee blew his whistle to indicate the end of the quarter, and he announced, "Winning team, ENHA!".

All his teammates cheered, and you couldn't believe it. Your jaw dropped, and you could feel tears forming in your eyes from how elated you felt. You watched Heeseung, observing as he scans the crowd, and as he spots you, his face immediately lighting up with a wide grin. He's now walking towards you.

Walking. Jogging. He's running. Running to you, sprinting, even.

You subconsciously walk towards him on the bleachers, watching him approach you behind the railings and once he was at close proximity, he opened his arms and embraced you. Embraced you so tightly you felt like you were going to explode. You hugged him back with the same amount of tightness, feeling the tears escape your eyes, having no words to explain how jubilant you felt. You both exchanged no words, but he knew how proud you were of him. Multiple reporters surround him, holding their cameras to him to take photos of him and capture the moment between the two of you. He pulled back from the hug to immediately cup your cheeks and pull his lips to yours.

You cried into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and he kissed you so passionately. His mouth moved in such a slow rhythm, taking his time to enjoy how perfect your lips were on his, how you complemented him so well. You felt your heart pick up the pace, almost feeling like it was going to explode, and you immediately felt blood rush to your cheeks. Loud cheers could be heard from every corner of the room, but with his lips on yours, the sounds gradually started to fade, the only thing that mattered being you and Heeseung.

Heeseung didn't experience this win alone, he experienced it with you.

He pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as he intensely looks into your eyes to form eye contact and he gives you his cheeky smile. "I did it. We did it, love."

"You did it," you look at him as tears continue to flow out of your eyes, caressing his cheek and he laughs at how emotional you were. He used both of his thumbs to wipe your tears, cupping your jaw as he gives you the smile that made you fall in love with him

"We.. did it. I couldn't have done this without you, love," he stares at you, his eyebrows arching upwards as he gives you his cute pout. The way he emphasised 'We' didn't go unnoticed, and you laugh, leaning in closer and your noses touch, closing your eyes as you give him the biggest smile.

"I'm so proud of you baby, hope you know that." "I know that very well." "Anyways, what're you doing with me? You should go celebrate with your teammates," you chuckled, and your chest felt fuzzy at how the first thing he did was run to you. "I don't need to," he retorts. "What about your trophy, baby?" you pouted. "The only trophy I need is already here with me."

You chuckled at how cheesy he sounded, opening your eyes only to be met with his serious gaze.

"I'm being serious, Y/N, you're the only thing I could care about at this moment," he confessed. You felt butterflies fill your stomach as your hands playfully smack his chest. "Thank you Heeseung, for winning." "I love you," he blurts out, which catches you off-guard but you laughed at how genuine he was. "I love you more."

And he pulled you into another kiss to celebrate his victory.

cly's tmi. before this song trended on tiktok and the olympics started, my friend and i had already talked about this song and i've been wanting to write about it for like.. 3 months now. i'm so happy i finally managed to do it, and can i just talk about how SWEET this song is? i don't really listen to taylor swift much but this song hits so hard.

[noosayog]

[... and yet, it's you] - ft. oikawa toru

summary: there's a chinese song with the lyrics 【咸魚白菜也好好味】 which translates to "eating even dried salted fish and bok choi is good." with the meaning that i'm happy with anything as long as it's with you.

wc: 1.3k

for @shibaraki's komorebi collab! thank you for letting me participate, Monty!

1. Sharing a bathroom

The shower is already running when you finally drag yourself out of bed. Your vision is still bleary as you methodically brush your teeth, content to let your mind slowly clear out its sleepy fog to the sound of Oikawa humming in the shower.

You're at the toilet when Oikawa says, "why do you always do that?"

"Do what," you respond.

"Like… let out a little bit of pee before you pee the rest of it out."

You laugh a bit. "You're gonna think it's stupid."

"Just tell me," he says, seriously curious now.

"Once when I was really little, I dreamt that I was peeing in the bathroom but then realized I was still in bed when I woke up to myself wetting the bed."

The shower stops so you can hear Oikawa chuckling. "That wasn't what I was expecting."

"Well, I don't know what you expected but I'm not risking anything. I was traumatized."

"As someone who shares a bed with you, I'm grateful for that."

2. Movie Dates

When you pick up Oikawa's facetime call, you immediately greet him with a "I'm watching a movie and I'm getting to the good part. What do you want?"

He scrunches his nose at you, whining. "Rude!"

"Well?" you prompt. "What do you want?"

"Is it so bad that I missed you and wanted to talk to you?"

You roll your eyes, but affectionately. "I'm putting you on mute."

Oikawa throws out a half-hearted protest but he'll count it as a win that you didn't hang up completely. You mute your side of the line and prop your phone on the tea table facing you, continuing to watch your movie. Oikawa's perfectly content just watching your facial expressions through the small screen and obediently stays quiet.

He mutes his line. too, putting on reruns of an older match but periodically looks over to check in on you. And every time he does, he can't help the grin that stretches on his face as he watches your expressions change scene to scene. Eventually, he keeps his attention glued on your face through the screen, watching your light chuckles and your mouth moving when you exclaim in disbelief over something stupid a character did. By the end of the movie, you’re swiping tears from your eyes and you finally notice that your boyfriend has been watching you.

"Oh my god, Toru," you unmute to say. "That was such a good movie. We have to watch it together next time."

Oikawa's smile widens, eyes crinkling affectionately. "Anything you want, babe."

3. Out Shopping 

On a rare Sunday that Oikawa actually takes off, the two of you head to the nearest major shopping mall to pick up some kitchen items. Oikawa keeps a tight grip around your hands as you ooh and ahh at all the colorful things in the mall; one distracted moment and he would lose you in the sea of people.

As you wander to aisles, you pass by the televisions where a rerun of an Olympic volleyball match is playing. Oikawa instinctively slows down to pay attention, taking mental notes of things he should try at tomorrow's practice.

His attention is pulled away when he feels you trying to pry your fingers out of his fists, only able to pull at his hand when his grip tightens.

"Toru," you say, "let go. I want to go see the bowls over there."

"Okay, let's go then," he agrees, tearing his attention away from the screens.

"No," you say, continuing to tug at your joined hands. "You can keep watching. I'll go look myself."

"What? Why? Let's just go together," he offers, but you tug your hand free.

"It's fine," you say, already walking towards the display that has your attention.

"Hey!" he protests, trying to follow your figure that has already blended into the crowds. Even with his towering height, he does his best to follow after you, locking in on the colorful sweater you decided to wear today.

Despite Oikawa having a significant edge over you in the height department, your little legs carry you surprisingly fast as you weave through people moving in every direction. The distance between the two of you grows larger until you finally stop to admire the collection of pottery on the shelves. He hastily closes the distance before you take off again. 

"Geez, for someone so short," he punctuates this statement with a heavy hand on your head, leaning heavily on it to dramatically catch his breath, "you sure walk fast."

You swat his hands away and reach up to the top shelf for the set of bowls you like.

He easily grabs them for you and puts them into the basket that he was sure wasn't in your hands when you were still by the TVs. He plucks the basket out of your grip and continues to tease you.

"It's always the short ones that walk like today's the last day of their lives," he laughs.

"Shut up, Toru," you fix him with a scathing glare and he holds his hands up in surrender.

You scoff, but take hold of his hand again, leading him to the next display you want to take a look at. He smiles contentedly now that your hands are joined again. And that's all he really wanted. 

4. Bedtime Routine 

You’re in bed, all tucked in when Oikawa finally joins you. He quietly prepares for bed and gently gets under the covers so as not to wake you. His arms reach over, ready to pull you in for a good night kiss but he doesn’t get the chance because one of your hands pops out from under the duvet to smack him in the forehead. 

“Ow! Why?!” he sputters. 

You scowl at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to shut the door when you come in!” 

“Okay, okay,” he rubs his forehead but obeys. The door shuts. “Happy?” 

You grunt. 

He chuckles a bit, charmed at your grumpiness. 

He tries again to pull you in, but this time, your hand reaches out to pinch the nearest part of his body. That happens to be his left pec. 

“Ouch! What now?” 

“Did you open the windows?” 

Without complaint, he climbs out of bed again to open the window, allowing a gust of cold night air to swallow the room. He sees your legs wiggle a bit from under the duvet and smiles inwardly. 

For the third time, he climbs in bed but stays a good distance away in case he forgot any other part of your night ritual. 

You turn around to face him, duvet pulled above your nose so he can only see your eyes. 

“Why are you so far?” 

“Are you done hurting me?” 

You scoff. “As if you even felt any of it.” 

“My forehead is red!” he exclaims. 

“Fine, stay on that side then.” 

Oikawa can’t help but laugh, shifting over to you and wrapping you up in a hug so tight, you let out a squeal when he squeezes. He doesn’t want to let go, so he keeps his arms tight around your torso and turns to lay on his back, pulling you so that your entire body is splayed over his. 

“Toru, I’ll squash you!” 

He ignores you and just nuzzles gently into neck. You sigh and shift so that you’re chest to chest with him, your head falling to the side so that your noses don’t collide. You’ll never tell him that you like the windows open every night so that the room is cool enough for you to bask in his warmth without overheating. 

Oikawa sighs, smoothing his palm over your back. “Good night, baby.” 

You murmur it back. 

Oikawa thinks this is it. This is the life - just being able to do your silly nighttime routine with you. Your warmth lulls him to sleep and he’s almost there when he feels you prop up, palms pushing hard enough on his chest that it forces an exhale out of his lungs. 

“Did you get me a glass of water? You know I get thirsty in the middle of the night.” 

He sighs, but obliges all the same.