#it’s fine it’s fine i THINK it’s fine. both of them were looking at their own computers and i closed that shit SO fast and i have no reason

[wndaswife]

there’s no need to be brave | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Sometimes things get to be too much, but you know you can always go to Wanda to feel safe and loved. She reminds you how important it is for you to be taken care of.

Word count: 3573

Tags: it’s all fluff, some humour, age gap, lightly implied age regression during one scene, wanda takes care of you and kisses you and is patient and loving and gentle

The front door rattled softly as you unlocked it. From the kitchen, Wanda looked up from her dinner preparation, anticipating your presence after coming from your afternoon classes. 

She gave you the keys to her place a month ago when your classes didn’t align as much with her work hours as it did for your last semester. Now that you had the keys, it was easier to see each other without your schedules aligning. 

You set down your bag in the living room, shedding your coat on top of it, before practically sliding your feet over to the kitchen lazily. You didn’t even lift your head; it was only the vague figure of Wanda that you needed in order to navigate around the counter and wrap your arms around her body. 

Her arms were trapped under yours, forcing her to wiggle them out of your hold so she could hug you. 

“Baby, are you alright?” she asked, her voice light but her tone concerned. 

You buried your face in her chest. You had meant to reply to her question, but as soon as you opened your mouth you no longer wanted to answer, so you mumbled incoherently into her soft breasts. 

“Sweetheart,” Wanda tried again, leaning back to get a look at you.

Finally, you lifted your head, squinting as you looked up at her in the light of the kitchen. She immediately cupped your face with both hands, brushing back your hair. 

“I hardly got any sleep last night,” you said, straightening so your face wasn’t in Wanda’s chest anymore but now facing her. 

Her eyes followed yours as you looked around the kitchen while you spoke. One hand dropped to your shoulder, her thumb stroking you softly while her other hand remained cupping your cheek. 

“Yesterday, I woke up at eight to study, then last night I slept for two hours before my nine a.m. class, then took an hour nap between classes, and my head hurts and I think I’m getting tunnel vision and I’m scared I’m gonna start hallucinating soon, because isn’t that a sign of sleep deprivation?”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something, but you continued. 

“At least I’ve eaten, but I don’t know if it’s enough, because I was still hungry while coming over here, and I can’t go home because they’re fixing the hydro so I don’t have running water until midnight — I don’t know why they scheduled the construction in the middle of the day — and I want to shower, and it was so cold outside–”

Suddenly the hand that had been cupping your cheek was over your mouth, and you finally looked at Wanda who was staring at you with a gentle gaze. Upon meeting her eyes she smiled at you, so subtly that the corners of her eyes crinkled just slightly. 

Slowly, she put down her hand then wrapped that arm around your waist, holding you against her. She dropped her other hand from your shoulder and held your hand. 

“You can shower here. My water is working just fine,” she said slowly. “I’m preparing dinner now, so stay over tonight and we can eat a proper meal together. If you’re hungry now, anything in the kitchen is yours.”

She watched your expression relax and your shoulders untense, and she smiled a little when you tried to shuffle closer although you were already standing against her. 

“Take another nap, baby. Shower in my room then sleep in my bed.”

You nodded wordlessly. 

As your face relaxed and when your mind seemed much less troubled, Wanda took a good look at you. She stroked your hand with her thumb. 

“You do look tired…” she said sympathetically. “Please go up to shower — it’ll relax you. Are you still hungry? I can make something for you before you have your nap. I’ll go up after you’ve finished showering.”

Internally, you felt like teasing her for how she was very much talking to you like you were her child. But oh, how badly you just wanted to be taken care of like a child. 

You nodded again, looking up at her. 

Then, at the sight of her face, her pretty face and her beautiful eyes, and her soft hair and the slope of her nose and the line and curl of her lips, you leaned in for a kiss. 

Wanda pulled back slightly, and your eyes darted up from her lips to her eyes. She let go of your hand, lifting her own in front of your face, wiggling her fingers a little. 

“Don’t lick your lips; I was handling raw meat before you came in and I touched your face,” she warned, smiling guiltily. 

You looked over to the counter and saw Wanda’s bowl of ground meat, and around it, her spices and other vegetables she had yet to prepare. 

At the sight of your to-be dinner and the idea of Wanda preparing it and cooking it all up, you laid your head on her shoulder and buried your face in her neck. 

“Oh, doll…” she whispered, cradling the back of your head as you tucked your face under her jaw. 

“Now you’ll have to shower, right? Because I rubbed raw meat on your neck?” 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could hear Wanda’s grin forming even though your face was buried in her neck. When she spoke next, you were at least sure that she was speaking while grinning. 

“Is that what you were doing?” she asked. “You could’ve just asked.

Wanda tucked your hair back, exposing the side of your face. She kissed your temple. “Give me a few minutes to finish with the meat, so I can refrigerate it. Wait for me upstairs.”

After some minutes, Wanda found you sitting on the edge of the tub waiting for her. She smiled at the sight of you wrapped in a towel, looking up at her as she entered. 

Eagerly, you all but lept from your spot and turned to run the shower, testing it with your hand until it became warm while Wanda undressed behind you. 

When she had taken all her clothes off, she approached you and undid your towel before laying it on the sink. 

You turned, wrapping your arms around her, feeling her smooth bare skin immediately warming your own upon contact with her. 

“I washed my face,” you informed her before squeezing your eyes shut and puckering out your lips. 

A soft kiss was then pressed to your lips, your lips relaxing from its puckering. Wanda’s hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone tenderly. 

“My sweet girl…” she whispered softly as she parted from the kiss. 

In the shower, Wanda washed your hair with her shampoo instead of yours. 

“I’m… feeling kinda…” you started quietly, looking down and playing with your fingers. 

“Mmm?” Wanda hummed, busy with massaging her soapy fingers against your scalp. 

“Kinda… little.”

”I know, baby,” she replied softly. “Just let me take care of you.“

You wondered if Wanda, too, imagined that she heard your smile when it formed bashfully at her response, like you had in the kitchen when you heard her grin.

Earlier, you had been planning to tell Wanda about the other things which had made you feel upset, like how you were behind in your readings and how you were almost certain you did terribly on your midterm paper.

But in the shower, all those things just disappeared. 

A part of you worried for just a moment that Wanda might even think you were being silly or overly dramatic for being upset over only the things you mentioned earlier, so you figured you ought to tell her the whole story. 

But when Wanda turned around and let you wash her hair, you knew there was no way she’d ever think that about you. 

It made you feel like crying. 

Really, you didn’t know why you felt the urge. Maybe it was because it was just a touching sentiment, or because you were overcome with how safe and cared for you felt, in the steam and warmth of Wanda’s shower, her hair in your hands, and her bare body just a few inches from you — Wanda just a few inches from you. 

When she turned around to start washing your body after her hair was rinsed, her eyes fell upon your face for just a moment, and within that moment, you could tell that she noticed you looked like you were about to cry. 

And when you really were about to cry, you didn’t notice yourself; it was Wanda’s immediate comforting that made you realize you were. 

Then, at your soft hiccups, you knew for sure you were crying. 

Her arms surrounded you, and you buried your face in her neck. Your damp cheeks blended with the wet warmth of her skin, making your face feel flushed. 

“Shh, it’s okay now,” she spoke gently. Her arm wrapped around your waist had her warm palm against the middle of your back, her other cradling the back of your head. “I know it gets hard…” 

You sniffled and opened your eyes, watching the water drip from the ends of Wanda’s hair through your bleary eyes. 

“You’re tired and frustrated,” she said. “You just need to be taken care of, right?” She felt you nodding against her shoulder slightly.

“There we go. It’ll be alright, honey. All you need is a little bit of time.”

Your arms squeezed around her waist. 

“I need you,” you insisted. 

“I’m here, Y/N.”

Though you felt you didn’t need anything to eat until dinner, Wanda prepared a snack for you anyway, insisting that you eat something. You asked her to wake you up for dinner because you didn’t want it to get cold before you woke up.

You wanted to wear her pajamas too, so she picked out a comfy pair for you. You were practically beaming as you snuggled down into her neatly-made bed. 

After a few minutes, Wanda came up with some apple slices and some peanut butter on the side. She told you to get to sleep right after eating, and you weren’t even worried you’d accidentally keep yourself up.

With dinner being prepared and Wanda promising to wake you up once it was finished, you snuggled into her bed, promptly falling asleep in her pajamas after eating the snack she put together for you. 

Over dinner, now that you felt far more rested but still extremely eager to sleep cuddled up to Wanda soon, you spoke about her day, and very little about yours, since you didn’t want to think about it.

She sat beside you, touching you occasionally, her hand rubbing your shoulder as she spoke or playing with your fingers that were laying on your thigh.

She asked how you liked dinner, and scooted closer to you when you told her how much you liked it. 

“When was the last time you had a full meal, baby?”

“A full meal?” you asked, thinking about what qualified as a full meal, let alone a meal at all. 

She squeezed your hand as she took a drink from her glass. “One cooked in a kitchen, and warm.”

“Instant noodles in a pot, two evenings ago.”

“That’s not a meal, Y/N.”

“Then… A week and a half ago. When I went for dinner with my friends.”

Wanda let go of your hand and tucked your hair behind your ear. “You need to eat better, baby. Can you come over more often?”

“Can I sleep over more?”

The corners of Wanda’s eyes crinkled when a smile immediately formed on her face, the tips of her ears rising just a twitch. “Please do,” she answered. 

While you were brushing your teeth, Wanda came up after getting the dishes into the dishwasher. She insisted she do it herself while you got ready. 

She smiled at the sight of you still in her pajamas, brushing your teeth in her washroom. She approached you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, your mouth full of minty suds. 

When you had both finished getting ready, you crawled over the bed and laid your head down in Wanda’s lap and brought your knees to your stomach, like a puppy. She set her phone down and laid her hand on your head, massaging your scalp and forehead softly.

Satisfied and relaxed, you closed your eyes. 

“I miss you when you’re busy at school, baby…” she said softly, her voice gentle and a little sleepy. 

You opened your eyes and turned onto your back so you could look up at her. The lamp on her nightstand embraced her in a warm glowing outline around the crown of her head through her hair, making the soft glow look like a halo. 

“Really…?” you asked. 

Her warm hand cupped your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin. She nodded. “So much. I think of you all the time, Y/N. Our phone calls aren’t enough.”

You turned your body and pressed your face against her stomach. 

After a few silent moments of Wanda brushing her fingers through your hair. “Why don’t you take care of yourself? You need to eat and sleep properly, honey.”

You muffled indiscernible words into her stomach, not really trying to give an answer. 

“Are you listening, Y/N?”

You spoke, intelligibly this time, albeit still against her stomach. “Yes, I’m listening.”

“Let’s get into bed,” she said, taking your chin in her hand and making you look up at her. She smiled down at you and you turned your head to kiss her palm. 

You weren’t ready to stop clinging onto Wanda even after she turned off the lights and you got under the blankets together; your arms were wrapped around her waist snugly, your head tucked under her chin. Her hand gently stroked the back of your head.

Your breathing was in time with Wanda’s in a way that when her chest expanded as she inhaled, your shoulders relaxed as you exhaled, creating a subtle push and pull of your bodies’ contact.

“I think I might’ve done really badly on my midterm paper,” you said quietly, turning your head and opening your eyes, looking at the subtle shifting of her shoulders.

“Really?” she asked, continuing to stroke the back of your head. “Why?”

The heavy ache in your chest that arose when you normally thought about your terrible paper had somehow dissipated, and in its place a dull and hollowed out feeling where you expected to feel its weight. 

You tightened your arm around Wanda’s waist, pressing your chest against hers. 

“I knew it was terrible as I was writing it. I was just in such a rush. I didn’t take the time to plan it — nothing,” you explained. The words felt like a confession, finally releasing what you’d done without denying it to yourself and storing it deep within that ache that was presently missing.

“What happens if you get a bad mark?”

For the first time, you genuinely thought about a future that took place after receiving the paper’s grade. “I guess I’d have to talk to a teaching assistant about it… Or my professor.”

Wanda hummed in acknowledgment. “It’ll be alright, Y/N. It’s a midterm for a reason; it's not your final, and you’ll certainly have ways to make up for it.”

“But it’s just stupid…” you mumbled, hiding your face in Wanda’s chest again. 

She pulled her head back a bit and looked down at you. “What’s stupid, baby? Come on, look at me when you’re talking.”

“No, I don’t want to,” you replied childishly. 

Wanda gave in with an exhale through her nose and rested her chin on top of your head again. “Can you tell me what’s frustrating you?”

“I’m just stupid. I’m supposed to be able to do these things properly, and I can’t.”

“It’s not that you can’t, Y/N, it’s just that you couldn’t for that assignment. Don’t call yourself stupid.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” you insisted. “You weren’t there with me when I knew I could’ve done better.”

Above you, Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sighed. She took your chin in her hand and forced you to lift your head from her chest. 

You looked up at her. 

“Why do you want me to scold you so badly, hm? You want me to agree with you and tell me you should’ve and could’ve done better, and that you’ve done a terrible thing?”

The suggestion wasn’t entirely far from what you had been trying to do, but the idea of Wanda actually doing it made you upset. You felt your bottom lip tremble a little. 

“Why won’t you just make me feel bad about things? Just make me feel bad about things I do.”

Pads of her fingers pressed against your cheeks and Wanda frowned as she looked down at you.

“I would never do that, Y/N,” she told you softly. 

You couldn’t tell if you felt more defiant and stubborn, or overwhelmed again by the realization of how much Wanda loved you. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

Her hand combed down your hair until she was holding the side of your face in her hand. “I love you. You’re loved when you’re with me. That’s why.”

You rubbed eyes with the back of your wrist, feeling an onset of tears. You didn’t want to cry — it wasn’t the time, and all you’d been doing since you arrived was cry and whine and want Wanda’s attention. 

“Oh, baby…” Wanda whispered, kissing your forehead and pulling your head against her chest again. “I know. You’re just feeling overwhelmed.”

You wrapped your arm tightly around her waist again, now feeling her shirt dampening against your cheeks. 

“I will always be proud of you, Y/N,” she spoke against the top of your head. Her hand rubbed your upper back. “I will never scold you for falling behind or making a mistake when you tried your best. And I know you did. You’re a hard worker and a good girl.” 

At her words, your silent tears grew into soft sobs and pathetic whimpers which you didn’t care enough to try and silence. 

Wanda asked with a sweet and patient tone, “You’re a good girl, right, sweetheart?” 

You nodded against her chest. 

She pulled away and lifted your face up with two hands. She wiped your tears away and craned her head down to kiss you softly. 

When she pulled away, you sniffled and immediately wrapped your arms around her neck to give her a hug. 

Several quick kisses were pressed to your cheek, and Wanda hugged you tighter. You knew that her arms were hugged around your torso, but it really felt like she was hugging you all over.

“You will always have somewhere to go to be loved and cared for, Y/N. I love you so much,” she said, her lips brushing against your temple. 

You were a mess of sniffles and whines. “But I can’t come over as much as I want. I wish I was with you all the time. I wish I didn’t have to go anywhere, ever.”

“I know, sweetheart. I wish you could stay here all the time and wake up with me every morning, and be here every time I get back from work. I wish neither of us had to do anything.”

Her fingers combed through your hair. “But I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. I’m not upset when you can’t visit. I know you get busy and I want you to do well in school. You’re a very smart girl.”

“I love you, Wanda,” you said. Your words were slightly muffled but your lips were close to her ear, so she could hear. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you in my life. I love you so much.”

Wanda’s arms tightened slightly around your body. “I love you too. I don’t know what I’d do without you either. Talking and being with you is my favourite part of every day. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

For the rest of the night, you and Wanda talked about how you’d figure out having you come over more. Now that you had keys to her place, you could come whenever you wanted, even if she was at work, and stay until she got home. 

She suggested you come over just to eat between classes even if she was out, but you said you weren’t ready to be at her place without her yet; it would feel too lonely and you wanted to see her every time you came over. 

In the morning, Wanda made you breakfast while you brewed the coffee. You didn’t want to miss her when she left for work, so you woke up early and decided to study on campus before your first class, so you could leave with her and spend more time with her in the car. 

Everything in the world and in your life made so much sense when you were doing your daily tasks with Wanda, as if your ordinary life was meant to be aligned with hers. 

This was the woman you were supposed to spend your life with, and it was no wonder everything felt better when you were with her.

[my-castles-crumbling]

convince - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 465

It had all happened so fast. One second, he and James had been walking on rounds, just as they always did. Regulus had long ago stopped questioning why they always got paired together. Instead, he just focused on secretly enjoying the time, teasing the older boy relentlessly and laughing to himself about his more-ridiculous remarks. 

He also tried not to think too much about the palpable tension between them. He tried not to wonder if it was just one-sided, or if James felt it, too: the heat, the need to reach out, the desire to never look away.

But one night, the elastic that was stretched so thin between them, holding them apart, just snapped.

And suddenly, he found himself in James Potter’s arms, their lips glued together.

It was so much, and not nearly enough, and he got lost in it. Lost in the way James’s fingertips traced the bare skin of his exposed waist from his slickly-rucked-up shirt. Lost in the way he could hear the other boy breathing heavily. Lost in the sensation of being surrounded.

So lost, that he did not hear footsteps until they were much too close.

“The fuck is this?”

And then they were both pulling away to see Sirius standing there, Remus behind him, both of them looking shocked.

In a split second of silence, Sirius turned away, storming off into the night.

His eyes met James’s before he gazed at the ground, and the older boy began to speak. “Regulus, I-”

“It’s alright,” he said flatly, the joyful feeling that had filled him moments before turning to ice in his veins as he closed himself off. How could he have been so stupid? James was straight, and popular, and a Gryffindor, and Sirius’s best friend. “I’ll..I’ll convince him it was all me. You don’t have to-”

“What? No!” James interrupted, sounding horrified. “What, you don’t want to do anything about this? You want to pretend it didn’t happen?”

Regulus looked back to him, and the look on his face made hope bubble back into his chest. “I…that’s not the point, Potter.”

“Well, I’m not going to,” James said, his lips forming a stubborn frown. “If you want to keep it a secret; if you don’t want to do anything, fine. But when Sirius asks, I’m going to tell him the truth.”

Regulus bit at his lip. “Which is?”

“That I fancy you. A lot, actually,” James said softly, smiling nervously.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Okay.”

“Okay?” the older boy asked, grinning now.

“Yes,” he nodded, smiling a bit as well.

“Now, I think it’s best if we give Sirius some time to cool down. So maybe we get back to…” James suggested, smirking, slowly moving his hands towards Regulus’s waist.

“Yes, I think that’s best,” Regulus grinned.

[mufos-photo-album]

I agree with this post, but I also somewhat disagree in other regards.

Like, in the past when speculating about what dyeing items in Sky would look like, I was always irked with the idea of having complete freedom with it. To me, doing so would remove the "identity" of each item, though that's not completely true since many of the Sky items are distinct enough even with their colors changed (except for the moth capes, which are all more or less the same and would suffer if you could dye the "main" parts of those capes).

I also think some limitations are fun to work around, though I do agree that some of the limitations of where you can dye are baffling.

Like, I think if there's any place you can't dye an item, it should be a region with neutral colors (such as black, white, or similar colors) or any accent regions (like the black trim of Dancing Performer's cape or the gold accents on the Ultimate Dreams cape). In this sense, I'm actually kinda fine with the dye regions on the Overactive Overachiever's cape ( which would be even better if the light fur was a more neutral color). With these neutral colors, they're more likely to go with any other color that the player should choose to pair with them.

As shown in the post though, there are quite a few capes where the un-dyeable regions are not neutral colors or accent regions, and this post elegantly displays the consequences of that. Like with the snowflake cape, only being able to dye the lower gradient almost locks the player into a certain range of colors because there's only so many colors that look good when blended with blue. A similar principle applies to the Peeking Postman's mask. What range of colors the player will pick is limited by the fact that their selection has to go with red and black, otherwise it'll look poor.

There's technically no limit on what color you can dye your items, though some items are aesthetically limiting by making you have to work with non-neutral colors that can't be changed.

Since I'm here I'll also discuss one exception (of a few, really) to my "neutral/accent colors should be the regions that are un-dyeable" preference: The dark rainbow cape. When I saw that this cape is dyeable I expected one of two things:

Either we could dye all of the stripes and the outside would remain unchanged

Or we could dye the outside and the inside would remain unchanged

Given that we can seemingly dye a max of two regions at a time and TGC's odd dye region selection, both of my predictions were wrong and we ended up with. This???

You can dye only two stripes inside the cape?? Like maybe it's a similar thing where if the player could only dye the outside of the cape they'd have a hard time matching the inner rainbow of the cape, but at the very least it could be helped that the exterior has a slight gradient (or at least I think it does...?) With only being able to dye two stripes, I think you'll be hard pressed to find a color combo that neatly goes from a saturated blue to an almost equally saturated red. I did find that changing one of the stripes to green does help with the "rainbow" look but I'm also not spending precious dye to "fix" this cape!!

I feel super let down by the season of radiance so far.. I expected wayyyy more customization then what we got in the capes and pants. So much so that I'm not excited by the future hat/face cosmetics becoming customizable at all.. Does anyone feel the same? <:/

(Beneath the keep reading I've put some close ups of the text and the before's and after's of each item. Just in case my tiny text was hard to read😅)

[luvyeni]

DRUNK LOVERS GAME 𝕼. ( 박원빈 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 박원빈 x fem!reader )   ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. sexual tension, drinking, language, unprotected sex, strangers to lovers word count. 3.6k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis … playing a sex drinking game with … even though this is the first time yall met.

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ based on a card game i saw on tiktok shop 😭

‘We’re hosting a sleepover , tonight and since you’ll be here you have to participate’ should’ve been a red flag , why as college students would you have a sleepover?

correction; sleepover meant your roommate’s were inviting their boyfriends over to spend the night and they had a friend who was single and your roommates had the bright idea of setting you two up for the night. “come on , he’s super cute.” isa stood in your doorway. “don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“yes , but i also have eyes and i can see that wonbin is super cute.” she flopped down on your bed. “and you’re hot too , and you’re both single.” she said. “you two are a perfect match.” you turned around in your chair to face her. “im not having sex with him just so you can have sex with yours without feeling bad that i have to hear how loud you are being.” you turned to your other roommate chloe who was now standing in your doorway. “you either.”

“we never said you had to have sex with him.” isa said. “just don’t be a bitch to him, be nice and make him feel welcomed.” both of your roommates now sitting on your bed. “does he even know he’s about to be set up?” they looked at each other. “well sorta , seunghan felt bad leaving him alone in the apartment , so we told them to invite him over and we’ll introduce him to someone.” chloe said. “you being that someone.”

you sighed , you really didn’t want to do this; but where were you gonna go? it’s 10:30 and all your friends are gonna be occupied so you can’t go drink. “fuck it , fine i’ll entertain the guy my friends and their boyfriends sold me to for the night.” you said standing up. “okay now go get changed.” you stared at them. “and why would i do that?” you looked down at the fresh pajamas you just put on. “these are clean i swear.”

“yn you’re wearing minion pajama pants and a shirt 7 sizes too big for you , who’s shirt is that?” isa said. “it’s my dads , i think.” you said. “it has holes and stains on it.” chloe scrunched up her nose up in disgust. “you said i didn’t have to seduce him.” you stood hand on your hip. “yeah you also don’t have to run him away purposely ; take the damn thing off and change into a shirt little appealing and with less stains and holes.” your grumbled , going into your closet. “im keeping the pants on.” you turned around showing them the tank top. “appealing enough?”

“perfect that tank makes your boobs look nice and plump.” you rolled your eyes; taking your shirt off throwing it to the floor. “my comfy shirt replaced by this tank all in the sake of a boy i’ve never met.” you put the shirt on. “good.” they both gave you a thumbs up. “the pants are terrible , but he won’t be paying much attention to those especially when your boobs are literally all perked up like that.”

you helped set up the the food and blankets up for the movie. “these blankets here; yeah throw them away in the morning i want nothing to do with them after you all use them during the movie.” you shook disgusted. “don’t think like that yn.” isa said. “yeah , we’re all adults we’ll just get up and go into the room.” they both smirked while you looked mortified. “im gonna throw up.” you said; just as someone knocked on the door. “oh yn go get that ; isa is still doing that over there, and i have to go to bedroom to get some more things.”

you got up from the chair; going over to the door, opening it , the three boys standing in front of you; you’ve met sungchan and seunghan in passing , but you’ve never fully hung out with them. “hi.” seunghan said. “yn right?” you nodded. “yeah , they don’t have another roommate that i'm aware of so that would be me.” the one behind them chuckled. “come in, they're finished setting up.” you said , stepping to the side to let them in. “hannie!” you watched isa stop what she was doing to run over and hug the boy, chloe coming out to greet sungchan. “what’s that?” you pointed to the bag in her hands. “oh nothing , just something for later.” she said ominously. “oh that’s frightening.”

wonbin was fine with staying home; he really was, but his roommates had other ideas. “it’s just for one night.” sungchan said. “and yn is a nice girl.” seunghan said. “you just said you’ve only said hi and bye to her.” he said. “yeah and she was nice each and every time.” the younger boy said. “they don’t want her to feel left out in her own apartment , and it’s not like you have anything to do.”

and that’s how wonbin found himself in your apartment; staring at a girl in minion pajamas. “nice pajamas.” you looked down , back at him. “thank you.” both your friends forget about the both of you. “im yn.” you held your hand out. “you can shake it , i don’t bite.” he smiled , taking your hand shaking it. “see , unharmed , come on.” you said guiding him to the living room. “sorry my friends pushed me on you.” you said , chloe slapped your shoulder. “yn don’t say it like that , be nice.” she said , wonbin laughed; you were funny he had to admit, blunt but funny. “that was being nice , it wasn’t an attack on him.” you shot back. “she’s not always this bad.” she said. “she’s 10 times worst.” isa said sitting on seunghans lap. “trust once she’s had a drink she’ll soften up.”

“well let’s hope she does.” he said, staring at you as you walked; you were cute, talking to yourself in the kitchen as you prepared the drinks for everyone. “go help her.” sungchan said , he nodded , sitting his bag down following you into the kitchen. “do you need help?” you turned around to face the boy. “sure , you can be useful.” you handed him the bottles of soju , you held the cups , walking back into the living room. “thank you yn.” seunghan said , you nodded , sitting on the floor to give them space on the couch; wonbin sat down next to you.

the six of you sat around the table; eating food, drinking and joking around together. it was all fun , and wonbin wasn’t bad at all either. he was super nice and sweet , he poured your drinks , and got you food. he ever laughed at your horrible jokes when your friends didn’t. “he’s a better friend than you two are and i’ve known him for 3 hours.” you said, your friends rolling their eyes. “he even complimented my minion pants.” wonbin laughed next to you, you really did soften up once you had a drink. “he’s my new friend you two can go.”

“yeah? wonbin you agree with this?” seunghan said , his arm around isa. “of course.” wonbin responded , his knee bumping against yours, you both hadn’t even realized how close you’ve become. “so you both wouldn’t mind coupling up for the night to play a game?” chloe said. you both turned to each other. “are they trying to trick us?” you asked. “what game.” wonbin said , taking a sip of his drink. “it’s a drinking game.”

isa pulled the box of cards from the bag you saw earlier, you stared suspiciously at the box as she sat them on the table. “drunk lovers drinking game?” you read the box. “are you serious?” you scoffed. “why do you buy such nonsense?” your friend smiled. “late online shopping with a bottle of soju , now we have this.” she said. “let’s play.” everyone agreed , wonbin turned to you. “you wanna play.” he asked , you shrugged. “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“lick your partner below the waist or drink twice.” your eyes widened as you watched sungchan lift up isa’s shirt , licking right below her waists. “what the hell is this game.” you snatched the box off the table , reading it off. “what does it say?” wonbin said. “there’s two decks of cards , the pink ones are more tame and the black ones are….” you trailed off. “dirty.”

how the hell were you and wonbin gonna play this game? “chloe it’s your turn.” your friend picked up a pink card. “share your thoughts on an open relationship or drink once.” she read , sungchan sat up. “don’t you dare pick that drink up. “what !? i wasn’t.” she said. “don’t you two start fighting.” isa said. “go on.” sungchan said. “obviously i hate it , if you ever think of asking to go open it up , the cops will only find your ear.” she said turning to her boyfriend. “and what do you think about them?” she said , wonbin watched you look at the couple on the couple who clearly were in love with amusement , he then looked at the card game — which one was he supposed to pick , the pink one was based on relationship questions; he hardly knew you , as sweet and attractive you were , he’d only known you for 3 hours.

and he couldn’t pick up the black one; once again he knew you and what if he gets a super dirty one. “okay yn , you go.” you looked around the table; the pink ones were the obvious safe choice. “just chose the pink one.” wonbin said; you picked the card up , reading off it. “maintain intimate eye contact with your partner, first one of you to laugh had to take a drink.” you read , okay it’s not so bad. “oh yn is laughing first forsure.” isa said.

you and wonbin faced each other; you could already feel your face heating up, wonbin was extremely attractive and his eyes were naturally sensual and intimate. “i don’t know wonbin looks like he’s gonna break first , his hands look a little shaky.” it felt like forever before you just couldn’t take it anymore , you let out a shaky awkward laugh , looking away. “told you.” isa said , wonbin smirked , watching you take a shot , fanning your hot face. “yn you need a minute?” chloe smirked , you gave her the finger. “wonbin your turn.”

he went to reach for a pink card , when sungchan put his hand in front of it. “come on switch it up man , they already did two pinks.” he moved his hand over to the black deck , praying he didn’t get something drastic. “read it.” seunghan said; he turned the card around to red , his face turn it red. “what does it say?” you asked , he showed you the card , your eyes widened. “we can’t do that.”

“what does it say?” chloe asked , everyone looking interested in the answer. “recreate your partners favorite sex position.” wonbin said. “well.” isa said. “yn what’s your favorite position.” your eyes widened at the sudden invasion of your privacy. “we-well.” you scratched the back of your neck. although he was just as floored as you , he still was curious. “it’s missionary , but that’s not the point we can’t — lay back.” wonbin said , everyone turning to him. “huh?”

“yeah huh?” sungchan said; it might’ve been the alcohol talking , or maybe it was you being all flustered; but he just said fuck it. “i said lay back.” he repeated. “bu-but —if you don’t you have to take five shots of soju.” isa threw at you , the group on the couch oohing in a dramatic way. “what , the card says two.” you shot back. “my game , my rules.” you were gonna kill her. “go on.” chloe said. “you can do it.”

you couldn’t; you really couldn’t — but you did , you laid back on the floor. wonbins hands came up to your calf’s , pushing your legs apart , slotting himself in between; his hands on both sides of your head, he was now hovering above you; his gold chain dangling in front of your face. “how long do we have to do this.” wonbin asked. “the card says a minute.” he looked down at you ; taking in your face, your eyes were shut tight , hands in little fists. you could feel his lower half pressed against yours meanwhile he was thinking about ever unappealing thing he could think of so he wouldn’t get hard. you finally opened your eyes , and he prayed the time would finally come before you could feel him. “okay , times up.”

the two of you quickly unattached yourselves from each other. “wow both of you are extremely flustered right now.” chloe laughed. “shut up , just go.” you said , unable to look at anyone; especially the boy next to you who was the exact same way.

the rest of the game was not easy; in fact it seems like the game got even worse; the cards got even raunchy, even the pink ones seemed too much for you. “okay yn that’s the last card and it’s yours.” sungchan said , and it was a black one. you turned to wonbin who was already missing a shirt due to his last card pick , now that you weren’t complaining too much about , but you could already see his skin beet red; the godforsaken gold chain laying on his bare chest. “hey yn stop staring and go.” isa teased , making them laugh. “shut up.” you picked the card up. “give your partner a hickey.”

wonbin felt like he was going through the wringer already with this game; and this , your lips on his neck — how the hell was he gonna get through the night with a fucking hard on? the soju was gone so you couldn’t drink. “it’s the last card , let go out with a bang before we watch movies.” chloe said , wiggling her eyebrows. “o-okay.” you turned to wonbin. “how the hell do i do this?” you said to yourself. “just , come here.” he pulled you into his lap. “oh look how fast they’re moving.” seunghan said tipsy from the alcohol. “shut up.” wonbin said. “you’ve given a hickey before?”

“of course.” you said , just not to a boy you met five hours ago , and especially not a boy this attractive. “move your head to the side.” he felt your lips on his neck and he swore he almost let out a moan; and both your friends were cheering you both on. he clenched his fist to keep himself from letting out a noise as you sucked on his neck. after like 2 minutes of you sucking on his neck you finally pulled away, a red blotch appearing on his skin , you quickly climbed off the boy. “okay , game over.” you said. “let’s watch the movie.”

you grabbed all the empty bottles; running into the kitchen to throw them in the trash. wonbin grabbed the extra trash following behind you to leave the couples to clean up the card game. “you okay?” he said , you nodded , not turning around. “i-im fine.” you stuttered out , you finally turned around. “put your shirt back on.” you said. “why are you flustered still.” he smirked. “no , it’s cold.” you said , running past him back into the living room, he laughed to himself throwing the trash out, making his way back into the living room.

“you’ll thank us later for this.” isa said. “will i? how will this benefit me?” you said. “look at wonbins eyes and tell me he doesn’t want to fuck you , that’s how it will.” you two broke up your little circle , making your way back to the floor. “here.” he sat down next to you , handing you a blanket. “you said it’s cold.” he said. “i said you’re cold.” you mumbled to yourself. “yeah , i am.” he said, moving closer to you , putting the blanket over both of you. “but now im not.” he smiled , just as the lights went out.

you could feel the warmth of his body against yours as you watched the movie , you could barely keep your eyes on the tv instead your attention was on wonbin. you felt a pillow to the back of the bed which made both of you turn around; isa and seunghan making their escape. “where the hell did chloe go?” you said. “oh they left like 30 minutes ago; you two were too busy watching the movie.” seunghan said. “more like watch each other.” isa said. “good night.” you waved them off , standing up. “where are you going?” wonbin spoke up. “im going to my room.” you said. “no stay.” he said , grabbing your wrist. “the movie isn’t over.”

you sat back down on the floor next to him; looking forward at the tv ; but you could tell he wasn’t looking at the movie — he was looking at you. “i know you can feel me staring at you.” he whispered. “i-i can.” you said. “why-why though?” you finally turned to him. “why are you looking at me?”

“because i think you’re pretty.” he confessed; your heart skipped a beat. “thank you; you’re not to bad yourself.” you tried to sound confident , that was until he leaned in , his face close to yours; his eyes traveling down to your lips. “because i think you want to kiss me right now.” he said , you gulped nervously. “i want to kiss you.” he said. “so bad.” he whispered , his lips practically ghosting over yours. “so fucking mnph.” you closed the short gap between you two; you didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the alcohol or the game , but you couldn’t hold back anymore. “shit.” he pulled away with a chuckle. “that was a real desperate kiss.” he teased. “almost like you’ve been waiting for it.”

“get up.” he said , moving to the couch. “come here.” he beckoned you over. “take these off.” he said. “you take them off.” you gathered all the confidence you could to say that; he smirked , sitting up from his manspreading position. “okay.” he pulled you closer towards his face , planting a kiss on your waist. he slowly undid the tie on your pants; he stared up at you as he pulled your pants down your legs. “such cute pants , but you’re wearing these slutty panties underneath.” he said , you bit your to contain a moan as he teasingly pulled back the elastic of your panties , letting it snap against your skin. “such pretty noises.” he pulled your panties down. “and an even prettier pussy.”

he pulled you down; you straddled his waist. “you showed me your favorite position right?.” his thumb on your clit , rubbing figure eights. “wo-wonbin.” you moaned , but he shh’d you. “we gotta be quiet,” he said. “can you be quiet?” you nodded. “good , now let me show you mine.” he held your waist , and he stood up lightly to pull his pants down just enough to free his cock. “fuck it’s so hard.” he groaned , his tip was red. “been feeling this way since i felt your little pussy throbbing for me earlier,” he said. “is that what you wanted?” he cock pressing against your hole. “for me to feel how desprare your pretty cunt was for her to be filled up.”

he guided you down on his cock; your cunt gripping him like a vice. “oh fuck.” he leaned back against the couch , head thrown back. “that’s it -fuck- work my cock.” you began to move your hips , grinding your hips back and forth. “won-wonbin fuck.” you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself. you weren’t planning on going this far with him but here you were , both of you struggling to keep quiet as his cock dragged along your walls. “fuck baby , we gotta speed this up.” he groaned , his hair stuck to his forehead. “shit , let me take over.”

he grabbed your waist , bouncing you on his cock. “oh my god.” you gasped , your head falling in between his neck where you left the hickey. “mhm , fuck leave some more.” he moaned as you suck on his neck. “fuck , your little cunt feels so good.” the slapping noises drowning out the movie. “keep doing that.” you moaned against his skin , you felt so good bouncing on his dick. “fuck , wanna feel you cum around me.” he said. “you gonna cum for me?” he brought his fingers where you two were connected , rubbing circles. “m’gonna cum.”

“cum for me.” he pressed his lips against yours to swallow up your moans as you came around him. “oh fuck.” he pulled away. “fuck im gonna cum.” he said in a hushed tone. “sh-shit.” he lifted you off of him , his load shooting from his thick cock , covering your thighs; your body fell against his chest as you came down from your highs. “hey.” he whispered. “we gotta clean up.” he said. “let’s go to my room.” you said , you wanted more. “you want more?” he smirked , you nodded.

“well then you’re gonna explain to them in the morning , cause i don’t care how much noise you make , i wanna hear how good im fucking you.”

“how did you have a better night than we did?” isa said the next morning. “you two were at for 2 fucking hours , our couch yn on the couch we sit there.” chloe shrieked. “you two couldn’t make it to the room , you were on the floor when we left.” isa said. “it just happened , don’t blame me.” you threw your hands up in defense your phone buzzing , wonbins name popping up you smiled. “look at you , who’s fault is it then if not yours?” you shrugged , picking up your phone to answer.

“soju and drunk lovers game.”

[confused-squishy]

Weapon Expert Danny Todd from Jason Todd's POV

This amazing idea came from @unadulteratedsoulsweets

Jason was starting to get worried. He had called his husband's phone a few times since his patrol started and he hasn't heard anything back. Jason knew someone had called in and asked about setting up an appointment for tonight. But Jason thought it would've been over by now.

So Jason called the phone Danny only used in the workshop. It felt like ice water had been poured on him when it went straight to voicemail. Jason quickly shoved his phone into his pocket and took off towards the current safe house he was using.

When he arrived Danny wasn't there. After looking around Jason noticed a few things were missing that Danny usually took with him to meetings. So that let Jason know Danny hadn't come back from the meeting. That made things worse. He didn't know where the meeting was or which workshop Danny would be using.

Jason took a deep breath. Trying to calm his mind. He pulled out the burn phone he uses specifically for Danny. His wonderful husband had made it for him. They both have one and it only works for them. Jason dialed the only number. His heart racing faster and faster as the dial tone continued. He swore loudly when he reached the voicemail.

Something wasn't right. Danny always answered this phone. Always. Jason turned on his coms and took another deep breath. "Oracle... I need you to look for someone. Please." There was a short silence. Before there was a clicking sound. "Who am I looking for?"

Jason took another deep breath. Trying to steel his nerves. "Danny... Daniel Jonathan Todd. He goes by Danny though. He owns a gun repair shop. Called Phantom Guns." There was a stunned silence. "Todd... As in your brother Todd or?" Jason shook his head. "Oracle please. I'll explain later."

"Jason what's your relationship?" Jason bit his tongue at the grouchy sound of Bruce's voice. "None of your business old man." Jason quickly snapped. "Jason if you want help looking for this guy we need all the information." Jason bit back a sarcastic remark. "Fine. He's my husband. Happy? Now can you please focus on finding him?"

There was a heavy silence before everyone was yelling questions all at once. Only for Oracle to snap at them to quiet down. "Jason I found something but I don't think you'll like it." "Whatever it is please. I need to find him. I don't have a good feeling." The coms were quiet before one of his phones beeped.

"There's a break in and mention of an unconscious male that is fitting the description of Danny." Jason's heart stopped before he raced off. Jumping from roof to roof. Jason could barely hear anything except his heart beat. Could someone have called Danny out and attacked him?

No. Danny can usually take care of himself. Jason had made sure of it. He knew the dangers of being with a Wayne child. Adopted or not. Especially with Jason. With what he does at night, not to mention Danny's talent with almost any gun. They both had huge targets on their backs.

Jason was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the smoke rising into the sky. It was like the air was knocked from his lungs. He almost tripped when he landed on the closest roof but he managed to catch himself before he quickly ran to the edge.

Jason felt his heart sink at the site of one of Danny's favorite workshops looking destroyed. Jason's body moved on auto pilot. He jumped from the edge, landing on the dumpster and quickly made his way to the kicked in door. Jason went to enter before a hand gripped his shoulder.

Jason grabbed the hand to flip the person before his was pulled into a familiar chest. "Calm down. You need to think before you barge in. In case there's a trap or anything of the like." Jason involuntarily followed the order before shoving Bruce away from him. He straightened up and pulled out his favorite Glock. The one Danny had remade for him.

Jason raised the gun before turning on the heat sensor of his helmet. "I only see one body on the ground. Unconscious most likely." He switched off the heat sensor before turning on the night mode. Jason carefully entered the shop. Making sure to look where he was walking.

He froze momentarily when seeing the unconscious figure. There was a good sized puddle under him. That shirt.... That dark hair. The matching ring. "Oh my god. Danny!" Jason rushed over dropping his gun and quickly removing the helmet. He checked for a pulse. He relaxed slightly. It was weak but he had one.

Jason rolled him over and felt the air leave his lungs once more. Jason quickly ripped off his jacket and pressed it against Danny's stomach. "Call an ambulance! He's-His-" Jason sniffed. Feeling tears fill his eyes. He flinched when a rough hand gripped his shoulder. Jason looked up, meeting Bruce's determined look and hesitated before moving slightly.

Bruce bent down. Carefully removing Jason's jacket to see the wound. There were multiple deep gashes and what looked to be an electric burn from his left chest to his left shoulder. Bruce clicked his com. "I need an ambulance. There's multiple deep gashes to his front along with what looks like an electric burn from the left of his chest to his shoulders."

Bruce felt for a pulse. "Pulse is weak. Barely there." Bruce leaned forward. Listening for breathing. "Shallow breathing." Jason gripped the jacket more. How long has Danny been like this? Why hadn't he looked for him sooner?! Jason hadn't noticed his panicked breathing until he was nudged.

Dick was behind him with a sad smile. Dick gently grabbed him and helped him stand. Bruce had laid Danny out and used Jason's jacket to keep the bleeding to a minimum. Jason felt numb as Dick had start pulling him away as sirens sounded. Jason went to shove away dick but was interrupted by Bruce.

"Go home and change. I'll tell you what hospital. But right now you're covered in blood and your Red Hood uniform. I need you to go change before meeting at the hospital okay?" Jason barely nodded. His eyes not leaving Danny's pale face as Dick pulls him away. Once outside Dick pulls Jason to a car and gently helps him inside.

The drive to Jason's closest safe house was quick and silent. Neither saying anything before Jason rushed inside to quickly change so he can get to the hospital. But as he undressed all Jason saw was blood. Danny's blood. Jason shook his head and physically threw the clothes off himself.

He was going to be burning those clothes. He couldn't stand looking at them. He ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Turning it to the hottest setting. He didn't care if his skin was burning. He needed to get the blood off. He needed it gone. He needed Danny's blood off him. He needed Danny to be okay. He needed his husband to be alive and safe.

Jason closed his eyes as the scolding water ran down his back. Danny's pale face appeared before Jason's eyes and he shook his head before quickly scrubbing himself and jumping out of the shower. He barely dried himself before rushing into the room.

He looked at where the pile of bloodied clothes laid and felt a small sense of relief when he noticed they were gone and clothes were laid out on the bed. Dick must've taken care of the clothes. Jason would have to thank him later when he.... When he knew his husband was okay. Jason doesn't know how he got from the safe house to the hospital.

He only knows that everything seems to be too loud and bright for his senses at the moment. When he finally sat down he was in a plastic chair used in hospital waiting rooms. He looked around. Dick was with him out of his Nightwing uniform. He was standing a short distance away on the phone. Either with Bruce or Kori. Letting them know the situation.

Jason took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. Just who had set up that Meeting with Danny? Danny always does a background check when someone wants to make an appointment with him. Had someone given a rogue Danny's meeting information? Jason's hands tightened in his hair. Whoever did this to his husband is going to pay. Big Time.

Jason flinched slightly as a hand patted his back. Dick had came back with a slight smile. He must've been talking to Kori then. "Have you heard anything?" Dick shook his head and Jason groaned softly. Dick's smile tightened before he removed Jason's hands from his hair. "I'm sure we'll get some information soon Jay. Just don't pull your hair out before we do okay?"

Jason didn't say anything. Just kept his eyes sweeping across the room. It felt like forever when a Doctor looking unsure. Jason jumped up as the Doctor came over. "Mr. Graysan. Mr. Todd." The Doctor nodded at them. Before he could say anything Jason already was asking questions. "Is Danny okay? Did he make it? Can I see him?!"

Dick carefully pulled Jason out of the Doctors face. Ignoring the thankful look Dick nodded. "Please answer him. He's not doing the best as you can see." The Doctor sent Jason a look of pity and Jason felt his body freeze. Please don't tell him...... "Mr. Daniel Todd came in with multiple deep gashes, broken bones, and a severe electrical burn mark. There were a few.... problems during surgery but we got the patient stable and in a room."

Jason released and sigh of relief. "That great can I see him??" The Doctor shifted and sent him a hesitate look. "You can... But I have to inform you of his condition..." Jason froze. "C-Condition?" The Doctor nodded with a frown. "Due to the head trauma and blood loss I'm afraid Mr. Daniel Todd has fallen into a coma..."

Jason felt his legs give out. If not for Dick he's sure he would've fallen to the floor. Oh Danny.... His poor Danny. If only he'd have looked for him sooner...maybe he wouldn't have been in such a bad condition. Jason heard only ringing as he was brought into Danny's hospital room. Jason sunk into the chair closest to the bed and gripped his husband's hand.

Please..... Please wake up soon.

[zephyrchama]

Make barbatos fanfics pls

The memory of your recent mishap kept playing in your mind. It was a complete mistake - you hadn't intended to drench Barbatos in tea. Despite him being more than capable of protecting himself, you foolishly attempted to shield him from whatever toxic concoction Solomon was cooking up. One thing led to another, a massive pot fell over, there was an ear-deafening clang, and Barbatos was on the ground. Sopping wet.

He wasted no time in excusing himself to clean off, leaving you to bear the weight of your sins. Anyone could have easily cleaned the mess with magic, but Barbatos instead opted for a shower for some peace and quiet to calm down. Solomon was left to scrub the floor by hand since he started this issue in the first place.

As all of the castle's linens had been conveniently gathered in the laundry room to be inventoried, you took it upon yourself to grab a clean towel and deliver it to Barbatos.

You could hear the water running from down the hall. It was so loud, you weren't sure Barbatos could hear you. Wisps of steam escaped from the cracks around the bathroom door. You knocked. There was no answer.

"Barbatos?" you called, knocking again. There was no answer. Only the running of water. He was probably already in the shower. You could take this opportunity to grab his soiled uniform and clean it before the stains permanently set in.

With that plan of action, you opened the door. Barbatos was not in the shower, despite the running faucet. In fact, Barbatos was stark naked in the middle of the room. A washcloth in his hand indicated he had already obtained his own towels. He had his back to the door, as if he was just about to enter the tub. He made eye contact with you over his shoulder, eyes wide.

That one second felt like an hour.

His posture was superb. A mix of tea and condensation from the muggy bathroom air trailed down the curve of his spine, fine enough to be in a medical textbook. Your eyes followed, down to the base of his tail and the derriere behind it. Two fabulous, firm full moons. A sight rarer than anything else in all the three realms.

"Did you need something?"

Barbatos' usual polite tone was punctuated with umbrage. He placed a hand on his chest, as though shielding his visage.

"I'm sorry!" were the first words you spat out, on reflex. Coherent thinking failed you in the face of such art. Sentences started falling out of your mouth and you hoped they made sense. "I thought you might need a towel, so I got one from the laundry and came to give it to you. I knocked! I did, I knocked, but you didn't answer so I came in to leave this."

You held the towel forward with both hands as an offering. "And I was gonna collect your clothes so I could wash them. As an apology for, ah, that other thing I did. Sorry."

You stared at the ground. Even Barbatos' ankles were pristine. A little bony, tapering down at the sides that led to his slender feet. You watched his weight shift as his tail curled closer to his body.

"How thoughtful. I'd appreciate if you could hang it on the towel bar. I will handle my clothes myself, later."

"Right, of course." You swiveled and diligently hung the towel up. The dirty clothes in question were on the ground, still soaking wet, neatly folded in a square. You looked from them back to Barbatos. He was rooted in place, not budging in the slightest. One wrong move, and who knew how much you'd see?

More than the current eyeful, that's for sure. More than the slope of his shoulders. More than the rise and fall of his upper body with each fresh breath. More than the sight of his wet hair clinging to the curve of his jawbone and the tenseness in his arm when his painted fingernails wrapped around the tiny washcloth.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked. An obvious cue for you to leave.

"I'm good," you said. It was hard not to ogle at the size of his waist fully unobscured by clothing, and its ratio to his hips. "Do you... need any help?"

"I am fine. I will be taking my shower now." His voice echoed around the bathroom as you finally left. It echoed around your head, too, when he said, "be good and wait for me."

[vershautece]

Imagine the whole phd thing was your inside joke nobody else knew about and one day you’re at a gathering and somebody asks “so luigi, thinking of going for that phd soon?” He smirks and looks towards you like “what you think of me and a phd baby?” OHHHH LETS GO HOME RIGHT NOW AND I’LL TELL YOU

*when i first started responding to this ask i didn’t even mean to write a whole oneshot haha but omfg guys this is like size kink heaven

—

omg this is what im saying he would literally be this cocky and teasing😣 and yes i love the idea of it being an inside joke like u guys were prob just cuddling scrolling on your phones and he starts laughing bc he’s just seen a tweet about someone doing a phd and it inspired the joke😭 ur both giggling like children and then u turn to him and decide to tease, batting your lashes. ‘so is it really as huge as you say, sir?’ & you know damn well it’s a whole 7 inches bc ur insides have it memorised. ur rubbing his bulge through his pants and when he tells u to straddle him you’re giggling and whining while u dry hump

he’s going along with your playing dumb gimmick: ‘you need help remembering how big my cock is baby? don’t want just the tip, no? you want the whole thing? how many inches am i, princess?’

‘mm, 5?’ you’re messing with him still, grinding your hips onto his clothed crotch. his hands are moving between your sides, your lower back and gripping and kneading your ass in your loungewear.

at your words he immediately scoffs, and cocks his tongue to the inside of his cheek: ‘yeah sure baby, so you wanna see if you’re right?’ his smirk is making you so wet, and it’s surely gonna leak through the thin fabric you’re wearing. your hands are pushing on his chest now while you rock your hips against his.

‘mhmm, show me baby, i don’t think you can call it a phd if it’s only 5 inches. hm?’ u tease him, and move back off his crotch a little to palm him through his sweatpants. he’s so hard now, and u almost moan out loud at the feeling of him even through fabric.

‘take it out then, sweetheart’ he’s looking at you with pure lust in his eyes as you sit back to pull his sweatpants and his boxers down his legs, throwing them onto the other side of the bed.

his cock is fully erect, almost slapping against his stomach, and he hisses at the feeling. ‘what do you think, baby?’

you’re nearly drooling at the sight, and you giggle, biting your lip. ‘still think it’s just 5 inches, lu’ you bat your eyelashes, pouting slightly, and he nods slowly in response. ‘see if you can take those 5 inches in your mouth then, come on. if it’s only 5 you can do it, sweetheart’

you don’t break eye contact with him as you put him in your mouth, and you only get halfway down before you start to gag. the sight of u struggling to deepthroat him while maintaining eye contact has him going insane. he lets out one loud groan as soon as he’s in your mouth, and instinctively moves his hand to your hair, holding it out of your face. ‘why can’t you take it all, bellissima? hm? come off my cock for a second and answer me, yeah?’

you reluctantly take him out of your mouth, and tease him by spitting out his precum back onto the tip of his cock. ‘mm, think i need to feel it inside me lu, y’know if it hits my cervix then maybe i can say you do qualify for a phd’

u and luigi literally never have sex without him hitting your cervix - he knows you’re messing with him and his size kink is going crazy. he gives u that smirk (u guys know which oneee) ‘that’s fine baby ill give it to you, but you didn’t answer my question. why can’t you deepthroat my cock, beautiful?’

‘mm, stop asking questions and tell me to put it inside baby’ you moan, rocking yourself on his bare thigh and stroking his cock - you’re still fully clothed, and this friction isn’t enough

‘so fuckin’ needy, hm? yeah, you want my dick inside you? take everything off baby, there wasn’t any point in wearing panties cause you’re leaking through your clothes, mm’ he sits up a bit and reaches forward to rub your pussy slowly through your pants. he can locate the clit even through your clothes, and he slaps it lightly as a way of telling you to strip off. you take off your tank top, shuffle out of your pants, and then pull down your soaking panties, and luigi is jerking off slowly in front of you, trying to control his moans. you position yourself on him, replacing his hand with yours on his cock so that you can guide him into you. slowly, you start to push in the tip, and you nearly scream at the pleasure from his tip alone. ‘mmmm, lu’ you place your hands on his chest, and he’s smirking up at u. ‘mhm? this is just the tip baby girl, you gonna push me in deeper? shouldn’t be that difficult since im not that big, huh? cmon’ and he starts drawing slow circles on your clit just to tease you even more. you roll your eyes and push him in deeper, letting out another pornographic moan. ‘luigiiii, mm you’re so bi-’

his smirk grows wider: ‘i’m what? repeat that baby’ he lifts his hips to slowly push the rest into you, groaning at the feeling, and when he bottoms out you lean forward onto his chest and put your arms around his neck. ‘you’re so big, mmmm Mr phd’ you giggle into his chest

‘yeah? it’s more than 5 inches, huh, princess?’ he wraps his arms tight around your waist and gently pulls your face from his chest. he kisses you passionately, and you’re both giving each other teasing smiles when u break the kiss. ‘mhm, feel you in my cervix’ you moan softly; he’s not even started moving yet.

‘yeah, i know baby’ he coos at you, caressing your abdomen where his imprint is. ‘start rocking your hips, and i’ll get to making you feel so good, hm?’ he kisses you again softly as you start grinding on his cock. ‘mmmm, i’m so lucky’ you moan

his arms are moving up and down your torso now, and occasionally to your ass to knead it and grip it. ‘yeah you are, and so am i with this beautiful girl on top of me. you look like an angel, my baby’

you’re blushing down at him, soft moans spilling from your throat as you increase the pace. he’s kissing your neck now and leaving hickeys, while u tangle your fingers in his curls. ‘yeah, grind on my cock just like that, oh fuck’ he’s moaning into your neck, and you keep this pace going for a good few minutes, until he tells you to stop.

u both look at each other with lust filled eyes, a needy whine leaving your throat as you stop moving. he chuckles softly at your desperation. ‘c’mere, baby girl’ he wraps his arms tight around your waist again, and shifts his position on the bed to sit up properly against the headboard, still inside you. ‘c’mere’ he continues to coo at you, then brings u down onto his chest, planting his feet on the bed for the perfect angle to start thrusting up into you. he kisses your forehead, and holds you so tight. you’re prepared for him to start thrusting rough, but instead he starts an extremely frustrating pace of one rough thrust, then stilling inside u, another rough thrust, stilling inside again, and repeat. you want him to be fucking you dumb, not teasing you at this slow pace but it’s so so intimate, and his words in between the thrusts have you feeling like you’re in heaven. ‘i’m starting off slow like this baby, need to make sure you’re really savouring the feeling of how i hit your cervix, mhm? promise i’ll go faster soon’ he speaks to you so sweet and soft, kissing your forehead over and over.

*thrust* ‘mm, that’s it bellissima, you’re taking it so well’ *thrust* ‘mhm, my baby taking my cock so deep for me’ *thrust* ‘yeah, you feeling good?’ *thrust* ‘oh that’s my girl huh? mm, amore mio’

to all of this you’re just responding with moans and incoherent babbles, fingers tangled in his curls - the sensation and the contrast of him thrusting and then stilling inside is heavenly, and you don’t mind the teasing anymore.

‘all you can do is moan for me, hm? all dumb on this phd?’ he’s still at the same pace, and when you still don’t respond he smacks ur ass in between thrusts. u manage to let out a reply through whines: ‘mmm i love you luigi, my baby’

‘i know, sweetheart, i know. i love you too, always wanna show you how much’ he stops thrusting altogether and kisses your shoulder. ‘luigi, please’ you moan, desperate for him to fuck you properly. ‘pazienza, amore mio’

you’re arching your back like a slut waiting for him, and when he starts a steady pace you can’t control any of the whines and moans that leave your throat. ‘oh, luuu, i needed this so bad, your cock’s so fucking big, shit, i can’t’ your eyes roll into the back of your head, and his grip on your waist is so secure it’s making u even dizzier thinking about how protective he is of you. ‘that’s it, sweetheart - is it too much?’ his pace is getting unbelievably faster, and he keeps saying things to you as if you have the energy or brain capacity rn to reply.

‘no it’s perfect baby, want you inside me like this forever’ you manage to reply, and then you’re pressing sloppy kisses all over his neck - your moans vibrating against his skin triggers louder moans from him. ‘oh you’re so good to me, i’m the luckiest girl in the world’

‘baby girl - bambina - i wanna take care of you forever, make you my wife’

‘luigi, i’m gonna cum’ you whine, his words getting u even closer.

‘mhm, you close? yeah? cum for me, beautiful’ he pushes you back off his chest so he can see you, and the eye contact is insane. ‘i wanna see you come undone for me, amore mio, i’m so close too’

‘cum inside me, lu’ you whine desperately, hands gripping his curls so tight. his thrusts haven’t slowed once, and u think it can’t get any better till he suddenly hooks his hands under your ass and makes you jump on his cock, while he shifts his position so that you’re both sat up properly chest to chest, and he bends his knees even more to adjust the angle of his thrusts that somehow makes you feel even better than you already felt.

‘i’m gonna cum, fuck baby, oh, i love you so much’ his moans are erratic, and he’s sucking and kissing your boobs, hands still gripping and smacking your ass.

‘mhmmmm, me too, oh i love you’ you’re rocking your hips frantically to meet his thrusts now, and he pulls away from your boobs just for one second to say something: ‘dolcezza, play with your clit, my pretty girl’

and now your fingers are working erratically on your bundle of nerves, the last thing to push you over the edge as you get your release, screaming luigi’s name. you fall forward onto his chest immediately, while he continues his thrusts to get his own release.

‘that’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock, that’s it - gonna fill you up with mine now, mhm’ he’s muttering these words in your ear, followed by loud grunts as he spills inside you, right before collapsing on the sheets with you on his chest.

you’re both breathing heavily for a few moments and he’s stroking your hair with one hand, pulling you as close as possible by your waist with his other hand. he’s the first to speak: ‘so you’re gonna tell me i qualify for a phd now?’ he’s smirking into your hair, pecking the top of your head. ‘baby’ you giggle into his chest. u caress his cheek and whisper in his ear, ‘of course. and this 7 inch phd belongs to me’ you’re smiling up at him, and he raises his brows in response. ‘oh so you do admit it now, huh? i know your pussy has every inch of me memorised, you can’t mess with me sweetheart’

he shifts you slightly to slowly pull his cock out of you, and you both giggle at all the cum that drips out onto his stomach :’) then, you look up at him innocently, moving your hand to his softening cock. ‘can you fuck me in the shower, please baby?’

[elysianightsss]

AAAHHHHH! HI! So sorry to bother you, but I read the neurodivergent reader x 141 and AHHHHH I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING, DROOLING, CHEWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE they wont let me out

i have a little idea… how would poly 141 react when they find out your job isnt this cute barista or something along those lines, but just a regular stocking associate or a cashier for some huge corporation. like, they know you work. and every time you leave, they see you die a little on the inside from having to go to *insert shitty job*. They just didnt know that you were working there and now they are trying whatever they can to convince you to quote your job and stay home… i know i would rather stay home and take care of them than going to my job…

Oh anon I love your brain! As someone who used to be a cashier before I got my fucking wonderful, literally no joke amazing office job, I fuck with this. I’m writing them as roommates tho don’t know why just deal with it😘

It starts off with a debate over what time you get up in the mornings given how tired you seemed today. But then they realise, they don’t even know what you do for work. Johnny predicts that you’re one of those cute baristas in sweet little aprons with how good the flavoured coffees you make him in the morning when he’s back from his run, are.

Kyle can’t seem to fathom you’re not the office sweetheart he seems to picture you as. Though you’d been living with them for almost over a year now, the guys were gone before you left for work and back long after you arrived home. Still he had it in his head the whole time that you were putting on tight pencil skirts and heels in the morning before going off to work. Something he argues tooth and nail with Johnny about.

John scoffs hearing the guys argue, usually keeping out of it, but this time he can’t help himself when he interjects with, “Yer both chattin shit. She’s obviously a baker with those mouth watering pastries she makes us.” Now that opens up the argument further.

Simon is the only one who doesn’t speculate, instead he walks right up to you on a Sunday night as the guys are all readying themselves for bed and you’re making your lunch for tomorrow. “Luv.” He calls, you glance at him, eyes honing in on the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Dangerous, dangerous man.

Looking back to the fruit you were slicing, you hum in acknowledgment, “Wot’s ya job?”

You bite back the grin that fights to split your face in two, turning to him you see he visibly softens at your little smile, “I’m a cashier.” You answer, ears tinging red a little. In all honesty you were embarrassed that you worked for one of those big corporations. The dreams you had once but were never able to reach are like a damp on your heart. Like a festering mould that only grows in the worst conditions.

Sometimes you enjoy the people, there are some nice ones that overcome the bad interactions. But everyday you pull on the trousers and trainers, and that itchy uniform top, you wish that a snowstorm would lock you inside the house. You pray to receive a call telling you not to come in due to a fire that started in the bakery. Your heart aches to be told you’re allowed to go home early even if you won’t be paid as much at the end of the month.

Simon hadn’t said much after you told him, his eyes darkened a little when he asked if you enjoyed it and you had answered swiftly and without hesitation; no.

Then suddenly, the guys are leaving for work a little later in the morning. The same time as you. John offering you a lift to work, Johnny making you coffee instead of the other way around, Kyle giving you one of his soft jackets so at least your arms will be comfortable even if your torso is covered in that itchy material.

Simon is the one who places his hand on your forehead and tuts beneath his black surgical mask. You scoff when Simon says he doesn’t think you should go in today, “I feel fine.” You counter with a frown, pushing his big paw away and shoving your feet into the uncomfortable trainers.

John stares down at them like they’ve offended him personally, “You own comfier shoes lass.” Johnny comments and Kyle nods in agreement.

“I have to wear them.” You say quietly wondering why they suddenly have such an interest in your work attire. Have to. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The guys didn’t think you should have to do anything.

The weekends were a little weird too. You would usually cook them meals and sweet pastries or cakes with how hard they worked, they deserved nothing less. But Johnny is ushering you away from the kitchen when you walk past the dining table and the marble counter island to make him a coffee.

John says no thank you in the most strained way you’ve ever heard it when you offer to make him a sweet treat. He deflates even further into the sofa when you look offended at his decline. Kyle pulls you close to him on the other side of the couch, putting an arm around you, he continues reading his book but it’s out loud this time.

You sigh snuggling close to him, head on his shoulder when Simon brings over one of the many plushies you’d left on the floor of the lounge, again, and one of the many soft blankets you’d unnecessarily bought for the house. Maybe you could get used to this, you thought as your eyes started to blink slower. It had been a really long week, with lots of assholes. A week of sitting in that uncomfortable chair had done a number on your back too.

You’re just lucky that you’d said from the very beginning that you won’t work weekends, at least you could have those to yourself. The guys became even more attentive, not that they weren’t before, but it increased tenfold. And you wondered why.

Why Kyle is packing you a lunch box everyday now. Why Johnny is cuddling up to you at night just so you sleep warmer, better. Why John is willing to race away from very important paperwork to sit outside the big supermarket you worked at just so you didn’t have to take the bus home. Why Simon keeps buying you lush smelling soaps, bath salts and those sparkly bathbombs he knows you love, you have so many now you don’t know what to do with them. Even when you ask him to stop, he shakes his head and grunts out, “Baths are good for sore muscles.” And that’s all you get.

You just want to know why, what brought all of this on. And most of all why it all suddenly stops.

Almost like a calculated mission, like a big discussion had happened before hand. All of it stopped. They had left long before you got up for work, no lunch ready to go, no soft jacket waiting by the door, no cuddle reading sessions on the weekend, no more new bath stuff, no more lifts and an expectant look in John’s eyes when it gets to dinner time.

They’d done a total three sixty. Like they wanted to show you how good it could be with their help, how much easier life could be, going to work could be, only just to take it all away.

That’s exactly what their plan had been, Simon’s idea mostly with little suggestions made by the rest of them. They all executed it thoroughly, now all that’s left for them is to compete the final step.

“Doll I think you should quit your job.” John goes first, you frown excessively. What the hell is he talking about, you think.

“Have you gone mad?��� You huff. John knows you’re annoyed with them, hell they all know you’re angry by their actions. But it’s a necessary evil.

“Not yet I don’t think,” John jokes and feels a little lighter when the corner of your lip quirks up slightly, “I am serious.” He says simply, his blue eyes burning into you before he walks away. You think it so odd, strange that he says that out of the blue.

And then Kyle says it too. Coming into your room with the same baby Yoda squishmallow Simon had placed in your lap two weeks ago, and the same blanket. He gestures towards your bed, it’s subtle but you nod. Failing to hide his grin, Kyle gets snuggled up under the blanket with you, your arms wrapped around the plushie.

He’s halfway through the book, hand brushing through your hair scratching at your scalp deliciously when he broaches the subject, “Bun?” You scrunch up your nose, blinking your eyes open to look at him accusingly. The sight makes him chuckle softly, you’re screaming with your eyes, how dare you make me open my eyes and be fully conscious.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, something he tells himself later was just to butter you up before talking. It wasn’t.

“I don’t think you should go to work anymore.” He says simply, with ease, his voice calm.

“What?” You blink rapidly waking yourself up fully to actually take in what he just said.

“Just something to think about bunny.” He shrugs and goes back to reading with that damn lulling voice. You don’t stop him, don’t interrupt but your mind is swirling the same way it had the day before when John had said something similar.

Johnny is not so tactful, shovelling his breakfast in his mouth. Half masticated bacon and scrambled eggs rolling around in his wide open trap, when he spits out the words. “Quit yer job lass, no one wants to be stackin shelves and scannin someone else’s shit all day.” He scoffs washing his food down with the caramel flavoured coffee you made him five minutes ago. He’s quick to put the plate in the sink and place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His head bend slightly, eyes level with you, “Think about it pet.” He pats your cheek lightly and earns a much more harsh smack to the back of his head by Kyle on the way out of the house.

And finally Simon…well Simon…um Simon just did what he thought was best, what he thought was necessary, what he thought would get you to comply the quickest…

You pant harshly, fingers gripping onto the light bronde hair painfully hard, yanking with each stripe Simon licked up your cunt. You barely noticed John walking passed your open bedroom door with a smirk, Simon had his face buried so deep in your pussy it was hard to think, hard to conjure up your own name let alone open your eyes and catch Kyle and Johnny pushing your door open a little wider and watching for a moment before Kyle drags Johnny away.

Simon’s broken too many times to fix, crooked nose brushed against your clit wonderfully, tongue fucking into your quivering hole making you buck your hips desperate for the release he’d been denying you for around twenty minutes now.

“Say it.” Simon cooed, encouraging you gently. Shaking your head, teeth biting down on your lip, holding on as tightly to your words as you held onto Simon.

Simon grips your jaw in his big paw, a sharp look comes across his features as though he’s about to scold you when you meet his gaze, thumb rubbing your clit in tight, rough circles to keep the stimulation enough, to keep you there on the edge so he has you right where he wants you.

“Say it and you can cum.” He promises, your eyes widen, stinging harshly with their own promise of tears should you keep this up.

“b-but-“

“No buts. We’ll take of everything sweetheart, oll ya afta to do is write the resignation letter, then stay here as our pretty little housewife.” He kissed your clit before moving his thumb back in its place, circling slower this time. You gasp, a broken sob wrenching itself from your chest as your orgasm starts to slip away with the lack of stimulation.

“Please! Please Si! I-“

“Oll ya afta do is say it. Quit, find yourself a cute hobby, cook and clean for us a little. Oll ya afta do is say yes and I’ll let ya cum luv.” He grins evilly when you whine, blowing on your cunt before licking a hard long stripe from your puckered asshole to your swollen, throbbing clit.

“yes! please yes I’ll quit just pl-“

Simon doesn’t let you finish your plea, devouring your pussy like a man starved. He licks, sucks, and flicks your clit, slipping his thick fingers inside your clenching, empty hole thrusting them in and out doing his best to match the pace he set with his tongue on your clit.

You cum hard, untamed. Back arching uncomfortably, limbs shaking rigorously and Simon slurps up everything you give him. You lay there trying to catch your breath when Simon crawls up your body to hover over you. His eyes meet yours when he grins, “Good girl. Now why don’t we get started on that resignation letter hmm.” It wasn’t a question.

Safe to say you happily quit your job.

[onlyquinns]

COFFEE SHOP CONFESSIONS, q. hughes

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

content: sitting for a cup of coffee with quinn takes a turn when unspoken thoughts from years ago finally arise, angsty, quinn might be ooc, allusions to sex but no actual smut

rain patters harshly against the window panes of the little coffee shop quinn sits inside of, calloused fingers wrapped tenderly around a warm ceramic mug. his head is ducked low and his hair is pulled back into a black yankees cap—one that he had to steal back from jack during the devils's short visit to the city.

a memory from years ago comes to the front of his mind as he peers up at you sitting across from him; glimpses of long limbs tangled in his sheets, his hands and fingers pressed into your soft skin, your hair sprawled out beneath you, and the soft sound of gasps and moans.

he doesn’t know how the two of you have got to this point, gone from lovers and best friends to acquaintances who meet once or twice in a blue moon to ‘catch up,’ an excuse quinn makes up every time to see your face one more time before he thinks you’ll inevitably refuse to.

you glance up from your own mug and smile softly at quinn, and he tries to memorize every freckle and faded acne scar on your face, so desperate to recall the way you look in the case you go from acquaintances to strangers. your cheeks are far less rounded now than when you’d first met during orientation at umich, more defined now that you’re older and out of college, and quinn is so devastatingly aware of how sharper and more defined his own face is—how fast time goes by without you by his side even though to him it feels like an eternity.

“so,” you start softly, drawing quinn from his thoughts, “what’s up?” you say it so casually that quinn’s chest aches and he swallows harshly, his throat dry and burning.

“aren’t you sick of this?” he blurts, his green-blue eyes peering at his own reflection in his coffee mug. the distorted version of himself seems to mock him, glaring at him for trying to destroy something that could be good with someone the both of them need.

confusion splits across your face, soft smile turned unsure and brows pinched together—quinn grips his mug a little tighter to keep himself from smoothing the space between them over, a habit he’d developed during your first finals week in college.

“i don’t know what you mean,” you tell him, unsure smile now gone and a small frown pulling at your lips instead. you tilt your chin down toward your mug and stare blankly into the liquid inside, losing yourself in the dark contents. “what’s there to be sick of?”

anger bubbles in quinn’s chest, not at you—never at you—but at the situation he’s put himself in. “this,” he vaguely insists, freeing his mug from his rough fingers and instead taking hold of his cap and hair. “where we act like i’m not in love with you anymore, where we pretend everything is fine and ignore that at one point we knew every detail about one another. aren’t you sick of that?”

tears prickle in your eyes, blurring your vision slightly. quinn’s right; you were so tired of pretending with him, so exhausted from going about your daily life trying to rid yourself of every thought of him only to end up back in vancouver in a desperate act to see him again.

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, breaking quinn’s heart a fraction. “i’m really tired of acting like… like i don’t pretend every other person i’ve ever been with is you.”

your admission sends shock rippling through quinn’s body, stunning him momentarily. the little reflection of himself in his coffee mug ripples away, like a little spirit finished with what it intended to do before separating from the real world.

“then don’t,” he tells you, reaching toward you to grip your soft fingers between his. he runs his thumb in circles and letters over the backs of your knuckles, the action soothing for the both of you. “i want to be yours—if you’ll let me. i won’t mess things up this time; i won’t leave you.”

your fingers weakly grip his, trembling in his hold. your guys’ drinks are long cold and the rain outside has lightened, inviting the sun back through the clouds. light streaks across quinn’s eyes, wide and hopeful, and the growing sunlight highlights the specks of brown scattered through the blue.

you inhale deeply, the sound rattly from the unshed tears and emotions deep in your chest. “what if you do, though,” you breathe. “what if i wake up and one day you’re gone, realized i’m not worth it.” insecurity plagues your mind, ebbing its way into your features, into the way you look at quinn through watery lashes.

quinn’s heart sinks deeper with your words, regret filling his entire body. “i’m sorry for leaving you,” he says, inhaling deeply as the memory of his last morning in michigan with you several years ago comes to mind. he’d left you still asleep in his bed at his parents’ house, the sheets curled tightly to your chest and smelling so heavily like him you hadn’t noticed he’d left. “it was a stupid mistake. i didn’t realize that what i had back then—with you—was the best thing to have ever happened to me. i thought… i thought playing in the nhl was the most important thing to have ever happened to me, but i know now that it was actually meeting you—loving you, being loved by you. i’m sorry.”

tears stream down your cheeks as you sob in the quiet coffee shop, fingers tightly digging into quinn’s. the way he looks at you is so earnest you have no choice but to believe him, believe that if you were to pack up your life back home and haul it to canada that quinn wouldn’t abandon you like an old toy after a week.

“please,” quinn nearly begs as he squeezes your hand even tighter, knuckles whitening against yours. “i need you in every way possible, in every universe ever. we can work things out, here in vancouver—or anywhere. i’d drop anything, everything, for you. i promise—i swear.”

quinn’s throat bobs as he watches you intently, waiting for a response. you nod your head furiously, nose scrunched up as you choke on a sob. you cover your mouth with the back of your free hand, still nodding.

“okay,” you rasp against your hand, tears no longer streaming down your face. “i believe you. we can work this out together. i believe you.”

quinn ducks his head graciously, reaching across to cup your hand with both of his. his palms easily envelop yours, tightly wrapped around it as if you’ll take your words back and walk away from him forever.

“thank you,” he whispers, his lips nearly brushing the table. “thank you.”

all photos from pinterest

[iamquiantrelle]

THE NEW WAG IN TOWN (chapter 1)──iamquaintrelle

# pairing: william saliba x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# wc: 11.2k

# tags: @formulafortyfour @kennasutopia @saleeba @anifffff @jessnotwiththemess @irishmanwhore @snowseasonmademe @oceanfanatic06 @ibouchouchou @haartemis @judectrl @peyiswriting @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @sucredreamer @eriks-girl

# summary: yasmin thought that dating wilo would stay private - until someone caught them at tesco and posted it online. now she's gone from quiet grad student to arsenal wag overnight, with thousands of new followers and wags begging her to join their brunches. all she wanted was to finish her degree and date her defender in peace, but as the spotlight grows brighter, she wonders if their private world can survive in this public circus.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ masterlist

Three days had passed since a Dairy Milk craving changed everything. Three days of Yas's phone vibrating itself into oblivion, of her twist-out staying in a messy pineapple because clinical rotations were kicking her ass, of trying to pretend she wasn't all over Arsenal Twitter because she'd dragged a sleepy Wilo to Tesco at midnight. The TikTok was everywhere now - her 5'5" frame drowning in his Arsenal hoodie while his 6'4" self reached for top-shelf chocolate, both of them clearly caught up in their own little world until a fan's "Can I get a picture?" turned into way more than they'd bargained for. The original tweet sharing the TikTok already had more than 50k likes: "SALIBA GOT A GIRL?? Caught at Tesco late night shopping 👀 Who is she??" and it was only getting worse.

At least she had Jamie, her clinical partner at King's College London's PT clinic, to keep her sane through it all. Jamie, who was currently failing to hide her grin while updating patient charts.

"Your boyfriend's coming in for his knee check today, right?"

"Stop calling him that at work," Yas hissed, but couldn't help smiling. The whole thing was still wild to her - meeting Wilo four months ago at Dishoom, that Indian spot all her classmates insisted she try when she first moved from Chicago. She'd been struggling with the menu (why were British-Indian portions so different from American ones?), and this tall guy with the deepest French accent she'd ever heard offered to help. She didn't even realize who he was until her friend kicked her under the table and frantically texted "THAT'S WILLIAM SALIBA" while Yas was busy trying to understand his accent.

She was checking her schedule when Wilo appeared in the doorway, and honestly, it should be illegal how he managed to make ducking through standard-sized doors look graceful. His training gear hung perfectly on his frame, and Yas had to remind herself that she was a professional who definitely wasn't thinking about how that same frame had been pressed against her in the Tesco snack aisle three nights ago.

"Bonjour," he said softly, his accent thick as honey as he sat on the treatment table, those long legs dangling. "Comment ça va?"

"English in the clinic, remember?" she teased, going through her standard range of motion checks. Her hands stayed steady even when his skin was warm under her touch. She'd practiced these movements hundreds of times, but somehow they felt different when it was Wilo watching her with those dark eyes. "How's the knee feeling after training?"

"Better with your exercises," he replied carefully, concentrating on each word in that way he did when he wanted to make sure she understood. His accent always got thicker when he was trying his hardest with English, and god help her, but it was adorable. "But you… are you okay? These past days…"

"I'm fine," she assured him, testing his knee stability and definitely not thinking about how her tiny hands looked against his leg. "Just focusing on my patients. And trying to keep up with your accent when you talk too fast."

"Me?" he laughed, the deep sound filling the small treatment room and making her fingers tingle where they pressed against his knee. "You are the one speaking like…" he paused, reaching for his phone to translate something, and she had to bite back a smile at how predictable he was.

"No phones during treatment," she reminded him, gently pushing his hand down. "Now tell me if you feel any discomfort here…"

Jamie wasn't even pretending not to watch them from the charting station anymore. Yas could feel her friend's amused gaze as she went through the motions - professional PT student Yasmin, definitely not thinking about how this same man had sleepily followed her to Tesco just because she'd played the girlfriend card. Her hands stayed clinical and precise while Wilo watched her with that soft look he got whenever she went into healthcare mode, the one that made her heart do stupid flips in her chest.

"Flex and extend for me," she instructed, her professional tone slipping when he purposely moved extra slow, those dark eyes twinkling. "Stop being difficult."

"I am following instructions," he protested, his accent getting thicker with amusement, wrapping around the words like warm chocolate. "You say slow and controlled, non?"

"I didn't say glacial," she muttered, but her hands were gentle as she checked his range of motion, careful with this man who could body strikers on the pitch but acted like her PT sessions were torture. "How was training this morning?"

"Arteta made us…" he paused, frowning as he searched for the words, and she had to resist the urge to smooth the crease between his brows. "Comment dit-on… extra drills? Because Luton Town this weekend."

"You better not be overworking this knee before a match," she warned, pressing slightly on a tender spot that made him wince. His leg was solid muscle under her hands, a reminder that for all their playful moments, he was still one of the Premier League's top defenders. "See? Still tight here."

Jamie's poorly hidden laugh echoed from the charting station. Everyone at the clinic had seen the TikTok by now but watching them here, you'd never guess they were trending. They were just... them. Yas with her clinical precision masking how her skin tingled wherever they touched, and Wilo with his accented teasing that got thicker whenever he was trying not to smile.

"Your stability's better," Yas noted, switching to her assessment voice even as his warmth seeped through her professional walls. "But you need to ice after training, I can tell you haven't been."

"Too cold," he complained, and the way his accent wrapped around those two simple words shouldn't make her stomach flip like that.

"Too bad. Doctor's orders."

"You're not doctor yet."

"Almost. Now do your hamstring stretches and stop arguing with your PT."

Jamie's pager went off like a lifeline through the tension that was building in the small room. She threw Yas a knowing look before heading out to help with exercises in the main room, leaving them alone with all their unspoken moments.

Wilo waited until the door closed, that heavy silence settling between them. "Gabriel keep asking about you. Want to know if you're coming to dinner at his place tomorrow."

"I have clinic notes to finish," Yas said, focusing on stretching his hamstring and not on how his muscles flexed under her touch. "And that thing with your knee isn't going to document itself."

"I tell him you're busy being smart," he smiled, then winced when she hit another tight spot. "Aïe! Doucement..."

"Baby," she teased, even as her hands gentled automatically. "And here I thought defenders were supposed to be tough."

"Only on pitch. Here?" He gestured to the treatment table, his dark eyes dancing. "I am delicate patient."

Before she could process it, his arm was around her waist, pulling her between his legs where he sat on the table. Even sitting, he was nearly at eye level with her standing. "You sure you okay though? No crazy people following you to work?"

"I'm fine," she said, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism even as his hands settled on her hips, warm through her scrubs. The clinic suddenly felt too small, too warm. "The school's pretty good about security."

"Mm," he hummed, accent getting thicker as he leaned closer, and god, he knew exactly what that did to her. "Maybe I should come to more... what you call them? Clinical hours?"

"Pretty sure that's not what you meant," Yas laughed, not needing any translation app to catch his tone. Her hands rested on his shoulders, forgetting all about PT protocols. "And you're supposed to be doing your exercises—"

Her words cut off in a yelp as he squeezed her ass, the sound hanging in the air just as Jamie walked back in.

"Dr. Morris wants us to– oh!" Jamie stopped short, fighting a grin as Yas jumped away from Wilo, her face burning. "She needs us to shadow her on a shoulder manipulation."

"Coming!" Yas said quickly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back, straightening her scrubs with as much dignity as she could muster. "Behave yourself and ice that knee."

Wilo just grinned, all innocent eyes and devastating smile as he slid off the table. "Bye Jamie," he called out, throwing Yas one last look that promised this wasn't over before ducking out the door, taking all her professional composure with him.

"So," Jamie drawled as they headed down the corridor, her voice dripping with amusement. "That's what professional PT looks like these days?"

"Shut up," Yas muttered, adjusting her scrubs and trying to will away the heat in her cheeks. "We were just–"

"Just doing some hands-on therapy?" Jamie wiggled her eyebrows. "Very hands-on from what I saw."

"I'm not above tripping you in front of Dr. Morris."

"Worth it. Also, you've got a little…" Jamie gestured to her own lips, and Yas quickly wiped away the ghost of her goodbye kiss, shooting her friend a death glare that only made Jamie grin wider.

The rest of her clinical hours dragged by in a blur of patient assessments and charting, her phone occasionally buzzing with texts from Wilo - mostly French words she had to Google Translate, each one making her bite back a smile. By the time she finally finished her notes, the London evening had turned that particular shade of grey that meant rain was coming.

Her phone lit up just as she was packing up.

"You still at clinic?" Wilo's accent was somehow even deeper over the phone.

"Just finished. Why?"

"Look outside."

She peaked through the clinic windows to find him leaning against his Range Rover in the parking lot. A few students were trying (and failing) to subtly take photos, but he seemed focused only on watching the clinic door.

"You're supposed to be icing that knee," she said as she walked out, trying to sound stern even as her heart did that stupid flutter thing once more.

"I did ice." He pushed off the car, closing the distance between them in those long strides of his. "For ten whole minutes."

"That's not–" but her professional PT lecture was cut off as he pulled her into him, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other settled on her waist. She had to tilt her head all the way back to look at him, and his eyes were soft as they traced over her tired features.

"You look exhausted, mon cœur."

"Clinical hours are no joke." She let herself lean into him just a bit. "Not all of us get to play football all day."

His laugh rumbled through his chest where she was pressed against him. "Non? You want to try defending for Saka this weekend?"

"I'd rather do another eight hours of charting."

That earned her another laugh, and then he was bending down to press his lips to her forehead. "Come, I take you home. Maybe stop for more chocolate?"

"Don't even joke about Tesco runs right now," she groaned, but let him guide her to the passenger side, his hand warm on her lower back. "I still can't believe that girl posted the video."

"Mm," he hummed, helping her up into the seat even though they both knew she didn't need it. "But now I can do this whenever I want, non?" And he leaned in to kiss her properly, slow and sweet, before pulling back with a grin. "No more hiding in snack aisle."

"You're impossible," she muttered, but she was smiling as he closed her door and rounded the car to the driver's side.

The Range Rover hummed quietly through London's evening traffic, some French rap playing softly through the speakers. Yas had gotten used to Wilo's driving habits by now - how his huge frame somehow managed to look graceful even behind the wheel, one hand on it while the other alternated between the gear shift and her thigh. He drove like he played, confident and smooth, those long fingers tapping against the leather steering wheel to the beat.

She was half-dozing, lulled by the warmth of the heated seats and the familiar mix of his cologne with that fancy car freshener he used, when she realized they weren't heading toward her flat and was rounding the corner to his building.

"What are you doing?" She turned to find him wearing that particular expression she knew too well - the one he got when he thought he was being slick, the one that usually preceded with her scrubs ending up on his floor.

"Taking you home," he said innocently, but his accent had that particular thickness to it that had nothing to do with language barriers.

"I don't live here, Will." But they both knew she had more clothes in his drawer than she'd admit to, and her favorite coffee mug had somehow migrated to his kitchen cabinet.

"Sometimes you do…" he smirked as he pulled into his private parking spot. "And I figured we could… finish from what happened at clinic?"

"I'm still on my period, or did you forget the main reason we even visited Tesco in the first place?" The same Tesco run that had blown their private bubble wide open, though looking at him now, with that glint in his eye, she could almost laugh about it.

"A little blood–"

"Don't you even dare," she threatened, pointing her finger at him which he playfully tried to bite, earning himself a smack on the chest. "You're gross."

"I'll just put down a towel. The least I could do since you got the period," he huffed, and she realized with a start that he wasn't entirely joking. Ever since they'd made things official, he'd been more… careless. Dropping comments about knocking her up - which, okay, was hot as hell in the moment, but outside the bedroom? Major yikes.

"William, no babies until a ring is on this finger and I'm finished with my program." She waggled her bare ring finger in front of his face for emphasis, trying not to think about how his eyes tracked the movement. "We're too young to even talk about babies anyways. Like what is the reason?"

"We'll make pretty babies," he said with that devastating smile of his, the one that made her forget she was supposed to be the responsible one here.

"No shit."

"But?" His eyes were twinkling now as he killed the engine, the sudden silence making everything feel more intimate.

"But you know the rules. No more talk about this please. You're giving me a migraine."

"You know what could help with migraine?" He was fully grinning now, one hand already reaching for her seatbelt while the other played with the ends of her twist-out.

She couldn't help but scoff at him, even as her body betrayed her by leaning into his touch. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Impossible? Non," he murmured, his accent getting impossibly thicker as he leaned across the console. "Just... what you say? Determined?"

"That's one word for it," Yas muttered, but didn't pull away when his fingers traced down her jaw. "Will..."

"We don't have to do anything," he said softly, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. "Just... stay. Watch a film. Let me make you dinner."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean let me watch you struggle with UberEats for twenty minutes?"

"So mean to me," he pouted, but his eyes were dancing.

"No I’m not."

"Come on, mon coeur." His hand had moved to the back of her neck now, playing with the hairs that had escaped her pineapple. "Your flat is cold and empty."

"Because someone keeps stealing my hoodies."

"You steal mine first!"

"That's different," she protested, even as she was already reaching for her bag. "I look cute in yours. You stretch mine out with your giant... everything."

His laugh was deep and warm in the confined space. "Giant everything, eh?"

"Don't make me hurt your knee again," she threatened, but they both knew she was going to follow him upstairs. She always did, especially when he looked at her with those soft eyes that made her forget about clinical hours and Twitter drama and everything else.

"You wouldn't," he said confidently, finally pulling back to get out of the car. "Who else let you practice your PT stuff?"

"I have other patients, you know."

"Oui, but are they as pretty as me?" He was already at her door, opening it with that stupidly charming grin of his.

"You're so–" but her words cut off as he helped her down, using their height difference to pull her flush against him. Even after months, it still made her breath catch, how easily he could maneuver her smaller frame.

"So what?" he whispered, bending down so his lips brushed her ear. "Tell me, docteur."

Yas immediately stepped away. "Annoying."

The private elevator ride to his penthouse was torture - not because of the height (though Yas still wasn't used to the way London sprawled out below those floor-to-ceiling windows), but because Wilo had her pressed against the mirrored wall, one huge hand spanning her waist while the other played with her edges.

"You're messing up my hair," she complained halfheartedly, tilting her head back against his chest.

"It's already messy," he murmured, accent thick with suggestion. The elevator dinged open to his floor before she could reply, and he guided her out with that hand still firmly on her waist.

His penthouse was exactly what you'd expect from a 23-year-old footballer - all clean lines and modern furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city lights coming alive in the dusk.

"You really need to do your dishes," she said, trying to maintain some semblance of responsibility even as he walked her backward toward that ridiculous couch.

"Later," he promised, those dark eyes fixed on her in a way that made her forget about dirty dishes and clinical notes and everything that wasn't his hands sliding down to her hips. "First..."

"Will," she warned, but her body was already betraying her, melting into his touch. "I told you–"

"Just kissing," he assured her, but that smirk said otherwise. "Unless..."

"Don't even finish that sentence."

Her warning lost some of its effect when he stepped closer, backing her up against the back of that massive sectional. The city lights sparkled behind him through those floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows across his features that made him look unfairly gorgeous. Sometimes she still couldn't believe this was her life now - Arsenal's star defender looking at her like she hung the moon, all because she couldn't figure out Indian food portions four months ago.

His hands found her waist again, and the height difference meant she had to tilt her head all the way back to maintain eye contact. That soft smile he reserved just for her played at his lips, and really, clinical notes could wait, right?

"Fuck," Yas breathed as his lips found that spot behind her ear, his hands steady on her hips. "Will, I swear to god–"

"What?" he murmured against her skin, all fake innocence even as he guided them down onto the sectional. "I'm being good."

"You're being something," she managed, but then he was kissing her properly, and honestly, clinical notes could wait. Her fingers found their way into his hair as he settled over her, careful to keep most of his weight on his forearms.

"Still have headache?" he teased between kisses, and she could feel his smile against her lips.

"Shut up," she groaned, tugging his hair in retaliation. "You're so annoying."

"Mm, but you like it."

"Sometimes I don't know why."

His laugh rumbled through his chest where it pressed against hers. "Because I'm your favorite patient."

"You're my most difficult patient," she corrected, but then his mouth was back on her neck and she lost whatever else she was going to say. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, earning a low sound that she felt more than heard.

"Will," she warned as his hands started wandering. "I told you–"

"I know, I know," he sighed, pulling back just enough to look at her with those dark eyes. "Just kissing. But tomorrow..."

"You're impossible."

"You keep saying this word. I don't think it means what you think it means."

She blinked up at him. "Did you just quote Princess Bride at me?"

His grin was devastating. "Maybe I pay attention when you make me watch your American films."

"Oh my god," she laughed, shoving at his chest. "Get off me, I can't believe you just–"

But he was kissing her again, swallowing her laughter, until she finally pulled back with a sigh. The look in his eyes was nearly enough to make her forget about her cramps. Nearly.

"Fine. Go get the towel."

His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Really?"

"Before I change my mind." She could already feel herself blushing at how eager he was about this whole situation.

"I can't wait to cum inside you," he breathed against her neck, and she actually had to pause, her hands frozen where they'd been playing with his hair.

"What the fuck, bro?" She squinted at him, torn between laughing and being genuinely concerned about his sudden breeding kink. But he was already jumping up from the couch with entirely too much enthusiasm, nearly tripping over his own long legs in his haste.

She could hear him rummaging through his linen closet, muttering in rapid French that she was pretty sure she didn't want translated. This man really was going to be the death of her - all 6'4" of pure ridiculousness, Arsenal's fearsome defender reduced to excitedly hunting for towels.

"I'm ready, sweetheart!" his voice called from somewhere down the hallway a few seconds later, accent thick with anticipation.

Yas shook her head, fighting a smile as she got up to follow him. These football boys really were something else. She started undoing her scrub top as she walked toward his bedroom, wondering how exactly this had become her life - sneaking around with William Saliba, letting him convince her into period sex just because he looked at her with those puppy dog eyes.

"The things I do for you," she muttered under her breath, but she was smiling as she pushed open his bedroom door.

The morning sun filtering through Wilo's floor-to-ceiling windows was entirely too bright, and Yas's lower back was complaining about last night's activities. She could hear him in the kitchen, his deep voice rapping along to some French song while pots clanked suspiciously.

"Never again," she groaned into his ridiculous Egyptian cotton pillows. Her scrubs from yesterday were scattered somewhere on his bedroom floor, mixed with the towel that was definitely going straight into the wash.

"Mon coeur?" His voice carried from the kitchen. "You want eggs?"

"I want ibuprofen," she called back, finally dragging herself out of bed. She pulled on the pajamas she'd left here last time after their little fun - one of his old Arsenal training shirts that hit mid-thigh and some shorts she'd had to tie extra tight to stay up.

The shower in his ensuite was heaven, hot water beating away the soreness while she tried not to think too hard about last night. The sound of Wilo's terrible singing mixed with the smell of what she hoped was breakfast and not another kitchen disaster.

His expensive body wash made her skin smell like him, and she couldn't help but smile at his array of hair products. For someone who kept his hair cropped short, he sure had a lot of opinions about conditioning.

"Is something burning?" she called out as she wrapped her hair in one of his towels.

"Non! Maybe. Come see!"

God help her, she actually loved this ridiculous man.

Yas padded into the kitchen after pulling on another one of his t-shirts and a pair of leggings, finding Wilo attempted to flip an omelette, his large frame making the spacious kitchen somehow feel smaller. He was shirtless, just wearing low-hanging sweats, still rapping along to whatever French artist was playing through his expensive sound system.

"You better not mess up my eggs," she warned, leaning against the counter.

"Non, non. I am professional." He turned to grin at her, and her breath definitely didn't catch at how his eyes darkened seeing her in his shirt. "Sleep good?"

"You're not slick. And we're never doing that again."

"But–"

"Never. Again." But she was fighting a smile as she stole a piece of bacon from the plate next to him. "I can't believe you convinced me."

"I am very convincing," he smirked, then cursed as some egg stuck to the pan. "Merde–"

"Move," she hip-checked him away from the stove. "How are you this bad at cooking when you live alone?"

"I have you now," he said simply, but the way his hands settled on her waist from behind made it sound like so much more. "And UberEats."

"William."

"Mm?" His chin rested on top of her head, and she could feel his smile.

"You're distracting me from saving your breakfast."

"Good. Maybe we can–"

"If you suggest what I think you're about to suggest, I'm burning your omelette on purpose."

"I was just going to say maybe we can have breakfast in bed," he protested, but his hands were wandering again.

"You're the worst liar." She expertly flipped the omelette with one hand while swatting his wandering fingers with the other. "Don't you have training?"

"Later." His lips found that spot behind her ear. "Arteta won't mind if I'm little late."

"Arteta absolutely will mind." But she was already tilting her head to give him better access. "Will, the eggs–"

"Let them burn."

"I'm literally holding a hot pan right now."

He reached around her to turn off the stove, then spun her to face him in one smooth motion. Sometimes she forgot how strong he actually was until moments like this.

"No more period sex," she said firmly, even as her hands settled on his chest.

"But–"

"But nothing. My back is killing me."

His grin was absolutely wicked. "Worth it."

"I hate you."

"Non, you don't." He bent down to kiss her, morning breath and all, and okay, maybe she didn't hate him that much. "You love me."

"I love when you're not burning breakfast," she corrected, pushing him away. "You're going to be late." Yas plated the rescued eggs while Wilo scrolled through his phone, still pressed against her back.

"Bukayo just texted. Practice pushed thirty minutes." His accent was muffled against her neck. "More time for–"

"More time for you to actually eat breakfast." She twisted out of his grip, grabbing both plates. "And I need to go home and change before clinicals."

"Skip them."

"Some of us can't just tell our boss we're taking a personal day." She settled at his massive kitchen island, watching him pout as he finally let her go. "Besides, don't you have that big Luton Town match this weekend?"

"Oui, which means I need my PT check today too…"

"Your knee is fine. Jamie can do your check."

The look of betrayal on his face was almost comical. "You would let another woman touch me?"

"I would let another PT student assess your perfectly healthy knee, yes." She took a bite of eggs, raising an eyebrow at him. "Unless you're saying you only come to the clinic to see me?"

"Maybe."

"That's unprofessional."

"Says girl wearing my shirt."

"Speaking of which," she glanced at her phone, "I really need to go home and change."

"Stay," he said, suddenly serious. "Just… five more minutes."

"Five minutes won't get me to clinic on time," she said softly, but shared her eggs with him anyway when he opened his mouth expectantly. "You're like a baby bird."

"Your baby bird," he grinned, then disappeared down the hall to deal with their mess from last night. She could hear him humming as he tossed the towel and her scrubs in his washer.

The drive to her flat was quiet, London morning traffic crawling by while some French podcast played softly through the speakers. His hand found its way to her thigh, thumb rubbing absent circles.

"About Gabriel's dinner…" he started.

"Will–"

"Just think about it? And maybe…" he glanced at her quickly before focusing back on traffic. "Come to match this weekend?"

"They'll take pictures," she said quietly. "I'll be all over Twitter again."

"So? Let them." His accent got thicker, more urgent. "I want you there. Want to see you in stands."

She played with his fingers on her thigh, considering. "Maybe. If I finish my coursework."

His smile was brilliant. "A year left, non? Then you're properly doctor."

"Doctor of Physical Therapy," she corrected automatically, but she was smiling too.

"Still doctor. Still proud of you." He lifted their joined hands to kiss her knuckles. "My smart girl."

The Range Rover purred to a stop outside her building, morning sun catching on the tinted windows. Wilo killed the engine but kept his hand on her thigh.

"Give daddy kiss," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows in that ridiculous way that shouldn't be attractive but somehow was.

"Don't get punched in the face today," she said, gathering her bag from where it had fallen between her feet. Her scrubs from yesterday were safely in his washing machine, which meant she'd have to see him again soon. Not that either of them was complaining.

"Kinky," he smirked, and the way his accent wrapped around the word made her cheeks heat.

She rolled her eyes but leaned over anyway, meaning to give him a quick goodbye peck. His hand caught the back of her neck though, fingers tangling in her hair as he tried to deepen the kiss. She could feel his smile against her lips when she pulled away laughing.

"Go to work, you menace."

His eyes stayed on her as she climbed out, that dark gaze following her all the way to her building's entrance. She could hear his music start up again - more French rap that she'd probably find herself humming later during clinic hours. Her face hurt from smiling as she headed inside, already thinking about his match this weekend and how public their little bubble was about to become.

The doorman pretended not to notice her obvious walk of shame, but she caught his knowing look. At least she wasn't in yesterday's scrubs - small mercies. Her phone buzzed just as she reached the elevator:

"Miss you already x"

Impossible man.

Her flat felt extra quiet after the morning at Wilo's. She pulled on her dark blue scrub set, the material still crisp from its last wash. Her hair was a mess from last night, so she opted for a slick bun, carefully laying her baby hairs with edge control before grabbing her white clinic shoes.

The kitchen was looking sad. She'd been putting off grocery shopping, caught between clinicals and trying to keep her relationship private. Fat lot of good that did now.

Her phone buzzed while she was staring into her empty fridge:

"Check your Monzo x"

She clicked the notification to find £500 from 'william s.' had landed in her account. They'd fought about this before - she hated feeling like a WAG, and he hated seeing her struggle when he could help. But right now, with three weeks until her next stipend…

"You don't have to do that," she texted back.

"Buy food. Doctor needs eat."

"*future doctor"

"Same thing. Get snacks too."

Her tube ride to the clinic was crowded as usual, London's morning rush pressing in. A teenager across the car was watching Arsenal highlights on his phone - there was Wilo, all graceful power as he tackled some striker. Hard to believe that was the same man who'd been whining about eggs this morning.

Another text:

"Think you wearing my shirt to clinic?"

"Think you should focus on training."

"Think about you instead."

Impossible man. But she was smiling as she swiped through to her grocery delivery app. Maybe she'd order something nice for dinner - she had the money now, after all.

The clinic was already buzzing when she arrived, her ID badge swinging against her dark blue scrubs as she made her way to the staff room. The dual-degree PT program at Northwestern University and King's College London was no joke - three years of intense study, clinical rotations, and practical exams. Sometimes she still couldn't believe how perfectly everything had aligned. A PT student specializing in sports medicine dating a Premier League defender? It was practically cheating when it came to understanding athletic performance and injury prevention.

Wilo's knee might be technically fine, but having access to an elite athlete's biomechanics was invaluable for her studies. She'd basically written her last case study about his post-match recovery routine (anonymized, of course). Her professors had been impressed with her detailed analysis of high-level football injuries - if only they knew she'd gathered that data between kisses and training sessions.

Her phone kept lighting up with Instagram notifications. She'd always kept her account private, just study updates and occasional selfies documenting her natural hair journey. The few photos she had with Wilo were deliberately subtle - his hand in frame during dinner, maybe, or just their shadows on a walk. Most of her posts were about PT school: her notes laid out perfectly, advocacy for more Black women in sports medicine, the occasional stress-relief dance video in her scrubs. But now everyone wanted in, wanted to see Saliba's girl, wanted to analyze every post for hints about their relationship.

"Ready for rounds?" Jamie appeared at her elbow, already pulling up their patient list on the clinic's tablet. "You look tired. Late night with tall, dark, and French?"

"Long night of studying," Yas lied, ignoring another wave of follow requests. An Arsenal fan account had somehow found her private profile and shared her handle. Her follower count was still at 900 but there was nearly 15,000 pending requests in just three days.

The Luton Town match loomed in her mind as she checked their first patient's chart. Wilo wanted her there, and part of her wanted to go - wanted to support him properly, not just catch highlights on her phone between patients. But the cameras, the attention, the scrutiny… she hadn't signed up for that part. Being a WAG meant being perceived, being judged. Her entire career could get overshadowed by who she was dating. One wrong outfit choice and she'd end up on some Daily Mail sidebar.

Her phone buzzed again - another text from Wilo, this time a photo of him pouting at training. Arteta's tactics board was visible in the background, and she quickly typed back: "Delete that before you leak the whole game plan."

His response was immediate: "Only leaking my heart to you x"

God, this man was going to be the death of her professional reputation, but as she slipped her phone away and grabbed her first patient's file, she couldn't help but smile. Let them talk - she had clinicals to focus on and a doctorate to finish.

Her first patient was an elderly man recovering from hip replacement. As Yas guided him through his exercises, she caught glimpses of people walking past the clinic windows, phones raised. Word must have gotten out about where Arsenal's new WAG worked.

"My granddaughter says you're dating that French boy," Mr. Peters said as she supported his weight during gait training. His knowing smile reminded her of her grandfather back in Chicago. "The tall one who plays defense?"

"Focus on your steps, Mr. Peters," she managed, grateful her dark skin hid most of her blush. The last thing she needed was her patients gossiping about her love life.

Jamie appeared like an angel in blue scrubs, tablet in hand. "Dr. Morris wants us in Room 3. ACL reconstruction needs assessment."

In the quiet of the hallway, her phone lit up with Wilo's name:

"Gabriel asking if you vegetarian. For dinner."

"Focus on training," she typed back, trying to ignore how her stomach flipped at the thought of meeting his teammates properly.

"Focus on answering question. He cooking."

She paused at the supply cabinet, fingers hovering over her phone. Going to Gabriel's meant officially entering the WAG circle. Dinner parties, couple photos, Sunday brunches - the whole circus she'd been avoiding. No more hiding in Wilo's kitchen or sneaking kisses in PT rooms.

"Tell him I eat anything," she finally replied, then added, "But I haven't said yes yet."

"But you will," came his immediate response, followed by that damn smirking emoji that she could picture perfectly on his actual face.

Room 3's patient was already waiting, and she tucked her phone away with a sigh. Time to be Dr. Robinson (almost), even if her Instagram kept lighting up with notification after notification.

The ACL patient turned out to be a Chelsea fan, which was almost a relief. He was more focused on his knee than trying to get Arsenal gossip, and Yas lost herself in the familiar rhythm of assessment and treatment. This was her world - proper form, careful touches, the satisfaction of watching someone heal under her guidance.

Her phone stayed quiet through lunch, which meant Wilo was probably actually focusing on training for once. She picked at her sad vending machine snacks in the break room while Jamie scrolled through Twitter.

"Oh my god," Jamie snorted, turning her phone screen. "They're trying to figure out where you got your scrubs from. Apparently you're starting a WAG fashion revolution."

"They're literally standard issue scrubs."

"Tell that to ArsenalWAGStyle. They want to know if the color is 'midnight navy' or 'classical blue'."

Yas dropped her head onto the break room table with a groan. "I have three more sets exactly like this one. They're just… blue."

"Wait till they see you at the Luton Town match."

"Who says I'm going?"

Jamie just looked at her. "Girl, your man just got exposed. You really think you can keep hiding?"

Her phone chose that moment to light up again:

"Miss your hands on my knee x"

"That's so unprofessional," she typed back, but she was smiling.

"Come inspect it at Gabriel's tonight?"

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Jamie was right - she couldn't keep hiding. And maybe… maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being properly part of his world.

******************************************************

Gabriel Magalhães' townhouse sat in one of those stupidly expensive London neighborhoods where every building looked like it belonged in a period drama. Yas had done her best with what she had - her curls were actually cooperating for once, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, and the Meshki jumpsuit she'd scored on sale hugged her curves in all the right places. The square neckline showed just enough skin to be dinner-appropriate while still letting her feel like herself.

Clearly Wilo approved, given how his hand hadn't left her ass since they'd stepped out of his car. His fingers kneaded appreciatively as they waited at Gabriel's door.

"Mon coeur, tu es si belle ce soir," he murmured in her ear, voice dropping low. "Je veux te baiser… si serrée pour moi… faire te jouir…"

She only caught 'fuck', 'cum', and 'tight' in that string of French, and honestly, she was grateful her language skills weren't better. But before he could get any filthier, the door swung open.

Gabriel stood there grinning, all six foot three of him making Yas feel even tinier than usual. The boys did that complicated handshake thing all footballers seemed to know instinctively.

"Ayy, my brother!" Gabriel pulled Wilo in for a quick hug before his eyes landed on Yas. "She's so short!"

Yas frowned. Of course, that would be the first thing another giant footballer noticed.

"But good job Wilo, she's pretty," Gabriel continued with a wide smile. "Nice to meet you, Yasmin." He extended his hand.

"Yas is fine," she said, shaking it and trying not to feel like she was being assessed.

The living room was filled with the sound of multiple conversations in various accents - Portuguese, French, English all mixing together. Bukayo was sprawled on one of Gabriel's expensive armchairs, his girlfriend Tolami perched comfortably in his lap. She brightened when she saw Yas.

"Finally! Another normal-sized person," Tolami called out, extracting herself from Bukayo to come say hi. She was wearing the kind of outfit that probably cost more than Yas's rent, but her smile was genuine. "I'm Tolami. Please tell me you're as tired of looking up at these giants as I am."

"God, yes," Yas laughed, instantly warming to her. "My neck hurts half the time."

"You get used to it," Tolami grinned, then dropped her voice. "Saw that Tesco video. Welcome to the madness."

Wilo's hand was still possessively on her lower back as more introductions were made. Gabriel's wife kissed both her cheeks, speaking rapid Portuguese that Gabriel had to translate. Ben White's wife, Milly, gave her a knowing look that said 'we'll talk later.'

It was surreal, standing here in her sale-rack jumpsuit while these women wore designer everything. But Tolami grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen.

"Come on, help me get drinks. These boys can entertain themselves for five minutes."

Wilo's protests were drowned out by Bukayo's laugh. "Let them bond, bro. You can survive without touching her for two seconds."

Gabriel's kitchen was all sleek marble and stainless steel. Tolami hopped onto the counter like she'd done it a hundred times before, watching Yas look for wine glasses.

"Other cabinet," she pointed. "So, PT student? That's different. Most WAGs are like… influencers or something."

"I'm not a WAG," Yas said automatically, then caught Tolami's raised eyebrow. "I mean–"

"Girl, your man's hand hasn't left your ass at all. You're a WAG." She grinned. "But like, a cool one. With an actual career."

"Trying to have one, anyway." Yas found the glasses. "How do you deal with all the attention? The Tesco thing is driving me crazy."

"You get used to it. Plus, Bukayo's worth it." Her smile went soft. "Like how Wilo looks at you when you're not watching. Man's got it bad."

"We've only been together four months–"

"Please. I saw him checking his phone all through training today. Saka says he won't shut up about you."

From the living room, they could hear the boys arguing about the Luton Town match. Wilo's deep laugh carried through, followed by what sounded like Bukayo doing an impression of him.

"They're like children," Tolami rolled her eyes fondly. "But they're our children. Speaking of…" She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Heard Wilo's got baby fever?"

Yas nearly dropped the wine bottle. "How do you know about that?"

"Bukayo says Wilo's been googling baby names during team lunch." Tolami swung her legs, designer heels clicking against the cabinets. "Like, French-American baby names specifically."

"I'm going to kill him."

"It's cute! Saka's the same way sometimes. Think it's the age - they're all getting to that settling down phase."

"We've barely settled into dating publicly," Yas muttered, pouring the wine maybe a little too generously. "I've got a year left of my program, I can't be thinking about–"

"Ma chérie!" Wilo's voice carried from the living room. "You get lost?"

"Your man's getting separation anxiety," Tolami grinned. "But seriously, stick with me. These WAG events can get intense, but we normal girls have to stick together."

"I heard there's like… brunches? And stuff?"

"Oh honey." Tolami hopped down, grabbing the other wine glasses. "Wait till you see the group chat. But don't worry - I'll help you navigate. Just… maybe wear something Arsenal-colored to the Luton match? The fans eat that shit up."

"I haven't said I'm going yet–"

"Your man's starting defender and you just got exposed. Trust me, you're going." She started toward the door, then paused. "Oh, and heads up - some of the other WAGs might be a bit… much. But they mean well. Usually."

They walked back into a heated debate about the Luton Town lineup, Wilo and Bukayo arguing in that mix of English and French they seemed to slip into during training. His eyes found her immediately though, that soft look crossing his face before he made grabby hands for both her and the wine.

"Come, mon coeur," he said, pulling her down next to him on the couch. She ended up practically in his lap, his arm curling possessively around her waist while Tolami resumed her position with Bukayo.

"You good?" Wilo murmured against her hair, somehow making those two words sound filthy in his accent.

"Behave," she whispered back, very aware of how his fingers were playing with the hem of her jumpsuit.

"Never."

Gabriel emerged from somewhere with plates of food that actually looked edible, his wife trailing behind him with more wine. Ben White was telling some story about training that had everyone laughing, but Yas was distracted by the way Wilo's thumb was drawing circles on her hip.

"You're not subtle," she muttered as everyone else focused on serving food.

"Don't want to be," he replied, pressing a kiss below her ear that definitely wasn't dinner-appropriate. "Want everyone to know–"

"If you two are done being horny in my living room," Gabriel called out, "food's getting cold."

Yas felt her face heat as everyone laughed, but Wilo just grinned, completely unashamed. "Can you blame me? Look at her."

"Oh my god," she groaned, hiding her face in his shoulder while Bukayo made gagging noises.

"Young love," Milly sighed dramatically. "Remember when we were that bad?"

"We still are," Ben winked, and everyone groaned.

Dinner with footballers was apparently a loud affair. Gabriel's food was surprisingly good - some Brazilian dish he'd learned from his mom - and the conversation flowed easily between match tactics and relationship gossip. Yas found herself relaxing despite Wilo's wandering hands.

"Yo Yas," Gabriel grinned over his wine glass, "did Wilo tell you how hard he was stalking your Instagram after you accepted his follow request?"

Wilo stopped mid-bite, shooting his friend a betrayed look.

"We caught him during training," Saka added. "Looking at videos of you bending people at the clinic."

"I was... researching," Wilo defended, accent thicker with embarrassment.

"Researching for what?" Tolami teased.

"For... football reasons," he muttered.

Yas raised an eyebrow at him. "Football reasons?"

"Your form is very... professional," he tried, but his hand was creeping up her thigh under the table.

"You're such a stalker," she said, but she was fighting a smile.

"Only for you, mon coeur."

"If you two start making out at my dinner table," Gabriel warned, "I'm spraying you with water like cats."

"Speaking of clinic videos," Tolami smirked, "there's a new one of you circulating."

Yas froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. "What?"

"Some patient recorded you doing his knee assessment," Bukayo explained, scrolling through his phone. "Got like fifty thousand views already."

"That's literally against HIPAA," Yas groaned, but Wilo was already leaning over to look at Bukayo's screen.

"You look cute in this one," he said, then pouted. "But why you never touch my knee like that?"

"Because you're not actually injured."

"Could get injured. Just for you."

"William Saliba, if you deliberately hurt yourself–"

"There they go again," Gabriel sighed dramatically to his wife. "This is why I seated them at the end of the table."

"It's sweet," Milly argued. "Remember when you used to get all possessive like that?"

"I still am," Ben protested. "Just last week–"

"No sex stories at dinner!" Gabriel threw a napkin at him. "We have rules!"

"Rich coming from Mr. 'Let Me Show Everyone My New Hickey' last season," Bukayo called out.

"That was different–"

"How many strikes is that for the swear jar?" Tolami asked innocently. "Because I'm pretty sure talking about hickeys counts."

"There's a swear jar?" Yas whispered to Wilo.

"Oui. Gabriel's wife’s idea. I owe…" he paused, counting in French under his breath. "Maybe two hundred pounds?"

"How–"

"You make me curse a lot, mon coeur."

By the time they said their goodbyes, Yas had three new numbers in her phone and an invite to the WAG group chat. Tolami hugged her tight, whispering something about shopping for the next match that made Wilo's wallet probably cry in advance.

"That wasn't so bad," she admitted as they walked to his car, his hand somehow finding its way back to her ass.

"Non? Ready for more then?" His voice had that dangerous edge to it. "Starting with getting you out of this jumpsuit..."

"Will, I told you - no more period sex."

The look he gave her screamed 'challenge accepted' more than any words could, and she knew she was in trouble.

*******************************************************

Saturday felt surreal. Yas stood in front of her mirror, heart racing as she adjusted the Arsenal jersey with SALIBA stretched across her shoulders. The black jeans hugged her curves perfectly, and the heeled boots added enough height that maybe she wouldn't feel completely tiny next to the other WAGs. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking as she touched up her edges, making sure they laid just right.

Being at the Luton Town match meant no more hiding. No more pretending she was just another PT student. Everyone would know exactly who she was - William Saliba's girl. The thought made her stomach lurch. Her phone had been blowing up since she posted a mirror selfie that morning - her first public acknowledgment of dating Wilo. The comments were mostly supportive, but she'd already muted her notifications twice.

A knock at her door made her jump. "Ready babe?" Tolami's voice called through. "Car's waiting!"

Just seeing Tolami's familiar face helped settle her nerves. She looked effortlessly gorgeous in her own Saka jersey, designer bag hanging from her arm.

"The first match is always the scariest," Tolami assured her, linking their arms together as they headed toward the car. "Wait till you see how many blogs analyze your outfit tomorrow."

"That's not helping."

"Just wait - you'll be getting free clothes offers by Monday. Though that jersey..." Tolami grinned wickedly. "Wilo's definitely going to lose focus during warm-ups when he sees you in that."

They made their way through the VIP entrance at Emirates Stadium, past security and up to the family section. Phones turned their way, whispers following their path. Yas caught fragments of conversation - "Saliba's girlfriend" and "the one from the Tesco video" - but Tolami kept her moving, chattering about some drama with another WAG's Instagram story.

The family box was intimidatingly posh, all plush seats and champagne service. But as they found their spots, Yas couldn't help but smile at the mix of accents around them - Portuguese, French, English all blending together just like at Gabriel's dinner.

"Think it's too much?" Yas tugged at the jersey hem nervously. "The whole... branded girlfriend thing?"

"Girl, please. Watch - he's going to spot you during warm-up and completely forget about football. Plus," Tolami lowered her voice conspiratorially, "Saka says he's been insufferable all morning, checking his phone to see if you'd posted any hints about coming."

Below them, the players were starting to file out for warm-ups. Yas's heart definitely didn't skip when she spotted number 2 jogging onto the pitch, his tall frame unmistakable even from this distance.

It happened during stretches. Wilo's head turned toward the family section like he could sense her presence, and even from this distance, she could see the moment he spotted her. His whole body froze mid-stretch, those dark eyes locked on her in his jersey.

"Told you," Tolami whispered, nudging her ribs. "Look at his face."

Wilo had completely forgotten about his warm-up routine, earning a shove from Gabriel to keep moving. But his eyes kept finding her between drills, that devastating smile making her cheeks heat even from fifty yards away.

Her phone buzzed:

"You wearing my name."

"Focus on your warm-up."

"Can't. Too busy thinking about taking that jersey off later."

"Saliba!" They could hear Arteta's voice carrying across the pitch. "Less texting, more running!"

But Wilo was still grinning, jogging backward so he could keep looking up at her. He pressed his hand to his heart, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like 'mon coeur' before Gabriel physically turned him around.

"God, you two are disgusting," Tolami laughed. "I love it."

The stadium hummed with energy as Yas tried to focus on breathing. From the family section, everything felt more immediate - each tackle, each sprint, each time Wilo went up for a header. She'd watched plenty of matches on her phone between patients, but this was different. This was real.

Ben White's wife - Milly, she'd learned at dinner - leaned over during a water break. "The first match is the worst. I threw up before mine."

"I almost did," Tolami agreed, squeezing Yas's hand. "But look at our boys now."

Ødegaard broke through in the thirty-fifth minute, a beautiful shot that had the stadium exploding. She spotted Wilo lifting their captain in celebration, his smile brighter than the stadium lights.

During halftime, she checked her phone to find she'd gained another ten thousand follow requests. The camera had caught her a few times, apparently - her in Wilo's jersey, cheering with Tolami. Twitter was already analyzing her outfit, her hair, her friendship with Saka's girlfriend.

"Ignore it," Tolami advised, passing her a water bottle. "Focus on the match. Though that clip of Wilo staring at you during warm-ups is kind of cute."

When Daiki slotted in the second goal after halftime, Yas was ready for it. She screamed with Tolami as the Japanese midfielder was swarmed by his teammates. The rest of the match was a defensive masterclass - Wilo and Gabriel keeping Luton from any real chances. Her PT brain couldn't help but admire his form, the way he used his height to his advantage.

2-0. Her first match as an official WAG, and they'd won. The final whistle had barely blown before her phone started buzzing with notifications.

"He's looking for you," Tolami nudged her, and sure enough, Wilo's eyes were already on their section. That soft smile spread across his face as he tapped his heart.

Milly was saying something about celebration dinner plans, but Yas was distracted by her phone lighting up:

"Dinner to celebrate? Or straight home to take that jersey off?"

"Behave," she typed back. "You have press duties."

"Worth being late to see you in my name."

"Your man's whipped," Tolami laughed, reading over her shoulder. "But seriously, you coming to dinner? Traditional after home wins."

Before Yas could answer, another text:

"Please come? Want to show you off properly. My girl in my jersey x"

*******************************************************

The restaurant in Mayfair screamed old money, all crystal chandeliers and waiters. She felt slightly underdressed in Wilo's jersey, even after tucking it into her jeans, but the team had a regular private room here after home wins, somewhere they could be loud without bothering other diners.

Wilo hadn't stopped touching her since they sat down - hand on her thigh, playing with her curls, finding any excuse to lean into her space. The win had him buzzing with energy, though his eyes kept dropping to his name stretched across her chest.

"To clean sheets!" Gabriel raised his champagne glass, and everyone cheered. The conversation flowed between match analysis and relationship gossip, but Yas noticed Wilo getting more restless with each passing minute.

His hand crept higher on her thigh under the table. "You look so good in my jersey," he murmured in her ear, low enough that only she could hear. "Can't stop thinking about–"

"If you finish that sentence in public, I'm never wearing it again."

Across the table, Bukayo was telling some story about training, but Wilo wasn't even pretending to listen anymore. His fingers traced patterns on her leg that made it hard to focus on her own food.

"You're not even listening," Bukayo laughed, throwing a napkin at him. "Bro's too busy staring at his jersey."

"Can you blame me?" Wilo didn't even look away from Yas, his accent getting thicker the way it did when he was worked up. "Think we'll skip dessert. Need to see how that jersey looks on my floor."

The boys erupted in whistles and catcalls, Gabriel yelling something in Portuguese that made his wife laugh. Even the other WAGs were giggling now, used to these displays of footballer dramatics.

"William," Yas hissed, mortified but also fighting a smile. "I swear to god–"

But before she could finish, he'd scooped her up and thrown her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, one hand firmly on her calf to keep her steady. The champagne was definitely hitting her now, blood rushing to her head as she dangled over his shoulder.

"Put me down!"

"Non." His satisfaction was clear in his voice as the team hooted louder. She could feel his laugh rumbling through his chest where she was pressed against him.

"Go make that baby, Wilo!" Saka called out, earning himself a smack in the arm from Tolami.

"I hate all of you," Yas declared to the upside-down crowd, catching glimpses of amused faces and raised champagne glasses as Wilo headed for the exit.

"No you don't," he said cheerfully, not even slightly winded from carrying her. "You're wearing my name."

The last thing she heard before they left the private room was Tolami's voice: "Twenty pounds says she's pregnant by Christmas."

Wilo finally put her down when they reached his car, but kept her pressed against the passenger door. The London night was cool against her flushed skin, his jersey riding up where his hands gripped her waist.

"You're impossible," she breathed, but tilted her face up to his anyway.

"Says girl wearing my name." His accent was thick, wrapping around the words like honey. "Know what that does to me?"

"The whole restaurant knows what it does to you."

His laugh was warm against her neck. "Don't care. Want everyone to see."

The drive back to his place was torture - his free hand on her thigh, her body still buzzing from champagne and victory celebrations. London streets blurred past as he took corners maybe a little faster than usual.

"Careful," she warned when he nearly missed a light. "I need you in one piece for your next match."

"Then stop looking like that in my jersey."

"It's just a shirt, Will."

The look he gave her clearly said it wasn't just a shirt, but he managed to get them back to his building without breaking any traffic laws. Barely.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, he had her backed against the mirrored wall, hands reverent on the number 2 stretched across her chest.

"My girl," he murmured. "In my name."

"Your girl needs to breathe," she laughed, pushing him back slightly. "And a shower."

His grin was devastating. "Can I shower with you?"

"Impossible man."

Wilo just smirked, because they both knew the answer. The elevator dinged when they got to his floor and when he unlocked his front door, he didn’t even let her step away, hands already slipping beneath the hem of his jersey to help her out of it. She let him, raising her arms so he could strip it off, leaving her in just her underwear. His fingers traced over her skin, his gaze darkening as he drank her in.

"You gonna stare all night or actually help me get clean?" she teased, though the way her breath hitched betrayed her.

"Can’t help it," he murmured, tossing the shirt aside before unclasping her bra. "You’re too damn pretty."

Her stomach fluttered at the way he said it, so effortlessly, like it was just a fact. His hands were warm as they skimmed her sides, down to her hips to pull off her underwear before he guided her toward the bathroom.

"Still on your period?" he asked, voice casual as he reached for the light.

She hummed. "Barely. It’s light."

"Great." His eyes flashed as he grinned.

The way he said it sent a rush of heat through her, but before she could respond, he was already reaching for his own clothes, stripping off his hoodie and t-shirt in one smooth motion. She had to take a second to just… appreciate.

Because, damn.

She would never get used to how fine her man was. The way his muscles flexed as he unbuckled his jeans, the sharp cut of his abs — it was almost unfair.

He caught her staring as he stepped out of his boxers, smirking as he grabbed a shower cap and pulled it over her head with practiced ease. "Like what you see?"

"Obviously," she shot back, rolling her eyes but smiling.

The shower steamed up around them as he turned on the water, the low hum of the spray filling the space. He kissed her then, slow and deep, his hands coming up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. A quiet moan slipped past her lips as he squeezed, kneading them like he had all the time in the world.

"Come on," he murmured, guiding her under the stream. "Let me take care of you."

The warm spray cascaded down their bodies, steam curling around them as Wilo ran his hands down her back, over the curve of her hips, before gripping her ass. He pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her neck, his breath hot against her damp skin.

"Been thinking about this all night," he murmured, voice thick with want.

She shivered as his hands spread her apart, his fingers trailing between her thighs, teasing her entrance. Even with the shower running, she could hear how wet she was for him.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his other hand coming up to grip her waist.

"Yes," she breathed, pushing back against him, her body aching for more.

A low groan rumbled from his chest. "Yeah? Then bend over for me."

She let him guide her, turning her around, her hands pressing against the cool tile wall as he nudged her legs wider. The marble bench was just the right height, and when he ran his fingers through her folds, she gasped, arching into his touch.

"Still so tight," he muttered, positioning himself at her entrance. He dragged the tip along her slit, teasing, making her squirm. "Always so good for me."

"Will," she whined, trying to push back onto him.

"Patience, love." His voice was deep, teasing, but when he finally pushed in, it was anything but gentle.

The stretch of him burned in the best way, and her mouth fell open on a moan as he bottomed out, filling her completely. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, holding her in place as he pulled back just enough before slamming back in.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You feel perfect, always so perfect for me."

Her nails scraped against the wall as he set a relentless pace, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through her spine. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the shower, mixing with their heavy breathing, her soft cries, his low grunts.

"Regarde-toi, bébé," he rasped, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. "Tu aimes ça, hein? You love it when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes — fuck, yes," she gasped, her thighs shaking, struggling to keep herself up as the pleasure built inside her.

Wilo let out a low, dark chuckle, his large hands gripping her hips before delivering a sharp slap to her ass. The sting sent a shudder through her, making her clench around him.

"Merde," he groaned, squeezing the flesh before giving it another slap. "Throw that ass back on me, bébé. Show me how bad you want it."

She obeyed, pressing back against him, meeting each of his thrusts with desperation. His grip tightened, one hand slipping up to wrap lightly around her throat, tilting her head back so he could press a messy kiss to her cheek.

"Look at you," he murmured, his breath ragged. "Taking all of me, like a good girl, like this pussy was made for me."

Her walls fluttered around him, and he hissed through his teeth. "Fuck — you gonna cum for me?"

She nodded frantically, moaning as he reached between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles that sent her spiraling.

"Come on," he urged, his thrusts turning erratic. "Cum for me."

With a sharp cry, she shattered, her body clenching around him, dragging him into his own release. He groaned, spilling into her, his forehead pressing against the back of her shoulder as he shuddered through the aftershocks.

For a moment, the only sound was the steady stream of the shower and their ragged breathing.

Then, Wilo chuckled, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. "Tolami might be onto something, you know."

She let out a breathless laugh, still coming down from the high as Wilo slipped out of her, his hands smoothing over her hips before giving her ass a playful squeeze.

"And what exactly is she onto?" she asked, turning her head slightly to look at him.

His grin was all mischief as he spun her around, pulling her into his arms. "That you might be carrying my baby by Christmas."

She rolled her eyes, resting her palms against his chest. "You really think you're that good?"

He smirked, pressing a kiss to her temple before trailing his lips down to her neck. "Babe, I just fucked you so good you didn't even care if I had a condom on."

Her breath caught. He was right.

"We need—"

"Relax," he murmured, nipping at her jawline. "I'll get you Plan B later tonight."

That didn’t stop the tiny flare of panic from creeping up her spine, but when his lips found hers, soft and slow this time, it melted away just as quickly.

"I wouldn’t mind it though," he admitted against her lips. "Getting you pregnant."

Her heart stuttered at the confession, at the way he was looking at her — like he could already see it.

"Wilo, we cannot—" she started, but he just kissed her again, deep and lingering, as if sealing the thought between them.

"We can talk about it later," he said, reaching for the body wash. "For now, let me clean my girl up."

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully but let him lather her up anyway, his hands gentle as they roamed her body. His fingers traced over the bite marks on her shoulder, the bruises forming on her hips from his grip.

"Did I go too hard?" he asked, voice softer now, more careful.

She shook her head. "No. It was perfect."

His smirk returned, a little smug, a lot satisfied. "Damn right it was."

She swatted at his chest, and he just laughed, wrapping her up in his arms again as the hot water cascaded over them.

..................tbd

[holyguardian]

Aerith exhaled a contented little breath, watching Alba with a small tilt of her head. If only it could feel that easy for them... to just, join in, happily, without any fear. Lucis had been full of excitement at first but then she found herself feeling daunted by so much, so soon.

Somnus must have felt it too. Like it would be impossible to ever map out this new home.

She barely got to turn around when that yelling perked her attention. "RORAN!" she called, her tone accusatory as her little brother came close to bowling her off her feet. She shocked a laugh and immediately, as if reflex, closed her arms around him in a squeezing hug.

Little man was not supposed to be here. Their mother was strict at the best of times, and look at him, flying the coop! Not that she could fault him too harshly. He didn't understand the full picture. He was shielded, as best he could be, these were exciting times where good would triumph over bad in his mind.

"I'm calling the next dragon ride you little cheek, and when I find that pumpkin I'm going to shove it on your head so we never lose you again — get back inside!" she chased him playfully, right into their father's waiting arms. The look on his face when he exited the stable to see his son flagrantly going against the rules was one she would remember for a long time.

Teeth showing in a sharp little grin, Aerith calmed a little when Somnus stepped closer to her side. Her hand brushed his, her fingers gently scooping his up to hold his hand with a small, reassuring squeeze.

"Roran is the whirlwind here, we don't have to rush. First I will take you to the barracks, the soldiers who travelled with us will get the beds inside, sheltered and warm, and then we can check in at the infirmary. They're both close walks so we don't have to go far. Let's put our minds at ease and then we will make our way inside. We'll smell ripe and awful and that's fine, we'll only be seeing my mother and no one else, and she would rather receive us as we are. Then I will show you to our room. Normally I would say it's a good time to rest before the evening meal, but I think we should get cleaned up, get dressed, and I can give you a small tour while there's still daylight. Come on." she gently pulled his hand to follow, her other hand raising to give her father and brother a wave. "We will be inside shortly. Make sure Roran doesn't let the dragon loose in the few minutes we're gone~"

Aerith guided Somnus as promised. When they reached the barracks, she respectfully remained further back, urging him to check on his men and to assess the barracks for himself. Then they changed course to the infirmary. All of the injured soldiers had already been tended to, they were in beds that looked fluffier and cozier than even those of the barracks, and they were already being assessed for potions, dressings and further treatment. It made her briefly turn her attention on him, nudging to see how he was feeling. He was good, he claimed. Better than good.

Then she was guiding him to the inner-palace. Even made to pause, coaxing Gilgamesh closer so he would have no troubles with access from the Queensguard. It was immediately obvious how strict they were — a sad necessity.

"I don't know what your normal arrangements are in Lucis, but we'll make sure you aren't far from Somnus. Eeeeeven if we have to put you in my pretty pink bedroom, but I'm certain my mother has that all worked out." Aerith spoke to Gilgamesh, apparently more than comfortable with a one-sided conversation.

"Here we are." she nodded to the Queensguard, who opened up the final door. The inner-most palace, where her mother waited with an incredibly worried look on her face. While Roran escaped, she received an update about the caravan from her elite guards.

"Oh, Aerith, Somnus," Ifalna uttered, sounding exactly as she looked, a deeply worried mother. She approached them without any titles or air of royalty, simply gathering them both into a hug. Her left arm held a strong grip around Somnus, though her right was weaker where she held Aerith. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking between them.

Aerith melted immediately. Her lips pursed as she smiled, her brows creased, and she tried her best to keep herself held together. She had been standing straight for so long, but one worried word from her mother and she felt like a delicate flower again. "Mum... we'll be okay, it's okay," she reassured, hugging her back. She cast a quick glance to Somnus at her side, cleared her throat a little. "I was going to show Somnus where our room is. After everything that happened, we really need to have a good scrub and new sets of clothes. We can talk about it later, if you want, but we could also just not talk about it too. It really sucked. Now we're home."

Ifalna gave her daughter a look. Of course she would dodge the talk, her specialty was dodging the talks. But the Queen nodded her consent nevertheless. She could get the full story from her husband, after all. "Alright. Off you go. But I do expect to see you at dinner."

There was so much to take in. Everything was familiar – and yet entirely different. Somnus recognize the way the capital was built up. Though the castle was closer to town. With higher walls. And many mor stories. Only the tower of the divine could reach that high back at home. Somnus had to make an effort not to stare with an open mouth constantly.

He tried to keep everything in mind that Aerith told him – but it was overwhelming.  Usually he was so good at retaining information… but now… Somnus was just quietly grateful he could lead Alba to a good place. The Chocobos there really were treated like royalty. Back at home the gysah greens were all they got as treats and anything above that? Somnus had scavenge for that himself. Here, they got handed produce from the endless fields beyond the walls.

The farmlands really were a gigantic basket of goods. That was what his mother had once called these lands. So fertile and giving, that the entirety of Eos could be fed here. Mayb that was an overestimation. But now Somnus really could see, why others wanted these lands so badly.

He would have to visit all these places. The Queenswoods. The Ancient Forest. If he was permitted, of course…

Alba seemed happy, squeaking sweetly at Aerith when she was fussed again, before she proudly trotted off to join the other Chocobos at the feeding trays.

Somnus looked after her for a moment, still holding onto her reigns – and hoping he would have a similarly easy introduction into the court here as his feathery friend, who was already ruffling her feathers among the others.

Just as he turned to follow Aeirth, teher was a loud yell and someone came barrelling through the guards and soldiers.

Blond spiky hair with arms thrown up and a smile so big, as if it was Roran’s birthday and nameday at once.

“AERIIITH!”, the boy knew no mercy, running for his sister and he would have probably overthrown her with a hug, had he not come to a skittering halt right in front of her. His arms thrown around her, he seemed to cuddle against her with the biggest glee.

“Finally you’re here! It was so boring! Have you seen all the soldiers gathered outside?! I flew over them with uncle Leif, I was allowed outside once! It was amazing! And we have a giant pumpkin from the harvest! It’s as big as Nidhogg’s head, you have to come and see it! And tell mom to make pumpkin soup from it, not roast it! The cooks don’t listen to me! Oh, hello, Somnus!”

Wow. Somnus did not even know what to say. The boy was like a whirlwind and Somnus could barely lift his hand, when he was passed by the prince consort, who picked the boy from the hug with a sidenoted: “Prince Somnus, Roran.”

Though there was no real scolding, the boy just continuing his laughter, when picked up and hugging his father, who tried to chastise him for not staying in the inner palace and listening to his mother.

Somnus used that opprtunity to step to Aerith's side once more, whispering questions: "Are we expected to wash and dress up first? Into what?"

[suugarbabe]

okay, hear me out, If mattheo actually got in like a relationship-relationship he would be absolutely ADORABLE

this man would write you tiny notes and letters all over

obsessed with this idea lovie, thanks so much

At first it was because he just truly did not know how to properly talk to you. He didn't want to scare you off. He was cruel and mean and dangerous and scary Mattheo Riddle after all.

The first note you received you actually didn't notice it until you were at your house table in the great hall. You had slumped onto the bench, all but slamming your textbook on the table. Your friend had noticed the note, snatching it from the confines of your book and flipping it open like it was theirs to discover.

The smirk on their face had you yanking it from their grasp immediately. "Someone's got an admirer. Did you have a tough charms class today?" they jested, causing your cheeks to burn before even reading the words. You peered down at the messy scrawl on folded parchment, heat only further increasing on your cheeks.

'you look very cute when you're frustrated. if you'd like any extra help, i'd be happy to volunteer...M.R.'

You glanced down the table, only to catch him staring at you already. Quickly, you grabbed a quill from your bag and scribbled your reply before pushing up from the table and walking a few meters down to hand him back the note personally. Theo and Enzo had crowded him immediately, just as eager to see your reply.

That was how Matty asked you to hang out the first few times. Little hidden notes you'd find at the end of the day; in your textbook, in your bag, in your robe pocket (how he managed to get them all there undetected he never did reveal).

Then when you both started to officially date, the notes didn't stop; they just served a different purpose.

Like when he knew you'd had a bad day, you would often find your favorite sweet, and a cute little note on your nightstand reading something like, 'i never thought someone could feel so much like home, you always know how to make my problems disappear. so hopefully these treats help some of yours go away'

Or when he knew you were stressing over an exam coming up, you'd fine one tucked into your study material, allowing you to smile admits all the worry; 'you are the smartest person i know, love (please don't tell theo i said that he'd murder me). you'll crush this exam, i just feel it. then after we'll get celebratory butter beers just you and me :)'

But your favorites were the ones he gave you, just because; 'i don't think i'll ever know how to love someone else the way i love you. you are the last person i ever want to love like this and i promise you that i will hold on to us until my hands are buried by the earth.'

[koyagifs]

𝓶𝓪𝓽𝔃 𝓯𝓽 𝔂𝓷

pairing: matz x reader au: 9th member | idol genre: fluff word count: 1 k summary: hongjoong and seonghwa had begged for you to perform matz with them once. Why not give in on the first day of tour. warning(s): none

"Please, you'll be so great on the track with us!" Hongjoong begged, his hands on your waist as you looked at Seonghwa for help.

Seonghwa chuckled at the scene, amusement twinkling in his eyes. You were all still buzzing with adrenaline and nerves, having just landed in Europe for the next leg of your tour.

"Ah, I'm not sure Atiny would like that I—"

"Atiny have been dying for you to be on 'MATZ' since it came out!" Yunho shouted from across the room.

You huffed, shooting a glare at Yunho, who quickly looked away, feigning innocence. Before you could argue further, you felt Hongjoong’s lips pressing gentle kisses along your neck, his grip tightening slightly around your waist, making you blush as you squirmed.

"Fine, I'll join the track," you sighed, feeling the heat in your cheeks. "Just for the first night. Nothing more."

Hongjoong cheered in victory, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before rushing toward the bed. He grabbed his laptop in a frenzy, already refining the lines for the three of you.

Seonghwa stepped closer as you sent a message to your manager, letting them know you'd be joining the track. His hands found your hips, gently pulling you toward him. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and smiled softly.

"It'll be fun, princess. We promise," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

You hummed in response, already feeling more nervous then before. Surely, nothing would go wrong right?

You fiddled with the long coat, the thick fur itching against your skin as you forced an uneasy smile at your stylist. They were making the final touches to your hair, adjusting a few strands before stepping back to assess their work.

Your eyes wandered around the room, scanning for any sign of Hongjoong or Seonghwa. The anticipation in your chest grew—whether from nerves or excitement, you weren’t sure.

"Stop fiddling with the coat, please, Ynie. We know it's not the most comfortable, but—"

"Can I take it off on stage?" you interrupted, shifting uncomfortably under the heavy fabric.

The lead stylist pursed her lips, considering for a moment before finally nodding. "I don't see why not…"

Before you could respond, Hongjoong and Seonghwa appeared at your side, their eyes trailing over you from head to toe.

"You look hot," Hongjoong remarked, a smirk tugging at his lips as he reached out to adjust the coat on your shoulders.

Seonghwa hummed in agreement, his fingers brushing against your arm. "The fur suits you… but I think it'll be even better when you take it off on stage."

A shiver—not from the cold—ran down your spine as they exchanged a knowing glance. Not wanting to give them the satisfaction of flustering you any further, you reached out and pinched both of them.

A pair of matching whines left their lips, Seonghwa swatting at your hand while Hongjoong pouted dramatically. Before they could retaliate, a voice called out from the hallway.

"You're on in five—move it!"

The three of you exchanged a quick look before rushing toward the stage, adrenaline surging as the roar of the crowd grew louder. The familiar intro of MATZ blasted through the speakers, and you felt a rush of anticipation.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa both leaned in to plant a quick kiss on your lips before they sprinted onto the stage. Their playful smirks and winks were enough to make your heart race, and you rolled your eyes at their antics, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

As the staff member gave you the signal, you quickly slid your sunglasses over your eyes, transforming into your stage persona. The familiar energy took over as the crowd's roar heightened. You stepped forward, the music thumping in your chest as you jumped into your lines, your voice steady and commanding.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were right by your side, their presence electrifying as they moved in perfect sync with you. Their bodies swayed with the beat, encouraging you to push harder, faster, as the crowd went wild.

Every movement felt like fire, their eyes locked onto you, pushing you to own the stage. The bond between you three was undeniable—pure chemistry that had the fans chanting in unison.

You turned to Hongjoong, the lines "geokjeongmara mudae wiarae magnon bukkeureopgeneun an sara" slipping effortlessly from your lips. Without missing a beat, Hongjoong joined in, his voice sharp and full of energy as he rapped alongside you.

The two of you flowed seamlessly together, each word punctuated by the intensity of the music, creating a space all your own on stage. The crowd was deafening, their cheers reaching a new level as you both commanded their attention, feeding off the electric connection between you.

You turned to Seonghwa next, the three of you seamlessly falling into the chorus together. The energy was contagious as you synced your movements, the connection between you all electrifying the crowd. As you danced, the fur coat became unbearable—too hot under the stage lights—and you quickly shrugged it off, tossing it to the side.

The screams from the crowd grew louder, almost deafening, but you felt a rush of pride as you soaked it all in. The roar of ATINY was intoxicating, their energy feeding your own.

With a smile, you ripped your earpiece out, letting the sound of the fans' screams fill your ears. Your eardrums pulsed with each cheer, the bass vibrating through your chest as you relished in the moment. It was overwhelming, exhilarating—there was no feeling quite like it.

As the song neared its end, you, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa moved with perfect synchronization, rushing to your positions. Hongjoong and Seonghwa knelt below you, their eyes never leaving yours as you stood at the top of the stairs, the crowd’s anticipation palpable in the air.

You raised the microphone high, pointing it toward the fans, and the energy exploded as ATINY’s voices filled the arena. "Go go go go go!" they chanted, the rhythm syncing perfectly with your heartbeat.

With a final move, Hongjoong surged forward, pulling you into a passionate kiss as the song reached its climax. The crowd screamed, and in that moment, it felt like time stood still. The lights flickered, then suddenly shut off, leaving you all in darkness.

The audience’s deafening roar echoed in the quiet that followed, the intensity of the performance lingering in the air.

[gh0stly-mp3]

hi!!! your works are so damn interesting and well written, you are great in this regard!! can i ask, if you don't mind, sae, rin, reo, ness and kaiser with a calm gentleman s/o (headcanons but a scenario is good too)??? because they DESERVE the sweetest person in their life. just an s/o who takes care of them, does all sorts of gallant things like opening doors, pulling out chairs, like "flowers on dates are THE must" and so on??? i hope everything is fine with you, stay like that!!! 🩷

Hiii! Thanks! Especially for saying that my works are well-written, I'm trying to improve my English writing skills and this cheers me up a lot! ♡ - I love this idea btw, gentleman reader is one of my fav tropes :))

Love like you -> bllk hcs

bllk boys x s/o gn!reader

synopsis: how some bllk boys react to you being a gentleman to them and treating them well

tags: blue lock headcanons, fluff, comfort, gentle reader, calm reader, slice of life, kinda established relationship

warnings: manga spoilers, mature language

characters: sae, rin, reo, ness and kaiser + bonus: kurona

a/n: i love doing requests hehe (they're open btw)

masterlist.

Sae Itoshi ~ ♡

Sae would try not to show how much he loves when you take care of him and treat him like he's your prince (beacause he really is). But damn! He adores it! His favorite thing is when you bring him breakfast in bed.

He's used to being treated very cordially, always having people open doors and do everything for him, which he doesn't care much about. But, when you do it (because you love him and not because he's famous), he has conflicting feelings.

At the same time that he loves to feel personally cared for by you, he tries not to show it and keeps up the pose of "you're doing this because I'm a celebrity, not because you love me," but - deep down - his heart is warmed.

Rin Itoshi ~ ♡

Rin thinks you're so perfect, but It would take a long time for him to respond to your affection, but eventually he begins to appreciate your gentle actions and, when he has the courage, approaches you to be by your side.

He gets a little shy when you open doors or pull out chairs for him, but try not to show you. He's too afraid to get close to you and feel safe around you, just so that in the end you abandon him.

The greatest act of chivalry with Rin is to show him your love without wanting anything in return and giving him space in moments of vulnerability. The only vulnerable situation he lets you get close to him is when he's sick, where he lets you hold him.

Reo Mikage ~ ♡

People tend to treat Reo very well when they discover how many things can he buy before even looking the price. So when you showed him gentleness and care, he quickly asked - "how the hell did you know?" - but to his surprised, you didn't know about anything.

He tried to buy you things, thanking your time and consideration for his well being. But then you continued, and worse... You rejected his attemps to pay for your things.

That was a huge surprise, and after this, Reo started to get more and more nervous when you bought flowers for him. You were not serving him, you were not there for a reward, you were not interested in status. Rather, you were loving him for what and who he was.

Michael Kaiser ~ ♡

It's difficult for a prodigy to love anyone, as everybody is, technically, bellow him. Kaiser treats you well, better than he treats everyone else. But you don't let his false ego brush off your determination. Perhaps, one would need more than gentleness to get into his heart, but you know that's too much work for what he really needs. Actually, you were already inside. You just needed to make him understand how much you loved him.

So, you bring him flowers and gifts; you watch, careful, when both of you cross the street; you even brush his hair when he doesn't feel like it. But, unlike all the others, you aren't interested in the champion. You don't bow and let the title he grasps so hardly dominate you.

And he observes in horror the blue color of the roses on the table. And he turns his blushed cheeks away when a car passes by and you put your hands on his chest. And he inches with the warm of your hands on his hair. And he lets you love him, but refuses to step out of his cave.

You know he will, eventually.

Alexis Ness ~ ♡

Ness was confused, surprised and even a bit annoyed with the first time you pulled a chair for him. He was careful not to fall on a prank but when he sit, you simply smiled. He was used to serve you, never him, it was always about you. And suddenly, someone got a glass of water for him. For him. He didn't ask. He didn't even hint on anything. You simply said how hot it was. He must have been thirsty.

Now he gets irritated everytime you make something for him. You were paying attention to his needs, to his attempts on hiding everything so he can make you happy. But sometimes, you catch a glimpse of him staring at you, smiling. (he lovess it, but don't tell him that)

+ bonus

Kurona ~ ♡

He always blush when you open doors or pull out chairs for him, and whenever you do it, he places a shy kiss on your cheek or forehead.

[utopiastri]

Touch starved/cuddle curse for landoscar please!!! I love your writing so much, thank you for sharing 💕

hi anon! i went for cuddle curse because i always love an excuse to write magical realism - i hope you enjoy and thank you for the prompt!!!

“So. How much longer are we trapped like this?” Lando asks

Jon checks his watch and glances at the ceiling as he does some quick mental maths. “About seven more hours? Give or take.”

Lando groans and tries to tilt his head back dramatically only to be stopped abruptly when the back of his neck hits Oscar’s arm where it's curled around his shoulders. “Sorry, mate,” he grimaces.

“It’s ok,” Oscar says quietly, “Sorry for getting us in this mess.”

“It’s not your fault. Alright, well it’s not entirely your fault anyway,” Lando amends after Oscar gives him a look.

Jon clears his throat and Lando and Oscar both turn to look. “You boys all good here for the next few hours then? I'll be right next door if you need anything – you need anything before I go?” Oscar shakes his head and mutters a small thanks, but Lando stops to think about it for a second. He opens his mouth but Jon cuts him off. “Lando, no matter how many times you ask me, I’m not letting you have a cheat meal the night before a race just because your teammate got you cursed.”

Lando huffs. Oscar winces. Jon sighs.

“Fuck off then, if you’re not even gonna let me eat anything fun,” Lando grumbles.

Jon rolls his eyes and leaves the room. With him gone, Lando and Oscar fade into an awkward silence. Or as close to silence as you can get when you’re tangled so tightly with your teammate that you can hear every breath, every sniffle, every fidget. When the curse first pulled them together they'd experimented with lying further away from each other, but it resulted in so much pain for them both that they decided it would be better to just cling to each other instead.

For the record, Lando wasn’t kidding when he said this whole thing wasn’t entirely Oscar’s fault. Yes, Oscar’s the one who impeded Charles in quali today and yes, technically, Charles is the one whose magic accidentally manifested a curse on Oscar, but it’s not Oscar’s fault that Charles has never been able to control his magic.

“Why do you think Charles’ magic wound up casting a cuddle curse of all things?” Lando asks eventually, sick of the somewhat tense silence.

Oscar mumbles something but Lando can’t quite make it out.

“Hmm?”

“I said, I think the curse is having fun with the fact that Charles was pissed off that I was so close to him on track.”

“Huh?”

Oscar huffs. “I was too close to Charles on track so now the magic says I’ve gotta be too close to you instead.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” Oscar mumbles after a few more moments.

“I’ve told you you don’t need to apologise. It’s fine.”

“Oh, what, because you’re having such a wonderful time right now? Being forcibly stuck to your teammate when you could be in your own bed with as much space as you want?”

“I mean it’s not…like, I mean I know I said we were ‘trapped’ when Jon was here but like, it’s not…not nice.” Lando tries not to pull a face at the trainwreck of a sentence he just came out with.

He's not lying though. There is something not not nice about being cuddled up so close to Oscar. It’s warm for one thing, comforting for another. He’s always enjoyed the rare occasions he and Oscar have hugged for longer than your typical bro hug.

It’s not not nice.

It’s, well.

It's nice.

Like. Really nice.

Oscar makes a soft noise. “You, um, this is, uh…”

“Osc?”

Oscar takes a deep breath and then somehow manages to pull the two of them closer together, nuzzling his face into the side of Lando’s neck. “This ok?” he whispers. Lando can feel his lips move against his neck as he speaks.

“Yeah,” he replies as quietly as Oscar spoke. Tentatively, prepared to pull back at any moment, he takes the hand currently plastered to the back of Oscar’s shirt and dips it underneath, resting his palm there, skin against skin. “This oka–”

“Yes,” Oscar breathes, barely letting Lando finish the question, already leaning into the touch.

Lando swallows and does his best to tug Oscar in tighter.

Maybe being stuck like this for seven hours isn’t such a bad thing.

[daydreamabout]

Over the Radio [Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: It is the usual teasing between Tim and you, except for the fact that the others can hear you.

It was another usual day at the LAPD precinct. Tim Bradford sat at his desk, his brows furrowed as he studied a case file. The office buzzed with the low hum of activity—officers coming and going, papers shuffling, phones ringing. But for Tim, it was all white noise. He was focused, determined, and as always, his serious demeanor made him stand out from the others.

Across the room, Y/N sat with a cup of coffee, her feet kicked up on the edge of her desk. She was the opposite of Tim—soft-spoken, quirky, and often surprising people with her sharp wit. The two of them had been partners for a while now, and while they kept things strictly professional on the surface, there was an undeniable connection between them. One that neither of them had been willing to fully acknowledge, at least not out loud.

"Tim," Y/N called, her voice light and teasing. "You ever consider cracking a smile? I mean, I'm pretty sure it’s still in there somewhere."

He didn’t even look up, instead huffed in that way he always did when she pushed his buttons. "I’ll smile when you stop talking."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. "Ah, so it’s my fault you're perpetually grumpy, huh?"

"You know I don't have time for small talk," Tim replied, still buried in paperwork.

She smirked. "Right. Small talk. That’s totally it."

The radio buzzed suddenly, interrupting their banter. "Unit 57, we’ve got a 10-31 in progress at 5th and Meryl. Need backup. Over."

Y/N grabbed the mic without hesitation. "Unit 57 here, we're on it. Tim, you ready for some action?" Her voice was light and easy, the same tone she used to tease him.

Tim’s response was clipped as usual. "Always."

As they headed out to the car, their usual routine fell into place. Y/N hopped into the passenger seat, and Tim slid into the driver’s side, his focus instantly shifting to the road ahead. He wasn’t much of a talker while driving, but Y/N, ever the one to fill the silence, couldn’t resist a little playful commentary.

"You ever think about how weird it is we’re partners? I mean, I’m all sunshine and sarcasm, and you’re… well, you." She paused, glancing at him. "A grumpy, well-dressed tornado of intensity."

Tim’s lips twitched. "I’m not grumpy."

She shot him a look, her playful smile never fading. "Uh-huh. And I’m totally not secretly a sarcastic genius."

He let out a small sigh, trying to suppress the amusement that was fighting its way through. "Sure, whatever."

As they reached their destination, Tim parked the car, still holding onto his usual stoic expression. But as they prepared to exit, Y/N couldn’t resist one more jab.

"You know, if I were a betting woman," she said, as he adjusted his gear, "I’d say you’ve got a soft spot for me under that tough-guy exterior."

Tim shot her a look that was half-impressed, half-exasperated. "You’re delusional."

Just as they were getting ready to move, the radio crackled loudly, startling them both. But something was off—the sound was far too clear and continuous, like the mic was stuck on.

"Unit 57, you two getting cozy in there or what?" Angela’s voice came through the radio, her tone amused but sharp. "Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like a whole lot of flirting going on over the radio."

Tim’s eyes widened in mild panic, his face turning a shade of red that was rare for him. "What the hell?" he muttered under his breath, quickly reaching to adjust the mic, but Y/N was faster. "Uh, I think... I think the mic’s stuck," she whispered, her voice laced with a mix of disbelief and amusement. She tried pushing the button to no avail. Angela’s laughter crackled through the speaker again. "Yeah, it sounds like you two have a lot to discuss on the airwaves. Maybe I should be worried, huh?"

"Nah, we’re just discussing the fine art of sarcasm, Angela. Don’t you worry your little head,"Tim spoke up.

Angela’s laughter echoed over the radio. "Uh-huh, sure. Just make sure that fine art doesn't get you two in trouble when we’re out on the field. Keep it professional, lovebirds."

Tim gritted his teeth, but Y/N couldn’t help herself—she leaned over and whispered, her voice low but teasing, "I think we’ve officially been outed."

Tim shot her a look, his usual seriousness battling with the growing warmth creeping up his neck. "This isn't funny."

Y/N leaned back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I think it’s hilarious."

The radio crackled again, this time Angela’s voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Seriously, though, Tim, you better be careful. I can hear the smile in your voice, and we both know that’s a dangerous thing."

Y/N snickered, and Tim tried his best to hide the slight grin threatening to break through his mask of composure. But despite himself, he couldn’t help it.

"Just focus on the case, Angela," he said, his voice still sharp but with a hint of amusement that hadn’t been there before. He glanced at Y/N, who was grinning like she’d just won a small victory. "You too, Y/N. Keep it together."

But Y/N just shrugged, the glint of playful rebellion still dancing in her eyes. "What can I say? I’m just making sure the day stays interesting."

As they headed toward the scene, the tension between them remained palpable, but now there was a new, unspoken understanding hanging in the air—one that neither of them was ready to acknowledge out loud. Yet.