#look at that crowd shot!! LOVE that crowd shot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greengoblinswifey · 3 days ago

Note

Can I request a Nicholas Chavez smut? Pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏😫 I was thinking maybe something where they have A LOT of sexual tension, and like they flirt and that stuff

Lovvvvv u💗

Just Friends— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings— lots of flirting and sexual tension, oral(f), hand job, praise kink, ass slapping and grabbing, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, L bomb, fluff?

a/n— love you too, hope you enjoy my interpretation. yes it’s very long as usual, i had to capture the essence <3

Nicholas had been your friend for years, the type of friend who felt as familiar as ‘family’ but kept you on edge with the kind of sexual tension that always lingered just under the surface. You’d been there through his rise in the acting world, tagging along to premieres and red carpets as his “bestie.” Of course, all of your friends saw the way you two interacted, flirting that went far beyond innocent banter, lingering touches, and the looks you exchanged that seemed to say everything except “just friends.”

The first time he backed you up against a wall was at one of his movie nights. The rest of your friends were in the next room laughing over some game, but you and him had drifted to the kitchen for snacks. Somewhere between grabbing popcorn and pouring drinks, he leaned in close, his arm resting above your head, caging you in.

“You know, you’re a terrible influence,” he whispered, his face just inches from yours.

“Oh really?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Says the guy who’s about to be on his third cup of vodka.”

“No,” he murmured, voice low as his gaze fell to your lips, “I mean, the way you look at me.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Your breaths mingled, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned in closer, his lips an inch away from yours. But then he smirked, as if breaking the tension intentionally, and stepped back.

Moments like these happened all the time. Like the photoshoots you’d both do just for fun, candid snaps and Polaroids capturing the way you looked at each other. In one, you were staring at him, your hands on his shoulder while his was around you waist, pulling you close, and in another, he was giving you a look that made you feel like the only person in the world. Anyone who saw them would have sworn there was something going on, but you always waved it off.

In one instance, the two of you were back at his place after an event, still dressed up, the excitement of the night still thrumming through you. Nicholas loosened his tie, watching as you kicked off your heels and stretched out on his couch, looking up at him with a smirk.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you teased, “and I might start thinking you’ve got a little crush.”

He scoffed, but there was a glint in his eye. “Oh, please. If anyone here has a crush, it’s you.”

You laughed, pretending to scoff, but leaned forward. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you were the one who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves tonight.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to,” he replied, his voice dropping, and he took a step closer until he was standing over you. He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of you. “And what if I said I don’t want to keep my hands to myself now?”

Your breath hitched as his lips hovered near yours, but you weren’t about to break eye contact. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He lingered, his eyes scanning your face before dropping to your lips. “Just making sure you’re as ready as you’re acting,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through you.

You felt a spark ignite, leaning up just enough so your lips almost touched his. “Nicholas, if you’re going to do something, now’s your chance.”

He grinned, biting his lip as if savoring the moment, but he pulled back, leaving you on edge. “Oh, I will. When you least expect it.”

Another night, you were at a friend’s place for a get-together, squeezed onto a crowded couch beside Nicholas. Someone made a joke about the two of you potentially being a cute pair and you rolled your eyes, but Nicholas just smirked, sliding an arm over your shoulder.

“Guess they’re onto us,” he whispered, leaning close to your ear so you felt the warmth of his breath. “Or maybe you’ve just made it too obvious you can’t resist me.”

You raised an eyebrow, nudging him lightly. “Resist you? Please, I’m just letting you hang around so I don’t break your heart.”

He chuckled, playing along. “Oh, yeah? Because I seem to remember a certain someone texting me at two in the morning, needing ‘company.’”

You felt your cheeks flush, but you shot him a quick, mischievous smile. “Company,” you retorted, “doesn’t mean anything more than a little late night fun.”

He tilted his head, giving you that same intense, teasing look. “Oh, so I’m just ‘late-night fun’ now?”

You shrugged, looking back at him with a challenging smile. “What can I say? You’re good for a laugh and a distraction.”

Nicholas laughed, pulling you a little closer. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

The “late night fun” you spoke of was just Nicholas helping you re decorate, watch your favorite tv show with you and continuing the banter.

Another time, you were at your apartment, watching a movie he had starred in on the couch. At some point, his arm settled across the back of the couch behind you, his fingertips lightly brushing your shoulder.

“You’re comfortable, right?” he asked, his tone smooth but a little too casual.

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Unless you’re planning to do something that’d make me, uncomfortable?”

He smirked, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. “Only if you ask nicely.”

At a party, you’d both been teasing each other all night, throwing playful glances across the room. Later, in a quiet corner, he slid his hand down to your lower back as you leaned in close to talk.

“You know,” he whispered, “I think you like it when I drive you a little crazy.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, maybe. But it’s nothing compared to what I could do to you.”

His eyebrow arched, a grin spreading across his face. “Is that a promise?”

“Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out,” you shot back, biting your lip.

“Dancing, huh?” you teased again as he pulled your flush against him to the rhythm of the music, meeting his eyes. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

He shrugged, but his grip tightened ever so slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold you.”

Your heartbeat quickened, but you kept your cool. “You don’t need an excuse.”

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping lower. “Good to know.”

Another time, late one night after a fun evening, you and Nicholas were walking back to his car together. Your fingers brushed as you passed each other on the sidewalk, a simple touch, but it sent a shiver down your spine. As you both approached the car, he stepped in front of you, blocking your way for just a second before he opened your door for you.

His voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it. “Are you sure you want to go back home alone tonight?”

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, and said, “Why? You worried about me?”

He stepped even closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he whispered, “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just not ready to let you go yet.”

After this, you were standing near a group of people at a Hollywood party, but Nicholas was leaning against the wall just across the room, watching you, his eyes following every move you made. When you turned to meet his gaze, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you staring at me?” you asked playfully, your voice carrying just enough edge to tease.

He didn’t break eye contact, his gaze darkening as he took a slow step toward you, his tone low. “Maybe. I’m just trying to figure out if the rest of them can see what I see.”

You took a step closer. “And what’s that?”

“That you’re mine,” he said, his lips brushing just barely against your ear as he leaned in close. “And I’m not sharing.”

“Yours?”

“Y-yeah, you’re my best friend after all.” You’d never seen him this flustered and you both just laughed it off.

The two of you kept playing that game, a series of almosts, leaving you both hungry for the moment one of you would finally make the move neither could take back. Then it happened.

The after-party of the event Nicholas invited you to was alive with flashing lights and the low hum of conversation as he scanned the crowd, searching for you. When he spotted you in the corner, his jaw clenched. You were backed against a wall, leaning into a conversation with some actor whose name he didn’t care to remember. Your gaze was all doe-eyed and captivated, the same way you looked at him whenever the two of you got a little too close.

Before he knew it, Nicholas was striding across the room, sliding between the two of you and placing a firm hand on your waist. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer, pulling you away with that possessiveness you’d never quite seen before.

As soon as you were away from the other guy, you couldn't help but tease him, looking up with a smirk. “What was that about? I thought we were just friends?”

“Friends, huh?” he murmured, a challenge glinting in his eyes. He didn’t let go of your waist, keeping you close as if daring anyone to interrupt again.

The two of you spent the rest of the night practically glued to each other. On the dance floor, you found yourselves moving in sync, his hands on your hips as you swayed, flush against each other’s body.The warmth and closeness, the way his fingers skimmed your skin, left you breathless.

By the time you left and climbed into the backseat of his car, both of you were a little tipsy, laughter spilling between flirtatious exchanges and you could feel your pulse racing.

As you stepped inside his house, you threw him a mischievous look, lips curling into a smirk. “You know, for all your big talk, you never actually follow through,” you teased, voice light and playful. “It’s almost like you’re scared.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening as he backed you up against the door, one hand braced beside your head as he looked down at you, his mouth curving into a smirk of his own. “Careful now,” he murmured, his tone low and challenging. “Are you asking me to prove something?”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart hammering as you nodded slowly, almost daring him.

He leaned in, his voice a low growl against your ear. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

And then his lips crashed against yours, and suddenly, every ounce of that simmering sexual tension between you two exploded. His kiss was intense, consuming, and you found yourself melting into it as his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you felt him press you harder against the door. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you tangled together, caught in the heat of the moment.

He scooped you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward his room, lips barely parting as he navigated the hallway. You could feel the rush of his breath against your skin, hear the steady, quickening beat of his heart as he laid you down.

As you both caught your breath, you looked up at him, lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and managed to say, “Wow. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Nicholas chuckled, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “Likewise.”

His gaze softened slightly as he admitted, “I’ve waited way too long to do that.”

You smirked, leaning up to brush your lips over his again. “Well, you can do more.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned back in, capturing your lips in another feral kiss. His hands were on you, warm and steady, slipping beneath your top and easing it off, then slipping off your mini skirt, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. He paused for a moment, taking you in, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Wow,” he murmured. “Who’d you dress up for like this? Someone in particular?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Just—someone.”

“Who?” he pressed, a knowing glint in his eye.

You met his gaze and replied softly, “You.”

He smirked again, his fingers grazing over the straps of your bra before unclasping it, letting it slip from your shoulders. His eyes lingered as he gently pulled off your underwear, murmuring, “Lift your hips for me.”

As you did, he carefully slid it down, leaving you both breathless and wrapped up in each other, feeling that intensity settle into something unmistakably real.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, all naked for me, fuck,” he breathed, taking in the sight before him.

He leaned down, his mouth taking in your nipples and you gasped, feeling his tongue swirl and suck on it. Your hand went to his hair as he kneaded the neglected left breast and all you could do was moan as he continued.

“Mm— you like that baby? Yeah? You like when your best friend sucks on your juicy fucking tits?” he asked, in between sucking.

“Shut up and keep going.”

He did as he was told, then you felt a hand on your thigh, caressing you as you spread them open, practically begging him to touch you. You were soaked for him. A soft whimper left your lips as his fingers dipped inside your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, we’ve barely started and you’re soaked. You’re making a mess on my sheets, look.” Looking down you realized there was a large wet patch on his sheets and you closed your eyes, heat rising in your cheeks and between your legs.

“That’s okay baby, it’s gonna get even messier when I make you squirt all over it.”

You gasped and he took the opportunity to kiss you, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. His fingers began moving inside you rapidly, his palm grinding against your clit and making you feel pleasure beyond what you’d ever experienced before. Maybe it was the level of attraction and sexual tension between you finally overflowing, you didn’t know, but you were certainly enjoying it.

“Nicholas, I- I’m gonna—”

“Shh, I know baby, I can feel your tight pussy clenching around my fingers, cum for me.”

His mouth moved to your tits, suckling as his fingers curled inside you and you finally let go. You moaned his name as your pussy soaked his fingers, your orgasm taking you over so intensely that you were shaking.

“That’s my good girl, that’s it,” he praised, “finally being obedient for once.”

You rolled your eyes but they immediately rolled back, as Nicholas fell to his knees, his tongue on your clit. He laughed at your cockiness merging into pleasure, continuing to suck on your sensitive clit. He was a man starved, his mouth engulfing your pussy, making sure every part of it felt his tongue.

“God, Nick, I’m gonna cum again,” you whimpered.

“You taste like heaven sweetheart, cum again for me, I need to taste everything.”

He gripped under your thighs, slurping and sucking and soon, you granted his request, squirting in his mouth as he drank everything you had to offer. His fingers slipped inside your pussy and his tongue flicked your clit, guiding you through your high as you soaked his sheets, the patch growing larger and larger.

“I knew I could make you feel better than anyone else can,” he chuckled, sucking off his fingers.

Smirking, you leaned over to stroke his hard cock. He was decent. Oh, who were you kidding, he was fucking huge. Of course he was.

“Like what you see? You’re practically drooling baby,” he smirked. Soft whimpers left his lips as your warm hands stroked him and you spread the pre cum that was oozing from the tip.

“F-fuck, oh my god you’re hands feel so good around my cock,” he moaned, “as much as I’d love for you to stroke and suck me, I need to be inside you, now. I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

Your arousal grew as his body went between your legs, your eyes locked on each other with the whole world ceasing to exist. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your folds, the sound of your pussy squelching filling the room.

“I’m gonna fuck you raw because you’re mine, is that okay?”

“More than okay.” A cocky grin tugged at his lips and your jaw fell open as he pushed inside you slowly, inch by inch.

“Oh my god,” you moaned in unison.

Nicholas moved slowly, his touch tender but full of that same intense energy that had been simmering between you two for so long. As he pressed into you, it was like the culmination of every teasing look, every playful comment, every stolen moment, all building to this point.

You gasped softly, feeling the thrill of finally crossing that line. He stilled for a second, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered, “You feel so perfect.” His hand found yours, fingers interlacing as he held on tightly, grounding you in the moment.

You exhaled shakily, barely able to form words. “Worth the wait?” you managed to tease, a small smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Better than I ever imagined.” He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his voice soft but full of meaning as he added, “You’re everything I wanted.”

With every thrust, the intensity built, the shared glances and flirting making each moment feel like the answer to everything you’d both been waiting for. It felt like more than just a moment, it felt like finally, the reward for all the pent-up desire and all the time spent dancing around what had always been between you.

Nicholas began moving with a more intense rhythm, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. The pleasure seemed to crest with each movement, both of you lost in the heat of the moment. His voice came out low and husky as he murmured, “You feel so damn good. I knew you would, with that fucking mouth of yours.”

A shiver ran through you as you whispered back, breathless, “And you— mm, you look so hot above me.”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned down, his hand sliding to your hip, steadying you as he picked up the pace even more. “Cum all over my cock,” he urged, his voice barely a whisper but filled with a mix of tenderness and demand. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

The pleasure built up, and with one final hard thrust, you let go completely.

“Nicholas,” you moaned, biting his shoulder in the rush of release.

“Ow— I’m so attracted to you,” he said, kissing your neck, “I’m not done with you yet, I want you to ride me.”

Without another word, you switched positions and you straddled him as he sat up, his back pressed against the large bed frame.

“You are breathtaking, you know that?” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I need you so bad,” you whimpered, sliding your pussy along his cock.

“I need you even more baby, now sit.”

Slowly, you sank on his cock feeling him slowly fill you up.

“You’re s-so big, god, just stretching me out,” you gasped.

You began riding his cock, your tits bouncing and his eyes went to them, mesmerized by the view before him. His lips went to your nipples, sucking as he grabbed your ass, guiding you to take his dick deep.

“Keep bouncing on my dick baby, just like that, don’t stop.”

Your bouncing sped up, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you.

“I’m close, I- I can’t hold it,” you screamed.

“Don’t hold it beautiful, let go for me, cum on my cock,” he demanded.

With a moan of his name, you draped your arms around his neck, grinding against him as your orgasm washed over you. He held onto you for dear life, his hands grabbing your ass as your pussy clamped around his cock and your juices soaked him.

“Good girl, that’s my baby,” he moaned, “I want my baby to cum one more time, turn around and ride my cock again so I can see that fat ass bounce.”

You whimpered as you turned around, his cock still inside you, the feeling of it swirling inside you making your head spin. He slapped your ass, startling you.

“God, this fucking ass. Could you tell when I’d let my hands brush over it? How I’d have my hands on your lower back teasing lower and lower?”

You couldn’t even form coherent words, the feeling of him so deep inside you was the only thing you cares about.

“Bounce that ass on my dick,” he added, slapping your ass harshly.

Your ass slammed onto him, little moans leaving your lips as your hands were on his legs, propping yourself up.

“Fuck, fuck fuck, oh my god Nick,” you cried out.

“That’s it baby, moan for me, scream my fucking name. You waited so long for this, make it fucking worth it.”

His hips began thrusting up, meeting your ass as he kept slapping your ass cheeks moving from left to right, willing you to bounce faster.

“This tight pussy is just gripping my cock. I’ve got such a good view. It’s just sucking me in, so tight around me,” he moaned, watching your pussy glide on him.

“You feel so good, filling me up so much,” you croaked out.

He grabbed your ass, his hips still slamming against your ass, the sound of skin slapping making his cock even harder. Suddenly, your knees gave out and he continued thrusting up into you.

“Give me one more sweetheart, cum on my cock, soak these fucking sheets,” he demanded.

Your fingers dug into his legs and you soaked his cock and the sheets, your orgasm ripping through you like a sharp knife.

“What a horny little girl, so good for me, now it’s my turn.”

He held you down, his hand going to the back of your neck and pushing you into the mattress as you arched your back. He slammed into you harshly, slapping your ass and moaning your name as he chased his orgasm.

“Shit, where do you want my cum princess?”

“Inside me, please Nicholas, I need your cum inside me,” you begged, gripping the soaked sheets.

“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m s-sure, just please, I need your cum in me, now.”

You didn’t have to tell him a third time, he pressed you into the bed, his cum filling you up, the warm feeling making you both moan in content.

“Yes, yes, shit,” he whimpered, his voice shaky.

He flipped you over, your body landing on top of him and he quickly plugged your pussy with his cock again, preventing any of his cum from leaking out.

The two of you lay there, bodies entangled, your head resting on his chest as you both caught your breath. Every unspoken word, every stolen glance over the years, had led to this moment, and the weight of it felt as satisfying as it did intense. The quiet between you was comfortable, filled only by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

Nicholas’ hand trailed gently up and down your back, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “That was a long time coming,” he murmured, his fingers brushing through your hair. “All that teasing, all those ‘just friends’ glances, guess it had to break eventually.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling his warmth and the closeness of the moment settling around you. “Guess you’re not as good at resisting me as you thought.”

He chuckled, pulling you a little closer. “Can you blame me? You’re impossible to ignore.” He paused, then pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his expression growing a bit more serious. “You’re amazing, you know that? And, that was amazing.”

As he spoke, his eyes softened, and he looked at you with a depth that made your heart skip a beat. “I love you,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, but carrying the weight of everything he’d been holding back.

Your breath caught as you met his gaze, eyes wide in surprise. But the sincerity in his eyes, the way he held you close, made everything fall into place. “I- I love you too, Nicholas,” you replied, your voice just as quiet but filled with certainty.

He smiled, his hand cupping your cheek as he drew you in for another kiss, one that was slow, tender, and filled with the promise of everything yet to come.

391 notes · View notes

pickingupmymercedes · 2 days ago

Text

Blessed - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Blessed - Daniel Caesar - @goldenroutledge

pairing: Husband!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff (bc we need a lil breather from the news lately)

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, alright!” The sound of a spoon tapping against a champagne glass drew everyone's attention toward the center of the room.

The reception room was glowing in warm hanging lights, the low hum of chatter filled the air as glasses were put down and chair were pulled closer. It was a night of celebration, of love and new beginnings – tale as old as time.

At the head table, the couple of the evening, Lewis and Y/n, sat side by side. Lewis’s arm draped protectively over the back of Y/n’s chair and she leaned into him slightly, her eyes sparkling as she looked out at their friends and family gathered around.

It had been a long road to get there. Everyone knew that.

Their love story wasn’t the clean, perfectly drawn-out romance people read about in books or saw in movies. It was messy. Complicated. And yet, they had made it there—newly married and completely in love.

Standing in the middle of the room, their friend held a mic in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. Her grin promised a toast that would be anything but typical.

“As much as I’d love to pretend I’m not emotional about this... y’all know me too well,” she began, casting a cheeky look at the couple. “But first... let me just say—finally!”

A wave of laughter rippled through the guests. Y/n chuckled, nudging Lewis as he grinned wide, squeezing her shoulder. Their friend raised her glass, eyes twinkling.

“No, seriously though. I’m not gonna lie. There was a point where I thought, ‘These two? Getting married? Yeah, no way.’ But hey, life has a funny way of proving me wrong.”

The guests laughed, nodding in agreement. She looked around the room, drawing everyone in as she spoke.

“See, Lewis and Y/n... they were that couple. The one everyone’s always asking about. Like, ‘What’s going on with them? Are they together? Are they on a break? Are they—” she paused, turning to the person sitting next to her and raising her hand for dramatic effect, “Are they fine this time?’”

Everyone laughed, nodding along. Y/n exchanged a smile with Lewis, who shrugged as if to say, She’s not wrong.

“They always had this... thing, right?” their friend continued, making an animated swirl in the air with her hand. “Like, they’d walk into a room together and, boom, all eyes would go straight to them. You could tell they were just... magnetic.” She turned to Lewis’s mom, who was laughing and nodding knowingly.

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the families!” She gestured to Lewis’s mom with a playful smirk. “Carmen, you knew Y/n was family long before this day, didn’t you? You were still having your spa days with her even when these two claimed to be ‘over!’”

The room burst into laughter as Carmen raised her glass with a playful smile, shrugging unapologetically. “She’s family, with or without him.”

“And you sir,” Their friend pointed a finger at Y/n’s dad, shaking her head with a grin. “You’re just as bad. I remember calling Lewis during one of their ‘breaks’—you know, the ones we had to keep a calendar for—and he’d be like, ‘Oh, I just got off the phone with Y/n’s dad. We were talking about the race.’” She shook her head, laughing. “You all knew they weren’t fooling anyone, didn’t you?”

Y/n’s dad chuckled, glancing over at the newlyweds with a warm smile. “Some people need more time to figure things out.”

The friend shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, who didn’t lose track at some point?” She turned to a nearby table. “Raise your hand if you’ve ever had to ask someone else if they were ‘back together’ or ‘taking a break’ this month?”

A few hands shot up in good-natured fun, the crowd’s laughter rolling even louder.

“Yep! See? Half of us here had charts,” she added dead serious. “And the funny part is, every single time they said they were ‘done,’ deep down, I think we all knew. Because no matter how ‘done’ they claimed to be, they’d somehow find a way back to each other. Every. Single. Time.”

Y/n shook her head, laughing softly as if the memories were flooding back to her—late nights of arguments, quiet moments of reconciliation, times they’d sworn it was over for good, only to realize that no one else quite fit the way Lewis did.

She paused, glancing between Lewis and Y/n, before taking a slow sip of champagne. “You two are a pair, alright. A little unpredictable a lot stubborn. But that’s what makes it funny—and honestly, kind of beautiful— because you couldn’t stay out of each other’s orbit if you tried.”

Their friend took a breath, her grin turning into a soft smile. “And as much as we all like to joke about how confusing it was trying to keep up, deep down, we all knew. Because whatever you two have... It was messy, yeah. But it’s real. And it’s the kind of love that survives the storms because you make each other better.”

Her gaze shifted to Lewis, sincerity pouring into her voice. “Now, Lewis... yeah, you’re a lot of things. A goat, some would say... but let’s be honest—when it comes to Y/n, you’re the guy who can’t help but light up when she’s around. I mean, look at you!” She waved her hand, pointing as he grinned, clearly caught.

Lewis laughed, shaking his head, but the warmth in his eyes as he glanced at Y/n was undeniable.

She then turned to Y/n, her eyes softening even more. “And Y/n, girl... don’t think I haven’t noticed how you let him in, even when you’re stubborn about it. He’s broken through those walls in a way that, frankly, I’m still kind of mad about,” she teased, winking. “He really made me share my spot as your only confidante.”

Another wave of laughter and cheers erupted, softer this time, filled with knowing looks and nods. Y/n’s hand founding Lewis’s under the table, fingers squeezing his as she took in her friend’s words.

“And it wasn’t until you both finally stopped running from this, that the rest of us got to see the magic happen,” their friend continued, leaving her glass on the table to be able to use her hands to motion to the couple.

“And now? Look at you two. You’ve found your rhythm. You’ve learned that yeah, sometimes you drive each other nuts.”

“And us too, to be honest.” She pointed out as she motioned to the rest of the guests

“Sometimes it’s not perfect, and it never will be. But that’s not the point.” She paused, letting the silence hang for a second before speaking again. “The point is... you two, you’re so blessed to be stuck with each other.”

Y/n’s breath visibly caught in her throat. She glanced at Lewis, and the warmth in his eyes met her own, creating a small, private moment between them.

“I mean, look at them, guys. There he is, looking at her with the same adoration he always had, even back when they weren’t even ‘official’. They always saw each other, didn’t they? Even when they didn’t see themselves.” Their friend chuckled as she took their little moment to get her point across, just to cease the moment and break the atmosphere with another tease.

“Gosh, I remember when you two were in those other relationships,” she said, eyes glinting mischievously as she winked. “And they were great, don’t get me wrong... But we all knew they were temporary. Because there’s no one else out there for you two. You tried to move on, I’ll give you two that. But you were just lying to yourselves. The whole time, you were still orbiting around each other, waiting to collide.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Everyone there had seen their journey. Everyone knew how hard they’d fought, how much they’d both been through to get to that moment.

“So yeah, you two might be a little messy sometimes” she added, a grin spreading across her face again. “But who isn’t? The important thing is... you bring out the best in each other. Lewis, you make Y/n smile like no one else can. And Y/n, you keep this man grounded in a way that nothing else ever could.”

And it was true.

Lewis was Y/n’s grounding force, the one person who could calm the storm inside her, even when she didn’t want to admit it. And she did the same for him, though he’d probably never say it out loud.

They weren’t perfect, but they were perfect for each other.

“To Lewis and Y/n. To all the highs and lows, to all the moments that got you here. And to the future, because if this crazy, beautiful love of yours has taught us anything, it’s that you’re in it for the long haul. Here’s to being blessed... and a little bit of a mess.”

The room erupted in cheers and clinks of glasses. Y/n’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she turned to Lewis, her fingers reaching for his over the table. When their hands touched, he laced his fingers with hers, giving her that same familiar squeeze he always did when words weren’t enough.

He leaned in, his voice low as he whispered against her ear “I am blessed to be stuck with you.”

Y/n smiled, blinking away the moist that had been threatening to fall. She turned to him, kissing him softly on the lips, savoring the moment.

Because their friend was right. It wasn’t always perfect. It wasn’t always easy. But it was real.

And maybe they were a little bit of a mess.

But they were each other’s mess.

And that was everything.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #ella1k

224 notes · View notes

sodavizz · 3 days ago

Text

—Island In The Sun!

ct: @the-phantom-peach of their amazing art of my bb <33

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Pairings: Daisuke x F! Reader

Wc: idk 1k+

Warnings: None, just pure fluff :3

Daisuke had always loved the beach. The salty air, the endless stretch of sand, and the way the waves whispered secrets as they hit the shore—he felt at home here. But today, there was something different. Maybe it was the sun, sinking low in the sky and casting everything in gold, or maybe it was just the way she stood out in the crowd.

He had been sitting there for a while, mindlessly playing with the sand, but his eyes kept drifting over to her. She was laughing with her friends, her hair shimmering like threads of gold in the sunlight, her smile so effortless it almost looked like it belonged in a movie. She wore a white sundress that fluttered in the breeze, and to him, she was... perfect.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight. Honestly, he’d always thought that was a little cheesy, the stuff of rom-coms. But in that moment, watching her from across the beach, something inside him clicked. He had never seen anyone quite like her before, and before he knew it, he couldn’t stop staring. His heart started racing, and all he could think was: Who is this beautiful lady?

But she wasn’t looking at him. Not at first.

Her attention was on her friends, who were goofing around and splashing in the water. Daisuke watched from a distance, hoping she might glance his way, but the more he stared, the more he realized she was completely oblivious. Maybe that was for the best. What could he possibly say to someone like her?

Then, a voice broke his concentration.

“Dude,” one of his buddies teased, nudging him lightly. “Are you gonna just stare at that girl all day?”

Daisuke froze. He didn’t know if he should laugh or die of embarrassment.

----

You looked over, your gaze scanning the beach, and sure enough, your eyes landed on him. For a split second, both of your eyes met, and then he quickly looked away, as though he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Seriously?” you muttered, half-smiling and half-rolling your eyes. “He’s still looking.”

Your friends burst out laughing. “Looks like someone’s got a crush!”

You shot them a look but couldn’t help the flush that crept up her neck. You turned your attention back to your friends, pretending not to care, but you had to admit—there was something a little funny about being the center of his attention.

----

The hours passed, and soon the sun had dipped below the horizon. The beach bar, a cozy little spot right on the sand, began to fill up with people wanting to make the most of the evening. She and her friends decided to grab a table, the mood light and easy. Daisuke was still sitting at the bar, nursing a beer, but now, instead of just glancing over at her, he was watching her from across the room.

He’d been trying to build up the nerve to go over and talk to her for what felt like forever. He wasn’t a shy guy, but there was something about her that made him feel out of his league. She was beautiful, sure, but there was more to it than that. It was like she had this effortless confidence that made him second-guess everything he was going to say.

“Just go talk to her, man,” his friend had said earlier, giving him an encouraging nudge. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst? He didn’t even want to think about it.

So he stayed put, watching from a distance as she laughed with her friends. And then, just as he was thinking maybe it wasn’t meant to be, he saw her glance in his direction. Their eyes met again—this time, not for a fleeting second, but long enough for him to feel his heart race.

Okay. That was it. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up. His palms were sweaty, and his stomach was in knots. He wasn’t used to feeling this nervous, but there he was, walking toward her table.

She noticed him coming, her eyebrows raising in mild surprise. She’d probably thought he wasn’t going to approach after all the staring he’d been doing earlier.

He stopped in front of the table, feeling like he might faint any second. “Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just, uh... I had to come over and say hi.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re the guy from the beach, right?”

Daisuke couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, that’s me. I mean, I guess I’m the guy who stared at you all afternoon.” He immediately cringed, cursing himself inwardly.

The girl chuckled. “No, it’s fine. You just caught my attention. It’s not every day a guy spends hours staring at you.”

He winced. “Yeah, that wasn’t... ideal. But, hey, I thought I should at least introduce myself. I’m Daisuke.”

She gave him a playful smile. “[insert y/n].”

There was a brief silence, and for a second, Daisuke wondered if he should just walk away. But then, She spoke again, her tone light.

“So, what made you finally come over? After all that staring?”

Daisuke smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. I guess I figured I’d regret it if I didn’t say something. And I didn’t want to be that creepy guy who just stares and never does anything about it.”

[Insert y/n's] smile softened, and for a moment, he thought maybe she was going to laugh at him. But instead, she just looked at him with a kind of warmth in her eyes that made him feel a little less ridiculous.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “So, uh, what’s your deal, Daisuke? What brings you to this part of the world?”

And just like that, the awkwardness started to fade. The conversation flowed, easy and natural. They talked about everything—how they both loved the ocean, their favorite kinds of music, the weirdest things they’d ever seen on vacation. They joked about everything from childhood memories to the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to them in public. Before long, the tension had melted away completely, and it felt like they’d known each other for years.

The night wore on, and eventually, the bar began to close. But they weren’t in a hurry.

As they stood up to leave, Daisuke found himself feeling... content. There was something real about this connection. No forced pickup lines. No awkward silences. Just two people talking, getting to know each other in the easiest way possible.

“Hey,” Daisuke said, pulling out his phone. “Maybe we can grab coffee sometime? I know, super original, right?”

[insert y/n] smiled, her eyes bright. “I think I’d like that.”

And just like that, what had started as a nervous glance across a crowded beach had turned into something more—something that felt, for the first time in a long while, like it could actually be the beginning of something good.

-----

testing, hehe

#[★—sodavizz]#daisuke x reader #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #been rusty due to not writing in a long time so im testing my writing

156 notes · View notes

crescenthistory · 22 hours ago

Note

i hear searching for fluff. i raise you cat animagus reader and the animal politics that come with being a cat. oh that’s a glass of water you’ve placed on the counter? what a perfect place for my paw to go. they’re a total goodie two shoes but can never stop themselves from swatting at and generally terrorizing sirius, dog form or not. i’ve seen so many videos of woodland animals like stags befriending cats or stealing their food and everyone just being like “wdym i didn’t know they could do that”. reader starts slow blinking at people without realizing. i could go on for forever i would love to see shenanigans and hijinks

beautiful thoughts, i enjoyed all of them. i let them inspire me into a drabble situation of cat!reader terrorising sirius with reg (and rem) on her side. this is just pure chaos and silliness, thank you for the opportunity lovie<3

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, no use of y/n but your cat form is called "whiskers", james and sirius pranked you mildly, you get revenge as a cat, you are only in cat form throughout this, sibling squabbles, super minor injuries (you put your claws in sirius), platonic physical affection, general chaos and fluff

Note: this is technically in the same universe as my other two (first, second) cat!animagus!reader fics with regulus, but can be read alone. it is more of a platonic!sirius x reader fic though, it focusses on the interactions between them + reg, rem and james

Sirius had been made aware by many a parent, professor and otherwise nosey adult, that actions had consequences. Which was all fine and dandy with him, the consequences were often the sole inspiration for his actions.

This, however. This, they did not warn him about.

“Ow, ow, ow!” he hissed, trying to shake the feline creature off his shoulder.

Just a few seconds ago, she had been innocently peering down on his textbook, front paws resting on his shoulders as she stood on the top of the sofa he was reclining against. That didn’t last long though, as her claws came out and dug in through the fine material of his shirt, seeking the pain and destruction this evil creature seemed to live off of.

Unaffected by his shaking, she elegantly climbed down his arm – claws still out and still using him as leverage – to plop onto the table before them with a soft prrt!

“Remus, your friend is hurting me,” Sirius sneered at his boyfriend who was sat in a grandfather chair beside him, flipping through a newspaper Sirius was quite certain was out of date.

The other boy hummed noncommittally. “Does she have reason to?” he asked without looking up from the paper.

“No!” Sirius exclaimed at the same time as Regulus said, “absolutely.”

He shot his brother a glare on the other side of the sofa. He was reading through a novel in pristine condition, only looking up to glance fondly at the menace currently parading around the coffee table. Sirius was growing miffed that none of his hangout companions were sparing him any attention.

“I haven’t done anything, and if I had the minx should be over it by now.” Sirius did his best to seem authoritative, but he had a tough crowd.

You hissed at him from where you were standing on the table. Regulus looked up at that with mirth swimming in his eyes despite his impassive facial expression.

“She seems to disagree, Pads,” Remus said nonchalantly. “She’s also been running around as Whiskers for the past few hours, which she only does when she is either really pleased and really upset.”

“And she’s not pleased,” Regulus added unhelpfully.

Sirius muttered something under his breath that amounted to “I wouldn’t be pleased either, if I had to be in a relationship with such a grump” to which he received a throw pillow to the face, another hiss and an admonishing “Pads”.

"It was just a little prank," Sirius defended himself. "It's quite literally what we do." He didn't feel the need to go into the specifics; this was a dog he wanted to bury yesterday. Or, well, cat.

"To no one's enjoyment but your own, I'm sure," Regulus huffed. "If she's bothered by it, that's entirely her right."

Sirius looked to Remus for some backing up, and when he found none, he let out another groan, collapsing further into the sofa in his evident despair.

He would have happily stayed there, bitching and moaning as he pleased, had it not been for the suspicious sounds coming from the coffee table.

There, he found that you had not looked away from him and were sitting disturbingly close to the little homework station he had sat up earlier to then promptly ignore – an open textbook, half-written essay, quill and unscrewed inkpot. The look in your eyes was one you had picked up from Remus in your early days together, full of mischief and tomfoolery.

“Don’t you even dare–” Sirius managed to get out as he sat up in his seat and pointed a chiding finger at you, but the damage was done.

With what almost sounded like cat laughter – something most unknowing students would brush off because why would a cat laugh but Sirius knew all too well must be your joy at his expense – you knocked over his inkpot. The pot was almost full and the ink fell right on top of his essay and textbook. He let out a half-screech as he moved forward to correct the damage, but you walked straight into the pool of ink, ensuring you were spreading it further around his essay and the feather of his quill.

Regulus let out an unrestrained bark of laughter as Sirius sank to the floor in front of you, blabbering anger, while Remus simply snorted as he shook his head, choosing not to get involved yet.

“You furry bastard!” Sirius called out as he picked up his parchment, trying to shake some of the excess ink off, only worsening its condition. “You absolute menace.”

Some of the ink he shook off got on your fur, adding to what was already coating your paws from dragging it around. You solved this in the only manner that made sense in cat-world – by launching yourself at Sirius, effectively doubling his screeches within the second.

“Oi! Oi!” Sirius kept calling as you hopped onto his chest, burying your claws into him so he couldn’t simply shake you off, ink smearing all over Sirius’ previously white shirt. The assault of a lifetime, if you asked him. “Azkaban! Azkaban for all of you!” he called when he saw Regulus doubling over with laughter on the opposite end of the sofa.

“Pads! What’s going on, mate?” James’ voice called as he came half-running over after spotting the commotion the second he entered the common room.

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but upon James spotting the feline devil currently attempting to smear more of the ink across his being, he interrupted with a coo.

“Oh, hi there little Whiskers!” James greeted, bending down to pick you up by the neck. In that James-Potter-way he simply peeled you off of Sirius and held you out before him, just far enough that the ink wouldn’t get on him. “What’s got you in such a tizzy, huh?” he asked, poking at you with his free hand which earned him a petulant hiss.

“The bloody puma destroyed my essay and leaped at me,” Sirius huffed as he clambered back up, ignoring how he sounded like a first year telling on a classmate to McGonagall.

“I believe she is seeking revenge from that little stunt you two pulled earlier,” Remus drawled from his seat, sharing a look with Regulus who rolled his eyes. They knew.

“Which is fully within her right, I must add,” Regulus said, ever the devoted boyfriend. Bloody lucky you. “And she’s not a puma, you wanker, you’re just scared of cats.”

“Slander! ��M not!” Sirius defended himself, but James ignored him, turning his attention to the cat wriggling in his grip.

“Did we upset you, little kitten?” James asked so friendly you almost wouldn’t catch the teasing in his tone. “So sorry. Next time we’ll hex your tie a different colour. Robe too, yeah?”

Upon receiving another hiss from you and a lunge of your paw, James outright giggled and petted the top of your head carefully, neutralising you if for but a moment.

“How come she’s forgiving you right away? I have had my property destroyed and was lightly maimed in her quest for revenge!” Sirius shook his head in disapproval, attempting to stare you down. It wasn't turning out to be fruitful.

“Sirius, I have a question for you.” Regulus didn’t continue until Sirius reluctantly met his gaze. “Did you know – and be honest with me now – that you’re a wizard?”

Before Sirius could give him a snarky response, Regulus had waved his wand casually over the ink pools on the table and stains on his clothes, cleaning both up effectively as if nothing had happened. Then he gave Sirius a smug smile that made him want to turn into Padfoot and lunge at him – which probably wasn’t a good idea given there were other people in the room.

“Imbécile grossier,” Sirius muttered under his breath as he kicked a leg out at Regulus, intended more for effect than harm.

He received a “connard stupide” in return as Regulus dodged any further assault by getting up and walking over to James, who was now fully petting the rabid killer, whispering something about “please forgive me, it was just too funny not to”. Traitor.

“Hey there, amour,” Regulus said as he picked you up out of James’ arms. “Are you regretting marrying into the family?”

You made a huffing sound, climbing out of his arms to settle along his shoulders, over his neck, were you could cuddle against him while still scowling at Sirius.

“You and me both, sister,” Remus mumbled half-heartedly. Sirius gasped at him with every theatrical bone in his body, earning him an eye roll and – at last – for Remus to abandon the paper to give him a quick smooch.

“I didn’t realise sister-in-laws were allowed to be as sibling-y as an actual sister,” James mused as he folded his arms to take in the scene before him.

“She’s not,” Sirius argued, extracting another eye roll from Remus who patted his thigh placatingly. “Cats are just evil.”

“You could always confront her as Pads, you know, level the playing field,” James suggested.

“Absolutely not.” Regulus turned around so his body was shielding the cat on his shoulders from the three boys. “Not that I doubt she would win against your clumsy self any day, but let’s not even go there.”

Sirius and James barked a laugh that was disturbingly similar while Remus shook his head. “Don’t worry Reg, the less time I can spend around kittens, the better,” Sirius said briskly, feeling emboldened by James’ presence.

You poked your head around Regulus’ neck at that, so that the two of you could share a look. It’s always peculiar for Sirius to see how much understanding seems to pass between you two, especially when in different forms altogether. It's not something he expected for his baby brother and he feels his heart warm at the display – which he promptly pushes down to focus on the war currently playing out in Gryffindor.

As if you two reached an agreement through just that look, you butted your head against Regulus’ cheek while he nodded. Carefully, he manoeuvred you into his arms and plopped you down on the armrest of Remus’ chair, and disappeared from sight to a secluded corner of the common room.

“What in Merlin’s name just happened?” Sirius mused out loud, exchanging bemused glances with James who plopped down beside him.

“Oh, I’m sure it was nothing good.” Remus smiled through his words as he freed one of his hands to scratch under your chin, causing you to purr and brush your feline body closer to his arm. Sirius would be remiss if he didn’t think the sight of pure love between you two wasn’t adorable, but to hells if he would admit it before you two reached a truce.

Your purring was interrupted as you let out a soft prrt! for seemingly no apparent reason, and reached up to give Remus’ cheek a soft cat kiss – that made the boy’s face crinkle into a smile – before jumping down onto the floor. There, Sirius saw the reason for your joy and felt his heart drop in his chest.

“Oh, hi, Shadow,” Remus greeted the black cat that made a beeline for you on the floor, brushing his body against yours with soft purrs. “Come to join in on your brother’s torment?”

“Absolutely not–” Sirius started, but before he could get up and out of his seat, both cats had jumped up onto his legs and made their way to his lap. “What are you guys doing? Get off?!”

James was giggling once more beside him and Sirius had half a mind to throw the cats at him and run away. Though, he was beginning to doubt whether he would be able to as he saw the determination in Regulus’ eyes.

“I believe they’re making you eat your words, love.” The smile in Remus’ voice was so evident that had he not been as handsome as he was, Sirius would have smacked him.

His arms were frozen at his sides, hands hovering in the air, unsure of where to go as he watched the two cats settle down in his lap in horror. Your bodies were horizontal with his and flush against each other’s, becoming liquid in the cuddle puddle you were currently creating.

Sirius tried hissing at you to no avail as Regulus only slapped him with his paw in response. He tried shifting slightly to push you off, but you buried your claws through the fabric of his trousers – Sirius would give Remus a run for his money as the scarred one of the group after you were finished with him. He tried looking to James and Remus for help, but neither boy were willing as they took far too much enjoyment in the show. Remus at least pretended not to as he “read”, but James was fully angled towards him to see the events unfold, shoulders shaking with mirth.

A sigh escaped Sirius as he accepted his fate. “I hate you lot,” he said decisively. “Each and every one of you.”

Regulus made a noise that sounded like it was in disagreement with his statement while Remus just hummed. James nodded his head as if to say “fair”.

You, however, picked your head up from where it was resting over Regulus’ and just stared at Sirius. Usually he felt like he could read you quite well in feline form, which he assumed was due to some skills of Padfoot’s transferring over, but right now you were impossible to understand. You held his gaze head on, almost as if you were studying him, but your breaths were coming so slowly you had to be calm, right? Though this forced proximity was clearly a form of punishment, you were growing comfortable. Was he forgiven?

His train of thought was interrupted as the staring competition you had for a few seconds was interrupted – by you blinking. Slowly. Keeping your gaze on him but fully closing your eyes intermittently.

A slow grin spread across Sirius’ face.

He didn’t know a lot about cats and he principally disliked them. But he did know what that meant.

“Yeah, yeah, princess,” he mumbled as his cheeks almost grew a bit red. “You too.”

148 notes · View notes

seneon · 7 hours ago

Text

INTERTWINED GAZES ──── katsuki bakugo

about. in which, everybody's watching her, but she only has eyes for him. romantic fluff. wc of 700+

notes. inspired by "this is what you came for" by calvin & rihanna. okay maybe katsuki is interesting to write too... forrr @seumyo aka katsuki's girl and @angeliicheartt my pooki

you took a trip down to a memory lane ingrained and portrayed with the best moments in your life back in UA. it all started with the very first step you took into hero class 1A, and it all travels to your final year in 3A.

it has been a journey. to grow in your quirk and to grow in your friendship with your classmates. for whatever reason, your love for katsuki seems to grow as it has with the other aspects that bring your whole life up.

now you're standing amongst all the other future heroes who danced and reveled in the pool of their sweet graduation. the bass of the party song finds a funny comfort at the back of your ears as the colourful lights run around in every direction, painting your skin whatever hue the light shines.

the emcee announces for a time where the next song will be the momentary dopamine boost for the students, a dance with a partner. by now, most of the students have their own partner. you can tell, they've grown on each other. they've fallen in love. they've locked their fates together.

not that you aren't a fan of romance, but the eyes of every other student that darts to you right after the implication of a partner dance has your eyes locked onto one boy, and only him.

every soul is watching you, but you're looking at katsuki. dear sweet katsuki who stands at one corner with a fruit punch in one hand, and his other hand stuffed into his pockets. he takes a sip of his drink before his scarlet eyes shoot to your direction and he freezes.

katsuki freezes because the girl he's always admiring from afar is looking at him. she's on the dance floor with so many other boys, but her sights are set on katsuki.

your heart starts to speed up as your hands are gently pushed against your chest to stop the rapid beating. even under the blaring colourful lights and the music that is almost ending, you looked like the ultimate beauty to katsuki. even though your eyes are taken off from him, his gaze is still fixed onto yours.

“dance with her,” midoriya breaks katsuki out of his trance and glances at his friend who shot him a smile. “you’ll never have this chance again, kacchan.”

midoriya’s words seemed to puncture some sort of idea in his mind. katsuki walks towards you, pushing his way through the crowd while setting his drinks aside so he could tap on your shoulders to get your attention.

when you looked at him, he lost all his confidence. it's all because in this moment, he feels so vulnerable under your gaze. your eyes that hold some kind of beauty in them and they see through all the imperfections of katsuki.

and though there are many people special to him, you are the only soul who can touch his cool heart with your warm smile that surfaces.

“i want to dance with you,” the blond blurts out with a murmur, the colour of roses painting his cheeks and you couldn't help but feel your blush own deepening. “i’ll dance with you, katsuki.”

everything was so sweet. the way his hands held yours so gently, a monstrous contrast to how aggressive he usually is. his touch is so warm and it has you falling in love all over again with this boy. you had your first dance with the first boy you liked.

and when you look back at it, you've always wondered why it took three years for you to confess your love to katsuki. you still wonder until now, years after the graduation party where you're now a pro hero, just a few ranks under katsuki.

“are you looking at our graduation picture again?” the voice of your husband asks as you pull your gaze off from the photo album and nod at katsuki who takes off his costume gears.

“it was on this date where you asked me to dance with you, and we ended up confessing to each other,” you said as he walked over to you sitting on the couch and gave your cheek a peck.

“of course. i still remember."

katsuki will never forget about it. because if a genie grants him a wish, it will be for him to ask you to dance with him over and over again.

#﹙🗝️ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐰𝐫𝖎𝐭𝖎𝐧𝐠﹚#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou

119 notes · View notes

meazalykov · 10 hours ago

Text

the call

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

summary: the best day of your life turns into the worst

warnings: made up champions league results, angst, mentions of suicide!!!, death, mentions of depression, sibling loss, grief, ends with acceptance, this is fictional but please be warned before reading.

the roar of the stadium is deafening, the energy screaming through your entire body as the champions league final reaches its climax.

the evening lights above you are blinding, but you barely notice them. you barely notice anything except the ball at your feet and the defenders swarming in. your heart pounds, and your legs burn from the intensity of the game, but you’ve never felt more alive.

this is the moment you’ve dreamed of since you first laced up a pair of cleats. the moment that feels almost surreal, like you’re floating above the pitch, watching it all unfold.

bayern is facing chelsea in lisbon, and it’s been a grueling ninety minutes, plus extra time. 2-2 on the scoreboard, with only seconds left.

the final, the biggest game of your life, and everything rests on this moment.

your mind races. the game is balanced on a knife's edge, and you know that one moment could change everything. one goal could make or break your dream of lifting the trophy.

you’ve won the champions league before with lyon, but that was during a loan season you had with your last club. now, you hope to win the champions league with the club that has become your life. it gave you your love for football back, and it gave you the love of your life— lena.

you glance toward the sideline, where lena is warming up, ready to come on. she’s been out for months—acl and mcl surgery had taken her off the field for nearly a year, but she’s back.

today is only her second game since her return, and she’s been waiting for her moment again after getting the olympics taken away from her last summer..

the fourth official holds up the board for stoppage time as lena’s number flashes to replace pernille.

she jogs onto the pitch, subbed in for the last few minutes of the match, and despite everything, your heart skips a beat seeing her out there. she’s worked so hard to get here, and you’ve been by her side through all of it.

“let’s go,” she says as she passes you on the pitch, her voice filled with determination as she oats your shoulder. you nod, giving her a quick glance, the silent understanding between you both unspoken but clear.

the clock ticks into the 90th minute. chelsea pushes forward, looking for the winner, but bayern’s defense holds strong. you can feel the weight of the match pressing down on you as every second passes, the noise of the crowd swirling around you.

it’s chaos, and yet somehow, amidst it all, there’s clarity.

two minutes later, the ball is cleared out of the bayern box, and it falls to lena just outside the center circle. she controls it beautifully, despite the pressure, her eyes scanning the field. you see her look up, searching for you, and you know what’s coming. you sprint forward, weaving between chelsea defenders, creating the space you need.

your german girlfriend passes the ball up to you, her pass perfectly timed, splitting chelsea’s defense wide open. it’s as if time slows down, the noise of the crowd fading away until all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. you know exactly what you need to do.

this is instinct, muscle memory, all those hours of practice boiling down to a single strike.

with a quick glance at the goal, you see the opening. the chelsea keeper has shifted just slightly to her left, leaving a narrow space at the top right corner. without hesitation, you take the shot.

the ball leaves your foot with precision, spinning just right, and everything speeds up again. the roar of the crowd comes crashing back as the ball sails past the keeper’s outstretched fingers and buries itself in the back of the net.

goal!

for a moment, you’re frozen, unable to process what you’ve just done. then it hits you all at once. you’ve scored. in the champions league final. in the 92nd minute.

your teammates swarm you in seconds after you sprint to the corner of the pitch. you didn’t care about the yellow card you’re receiving by taking off your bayern jersey in celebration, something similar to what alexia putellas did in the last champions league final.

your teammates arms pull you into a tight embrace as you drop to your knees, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions.

joy, relief, disbelief—all of it crashes over you like a tidal wave. lena’s the first to reach you, her arms wrapping around you tightly, lifting you off the ground as she spins you around, her laughter mixing with yours.

“you fucking did it!” she shouts over the deafening noise of the crowd, her grin wide as she pulls back to look at you. her eyes are shining with pride and love, and for a brief moment, everything in the world is perfect.

you barely hear the final whistle over the chaos, but you feel it—the way your teammates explode with joy, the way the fans in the stands scream and chant your name.

bayern is champions. you’ve done it. you’ve helped your team lift the most prestigious trophy in european football.

as the confetti rains down, you stand in the center of it all, your heart still racing, trying to soak in every second of the celebration. your teammates are all around you, cheering, hugging, lifting the trophy.

your eyes scan the crowd, searching for something—or rather, someone.

your family.

you’d hoped—against all odds—that maybe, somehow, they’d made it. you’d imagined seeing their faces in the stands, cheering you on, sharing in this once-in-a-lifetime moment. but as your eyes search the sea of faces, there’s no one familiar.

no one from home.

you knew it was a long shot. they’re back in america, living their lives. it’s a long flight, and they’d have to take time off work, rearrange everything just to be here. but still, a part of you had hoped they would come. had hoped they’d make this a priority.

the ache in your chest grows as you realize they didn’t. they didn’t come.

you try to push the disappointment away, focusing on the celebrations, on the fact that you’ve just won the champions league. this should be the happiest moment of your life. you should be on top of the world.

there’s a small, nagging emptiness that you can’t shake. the one thing you wanted, more than anything else, was to see your family here, in the stands, sharing this with you.

you take a deep breath, plastering a smile on your face as you turn back to the celebrations. you’ll deal with this later. you’ll process it when the confetti’s gone and the lights are dim.

lena’s family, though, is here. her parents, her siblings—they’ve made the trip, and they’re in the stands now, cheering and waving, just as excited as the bayern fans. as you make your way over to them, lena beside you, her hand warm in yours, her family’s faces light up. her mom is the first to reach out, pulling you into a tight hug.

“y/n! oh my god, you were amazing!” her mom gushes, her arms squeezing you so tight you almost can’t breathe.

“thank you,” you manage, smiling as you hug her back.

“i’m just so glad we won!”

“we’re so proud of you,” her dad says, clapping you on the shoulder with a grin.

“that goal—you had us on the edge of our seats!”

“you’re like a third daughter to me,” her mom continues, pulling back to look at you, her eyes warm.

“we love you, and we couldn’t be prouder.”

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as their words sink in. they mean it. they really do. you’re part of their family, and in this moment, they’ve made you feel like you belong here.

no matter how much love they show you, no matter how much they treat you as one of their own, the absence of your own family still lingers like a shadow over the night.

“thank you,” you say again, your voice a little quieter this time.

you stay with them for a while longer, lena’s arm around your waist, her thumb tracing soft circles on your hip. she knows. she always knows when something’s bothering you, even if you don’t say it.

for now, she lets you have your moment with her family, understanding that you need this, that you need to feel like you belong somewhere tonight.

eventually, the celebrations wind down, and the exhaustion of the day starts to settle into your bones. the adrenaline begins to fade, leaving you drained, physically and emotionally. all you want is to get back to the hotel with lena, collapse into bed, and let the day finally sink in.

“ready to go?” lena asks, her hand still in yours as you both start making your way toward the exit.

“yeah,” you sigh, glancing around one last time at the stadium.

“let’s go.”

just as you reach the lobby, your coach approaches you, his face serious in a way that immediately sets off alarm bells in your mind.

“y/n,” he says quietly, his tone careful, like he’s trying to brace you for something.

“can i talk to you for a minute?”

you glance at lena, confusion and concern flashing across her face as she looks back at you. you nod at her, squeezing her hand before letting go.

“i’ll be right back,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

you’re nervous. you scored the goal needed to win the champions league final. was alex going to tell you that you made a mistake? was he going to tell you that bayern isn’t renewing their contract with you? you know that's not possible, you already agreed to a three year extension.

following your coach to a quiet corner of the lobby, your heart starts to race again. this time, it’s not from the excitement of the game. something’s wrong. you can feel it.

“what’s going on?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours before he finally speaks.

“there’s been an emergency,” he says, his voice low, almost apologetic. “back home with your family.”

your stomach drops. the room feels like it’s closing in around you, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

“what kind of emergency?” you ask, your voice shaking now.

he pauses again, and you know—before he even says the words—you know.

“it’s your younger sister,” he says softly.

“according to your agent– she… she passed away.”

you feel like the floor has dropped out from under you. everything around you blurs, the world spinning as your brain struggles to process the words. your sister. passed away.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head as if that will make it untrue.

“no, that can’t be right.”

“i’m so sorry, y/n,” your coach says, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“i have to tell you before you find out from anyone else by following bayern’s protocol– your sister passed away from suicide.”

the word hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except stand there, frozen in place as the reality of what he’s just said crashes over you.

suicide.

your sister is gone.

“no…” the word leaves your lips in a broken sob as you crumble, your legs giving out beneath you. your coach catches you, helping you to sit on a nearby bench, but you barely feel his hands on your shoulders. you barely feel anything at all.

how can this be real? how can she be gone?

you don’t know how long you sit there, numb, before lena is suddenly by your side, her arms wrapping around you, her voice soft in your ear.

“oh my god, y/n,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

“i’m so sorry, baby. i’m so, so sorry.”

you cling to her, your tears soaking into her shirt as the sobs wrack your body. your mind is spinning, grief and disbelief tearing through you like a storm.

your mind didn’t allow you to deny it. your younger sister suffered from depression for a long time.

the weight of your coach’s words crashes down on you like a wave, pulling you under, suffocating you. your younger sister, gone. the word “suicide” echoes in your mind, each syllable like a knife cutting deeper and deeper into your chest.

your entire body feels numb, but your heart is racing, your mind spinning out of control as you try to grasp the reality of what you’ve just been told.

lena’s arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as you break down, but even her warmth can’t reach the depth of the hollow ache that’s taken over your chest. it’s all too much. the best night of your life—scoring the equalizer in the champions league final—has been shattered into the worst nightmare you could have ever imagined.

your sister. your baby sister.

“no,” you whisper, the word barely audible as the sobs start to break through your chest.

“this can’t be real. this can’t be happening.”

lena doesn’t say anything, her hand running through your hair, holding you as you crumble into her.

“i’m so sorry,” she whispers softly, her voice breaking.

“i have to go home,” you choke out between sobs, the words thick in your throat.

“i need to go home. i have to… i have to be with my family.”

“i’m coming with you,” lena says, her voice firm but gentle.

“no,” you protest, shaking your head weakly.

“you need to stay. this is your career, you’re coming back from nearly a year long injury, i can handle this on my own.”

you don’t even believe yourself. you don’t know how you’re going to handle this, how you’ll survive the tidal wave of grief that’s already threatening to drown you. still, you try to fight it, the guilt in your chest whispering that you don’t deserve her support right now.

“y/n,” lena says, cupping your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze. her eyes are red with unshed tears, but there’s a fierce determination in them.

“you’re not going through this alone. i’m coming with you. end of discussion.”

you want to argue, but you can’t. the grief is too heavy, the shock too deep. you nod, collapsing back into her embrace, because you don’t have the strength to push her away.

the next few days blur together. the long, silent flight back to america, the weight of every message from your family, the funeral plans, the condolences pouring in from people who don’t know the depth of your pain. nothing makes sense.

it’s as if the world has stopped spinning, and you’re left standing in the wreckage, trying to make sense of it all.

when you finally arrive at your family home, your older sister is the one waiting for you. the moment you see her, the dam inside you breaks all over again. her face is pale, her eyes hollow, and you can see the weight of grief on her shoulders, but there’s something more there—something you don’t want to acknowledge yet.

“y/n,” she whispers as she pulls you into a tight embrace, her body shaking against yours.

“god, i’m so sorry you had to find out the way that you did.”

“what happened?” you ask, your voice cracking as you pull back to look at her. you haven’t been able to bring yourself to ask this yet—too scared of the answers. but now, standing in front of her, you need to know.

being the middle child, you had your older sister to lean onto. your brain doesn’t want to believe that its just the two of you now, not three.

your older sister hesitates, her eyes filling with tears as she struggles to find the words. she swallows hard, and you can tell she’s been trying to hold it together for everyone else, but now, in front of you, she’s breaking.

“i found her,” she says softly, her voice trembling.

“i was the one who found her, y/n.”

the words hit you like a freight train, your legs almost giving out beneath you. your older sister. the one who always tried to protect you both. she was the one who walked into that room. you can’t even imagine the horror of it, the moment she saw your baby sister like that.

“how?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, though you’re not sure you really want to hear the answer.

your sister takes a deep, shaky breath.

“she… she poisoned herself in her bedroom. the bottles were everywhere. i-i was supposed to meet her for lunch. when she didn’t answer, i went over, and…”

her voice cracks, and the sobs finally break through. you reach out to her, but your hands are shaking so much that you don’t know if you’re comforting her or yourself. the guilt presses down on your chest like a thousand-pound weight, suffocating you.

“we didn’t know she was hurting like this,” your sister continues, her voice thick with tears.

“we thought she was getting better. she didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want us to worry. but, y/n… the note said it because of soccer– because of her injury.”

her words stop you cold. “soccer?”

your sister nods, tears streaming down her face.

“she couldn’t make it. she didn’t get the contracts due to her spine. she thought she wasn’t good enough. she thought she was a failure.”

the guilt hits you harder than anything you’ve ever felt before, crushing you under its weight. you suddenly felt like your success, your career—everything you’ve worked for—had been killing her.

you were living her dream, and it had destroyed her. the very thing that had made your life complete had shattered hers.

“this is my fault,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out.

“i should have known. i should have… i should have been there.”

“no,” your sister says quickly, shaking her head, her hands gripping your arms.

“it’s not your fault, y/n. you couldn’t have known.”

you can’t hear her. you can’t hear anything over the roar of guilt and grief pounding in your ears. your baby sister had been suffering, and you hadn’t seen it. she had felt like she wasn’t enough, like she was a failure because she didn’t make it in soccer, and you had been too focused on your own career to notice her pain.

“she told me once,” your sister continues, her voice trembling,

“that she wished she could be as good as you. that she wished she could make it, too. she didn’t blame you once, y/n. she was just struggling. she didn’t want to burden anyone with how bad it had gotten.”

the words twist the knife in your chest. you should have noticed. you should have known. how could you have missed it? how could you have let her feel so alone in her pain?

“i was too focused on myself,” you whisper, the tears spilling down your cheeks as the realization crashes over you.

“i was too focused on my career, on making it, and i didn’t see that she needed me while I moved to france then germany. i didn’t see how much she was hurting.”

“y/n, stop,” your sister says, her voice desperate as she pulls you into another hug.

“you can’t blame yourself. this isn’t your fault.”

you do. how can you not? you were the one living her dream. you were the one playing at the top, while she struggled to find her place after injuring her spine. how can you not feel like you were the reason she’s gone?

the funeral feels like a blur. you stand by your sister’s grave, lena at your side, her hand gripping yours tightly as they lower the casket into the ground.

this was final. her death was final. there she will lay until the end of time.

the sobs choke you, but no matter how many tears you shed, it doesn’t feel like it will ever be enough to ease the guilt gnawing away at you.

“i should’ve been there for her,” you whisper to lena, your voice barely audible as you stare at the grave.

“i should’ve seen the signs.”

lena wraps her arms around you, pulling you into her warmth, but even that can’t break through the storm of grief.

“you couldn’t have known, y/n. she didn’t let anyone in.”

“i was supposed to protect her,” you say, your voice cracking as the tears spill down your face again.

“i was her big sister. she looked up to me, and i wasn’t there when she needed me.”

lena holds you tighter, her voice soft in your ear.

“you can’t carry that weight, love. you didn’t know.”

you do carry it. the guilt settles deep in your bones, a constant reminder that while you were out there living your dream, your sister was suffering in silence. the pain of it tears through you like a storm, and no matter how many people tell you it’s not your fault, you can’t shake the feeling that you should’ve done more.

three months after the funeral, the international break comes sooner than you expected. after a tough preseason and the emotional turmoil of the past few months, you’re finally called up to represent your country again, this time in the united states.

lena, too, gets the call for germany, her first time back with the national team since her acl and mcl injuries. it’s a bittersweet feeling—being away from her after spending all that time together, healing both physically and emotionally.

your girlfriend might have the chance to play in the 2025 euros, and you're so proud of her. honestly, you hope that you'll be able to watch her play and reach the final again-- this time winning.

you know how important this is for her. she needs this. she needs her space to shine again, to remind herself that she’s still capable of greatness.

"i’ll miss you, but you need this,” you tell her before leaving, cupping her face in your hands.

"just take care of that knee, okay?"

lena smiles, her hand gently covering yours.

“i will. and you better score some goals while i’m gone.”

you both laugh, though there’s a tinge of sadness underneath. as much as you’ve leaned on her through your grief, you’re learning to stand on your own again. so, you board the plane to the states, knowing this break will be good for both of you.

it’s strange, being back in america. the last time you were here, it was for your sister’s funeral. this time, it’s different. this time, you’re playing for something—something that feels bigger than you.

your heart pounds as you step onto the miami pitch for the match against australia, the lights of the stadium casting long shadows over the grass.

you can feel the weight of your sister’s absence, but in a way, it also feels like she’s there with you, watching from somewhere far beyond. well, if you believe in that of course.

the match against australia is high-energy, with the crowd cheering from the first whistle. you’ve been waiting for this moment—an opportunity to step onto the field again, to do what you love.

today, there’s something different about the way you play. today, every step, every touch of the ball is charged with emotion, with memories of your sister.

in some ways, you're playing more aggressively than usual. this might be a way for you to physically take some of the pain away.

your passes are sharp and harsh, but not sloppy. in fact, they're accurate and perfect. a 100% pass rate on the charts.

early in the first half, the game is still scoreless. you’re playing in the midfield, controlling the pace, looking for openings.

in the 20th minute, you spot one—a quick exchange with mallory and suddenly you’re in space. you sprint down the left side, cutting inside to avoid australia’s defenders.

the ball comes back to your feet just outside the box. without hesitating, you take a powerful shot before ellie had the chance to stop you. the ball curls past the keeper into the top right corner of the net.

it’s a beautiful strike, clean and precise. the crowd erupts, you feel the rush of exhilaration, but your mind is elsewhere.

you raise both your hands as you reach the corner of the pitch, pointing to the sky. your other hand goes to your ear, like you’re holding a phone, like you’re calling her.

you hope she’s listening. the gesture is for your sister, the first goal of the game dedicated to her.

the tears in your eyes wanted to fall, but they didn't. your teammates surrounded you in hugs and you took that moment to wipe your eyes from the public as your friends gave you praises.

everyone knew about your sister's death. people who went to your sister's college and witnessed the spinal injury that led to her downfall were hurt by the news.

the whole community was grieving, and everyone wanted to find peace with it.

as the match goes on, you feel that familiar rhythm settle in. by the second half, your team is up 1-0, but you’re still hungry for more.

in the 58th minute, the opportunity comes again. you’re in the box this time, just off a corner kick. the ball is bouncing around in the chaos, defenders scrambling to clear it, but it lands at your feet. with a quick flick, you volley it toward the goal. the keeper dives, but it’s too late—the ball slips under her arm and into the net. your second goal of the match.

you look at sam coffey-- the closest teammate to you. you hug her and the rest of the teammates who run up to you, happy to see you thriving in such a hard time.

after everyone goes back to their positions, breaking the group hug, you look at the cameras and hold up the number six. one finger on your left hand and all five fingers with your right hand.

your younger sister’s number before she was forced to stop playing.

the fans noticed that every goal is for her, for your sister who can’t be here to see you play. you hope she’s watching. you hope she knows how much you miss her.

the third goal comes in the 85th minute. you’re tired now, the heat of the match wearing you down, but you push through, determined to finish strong.

emma asked if you needed a break from the pitch, but you tell her no. you needed this.

the ball comes to you on a fast break, your team surging forward after a clearance. you sprint down the center, your heart pounding in your chest, the crowd’s roar fueling you. just as you reach the edge of the box, you receive a perfect pass from emily. you take one touch, then another, before sliding the ball past the onrushing keeper and into the bottom left corner.

hat trick.

the stadium erupts, your teammates rush toward you, but once again, your celebration is quiet.

you point to the sky, your hand pressed to your ear like you’re making that call again, the one you’ll never get to make.

your sister should be here. she should be watching this-- no.. she should be playing with you now, living this with you.

instead, all you have are these moments, these gestures that feel like whispers into the void.

after the game, when the final whistle blows and your team celebrates the 3-0 victory over australia, you’re pulled aside for an interview.

the camera’s on you, the reporter asking about your performance, about your goals, and for the first time, you decide to speak openly about your sister.

“i’ve been playing with her on my mind,” you say, your voice steady but heavy with emotion.

“my sister… she loved football more than anyone i’ve ever known. she was determined, sweet, and had the best sense of humor. she made everyone laugh. i’ve been playing for her, trying to honor her in any way i can.”

you don’t cry during the interview, but your chest aches. it’s clear to anyone watching how deeply you miss her, how much you wish she could be here. the reporter doesn’t press for more, understanding the weight of what you’ve shared, and you’re grateful for that.

it feels like a release, finally speaking her name, telling the world what she meant to you.

later that night, back at the hotel, your phone rings. it’s lena. she’s calling from germany, where it’s 5:30 a.m. while it’s only 11:30 p.m. for you in the states. you know she’s probably exhausted after germany’s game against norway, but you answer, grateful to hear her voice.

“hey,” lena says, her voice soft, tired but filled with warmth.

“i saw your game. a hat trick, huh?”

you smile, leaning back against the pillows. “yeah. it felt good. i… i dedicated them to her. i talked about her in the interview.”

there’s a pause on the other end, and you can hear lena’s breathing, steady and comforting.

“i’m so proud of you, y/n. i know she would be too.”

“i think so,” you say quietly, your chest tight with emotion.

“i’m okay, lena. i feel okay.”

you can hear the relief in her voice when she replies,

“i’m glad. i wish i could be there with you.”

“soon,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“we’ll be together soon.”

after the international break, you return to germany, ready to play for bayern once again. something feels different now. there’s still grief, still moments when the weight of your sister’s absence threatens to pull you under, but there’s also a sense of peace.

acceptance.

you’re learning to live with the loss, to carry her memory with you in a way that feels lighter, more bearable.

when you return to germany, stepping off the plane and feeling the familiar chill of the air, you can sense that something inside you has shifted. it’s subtle, not a sudden transformation, but a quiet understanding that the weight you’ve been carrying has begun to ease.

you still miss your sister. you will always miss her.

after the international break, after scoring that hat trick and speaking about her for the first time publicly, there’s a sense of release, a small spark of acceptance beginning to form.

it doesn’t come all at once. when you arrive back at bayern’s training ground, the routine feels both comforting and daunting. the familiar faces of your teammates greet you, their smiles and hugs filled with warmth. some of them had seen your interview after the australia game. they know what you’ve been going through, at least on some level.

they don’t push you to talk, but their quiet support is always there, whether it’s in a gentle hand on your back after a tough drill or a knowing glance across the field.

training is tough—intense, even. the season is approaching fast, and the pressure to perform is ever-present. but for the first time in a long while, you feel more connected to the game, more present in your body, and less haunted by the thoughts that used to cloud your every move on the pitch.

you start to find joy in playing again, not just as an escape, but as a way to honor your sister. every pass, every shot, every tackle feels like a small tribute to her, a way of keeping her close without letting the grief consume you.

there are still hard days. days when you wake up and the weight of her absence presses down on you before you even step out of bed. you think about how much she loved football, how it was her dream to be where you are now, and that familiar guilt creeps back in.

lena is there, always grounding you, reminding you that your sister would want you to keep going, to keep playing, to live the life she couldn’t.

on one of those hard days, you’re at the training ground, going through drills, and your mind wanders. you think about her injury—how it wasn’t just a setback but the end of her dream. a spinal injury, something so unexpected, so final.

she never had a chance to recover, never had a chance to fight for her place like you’ve been able to. she was so young, 19 years old– and it was taken from her, just like that. and then, when the depression set in, it wasn’t just the injury anymore—it was the loss of everything she had ever wanted.

the loss of her future.

you push through the drills, the sweat dripping down your face as you try to focus on the here and now. it’s hard. your thoughts are swirling, and you can feel the familiar tightness in your chest, the way grief sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

after training, you sit alone on the bench, staring out at the pitch, lost in thought. the sun is setting, casting long shadows across the field, and for a moment, you let yourself sit with the grief.

you don’t push it away this time. you let it wash over you, feeling the sadness, the guilt, the love you had for your sister. but there’s something else there too—a quiet acceptance. a small voice inside you that whispers, “she’s not suffering anymore.”

it’s that thought that brings you peace, however fleeting. you know your sister struggled, that her depression was a battle she couldn’t win. as much as you wish you could’ve done more, could’ve been there for her in ways you weren’t, you also know that her pain is over now.

she’s at peace, even if you’re still finding your way through the aftermath.

lena finds you on the bench later that evening, after most of the team has left. she sits beside you without saying anything for a long time, just her presence beside you, solid and comforting. eventually, she speaks, her voice soft in the quiet of the evening.

“you’ve been different since the break,” she says, her eyes watching the last bit of daylight disappear behind the trees.

“stronger, in a way.”

you nod, not sure how to put everything into words. “i think… i think i’m starting to accept it,” you say, your voice quiet but steady.

“i’m never going to stop missing her, but i can’t let it break me anymore. she wouldn’t want that.”

lena reaches for your hand, her fingers lacing with yours.

“no, she wouldn’t. she’d want you to live, y/n. to play. to be happy.”

the next few weeks pass in a blur of preparation for the season. as the first matches approach, you throw yourself into your training, focusing on your fitness, your sharpness, everything you need to be at your best.

as the days go by, you start to feel more like yourself again. not the version of you before your sister’s death—that person is gone, changed by the grief and loss—but a new version of yourself.

someone who carries the weight of that loss but also the strength that comes with surviving it.

before the season opener, you have a moment alone in the locker room, lacing up your boots and staring down at the bayern crest on your jersey. the nerves are there, the familiar pre-game tension, but there’s something else too—a quiet determination.

this season is going to be different. not because you’re trying to outrun your grief, but because you’re choosing to carry it with you, to let it fuel you, to let it remind you of the love you had for your sister.

when you step onto the pitch for the first game, the crowd roars, and the energy in the stadium is electric. you feel it in your chest, the adrenaline, the excitement, but also the weight of everything you’ve been through.

the game begins, and as soon as the ball is at your feet, it’s like muscle memory. you’re back in your element, weaving through defenders, finding your teammates, playing the game you love.

you’re not playing for anyone else now, not for the expectations or the pressure. you’re playing for her. for the sister who loved football more than you ever could, who would’ve given anything to be in your shoes.

and for the first time in a long while, it feels right.

as the season progresses, you find yourself healing, little by little. there are still moments when the grief hits hard, when the memories sneak up on you, but you’ve learned how to live with it. you’ve learned how to carry it without letting it crush you.

you and lena spend more quiet evenings together, just talking, reflecting, or sometimes sitting in comfortable silence. she’s been your anchor through all of this, and you know that you couldn’t have made it through without her.

one night, after a particularly tough match, you’re both lying in bed, the exhaustion from the game settling into your bones. lena is tracing lazy patterns on your back, her touch soothing, grounding.

“do you think she’s proud of you?” lena asks quietly, her voice soft in the dim light of the room.

you think about it for a moment, feeling the familiar ache in your chest, but this time, it’s not as sharp. it’s bittersweet, but it’s bearable.

“yeah,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i think she is.”

you close your eyes, lena’s warmth beside you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace.

authors note: please inbox me if you're ever struggling or need someone to talk to. you're loved, I love you, and the world is a better place with you here in it.

masterlist

#lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen

84 notes · View notes

goblin-jr · 15 hours ago

Text

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

part 4 of 12

Synopsis: New feelings emerge the annual obx bonfire, and maybe rafe makes sense sometimes?

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

---

The beach was alive with energy. Shadows danced across the sand as the bonfire crackled, its flames licking up into the night sky. Music pulsed from a speaker someone had dragged down, a beat that felt like the heartbeat of the entire crowd. It was packed, Kooks and Pogues alike coming together under the shared, unspoken Outer Banks tradition: that bonfires were for everyone. Tonight, social status was checked at the edge of the sand, and the air buzzed with freedom.

Y/N took it all in, smiling as she watched the chaos around her. To her left, Pope was pulling a face as he choked down a swig of the lukewarm beer they’d snagged from an abandoned cooler, and on her right, Kiara was doubling over in laughter as JJ finished off the remains of a sloppy keg stand, his grin as wide as it was reckless.

“Twenty seconds! That’s a record!” Kiara declared, raising her cup as JJ landed, somewhat unsteadily, on his feet. He leaned on Pope, pretending to stagger for effect.

“Twenty-five seconds if you count style points,” JJ retorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And that was a world-class dismount.”

“World-class dismount?” Pope scoffed, though he couldn’t hold back a grin. “That was barely even a landing.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, joining in with the rest of them. This was her crew—her people. Moments like this reminded her that these were more than just friends; they were family. They shared everything, from scraps to secrets, and it felt easy, right. Here, she didn’t have to be anything but herself.

The group continued to cheer JJ on, tossing him mock praises while he bowed with exaggerated flair. Then he shot a challenging look over at Pope. “Think you can beat that, Pope? Or is Mr. Honour Student scared to take on the keg?”

Pope rolled his eyes, but Y/N could see the glint of competitiveness sparking behind his usual calm. “Step aside, amateurs,” he said, striding toward the keg. “Prepare to witness a true display of keg-standing grace.”

Kiara snorted. “Yeah, you’ll need all the grace you can get to beat JJ’s ‘world-class dismount.’”

Y/N watched as Pope set himself up, bracing his hands on the keg while JJ and Kiara took hold of his legs. The group counted down as Pope lifted up, holding his own surprisingly well. JJ and Kiara kept the playful jeers coming, while Y/N joined in with cheers, laughing so hard her sides hurt. When Pope finally came down, he shook his head with mock disgust at the crowd’s over-the-top applause.

The group quickly settled into their usual rhythm, passing around drinks, teasing each other, and laughing so loudly they drew a few curious glances from the others around the bonfire. Kiara passed Y/N a drink, winking as if sharing a secret. Y/N took a sip, enjoying the taste of freedom mixed with the slight saltiness of the ocean breeze.

Then, as the night continued, something shifted. It was subtle at first, a glance, a small change in the atmosphere. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N noticed a figure entering the firelight, carrying herself with an effortless confidence. Sarah Cameron, arriving with her own Kook crowd. She seemed to glide through the sand, her friends moving aside to let her through as if they’d choreographed the whole thing.

Y/N watched her for a second, noticing how, even among the crowd, Sarah looked almost… untouchable. There was something magnetic about her, even if Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. She glanced around, curious if anyone else had noticed, and saw John B watching Sarah with a look that wasn’t just casual curiosity. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with her as she passed, the kind of look that felt more like a question than a glance.

The thing was, John B hadn’t looked away right away. And Sarah, too, held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before giving him a small, unreadable smile and moving on.

Y/N felt a small flutter of curiosity, but she quickly brushed it aside. It was probably nothing; John B was just noticing Sarah, like everyone else was. If he was intrigued by her, that was no surprise—everyone seemed to be.

She turned her attention back to the group, pushing aside any thoughts of Sarah Cameron and the strange little moment she’d witnessed. The Pogues were deep into some new joke, Pope recounting a mishap from a surf lesson he’d tried to give a tourist last summer, everyone laughing so hard they could hardly breathe.

It was all familiar, all part of their dynamic. But as Y/N looked around at them—JJ, leaning back with a confident grin; Kiara, always quick with a witty comeback; Pope, rolling his eyes good-naturedly—she felt a faint pang of something. A sense of being surrounded yet slightly apart. They were all laughing, all connected in a way she was part of but also… maybe not entirely. It was subtle, something she couldn’t quite name, but it was there.

–

The bonfire crackled on, casting warm, flickering shadows over everyone as laughter and stories echoed into the night. Y/N stretched her legs out on the soft sand, her eyes dancing over her friends as they chatted and laughed around her. The atmosphere was alive, a tangle of music, firelight, and easygoing conversations. She could almost forget the weight that had been following her around lately, the quiet sense that something was off.

JJ was in his usual element, animatedly telling a story about some wild, yet exaggerated, run-in with a tourist and a local cop. His hands flew through the air, mimicking the cop’s serious tone and his own escape from the situation. Everyone laughed, even Pope, who was the least likely to show much amusement.

“Bet you didn’t get off that easy, though!” Kiara teased, nudging JJ with her foot.

“I got off just fine, thank you,” JJ replied with a wink, his grin wide as he glanced over at the crowd. “And speaking of getting off, there’s a cute tourist over there who might need a tour guide tonight.” He gave a sly smile, turning his head toward a group of vacationers by the food table.

John B. shot JJ a mock glare from the other side of the fire, his voice loud over the chatter. “What is it with you and tourists, man? At this point, I’m just concerned for their safety.”

JJ laughed, throwing up his hands in defense. “I’m a professional. Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, right,” Pope chimed in, shaking his head as he passed around another beer. “JJ ‘Tour Guide’ Maybank at it again. Should we be concerned for our reputation?”

Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled. “Some things never change.”

As the teasing continued, Y/N joined in, her laughter light and genuine, but underneath it, something else simmered—a slight discomfort she couldn't quite shake. She watched JJ eye the tourist again, clearly sizing her up. It was nothing new, just JJ being... well, JJ. He’d always been carefree, always found someone to flirt with, to connect with, even if it was for one night.

But something about it hit a little harder tonight.

Pope leaned in, his voice intentionally loud, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “Hey, when are you gonna find someone to hook up with? You’re, like, the only one here who hasn’t.”

Y/N froze for a second, then forced a laugh. “I’m just… not in the mood for that stuff,” she said, not quite convincing herself. She could feel her friends' eyes on her, even as they all laughed it off.

“Yeah, Y/N,” JJ added without missing a beat, his smile wide and easy. “What, too busy reading books to bother with that stuff?” The words were lighthearted, thrown out with a laugh, but they landed heavier than he realized.

The group chuckled, but Y/N felt a slight tension building in her chest. It was a joke, sure, but it was the second time tonight that someone had mentioned her "lack of experience." As if it defined her in their eyes.

Kiara, sensing the slight shift in Y/N’s mood, leaned over and threw an arm around her. “You know we’re just messing with you, right? You’re one of us—don’t need anyone to complete you or whatever.”

But the words felt hollow, even though Y/N knew Kiara meant well. One of us. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. Y/N had always felt like she was one of the group—the sidekick, the buddy. But she didn't want to be just the "one of the guys" forever. She wanted to be seen differently. She wanted someone to notice her for more than her place in the group.

“Yeah, you’re our moral compass,” Pope added with a grin, raising his cup to her. “You keep us all on the straight and narrow, Y/N.”

She managed a strained smile, raising her own drink in response. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment… I think.” But the weight of their words, their easy camaraderie, left her feeling more like an outsider than ever.

But Y/N felt herself pulling further away, her smile fading just a little. The casual remark—that she was more like the friend who held everyone together, the one who didn’t need anything in return—only reinforced the space between them. She wasn’t the girl they saw in the same light as Kiara. She wasn’t the one who could be flirted with, or kissed in the heat of the moment. She was the one who watched. Who held the drinks, who laughed at the jokes.

The conversation shifted again, and Y/N, trying to mask her discomfort, found herself zoning out. She stared at the fire, the flames dancing in a rhythm that felt almost mocking in its carefree energy.

In the midst of her thoughts, she caught John B.’s gaze across the fire. He looked over at her, offering a quick smile before turning to say something to JJ. His presence—his casual nature, his place in the group—was a sharp reminder that, no matter how much time they spent together, she’d always be just a part of the background. He fit in effortlessly. He had a life outside the group, but when he was with them, he was fully there.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice how John B. had looked at Sarah when she arrived. It was subtle, but it was there. A shared glance. And maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a casual look, but it stung all the same.

She quickly averted her eyes, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of being left behind. It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t that she wanted to be the one to catch John B.’s attention. It was the realization that, in this group, there were parts of her that no one truly saw.

And that thought settled over her like a cold wave.

JJ’s voice broke through her thoughts, his casual tone making her even more aware of the gap she felt. “Well, Y/N’s too good for that stuff anyway. She’s more about, like, keeping her nose in a book or something. Definitely not the party girl type.”

She froze, the teasing jab landing a little too close to home. She could feel all eyes on her for a moment longer than was comfortable. Their laughter, Kiara’s reassuring arm around her shoulders, the lighthearted comments, all felt like they were circling around her, but not letting her in.

She needed air.

Standing quickly, Y/N excused herself, her voice tight. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked toward the shore, the cool night air brushing against her skin, and with every step, she felt more like a stranger to the group she had spent so many years with. She reached the water’s edge and stood there for a moment, staring out at the ocean, the rhythmic waves matching the turmoil inside her.

---

The bonfire crackled in the distance, the warmth and laughter of the group growing fainter as Y/N walked along the shore. Her steps felt heavy, her thoughts swirling with the aftertaste of the evening—the teasing, the offhand comments, the feeling of not quite fitting in. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been part of their jokes before, but tonight it was different.

She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much—the jokes about her never hooking up or not being like Kiara. It was just a night, after all. But it all piled up, and now, standing by herself in the cool night air, she couldn’t escape the way she felt. Invisible.

And then she heard footsteps approaching, the familiar sound of someone walking through the sand with a confident stride.

“Where are you going, bookworm?” Rafe’s voice came from behind her, the teasing tone clear even from a distance.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. “Really? You too?” she muttered under her breath, bracing herself for the onslaught of sarcasm. She turned to face him, arms crossed. “I thought we had a truce, Rafe. What do you want?”

Rafe, as usual, didn’t take her irritation seriously. His lips twitched with a mischievous grin, like he always knew how to push her buttons. “Truce? What truce? Come on, you can’t seriously be sulking out here by yourself. The night’s still young, and you’re out here playing emo beachside poetry.”

Y/N scoffed, feeling an odd mix of annoyance and amusement. “Really? Emo beachside poetry? You’re such a pain in the ass.”

Rafe shrugged, unaffected. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to keep you from brooding. So, what’s the deal? You’re just gonna sit out here while the rest of the world is having fun? You’re not exactly the type to pull a disappearing act.”

She stared at him for a beat, trying to figure out why his presence suddenly felt even more annoying than usual. “I’m not brooding,” she said, but her voice didn’t carry the same confidence. “I just needed a break.”

Rafe, sensing her discomfort but not exactly understanding the full extent of it, shrugged and stepped closer. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this, not when she was usually so steady and unbothered. But he couldn’t help himself—he was always itching to push people’s buttons, especially hers.

A long silence stretched between them. Rafe, for once, wasn’t sure what to say. His usual quips felt wrong in the heavy air, and he hesitated, a rare thing for him.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s the comments,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “About me not hooking up with anyone… or not being like Kiara.” She shook her head, trying to make light of it. “It’s just… it’s nothing, really.”

Rafe frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he took a step closer. “What are you talking about?” His voice was quieter now, less teasing and more concerned, though he was still doing his best to hide it.

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know. It just… it felt like they don’t see me the way I want to be seen. Like I’m just some ‘one of the guys’ kind of thing. Like I don’t matter the same way they all do.”

Rafe paused, letting the words sink in. His gaze softened for a moment, but his usual wall of sarcasm quickly came back up. “Is that it? You’re mad because you didn’t get the hookup attention?”

Y/N glared at him, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “That’s not the point, Rafe.”

He took a deep breath, visibly trying to process her words. He wasn’t great with emotions, especially when it came to the people closest to him, but he hated seeing her upset. And he hated not knowing how to help.

“I don’t get you, Y/N,” he said after a beat. “You’ve always been with them. Hell, they act like you’re one of them, one of the crew. And now you’re telling me you’re upset ‘cause you don’t get treated like some girl?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond right away. She could feel the frustration rising again, like a knot in her chest. She had tried to convince herself it didn’t matter. That she was fine with being one of the guys. But she wasn’t fine.

Rafe sighed, his voice softening just a little. “You know, I’ve never been big on feelings or whatever. But I don’t like seeing people hurt. And you... you don’t deserve to feel like that.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by his sudden shift. She hadn’t expected him to be this… serious. For a moment, she almost didn’t know what to say.

Rafe, still a little uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, tried to make light of it. “Look, I’ve always thought of you as one of the guys. I mean, you hang with them more than anyone, right? It’s like you’re part of the crew. But… now that I’m seeing this, it’s like, huh. Maybe there’s more to you than just being the ‘bookworm’ in the back.” His tone had a subtle softness to it, like he was trying to figure out something about her—and maybe himself, too.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. The words she had been holding in all night slipped out before she could stop them. “I—uh, I have a crush on JJ,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “I think I always have.”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Well, I can see that. JJ’s, uh... JJ. The golden boy, right?” He paused, then added, more seriously, “But JJ’s not exactly the best at noticing what’s right in front of him. So, don’t get your hopes up.”

Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She wasn’t sure why she had said it—maybe because Rafe didn’t seem to judge her like the others did, maybe because she needed to get it out. “I know. I know it’s stupid. It’s complicated.”

Rafe shifted, sitting down beside her, though his usual confidence seemed to have faded a little. “Yeah, relationships are complicated. I wouldn’t know much about them, to be honest.” He shrugged, trying to keep things light, but his tone was tinged with something more—maybe a little vulnerability that he wasn’t used to showing. “I don’t do that whole ‘feelings’ thing. And honestly, I don’t really think anyone should, if I’m being real.”

Y/N turned to look at him, surprised by the shift in his attitude. It wasn’t the usual Rafe—there was something a little more... human in his words.

“I don’t know why anyone gets into relationships, honestly,” Rafe continued, his voice more thoughtful now. “They always seem messy. I’ve seen enough of that in my family. But maybe that’s why I stay out of it. Keeps it simple.”

Y/N nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. “Yeah. I get that.”

Rafe broke the silence with a half-smile, his usual cocky grin returning. “Look, I’m not saying I have all the answers, but you’re not just some sidekick, Y/N. You deserve more than that. Anyone who can’t see that... they’re blind.”

Y/N stared out at the ocean, the waves crashing against the shore, her thoughts swirling. She hadn’t expected this conversation with Rafe to feel like it was unearthing something real inside her, but here they were. It was the first time in a long while she felt like someone understood, even if it was Rafe—a guy who seemed to care more about being a pain in her side than anything else.

“So, what now?” she asked, her voice quieter. "Do I just keep pretending it doesn’t matter? That I’m okay with being invisible?"

Rafe shifted beside her, his presence solid and unexpected. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waves and the crackling of the bonfire far in the distance.

“Maybe don’t pretend,” he said after a beat. “But don’t expect everything to change overnight, either. You can’t force people to see you differently, even if they’re close to you. If they don’t get it, that’s on them. And if they do—well, then that’s when things get messy. But I think you deserve better than being invisible.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure what to make of his words, but she felt like she might be seeing a different side of him for the first time. Not the brash, cocky Rafe, but the one who understood what it felt like to be lost in the crowd.

"You're kind of making sense, you know?" Y/N said, half-laughing, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Rafe gave a small shrug, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I do that sometimes."

For the first time that night, Y/N felt like she could breathe a little easier. Maybe she wasn’t completely alone in feeling invisible. But the night was far from over, and Y/N knew that her place in the group—and the way she was seen—was something she’d have to face sooner or later.

"Thanks, Rafe," she said quietly, almost as an afterthought.

He gave her a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t mention it, bookworm. Just don’t go getting any ideas, alright?"

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Don’t worry. You’re the last person I’d ever have ideas about."

They both stayed quiet for a while longer, watching the waves, the firelight casting flickering shadows over the sand. It wasn’t the end of her internal battle, but for a moment, it felt like maybe she had a little more clarity. Just a little more understanding. And that was enough for now.

---

Next up: morning confrontations and coffee mishaps

-----

Taglist:

@hockeybabe87

----

A/N: never underestimate the power of a uni student during midterms. she will write multiple chapters of a fic in 24 hours

#obx4 #obx #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outer banks #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #jj outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj x kie #jj maybank #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine

73 notes · View notes

spartanseagoat · 3 days ago

Text

Hey Babe, Let Me Tell You About Your Chiron Real Quick & Explain Why you are hurt

Hey y’all!! To kick off my new Astro page, I thought I would start off with some healing!

Who is Chiron?

Chiron in Greek Mythology was the Son of Kronos , other sources say Apollo and was a famous centaur. He was known for his vast knowledge of medicines and his overall deep wisdom. He was known for the arts as well. He was also an incredible teacher and taught many Greek heroes such as Hercules.

He was accidentally shot by a poisoned arrow and was unable to heal himself so Greek God Zeus honored him by giving him a place in the constellation known as Centaurus.

How does this play into astrology?

In astrology, Chiron is known as the “Wounded Healer and Teacher.” He represents the unhealed part of ourselves that we keep rehealing. Think of it this way, it’s like our triggers.

Imagine getting severely hurt physically , your wounds heal but now you have a nasty scar from that wound. Even though that wound is healed, you’ll always have that reminder of when you were in pain and it can be triggering.

You’ll never fully heal your Chiron but you can learn from it and how to grow as a person. Your Chiron wounds can be from past lives as well. You may have experienced this in your early childhood the most and it’s followed you through adulthood.

The parts of you that you need to start Healing based on the signs

*the house it’s in determine the area in life you are wounded in. Degrees of your placement also plays a part THIS IS A GENERALIZED BREAKDOWN!

Aries/1h- being hurt physically, not having confidence in yourself, not feeling bold. Don’t feel comfortable in the body you’re in. People saying mean things about your appearance, bullying was a big part of your early wounds.

Taurus/2h- your self worth, being homeless or struggling for home stability, financial struggles, feeling insecure about your voice or how you dress or look. Food struggles is another big one

Gemini/3h- you struggle with communicating your thoughts, having car or transportation struggles, having difficulties with siblings or co-workers. May have learning disabilities such as ADHD

Cancer/4h- you struggle with understanding your emotions and how to regulate them. Troubles with your home life or family, especially mother. Motherhood could be hard for you as well such as not wanting to be a mom or wanting to be one

Leo/5h- your inner childhood, being confident around others, don’t like being in the spotlight. Feel uncomfortable around children, bruised ego from childhood wound

Virgo/6h- suffer from perfectionism and wanting to be the best at everything. Physical Health related issues, work related issues, struggle with routines

Libra/7h- connecting with people one on one, relationship issues. Struggles with finding balance in your life, not having justice or fairness on your side. Struggles with trying to please everyone

Scorpio/8h- struggles with trusting others and being closed off, struggles with developing intimate connection with partners. Dealing with a death of a loved one at an early age, struggle with financial power and control. Power struggles in general

Sagittarius/9h- having a hard time communicating your beliefs and perspectives or people not understanding your worldview, struggles with broadening your view, traveling struggles, religious trauma, struggled in college/higher learning environments. Carry the world on their shoulders.

Capricorn/10h- struggles with ambition and setting long term goals, struggles with not getting recognition or the respect you earned. Struggles with responsibility. This can indicate being a workaholic as well

Aquarius/11h- feeling like an outcast from social circle or network. Having a hard time accomplishing your dreams fulfillment, struggles with social media or the internet in general. Struggles with seeing the good in humanity, being rebellious to the point of being reckless , always feeling uncomfortable in crowds.

Pisces/12h- lack boundaries with people, struggle to see people for who they are and put them on a pedestal, struggle with regulating your emotions due to feeling other people emotions, mental health struggles, addiction struggles, imprisonment struggles

Keep in mind this is a very broad and generalized reading. If you want me to make a detailed a post for each Chiron let me know here by voting!

#astrology #astrology community #astrology content #astro placements #astro community #astro observations #spartanseagoat #astro notes #tropical astrology #chiron #Chiron series

125 notes · View notes

hipsdofangirl · 2 days ago

Text

my SVT bias line as HOCKEY PLAYERS

general + romantic headcanons

genre: college au!, hockey au!, some hockey lingo that may be wrong, subtle innuendos but nothing explicit, lowercase intended

note: always after i go to my college’s hockey games i want to write something… also not proofread as always cause i just got back from a game to sit down and write this for an hour straight... PLEASE comment your thoughts cause i need more people to talk to about this

general information:

the svt hockey team can play in any lines, but they prefer their units they dubbed themselves! this is what makes them so dangerous…

yoon jeonghan (04; position: right winger)

very fast but normally has no stamina, causing early line changes. they usually throw him toward the end of the periods to spark fear into the opposing team.

his signature move is flicking the puck to and fro in front of his opponent only to swipe it under his legs.

he loathes getting shoved but he plays it up so his team gets more angry (they always fall for it).

has best lettuce (slang for hair and this shocked me to my core learning about this)

subtly goes offsides and it’s a 50/50 chance of him getting caught.

he is not the type to pick fights but sometimes feels left out when they occur. one time, the other 3 were butting heads with the other team after a shot and he just stood there with an opposing player and just lightly grabbed his stick; the player tried tugging it back but jeonghan would not let go.

normally, after a fight he is immediately with his teammates and checking for any injuries and hearing them complain about the other team. if they are injured, oh boy watch out.

romantic

during warmups before the game, he purposely shoots with force and towards your direction. you can always spot a little smirk (and a giggle which mingyu side eyes him for) whenever you flinch in response

whenever he scores and his teammates hug him, right after he scans the crowd for you. once he spots you, he does his signature ‘click’ noise and salutes you (sometimes you blow a kiss and he dramatically is taken aback).

when he had his injury that took him to out of play for a month, he would always sit beside you, arm resting on your seat. whenever his team would score a goal, a smile donned his face as he clapped; you on the other hand, always stand up and high five the people around you, his face seems to bloom when he watches you with love.

obviously you receive his jersey and he adores you when you wear it. when he first gave it to you, in your apartment, he had to indulge in his free will and squish your cheeks before planting many light kisses.

when you were mad at him, you wore joshua’s jersey. he was not amused for too long as his name wasn’t the only way to claim you.

xu minghao (08; position: left winger)

exchange player

he is the one with the least amount of broken sticks in his usual line up

along with jeonghan he is one of the fastest but has better stamina. he is also agile and flexible, causing opponents to hate going one-on-one with him; he does that meticulous side by side movement but the final one he leans his body to the avoid crashing into the plexiglass (his opponent doesn’t avoid this fate).

toward the start of his second year playing, the coach told him to tone down his anger, so the rest of the year he wasn’t very aggressive, losing points and vigor till hoshi had to have a talk.

now? once second period rolls around and the vibes are set, he will RUIN them. not with physical fights but his ‘light-taps’ with his shoulder and stick seem to blur the line of being a penalty.

romantic

after the whistle has been blown to perform another puck drop in their zone, minghao will always look to you and tap his stick onto the ice.

whenever you get the courage to create a sign, he will read it but then won’t indulge in your schemes; however, when he faces the other way a smile seems to shine through the face shield.

now when HE had his injury, he would also sit next to you. it was awkward when his injuries overlapped with jeonghan’s as you all sat next to each other to cheer. when it was break time and the screens in the middle points to a new ‘____ cam’, jeonghan would look over at him leading minghao to sigh and gave a brief glare to the man. jeonghan would purposely flag down the cameraman and point towards you two. have fun under new situations (kiss cam, dance cam, cowbell cam, you name it).

he wants to teach you how to play or at least how to successfully hit the puck. he desires to indulge in both of your hobbies for a closer connection; even if you can’t skate or is not accessible, he will find a skate park where you two can hit a ball with hockey sticks while complaining about your latest group project.

if the ice is accessible, he will teach you how to skate…oh? you already know how to skate? no, you don’t; he will correct your form or tease you, allowing himself to be barely out of reach as you stretch your hands to lovingly strangle him.

unlike the others on the team, he never asked you to wear his jersey. instead, whenever he visited or you did, he would ‘forget’ or ‘misplace’ his jersey around you and sometimes overnight. he wanted YOU to ask if you could wear it; call it self-consciousness or call it pride, he wanted you to take this step. of course, you always noticed and knew where it was; and of course, one time he happened to catch up trying it on in the spur of the moment. and of course he had to see it off too…

lee seokmin (81; position: center)

originally played baseball as a kid till he fell in love with watching his sister ice skate.

didn’t think he would actually join the college team but he immediately vibed well with the other players.

somehow on the official roster they spelled his name wrong?? who is dokyeom??

at first, he was scared of boarding people or engaging in fights; however, after watching mingyu and wonwoo tag team someone after the pushed woozi out of the goal, he accepted his anger.

the first time he showed aggression was during an argument he had with mingyu: he slammed his bag on the locker room floor and the silence was so loud that everyone teases him about it to this day.

unlike some of his teammates, he continues to occasionally fight; when a fist goes flying and knocks his helmet off, it’s hard to miss that rare dark look (only reserved for some moments you aren’t naive to) before he winds back to tackle the assailant.

ANYWAYS since he is one of the centers, the other members hold amounts of trust for him as he never fails to lighten the mood. with random words that become pregame cheering phrases, or with a jaw-dropping goal that flew just over the shoulder and into the net. even when he barely misses, his teammates will no doubt have his pack and flick it in.

during warmups, he loves ‘missing’ the goal and miraculously a kid gets the puck.

romantic

always looks forward to what sign you created in the crowd and secretly hopes it’s his number written on there.

when the rink has open ice skating, he loves taking you on there. bonus points if you suck cause you know he will hold your hands the whole time (even if you don’t really suck and you are pretending) and beam at you with the prettiest smile and shining eyes.

after games, he WILL ride the bus with you back to your apartment. when you ask how he is going to get back to his place, as the closest bus line doesn’t go that way, he somehow is passed out in your bed: snuggled under your weighted blanket and hugging your plush squishmallow (he eventually abandons it for you when you give in hmm it’s like he was never asleep…you feel bad when you wake up and look over on the floor to see the abandoned mallow’s beady black eyes staring into you).

it’s a little tradition and mini competition between you two to see who can leave the most notes of encouragement for one another! he came so close to crying—when you first started this trend—by placing 7 blue sticky notes littered with words of affirmation and doodles: located on top of his hockey stick, inside his gloves, top of the inside of his helmet, in the side pocket where he holds his water bottle, and on both of his skates.

please please please wear his jersey!!! his mood will sour when you don’t. even if it’s dirty and smells and someone spilled beer on it—don’t worry!! seokmin will give you another one which leads to his coach wondering why he has no jersey (or one that reeks with beer).

70 notes · View notes

winxanity-ii · 24 hours ago

Note

could i request hermes headcanons with a male lover?

of course! sorry if not the best, just the concept of hermes taking one of apollos followers 😩

THAT BOY IS MINE

ship: hermes x male!apollo devotee!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 861 a/n: my first male reader request hehhehe; i lowkey wanna make a full one-shot..

★·.·´🇪‌🇵‌🇮‌🇨‌: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇲‌🇺‌🇸‌🇮‌🇨‌🇦‌🇱‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Trickster god Hermes, who first noticed you during one of Apollo's grand performances, as you stood in the crowd, bright laughter escaping your lips.

He didn't think much of it until he saw how you looked at Apollo—admiration clear in your eyes—and suddenly, the idea of getting your attention and challenging your admiration for Apollo was too irresistible for him to pass up.

Trickster god Hermes, who slips beside you during festivals, the kind of presence that catches you off guard.

He'd grin, that troublemaker smile of his, leaning in to whisper something sly about Apollo's radiance. "You think he's the only god worthy of your gaze?" he'd murmur, his eyes glinting with mischief as your cheeks warmed under his gaze.

Trickster god Hermes, who made sure you couldn't ignore him.

At first, it was harmless jokes, a teasing smile from across the temple grounds, or a comment as he materialized at your side, seemingly out of nowhere. But soon, he was there more often, lingering in your shadow. He loved the way you stiffened when he appeared, as if he had found a crack in your composure—and he intended to widen it.

Trickster god Hermes, who brushed his fingers against yours when you were organizing offerings in Apollo's temple, just to see the way you startled, your eyes meeting his in confusion.

He grinned, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "How devoted you are makes me envious, little muse. Would you give the same amount of devotion to me?" His words held a challenge, and for a moment, you wondered if there was more than jest in his eyes.

Trickster god Hermes, who knew how to make life an adventure, began slipping into your routines with ease.

He whisked you away from your duties, convincing you to join him on escapades across hills, through rivers, and into places you were not supposed to go. He showed you joy beyond Apollo’s measured perfection—the kind found in laughter that left you breathless, in the thrill of racing the wind, in moments stolen away just for yourselves. He made the divine feel real, imperfect, and you couldn't help but love that.

Trickster god Hermes, who was unpredictable, daring, and somehow made you feel seen.

He didn't look at you as merely another worshipper. He looked at you as someone he wanted. It unsettled you, the way he lingered too close, the intensity of his gaze following you as if you were the only one that mattered in a room full of people.

Trickster god Hermes, who found you alone in a grove, your shoulders slumped in loneliness as Apollo was too busy for you.

Instead of his usual antics, Hermes simply sat beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. He didn't say anything—he was just there—and for once, his presence wasn’t meant to charm or impress; it was just... real. It was the first time you saw something other than playful mischief in his eyes—it was care, and it unraveled something inside you.

Trickster god Hermes, who watched you with a longing that was hard to ignore.

He'd catch you glancing at Apollo from a distance, and his jaw would tense, that smile dropping for a heartbeat before it returned, sharper. He'd then make his presence known—his fingers skimming your waist, or his lips brushing your ear as he whispered something that made your pulse quicken. You were never just a follower to him, and he needed you to understand that.

Trickster god Hermes, who, for all his confidence, had waited for you to come to him.

He bided his time and made sure you knew he was always there. He listened when you spoke, his gaze never leaving your face, as though everything you said was the most important thing in the world. It wasn't Apollo's grandness, but it was real—and you found yourself seeking out Hermes more and more, your heart pulling toward the trickster who seemed to understand you in ways others didn't.

Trickster god Hermes, who watched with a soft smile the day you gave in.

When you leaned in to kiss him, he wrapped his arms around you as you kissed him, his lips curving against yours, the playful grin giving way to something deeper. Hermes held you close, as if you were the greatest treasure he had ever stolen, and he had no intention of letting go.

Trickster god Hermes, who made no secret of your connection afterward.

He'd drape himself over you in the presence of Apollo, his arm snug around your waist, whispering something teasingly possessive just loud enough for the sun god to hear with a knowing grin, as if to say, "He's mine now." There was no malice in it, only pride—pride that he had managed to steal your heart and that you had given it willingly.

Trickster god Hermes, who stole your heart in the most unexpected way, not by charm alone but through his laughter, his warmth, and his genuine affection.

He saw you not as someone worshipping from the shadows but as someone deserving of the spotlight, deserving of a love that was wild and unrestrained, just like the wind.

102 notes · View notes

waaayoutofline · 23 hours ago

Text

Murder on the Dance Floor (part 2)

(from the When the Cat and the Mouse Go For a Midnight Dance series)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Prompt: Vigilante!Reader x Agent!Natasha

Summary: Natasha isn’t having the best of luck in trying to bring one of the ex Hydras general down. You however may be able to assist her. Will you two be able to cooperate? Or is it your fate to always stand on opposite teams?

Warnings: A tiny bit suggestive.

WORD COUNT: 2724

The pulsing beat of the music could be heard from outside the dimly lit street, matching Natasha’s tense state. She was usually calm, collected when handling missions, but this was the exception—because this time, she was working with you. Just the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Honestly, if someone had told her a year ago that she’d agree to cooperate with you of all people, she would have laughed right to their face. But that didn’t matter now. She needed to get her hands on Horvat, and, unfortunately, you were her best—if only—shot at it.

Adjusting her earpiece, Natasha willed herself forward, slipping past security and flashing one of her fake IDs to the bouncer. After a quick nod, she was finally able to sweep her gaze over the crowd moving around the dance floor. In her earpiece, Yelena’s voice crackled. “See her yet?”

“No,” Natasha muttered, keeping her tone low as she moved toward a secluded spot by the bar. “She’s late. And honestly, I’m not even surprised.”

The blonde hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm. She seems…”

“Irresponsible? Selfish? A brat?” Natasha interrupted, her words sharp as she shrugged off her vest and left it on the stool beside her. “Those are just on top my head.”

“I was going for interesting. I have never seen anyone getting under your skin the way she does.” The redhead rolled her eyes, tapping her feet on the ground as she was searching between the participants.

”This is just unprofessional. I mean, who even isn’t on time for their own plan?” She sighs. “I should've known she’d pull something like this.”

Natasha remembers perfectly your encounter a few hours ago.

The two of you ended up meeting in a neutral spot to, as you put it, “chat things up.” It was weird for the two of you to just… talk. You were as teasing as ever when you explained that the way for you both to gain access to the Hydra operative was to do something as ridiculous as joining a dance competition.

“You are joking.” Natasha repeated, baffled. But you made no move to correct yourself.

“It is what it is, Agent Romanoff. Seems our friend is one of those eccentric types—loves all forms of art, but dance is his favourite. The competition is being held here by him.” You handed her a slip of paper with a hastily scribbled address and a list of pairs. “These are the couples registered.”

Natasha scanned it, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Wait—some of these couples, I know them. They’re actual professionals, Raven,” she noted, using your codename. Not like she was sure that the name you’d given her was even your real one.

“Oh, calm down agent. You’ve got me on your dream team now,” you answered with a wink that did nothing to reassure her. “And it’s not like we have other options. The winners get a super-duper exclusive VIP card that grants access to the elite party Horvat is hosting.”

Natasha’s reluctance must’ve been clear because you sighed in exasperation at the clear lack of enthusiasm. “Look, it’s the best I could do given your strict rules, alright?”

“I wouldn’t say that not murdering or maiming anyone counts as strict rules,” she replied, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of adventure? Aren’t you the fearless Black Widow?” you teased, your voice low, just loud enough for her to hear. You leaned in, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “And here thought you were this fearless superspy. But See, I have a different perspective. To these people, we’re just amateurs. That’s our advantage.”

“Is it?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp, but something about the way you were looking at her made her uneasy.

You grinned, stepping closer, your breath warm against her ear as you leaned in conspiratorially. “Absolutely. They won’t even see it coming when I take them down one by one…”

The intensity in your voice caught her off guard. There was something almost dangerous in your tone, that manic glint in your eyes that she couldn’t quite ignore. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she put distance and shot you a warning glare.

You slightly raised your hands in mock surrender, but there was still something in your smile that made her pulse quicken. “Alright, alright, no need for that. I promise, no murder on the dance floor. Besides, I’m not here to show off.”

Her gaze never left you, knowing better than to believe that. You thrived on chaos, on the twisted thrill of it all. And she hated how it seemed to pull her in each time, how close you were making her feel to something she couldn’t quite control.

“This is the plan,” you continued, your voice soft but insistent. “We get through a few rounds, win that VIP pass, and make it into Horvat’s inner circle. Nice and easy.”

You closed the distance even more, your face just inches from hers. Without hesitation, you pulled a card from your pocket, letting it slip between your fingers with a practised ease. “Here’s the address. Dress to impress. Preferably black and burgundy?” you murmured, your hand brushing against her chest as you slipped it into the pocket of her vest, your fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. “The color really suits your eyes.” You purred.

Natasha could feel the heat of your touch, every movement too intimate for comfort, and yet, she couldn’t look away. You had a way of getting close—too close—and she watched every movement, every subtle shift of your body, all while her heart beat a little faster than she wanted to admit. It was like every single nerve on her body screaming in conflict whenever you acted this dangerously.

She is only bought out of her stupor when she notices a shift in between the crowd. For an instant, she thinks that the contest already started, but that thought quickly goes away when she saw the true reason for the multitude to part like melted butter.

There you are, walking as if you owned the place with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Seemingly ignoring all the eyes landing on you like dominoes and yet preening under the attention like a lazy cat basking under the sun. Your smile was deceivingly innocent, gentle yet cocky in the subtlest of ways.

Her eyes couldn’t help to take you in.

The dark red dress you wore hugged your body perfectly, like a second skin, as if melting with each of your movements. The dress was seamless, held up only by thin straps that dipped into a daring neckline, exposing just enough to make anyone want more. The shimmering sequins embroidered along the curve of your hips glinted teasingly under the retro disco ball, casting a mesmerizing array of shimmering reds. The lacy fringe of the hem stopped just shy of your mid-thigh, blending with the flowery skirt that revealed both your legs in tantalizing glimpses.

As embarrassing as it was, she was just another victim that couldn’t seem to take her eyes away. Try to regain composure, she did her best to maintain a bit of her dignity, not wanting to give you any leash for you to tug on.

Taking a steadying breath, Natasha forced herself to fold her arms, straighten her spine, and lift her chin, trying to cloak herself in her usual calm and untouchable persona. But her eyes had a mind of their own, betraying her as they lingered on you, watching every movement despite herself.

When you finally reached her, your gaze met hers, and Natasha had the unsettling feeling that you saw right through every barrier she’d put up. That awareness sent a chill of discomfort down her spine. Stepping closer, you set your purse down on the stool beside her with slow, deliberate movements that she couldn’t help but follow. Without breaking eye contact, you smirked.

“Enjoying the view, Agent Romanoff?” you purred, each word slipping from your lips as if laced with honey. But Natasha knew that the sweetness could be someone’s poison just as easily.

She scoffed. “Your arrogance is staggering.”

Feigning a pout, you tilted your head, feigning hurt. “Is it so wrong to give a lady a compliment once in a while?” Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you leaned in, letting your gaze trace over her in a way that was unmistakably bold, yet foolishly innocent. “Well, I’m not scared to admit that you look gorgeous.”

You complimented while taking her in.

Her hair was pinned up into a tight braid that left her neck exposed. The dark red shirt she wore clung to her perfectly, the satin fabric being comfortable and hinting at the lines of muscle and curves beneath. Sleeveless, it exposed her toned arms. The neckline went straight into a tight V, just enough for showing the delicate, pale skin of her sternum. Opting for practically, she paired it with paired with sleek, tailored trousers in a matching deep red—almost black in the low light (not that she had in mind your previous recommendation when choosing this of course). A polished belt cinched her waist, the silver buckle slightly off centred. There was no doubt in your mind that she wore a strapped in blade attached to her ankle, ready and waiting.

The thought did nothing but send a rush of excitement up your spine.

A blur at the corner of your vision catches your attention, and the teasing persona you reserve for Natasha vanishes abruptly. As much as you enjoyed being the cause of her losing her composure, you had a job to do—and you’d be damned if you failed.

Without giving Natasha a chance to react, you catch her shoulders and pull her against you, manoeuvring both of you closer to the bar. Natasha flinches slightly at the sudden movement, instinctively placing one arm around your waist and the other on the counter to steady herself. Her eyes widen as she meets your gaze up close, the rich scent of vanilla filling her senses.

Your cool hand resting on her bare shoulder makes her breath catch in her throat. “What do you think you’re doing?” she manages to say, intending it to sound like a reprimand, but the words come out soft and breathless, betraying her surprise.

“Just trying to avoid starting at a disadvantage,” you replied smoothly, as if the lack of distance between you two wasn’t affecting you in the slightest. Natasha hated that—hated how unbothered you seemed. If anything, you leaned in even closer, your lips hovering just shy of her ear. Natasha heard a muted complaint of disgust, followed by her sister saying something about “This is worse than Papa and Mama.Cutting off now.” She wasn’t really paying attention.

“Over my shoulder. One of the three judges,” you murmured, voice low and soft against her skin. “They’re not just ranking our dancing skills, but the… chemistry between partners. So if you want this to go smoothly, I’d suggest pretending you don’t hate my guts for a while.”

The last sentence dripped with a teasing mockery, and Natasha clenched her jaw, willing herself not to react. The word "hate" echoed in her mind, though, twisting uncomfortably as if not really settling in. Hate wasn’t exactly the word she’d use to describe her…complex feelings about you. Sure, you were frustrating, irritating, and always knew how to push her buttons with an infuriating ease.

But did she really hate you?

She shook her head. This was exactly what she couldn’t stand about you—the way you made her doubt herself, fall into chaos in her own mind. She couldn’t afford to debate what she really thought about you now. Closing her eyes briefly, she exhaled, letting her professional persona handle her next movements. This was a mission like any other. And Natasha Romanoff always succeeded in her missions.

Just as she was about to locate the judge you’d told her about, her eyes fell on three men across the dance floor, next to the snack table. There was no mistaking the way their eyes draped all over you, watching you with no shame as their mouths likely ran with sick and degrading comments about what they would do with someone like you.

A tightening feeling in her chest struck her, taking root until the infection controlled her next actions. Strengthening her grip on your waist, Natasha pressed further into you, subtly spinning your bodies so that her taller frame shielded you from predatory eyes. Noticing the change in her demeanour and the way she glared at something behind you, you tilted your head slightly but decided to not comment on it. As much as you liked to keep her on your toes, you knew when to refrain yourself.

“I assume you got the judge’s backgrounds?” she muttered, leaning in closer, taking a page from your book. Her hand slid over your waist, caressing your side while maintaining a firm, almost possessive grip. Lost at the moment, you opened your mouth to answer, but hesitated, caught off guard by the soft, deliberate touch. You couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved that she was listening to you or startled by how her fingers seemed to burn against your covered skin.

Natasha’s eyes glinted as they dropped onto you, a flicker of satisfaction crossing her features at the rare sight of you losing your so well maintained composure. You never stuttered, always remaining a step ahead, but for once, it was you who was caught off guard. If only for a fleeting moment, Natasha couldn’t help but take the moment in, greedily absorbing your hesitation. Is this what you felt when you got under her skin?

For anybody who glared at you two, it would seem like an intimate couple, flirting and rendering each other speechless with seductive flirtation and close touch. If that's what you demanded of her, then that’s what Natasha will deliver.

Sensing this shift, you cleared your throat and did your best to regain control. To return to your sleek persona that you always maintained. “You assume well. The first one is Ethan Cole, a dance professor on a wealthy university. Had big dreams for Hollywood, but her addiction to gambling and alcohol closed those doors for him. Owes Horvat some numbers.”

Deliberately, you moved your hand to her jaw, redirecting her face to the right, then leaned in as if you were whispering something inappropriate in her ear. “The grey-haired man, Richard Harper. A self-declared “man of the arts,” you stated dramatically. “More like a man of perversion. He owns several sex clubs, most of which don’t follow safety regulations and serve as covers for prostitution rings.” Natasha clenched her jaw ever so slightly, the feeling of it under your fingertips making you sigh in satisfaction.

“Perhaps when we’re done with this I ought to pay him a visit,” you taunted, making Natasha turn to face you with a warning glare. Before she had time to respond, you silenced her with a gentle but firm motion.

“Right behind me, just a few stools away. The woman with glasses and uptight lips. Leah Montgomery. Our biggest threat to win the competition. She was in competitive figure skating, pretty good, too. Until tragedy struck and she ruptured her ACL. Clearly, she hasn’t got over it yet as she now spends her days tormenting her pupils, “encouraging” them in partaking into illegal substances to win her titles.”

Just as you finished, the low bass music cut off, a call for all the participants to gather on the dance floor resonating through the walls. As everyone started to move toward the centre, Natasha eventually released her grip around you. Just as you were about to tease her about the reluctance, she placed her hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowd.

Surprised, but not wanting to reveal your true feeling, you hummed pleasantly, masking the unexpected stir in your chest. Finally reaching your spot, Natasha extended her hand to you. Her eyes look down on you, the green of her irises going a few shades of green darker. But this time, you can't find the anger. No…it was something else that you haven’t quite seen before.

Accepting her offering, you place your hand into hers.

This will be interesting.

#nat x f!reader #fanfic #mcu #natasha romanoff #avengers #marvel series #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #vigilante reader #shield agent natasha #marvel

40 notes · View notes

tessa-liam · 2 days ago

Text

The One Who Got Away

Thank you @kyra75 for your ask -- Prompt #4, ‘This is all my fault’ for @choicesprompts – Angstgiving Event

Choices Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Liam Rys x Riley Brooks (F!MC)

Rating: mature

Category: angst/fluff, one-shot, ask/prompt

Words 3.5k, with sprinkles of Canon

A/N1: not Beta’d, please excuse all errors

Premise: Liam and Riley are in love, but due to circumstances, they are pulled apart. Riley leaves Cordonia to go back home to New York, heartbroken. Liam marries Madeleine, reluctantly, to fulfill his duty as King. A year later, while visiting New York, Liam runs into Riley....

ONE YEAR AGO ...

New York. The place where dreams come true. The Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building. Central Park.

As the limousine pulled up in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a sea of reporters and cameras flooded the sidewalk, all desperate to catch a glimpse of the young King of Cordonia.

He'd arrived in New York earlier that day to spend the next two weeks on a goodwill tour, courtesy of his PR team. He'd already spent several days in Washington, DC, before stopping by a few other major US cities. New York City was the grand finale.

King Liam stepped out of the limousine, his personal security flanking him, and walked into the throng of reporters. He was met with a barrage of flashing cameras, blinding him. His bodyguards tried their best to hold the crowd back.

"Your Majesty! Over here! Look over here, please!"

Liam put on his most dazzling smile and waved, walking towards the doors, surrounded by the press.

"What are you hoping to accomplish during your stay in New York?"

"Who will be accompanying you?"

"Do you have a message for the people of Cordonia?"

"King Liam! What is the state of the relationship between your country and the US?"

"Will you be making any important announcements soon?"

Liam smiled politely at the reporters, but refused to comment on their questions. He reached the top of the steps leading into the museum, and stopped for a moment, taking in the view. It was a gorgeous, but chilly, November day in New York. The trees had long since lost their leaves and were now a dark brown, contrasting with the gray skies above. The weather had forced most New Yorkers to stay indoors.

Liam glanced at his watch. It was 10:45 am.

"Your Majesty? The exhibit is waiting for you." One of the museum staff motioned him inside.

Liam walked through the massive, imposing entrance doors and made his way through the crowd of museum visitors, down the marble-floored hallway, towards the room where the exhibit was waiting for him.

The museum staff, dressed in black-and-white, were all huddled near the door, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.

"This is going to be a huge draw for our museum."

"I can't believe they let us borrow these artifacts."

"We're lucky the King agreed to open the exhibit."

Liam cleared his throat and the museum staff immediately stood at attention.

"Welcome, Your Majesty. We're honored you're here," the museum director bowed in respect.

"Thank you, but there's no need for all the formality," Liam smiled warmly. "Please, please call me Liam."

The museum staff beamed as the director held out his arm to escort Liam into the gallery.

"If you'll please follow me, Your Ma—, uh, Liam. We've prepared the exhibit for your inspection. Please take as much time as you'd like."

Liam followed into the spacious, exhibition room, his personal security standing outside. The staff were bustling around, checking the artifacts and displays. Liam took a few steps further into the room, and his breath hitched in his throat.

At the end of the room, on a plinth, was a large display case, with a crown encased inside. It was a golden circlet, embellished with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds.

The Queen's Crown of Cordonia.

He recognized it immediately. It had belonged to his mother, Queen Eleanor, before she had died. She had never had a chance to wear it.

Liam's hands were trembling, and his knees were weak. He slowly approached the crown, his eyes fixed on it. The last time he'd seen this crown was at his mother's funeral. After that, it had been kept locked away in the Royal Treasury. He'd thought it would stay there forever.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" came a familiar voice.

Liam's head snapped up and his heart skipped a beat.

There, standing in front of him, was the love of his life.

Riley.

He couldn't believe his eyes. What was she doing here?

"Riley," Liam gasped, taking a few shaky steps towards her.

They stood inches from each other, but neither could make a move. There were a million thoughts running through each of their minds, but they couldn't utter a single word.

"You look stunning," Liam finally said, breaking the silence.

Riley blushed. "I didn't realize you'd personally be here."

"My PR team set up this visit." Liam softly spoke.

"I'm glad they did." Riley nervously responded.

They both stood in silence, staring at each other.

Liam took a step closer and reached for her hand.

"I've missed you," he whispered.

"Me too," Riley replied, squeezing his hand.

They gazed into each other's eyes, their hearts filled with longing and desire; even after all the time apart.

"Liam, I..." Riley started to say.

"What is it, Riley?"

"Nothing. It's just...I'm happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you, too," Liam said. "And I'm sorry, about everything."

"It wasn't your fault." Looking down, Riley shook her head.

"Yes, it was. I should've done more. I should've fought harder. This is all my fault"

"No. Liam, don't blame yourself."

"But I do."

Moving their conversation to a secluded alcove, Riley placed her hands on his cheeks. "None of this was your fault. You did the right thing. And you're an amazing King. You're the best King Cordonia has ever had. You made the right decision."

"But I lost you."

"It was my choice, Liam. I chose to walk away. I chose to leave."

"Why?" Liam searched Riley's eyes for an answer.

"Because I knew you would never choose me over your duty. And I would've never forgiven myself if I forced you to make that choice. That would've been too selfish of me. You were always going to make the right decision for your country. And that's what made me fall in love with you."

"Riley, I—"

"Wait, Liam, before you say anything... there's something I need to tell you. It's important."

Liam frowned. "What is it?"

Riley hesitated for a moment, then looked up into his eyes. Closing her eyes, her heart was pounding inside her chest. "I was pregnant."

The color drained from Liam's face. He stared at her in shock. "What did you just say?" Liam didn't trust his hearing.

"I was pregnant, with our baby. I found out right after the coronation."

Liam couldn't believe what he was hearing, shaking his head, no. He was completely stunned. He couldn't speak.

"I didn't know how to tell you," Riley continued. "So I didn't. I was afraid of what you'd say. Of how you'd react. I didn't want to ruin your life. So I kept it a secret."

"Riley, why didn't you tell me?" Liam asked, his voice hoarse.

"I don't know. I guess I was scared. Scared of what you'd think. Scared that you'd hate me. I'm sorry, Liam. I should've told you. But I didn't want to put you in a difficult position. I didn't want to force you to make a choice. That's why I left. I knew that if I told you, you'd try to figure something out, and I couldn't let that happen. Not when the future of your kingdom was at stake."

Liam was speechless. His heart was pounding.

"I didn't want to ruin your life," Riley said again, her voice breaking. "It was all my fault."

"How could you say that? Riley?" Liam was heartbroken.

"What do you mean? It was my fault. I was the one who got pregnant. I was the one who kept it a secret. I was the one who left." Riley covered her face with her shaking hands.

"No. Riley, it's not your fault. It was my mine. I should've protected you. I should've done more. But instead, I failed you. I'm so sorry, Riley."

Riley shook her head. "No. Liam, don't. Please don't. It's not your fault."

Liam wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It's okay, Riley. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you. Not ever."

[present day]

Liam's eyes slowly opened and he was greeted with the sight of his sleeping wife. He was lying on his side, facing her, his arm draped over her waist. She looked peaceful. Her hair was splayed across the pillow and her lips were slightly parted.

Liam gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. She stirred a little, but didn't wake up.

He smiled to himself.

They were together. They had another baby on the way. He'd done the right thing.

His kingdom would be safe. His people would be safe. His family would be safe.

Everything was going to be all right.

And yet, he couldn't help but wonder what might have been. If he had known Riley was pregnant; when she had left after the coronation... would things have turned out differently? Would they have chosen a different path? Would he have married Riley instead of Madeleine? Scandal be damned.

Or would the same thing have happened? Would he have still made the same decision, to choose his kingdom over his heart?

It was too late to find out.

He couldn't go back.

He didn't have to.

***

🌹Thank you for reading.

📌 @choicesficwriterscreations @choicescommunityevents @choicesprompts @choicesmonthlychallenge

📌 @bascmve01 @busywoman @kristinamae093 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kingliam2019 @ao719 @alj4890 @emkay512 @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @malblk21 @tinkie1973 @queenmiarys @emersyn-in-cordonia @dutifullynuttywitch @charlotteg234 @lovingchoices14 @selina012 @kyra75 @imjusthereforliam @703cowbarn @irisk12 @imashybish @walkerdrakewalker @jared2612 @fadingreveries @mockingjay19 @queenwalton @thosehallowedhalls @umccall71 @rafasgirl23415 @mainstreetreader @shanzay44 @custaroonie @guineveresgarden @ownworldresident @amandablink @choicesfrog @mysticalfangirl @iluaaa @belencha77

#tessa liam writes #king liam x mc #liam rys #one shot #choices the royal romance #the royal romance #riley x liam #riley brooks #choices fic writers creations #choices monthly challenge #angstgiving #choices fanfiction #choicesprompts #choices community events

40 notes · View notes

prettywhenicryyyyyyyy · 1 day ago

Text

What are we?

park sunghoon / one shot

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖.

★ pairing : sunghoon × fem reader

★ content : f! reader x sunghoon, high school situationship, making out, out of jealousy

★ gnere : situationship, friend with benefits

★ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 : smut- 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, nipples licking, bite fetish, 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 and 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈n, emotionally unavailable and cold hearted sunghoon. D𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.

song suggestions (while reading this):

friends by chase atlantic

house of balloons / glass table girls by the weeknd

You were like two opposite ends of a magnet, drawn to each other but always repelled. He was emotionally unavailable, closed off and guarded, while you were an introvert who craved connection. And yet, despite your differences, you found themselves in a messy, complicated whirlwind of a situationship.

There was something about Park Sunghoon, He was a man who could charm any woman with his smile alone, his chiseled features and striking eyes drawing them in like moths to a flame. Yet, beneath that handsome exterior lay a heart of ice, cold and unyielding to any who dared to try and break through. One look into his steely gaze and you knew that love was not something that came easily to him, if at all. Despite his cold-hearted nature, he was fiercely possessive of you. Whenever he saw other guys paying attention to you, a dark anger would rise in him, and he would glare at them with a steely intensity that made them scurry away. But when he looked at you, his expression softened, and it was like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. He may have been popular in school, but when it came to you, he was utterly captivated.

in the evening

"excited to see me tomorrow?" he texted

"you wish" you replied.

"Is that a challenge?" he teased "Because I am pretty sure i can make you admit that you can't resist me" he said

*sighs*

"You're so full of yourself" you retorted with playful sarcasm "As if i'd ever admit something like that to you"

"You will tomorrow." he replied

"huh? Alright see you tomorrow"

"don't be late, I dont want to waste my time waiting for you" he said

"yes, i won't be late"

As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts kept drifting to sunghoon with the captivating eyes and the possessive demeanor. You couldn't help but wonder what he was doing right now, if he was thinking about you too, if he cared about you like you cared about him. Despite his aloofness, you couldn't deny the undeniable pull he had on you, the magnetic force that drew you in despite you better judgment.

in the morning

You arrived at school with a mix of nervousness and anticipation swirling in your stomach. As you made your way through the halls, your eyes scanned the crowd for any sign of sunghoon. You tried to act nonchalant, but you couldn't help feeling a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

As you walked through the crowded hallway, completely lost in your own thoughts, a voice suddenly spoke from behind you "Hey, what's up?" Sunghoon, had sneaked up behind you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you startle. As he hugged you, your body pressed against his, you were just about to start telling him about a problem you were having when he suddenly interrupted you. "Not now," he said tersely, his tone making it clear that he wasn't interested in whatever it was you had to say.

He held you tighter, as if trying to shut out the world and keep you all to himself.

You took a deep breath and summoned up the courage to speak her mind. "Can we discuss something serious for a moment?" you asked, your voice steady despite the nerves gnawing at your insides.

He looked down at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "What is it?" he said, his tone a little less dismissive than usual.

"I was wondering if we could talk about our relationship," she continued. "I feel like we care about each other, and I think it's time we take this thing further."

His eyes darkened at your words, his irritation apparent. "Why are you rushing things?" he repeated, his voice laced with annoyance. "We're fine the way things are now. I don't see why we need to change anything." The discussion quickly escalated into a full-blown argument.

"I'm not happy just being your casual fling," you said, your voice rising in volume. "I want more than just physical contact. I want an actual relationship."

He clenched his jaw, his expression tight with anger. "That's all this is to me," he snapped. "A casual fling. I don't do relationships, I've told you that from the start. If you can't handle that, then maybe you need to find someone else" and he left.

You couldn't help but feeling a swirl of emotions - sad, angry, and confused. You couldn't understand why he wouldn't even consider a real relationship with you, why he was so intent on keeping things casual. It hurt you to know that he didn't value your emotional needs as much as he did the physical aspect of their connection.

in the classroom

As you entered the classroom, already feeling vulnerable and upset from your fight with sunghoon. As you took your seat, jake from your class who had been crushing on you for years approached you with a sly grin on his face. "Hey, beautiful," he purred, leaning in close and making your skin crawl. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in your every move and making it abundantly clear that he was undressing you in his mind.

"Back off, you creep" you replied through gritted teeth

"what's the matter, sweetheart?" he asked in a mocking tone.

He stepped even closer, invading your personal space and making you feel cramped and claustrophobic.

Sunghoon had been lurking in the background, watching the entire interaction between you and jake. He had seen your discomfort and fear, and it enraged him. When jake tried to touch your waist, his eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists as he felt the intense primal jealousy and possessive desire to claim you as his own. .He strode over, anger etched across his face, and delivered a hard punch to Jake's jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. Jake staggered backward, stunned by the unexpected attack. He brought a hand to his aching jaw, his eyes wide with disbelief and anger as he stared up at sunghoon who stood over him. His lips curled up in a sinister, cruel smile.

Jake: "So what's your deal, Sunghoon? I see you're all possessive and protective over her, but you're too emotionally unavailable to actually make her your girlfriend, right?"

Sunghoon's expression darkened at Jake's words, his eyes narrowing as he clenched his fists.

Sunghoon: "Shut up, Jake. You don't know anything about us."

Jake: "Oh, I think I know enough. You act like you care, but you're just too scared to commit."

Sunghoon grabbed him by the collar, his eyes widening with fear. his voice was cold and dangerous as he spoke, his eyes gleaming with anger.

"Listen to me, you little scumbag," he hissed through gritted teeth. "You've got two options. Either you get the hell out of her sight right now, or I'll kill you. Understand?"

Jake pushed sunghoon back, his eyes gleamed with mockery as he continued to goad Sunghoon.

"You're a goddamn coward, Sunghoon," he hissed. "You act like you're so tough and strong, but when it comes to committing to a relationship, you're nothing but a weak-ass coward.

"You're lucky I don't kill you right now," Sunghoon growled, his eyes filled with rage. Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Jake lying on the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and nursing his bruised ego.

As Sunghoon stalked away, the other students parted like the Red Sea, giving him a wide berth. They knew better than to get in his way when he was in this kind of mood.

You were frightened by Sunghoon's sudden outburst of anger. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and it raised questions about his true nature.

You reached out to Sunghoon as he started to walk away, feeling a mixture of worry and anger.

"What the hell was that?" you said, your voice sharp. "You can't just go around attacking people because they say something you don't like."

He stopped and looked back at you his expression a mix of anger and frustration.

"You don't understand," he said, his voice gruff. "He was being a dick, and he had it coming.

You questioned "Why do you care so deeply? What are we?" sunghoon found himself speechless. You demanded, "If you care so much, why can't you just accept us and what we have?"

Without answering your question sunghoon silently walked off to the school game room, his thoughts swirling with the conversation just had with you. He couldn't ignore the growing questions about undefined situation and the need for clear boundaries, you followed him your curiosity about him and the complicated relationship driving you forward.

As you entered the game room, you spotted him near the pool table, a mixture of anticipation and nerves coursing through you. Desperate to avoid the inevitable conversation, you grabbed a pool stick, feigning interest in the game. Your fingers trembled slightly. He looked at you with a playful grin and said, "You're holding the stick all wrong, sweetheart." His voice held a hint of flirtation that sent a shiver down your spine. He took a step closer, holding the pool stick in one hand. "Let me show you how to play pool y/n" His tone was smooth as he positioned himself behind you, adjusting her grip on the stick, his touch sending a jolt through your body. You could feel his breath on her neck, stirring a mix of nerves and excitement. His dick was hard, As he stood near you.

As his lips inched closer to your neck, your pulse quickened, betraying the effect his proximity had on her. His hands encircled your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your breath hitched "What are-"

"shhh" he whispered "no more questions, no more rules." His touch sent a shiver down your spine, he turned your face towards his, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. She melted into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you effortlessly onto the pool table. your legs hugged his hips as he closed any remaining space between bodies, his hands roaming over your curves. "I get defensive and insecure because you're mine, mine to have and to hold" he said as he grabbed your throat "He nipped and sucked your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys that marked you as his own. Your body trembled, strange desire to submit, to surrender, to be owned by him, flared within you, making it difficult to resist his dominant possessiveness. You could only manage a breathless "Yes" in response. His touch was making you weak. You let out a soft moan *unnghhh* unable to resist the sensations he was stirring within you.

He smirked at her response and whispered, "Yeah, that's what I like. Let me hear you," his voice a seductive drawl "I'd pin you against the wall and kiss you right in front that fucker jake, just to remind him you're mine"

"Please," she whispered, her voice a mix of pleading and desire, "claim me, make me yours, I don't want anyone else, I just want you. Sunghoon's hands moved to your shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, revealing your perfect cleavage with each button undone. His touch was light but firm. "I guess now i know why i have canines" he whispered. He leaned in and bit your boobs, his teeth leaving a mark on your boobs your body arching towards his as you gasped in response. His tongue traced the mark he left, soothing the burning sensation before nipping her again, harder this time. You were aware of Sunghoon's bite fetish now, and it only heightened the sensations you felt as he continued to leave bites and hickeys all over your skin. Each bite was a claim, making you feel more and more like his possession. Despite the slight pain, you found yourself arching towards his mouth, silently begging him for more, her body craving the mixture of pain and pleasure that his bites caused.

Sunghoon, watching your reactions with dark satisfaction, didn't hesitate to slide your bra down, leaving your boobs completely exposed. His eyes roamed over your boobs "Fuck" he said with seductin in his voice. Sunghoon leaned in, his tongue swiping across your nipples, a mix of claiming and taste. He couldn't get enough of your nipples, wanting to memorize every inch of her body with his lips and tongue.

"You taste sweeter than I imagined, " he whispered, his breath against your skin making you shiver, "You're mine and I'm taking every part of you that I can," he growled, his voice rough and possessive. When you moaned his name, Sunghoon felt a burst of possessive satisfaction. Your submission to him only served to fuel his possessive desire further.

"That's right," he muttered, his mouth moving along her skin, leaving a trail of kisses and bites. "Say my name again, I want to hear you moan it, I want to hear you begging for me." As you lost control, your body was completely in sync with his touch, her every thought and action driven by your desire for him.

"I need you, Sunghoon," you whispered, your voice a hoarse gasp. "I need more, I need all of you, do whatever you want with me, I'm yours." He grabbed your boobs taking a firm gentle hold. As she lost control, her body was completely in sync with his touch, her every thought and action driven by her desire for him. "Say it," he ordered "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours." you said in a breathless whisper "That's right" he murmured.

His face was now buried in between your boobs, his breathing heavy and hot against your sensitive skin. He inhaled deeply, as if he was trying to capture your very essence. His hands continued their possessive hold on your body, his grip tight and unyielding.

"You're mine," he muttered again, his voice muffled against her skin, "Completely mine, every last inch of you."

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ

hope you enjoyed! let me know which part made you giggle.

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enha imagines #park sungho x reader #enha x reader

34 notes · View notes