#national spot exchange

[meazalykov]

rings rings rings

lena oberdorf x reader

summary: a joke in the community makes you come to a realization

the teasing had always been a lighthearted joke, something you and lena both laughed about. 

it started almost immediately after you two went public with your relationship. after you guys started dating in 2020, you guys decided to not tell the public about your relationship until a couple of years in. 

after transferring from barcelona to bayern munich in 2022, and shortly after lena’s second place spot in the EUROS– thats when the public had confirmation about the two of you.  

it wasn’t just the fans who started their relentlessness. your teammates had their fun, too.

your bayern and national teammates instagram stories were flooded with subtle hints—photos of you holding hands, captions about the "future mrs. oberdorf" and even cheeky comments from giulia and laura with ring emojis when lena and you celebrated your fourth anniversary. 

lea, lena’s best friend and your close friend, was the ringleader of the proposal jokes. every time you and lena were out with her, she’d find a way to bring up engagement rings. 

"so, lena," lea would say with a mischievous grin, "when’s the big day? or are you still searching for the perfect ring to put on y/n’s pretty finger?" 

lena would roll her eyes and laugh it off, but you could tell the idea was planted in her head. 

there were jokes during training sessions, comments during team dinners. when lena transferred to bayern from wolfsburg in july 2024– pernille managed to get the entire squad to start humming the wedding march when you two walked into the locker room together.

lena had told you her plan ages ago—she was going to propose during the winter of 2024. it was perfect. the winter break meant no football to distract you, just the two of you alone in the peace of the snowy bavarian countryside. 

you loved the idea, and though you tried to keep it out of your head so you could focus on football, you couldn't help but daydream about how it would unfold, how you would say yes without hesitation.

one day during the pre-season, before the olympics, everyone was cooling down after practice, some even joking around, when pernille and magda walked in with matching grins. they were holding hands and had the kind of look that hinted at something big. 

they exchanged a quick glance before pernille cleared her throat, immediately drawing the attention of the room.

“we’ve got some news,” pernille started, her voice light with her danish accent clear but laced with excitement. 

magda lifted her hand, showing off a simple but stunning engagement ring that sparkled under the fluorescent lights.

“we’re engaged!” magda announced, and the room erupted into cheers and applause. 

teammates rushed over to congratulate them, voices overlapping as everyone admired the ring and shared in the couple’s happiness.

amid the celebration, sydney, who had been stretching in the corner while scrolling on her phone, looked over at lena, who was smiling widely at the news. 

with a mischievous glint in her eye, sydney couldn’t resist.

“hey, lena,” sydney called out, her tone teasing making sure that the entire locker room heard her. 

“so, when are you gonna propose to y/n? or are you just going to let pernille and magda steal the spotlight?”

the locker room fell silent for a split second before erupting into laughter and more teasing. 

klara, always quick with a quip, chimed in, “yeah, lena, what’s the holdup? everyone has been waiting!”

lea joined in, a playful grin on her face. “maybe she’s just waiting for the perfect moment. or maybe y/n should propose first?”

lena felt her cheeks flush under the sudden attention, but she played it cool, offering a lopsided smile. 

“soon,” she replied, her voice steady despite the amount of teasing. “it’s gonna happen, don’t worry.”

the room buzzed with excited murmurs and jokes, but before anyone could press her further, lena’s gaze drifted to the door. 

y/n wasn’t there in the locker room, and she hadn’t been for a while. lena knew she had gone to check on ana in the medical area, making sure their teammate (who came back from an acl injury) was okay after a tough tackle during training. 

but the laughter and congratulations for pernille and madga continued to swirl around her, lena’s mind wandered to the ring she had already picked out, the one tucked safely away at home. 

she had planned everything, just waiting for the right moment to propose. 

but then the injury happened. an acl tear right before the olympics, a devastating blow to lena’s season and your hearts. 

you were happy to win gold at the olympics, but you were sad that lena couldn’t celebrate bronze with her german teammates. 

the surgery, the long recovery, the endless rehab—it took over everything once you got back to munich. 

and with it, lena’s plan to propose was quietly shelved. 

your taller german girlfriend even joked, with a bittersweet smile, that she wouldn’t be able to get down on one knee now, and you both shared a quiet laugh over it, trying to mask the disappointment.

it wasn’t long before the teasing at lena shifted.

“well, y/n, if lena’s knee is messed up, i guess it’s your turn to get down on one knee.”  tuva, with her sharp and sweet humor, was the first to mention it in the full bayern locker room. 

you laughed it off at first, just like lena had, but the teasing continued. 

more teammates joined in, some of your national teammates started to become aware of the jokes in germany and joined in. 

and suddenly, it was you who was being nudged toward proposing.

at first, you tried to brush it off, but there was something in the way lena looked at you—hopeful, maybe even a little relieved—that stayed with you. 

the idea took root, just as it had with her. it's been four years since you and lena started dating– when you were at barcelona and she at wolfsburg. you wanted her to be your wife. 

and before you knew it, you found yourself visiting jewelers, searching for the perfect ring. 

your pupils would have formed into a heart (if that was possible) when you spotted a delicate band with a single, sparkling diamond—it was simple yet elegant, just like lena.

you didn’t tell anyone about your plan. not tuva, not lea, not even your closest friends on the team.

it was something you wanted to keep between you and lena, a surprise that would catch her completely off guard. you didn’t need lena to overhear the teasing trolls that you had for teammates. 

the timing felt right as thanksgiving break approached—a quiet moment, just the two of you, away from the pressures of football.

the day you decided to propose, you could feel the excitement ripping throughout your body, but also a touch of nerves. 

lena had always been the one everyone expected to take the lead, since she was more of the “dominant” one in your relationship– but it was your turn first, and you wanted it to be perfect.

you planned a small getaway, just the two of you, in a cozy cabin nestled in the forests near munich. 

the air was crisp, the sky a brilliant shade of pink and orange due to the sunset, and everything seemed to sparkle in the winter light. 

you both took a small walk through a trail by the cabin. this was the first time that lena got cleared to walk without any cane or assist. 

this made you both happy as the two of you were laughing and chatting about everything and nothing. 

looking away from lena’s beautiful face, you reached the spot where you had decided to do it—a clearing with a view of the mountains in the distance.

you stopped, turning to face lena, who looked at you with a curious smile. 

she notices your face, you tried to look strong but your eyes showed something different. 

"what’s up?" she asked, her breath visible in the cold air.

you took a deep breath, smiling as you reached into your jean pocket and pulling out the small box. 

lena’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her, and you could see the tears starting to form.

“lena,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, 

“i know we always joked about who would propose first, and i know this isn’t how you planned it due to unfortunate circumstances. but i love you so much, ever since that wolfsburg and barcelona match. ever since then i couldn’t imagine my life without you. will you marry me?”

for a moment, lena was speechless. she stared at the ring, then back at you, her eyes shimmering with emotion. 

"y/n, are you serious?" she whispered, her voice shaky.

"absolutely. i’ve never been more serious about anything." you nodded, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. 

lena’s reaction was immediate. she threw her strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace, her tears soaking into your neck and jacket. 

"yes," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. "yes, a million times yes!!" she pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes full of love and disbelief. 

"i can’t believe you did this. i was supposed to propose to you first." she held your face in her hands as she kept your body close to hers.

"well, you can still propose to me later, but i couldn’t wait any longer." you laughed, wiping away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. 

you slid the ring onto her finger, both of you laughing and crying at the same time. lena looked down at the ring, her hand shaking slightly as she admired it. 

"it’s perfect, y/n," she said, her voice full of wonder. "you’re perfect."

later at night, as you sat together by the fire in the cabin, wrapped in blankets, lena leaned her body on top of yours as her head rested on your shoulder. 

"you know," she murmured, her voice soft and full of warmth, "i was always going to propose first. i had this whole plan."

"i know, but i beat you to it." you smiled, kissing her forehead gently. 

the teasing might have started as a joke, but in the end, it led to a moment neither of you would ever forget—a moment that was entirely yours.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[komsomolka]

Fritz Schmenkel was the only German national who became a Hero of the Soviet Union for his actions during WWII.

Fritz Schmenkel was born in Stettin (today Szczecin, Poland) in 1916. His father, Paul Krause, a brickyard worker and communist, was murdered by Stormtroopers in 1932. This caused Fritz to join the Young Communist League of Germany to fight his father's Nazi murderers.

In December 1938, he was drafted into the Wehrmacht but refused to serve citing illness and other excuses. He was imprisoned for evading conscription. In July 1941, after the beginning of Nazi Germany's invasion of the Soviet Union, Schmenkel volunteered to fight on the Eastern Front so he was released. His true intention was always deserting which he did in November 1941. But he couldn't hide in Belarusian forests forever so there was a dilemma. How not to get killed on spot by comrades because of his German uniform and communicate without knowing Russian language? The shivering and hungry Shmenkel knocked on the doors of local village residents, using a simple set of words: "Lenin, Stalin, Thälmann" - and the doors opened. In exchange for help in a simple peasant household, Fritz received food, a place to sleep, and moved on.

One day Shmenkel came across a patrol of German military police and was arrested. Fortunately for the deserter, fighters from the partisan detachment "Death to Fascism" descended on Germans some time later. After a short but stubborn battle, the garrison was routed, and the partisans learned from local residents about the strange German. Not having time for serious investigation, the fighters simply took him with them. That's how Shmenkel ended up in the partisan detachment.

Of course, at first Soviets were very wary of Fritz, they feared that he was a Nazi spy. But they still decided not to act rashly and give him a chance. And soon such an opportunity presented itself. In one of the villages, the partisans came across German detachment. A fight ensued. Shmenkel did not take part in it - he had no weapon. Since there were too many Germans, the fate of the partisans seemed to be predetermined. Fritz asked for a rifle. Realizing that they have nothing to lose and an extra fighter was now worth its weight in gold, the unit commander took a risk. And he was right. Shmenkel started successfully shooting at Germans. The partisans won that battle. Fritz was then accepted as a member of the partisans. He quickly gained the respect and affection of his unit, his comrades started nicknaming him Ivan Ivanovich jokingly adding "Why call a good person Fritz?".

Schmenkel led German military units into ambushes arranged by the partisans. This helped the partisans capture entire units of Wehrmacht soldiers, as well as ammunition and food. Schmenkel quickly rose through the ranks of the partisans. In March 1943, he traveled to Moscow at the behest of the Red Army, was awarded the Order of the Red Banner, and received further military training. He was appointed deputy commander of a special operations (sabotage and intelligence) unit that operated in a German-occupied area north of the city of Orsha.

Germans put a reward on Schmenkel's head - 8 hectares of land, a house, a cow, and two thousand German marks. Later, the reward was raised to an astronomical sum for those times - 25 thousand marks.

At the end of 1943, contact with Fritz Schmenkel was lost. Only after the war did it become known that he had been captured and tortured by the Gestapo, but Fritz had not changed his views. He was sentenced to death and executed in occupied Minsk in February 1944.

His last wish was to send a letter to his wife Erna Schäfer. He wrote: "Forgive me for the troubles I have caused you by going my way to the end. I did not renounce my views even in the last hours of my life. I am boldly going to my execution because I am dying for my convictions." He left behind three children in Germany.

By the Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR of 6 October 1964, Fritz Schmenkel was posthumously awarded the title Hero of the Soviet Union "for active participation in the partisan movement, exemplary fulfillment of command assignments during the Great Patriotic War and the heroism and courage displayed in doing so."

The memory of Fritz Schmenkel is immortalized in the names of streets in the cities of Nelidovo and Bely in the Tver region. And in Minsk, a memorial plaque is dedicated to him. One of the streets in East Berlin also bore the name of Shmenkel. However, it was renamed in 1992.

[thelostconsultant]

Lunch with a stranger

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

summary: You've seen Charles before, but it's only when he interrupts your lunch when you exchange more than one word.

You were so lost in the screen of your phone that you didn't even notice the furry baby shark approaching you.

As you sat at a table on the street with a glass of ice cold lemonade and some snacks serving as your lunch, you talked to your friends in a group chat to arrange your plans for the weekend. Brunch in the morning, beauty salon before lunch, then a quick shopping trip in the afternoon.

And then you felt it; sharp teeth gently nipped the skin on your calf until they were replaced by the little creature's tongue as it licked your leg. You leaned to the side to see the criminal under the table and saw an adorable little puppy who looked surprisingly excited to see you.

But why did it look familiar? You could have sworn you had seen this dog before, and not just once, yet your mind couldn't put the pieces together to help you out. Then you noticed the leash and followed the thin line to the owner. A familiar face. That explained everything.

“I'm sorry, he likes to make friends,” the guy said with a sheepish grin.

You waved your hand in a way to tell him it was no problem, then returned your attention to your phone and lunch, expecting him to move on. But he didn't. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him pick up the dog and take the seat across from you.

“I'm Charles, by the way,” he said.

Nodding, you took a sip of your drink, enjoying the way it cooled you down from the inside. “I know. Our nation's greatest hero as of now.”

You didn't want to talk to anyone today, especially not to someone you knew from your psychologist's office, but he seemed really determined to get more than a few words out of you. You had never spoken to each other more than politely greeting the other, and honestly, you didn't even think he would remember you.

But he did, apparently. He waved over the waitress to come and take his order, ignoring your silent protest, then looked at you with an intrigued glint in his eyes. “So you watch F1?” he asked casually.

“I watch the Monaco GP since all I have to do is go out to my balcony, but that's the most I see from it,” you replied, not missing the disappointed look that crossed his face. But he didn't say anything, he just scratched his dog’s soft spot behind his ear. “What?”

Charles looked up with a questioning hum. “What what?” You rolled your eyes, but since the waitress had just arrived with his order, you didn't want to go into the details. “Okay, look,” he began once you were alone again, “I just… I see you at Dr. Brezzo’s office whenever I can go on my normal schedule, but we never have the chance to talk. So when Leo found you, I thought I should take this chance.”

He seemed like such a sweet guy, but at the moment you didn't need new people in your life, especially not ones who lived in the spotlight. You just wanted to have some quiet and peaceful months until your meds kicked in, until you were finally back to normal. You'd been doing great, it would have been a shame to risk it.

But when you opened your mouth to tell him you weren't interested in this chat, he gave you the damn puppy eyes as if he had known what you wanted to say. With a sigh, you nodded and stuffed a forkful of salad in your mouth. He waited patiently, even began eating his own food while making sure he gave his dog a bite so he wouldn't be left out.

“You look tired,” you noted, earning a surprised look from him. “A friend of mine is a huge F1 fan and he told me about how terrible things have been for you. I'm sorry. Is that why you need therapy? No, wait, don't answer this, it's too personal. Let's talk about something else.”

For a while he was just watching you with a barely visible smirk, and then he surprised you with what seemed to be an honest response. “I would go to therapy anyway, my job is stressful enough on its own, but yeah, the team's recent performance is definitely something I need to learn to deal with.”

“I'm sure there are highs and lows in every aspect of life, so maybe it won't last much longer,” you offered with a warm smile.

Charles nodded. “That's what I'm hoping for. What about you? Why do you go to therapy?” he asked cautiously.

Well, since he was honest with you, there was no reason to lie. It's not like he would go around telling everyone about it. “I have bipolar disorder. The meds will hopefully work, but I need therapy too. Makes things easier,” you added with a shrug.

He was awfully quiet, and for a moment you expected him to stand up and leave. Wouldn't have been the first time, you had already lost a friend thanks to this. But then he picked up his glass and watched the bubbles move inside as he broke the silence with a smile. “You look well to me.”

A small smile crept on your lips when you heard this. “Thanks. Honestly, I feel better too,” you said proudly. Because you were proud of what you achieved in a short amount of time.

Then you both returned to your respective lunches, but Charles had to focus on keeping a healthy balance between feeding himself and Leo for now. It was adorable, really. You felt like you should say something, anything to break the silence, but he didn't seem to mind it. To him it might have been comfortable, because when he noticed you staring, he flashed a smile at you without saying a word, then returned to his lunch.

A good fifteen minutes later your phone had begun to blow up. Your friends were sending dozens of messages into the group chat, making your phone ping and buzz non-stop. With an apologetic smile, you took a look at it, and your breath caught in your throat as you tapped the links they threw in there.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, a painful groan leaving your throat when you noticed you'd been tagged in several social media posts too.

Charles looked at you with a puzzled look. “What happened?” he asked.

Instead of answering, you just showed him your phone. He kept scrolling, his eyes growing wider as he began to process the dozens of posts and hundreds of comments about the two of you having lunch together. It was insane how fast rumors flew across the internet, and it didn't make you happy at all.

Despite being born and raised in Monaco, you had been taught to stay under the radar your whole life. Your parents made sure no photos of you would be published anywhere, and you were trained to do everything in a way that kept you away from the spotlight. People didn't know your name, they barely even knew your parents’ name, which was a good thing.

Well, so much for that.

“Hey, it's okay. Just a few photos,” Charles offered as he gave you back the device and placed his hand on your arm. “They'll move on soon, I promise.” When he saw you were still upset about it, he spoke up again. “Look, I think you already knew I wanted to ask you out, so if you would say no anyway, this is the time to tell me. I wouldn't blame you.”

How could he be so sweet? You did have a feeling that's where this conversation was going, but you weren't sure until now. Now that you knew, you had to figure out how to decide. When he showed up, you were sure you didn't want anything. But now? Maybe getting to know him better wouldn't be so bad after all.

“It's okay. I think I can handle it,” you told him with a small smile.

Your positive response made him smile too as he looked down at the puppy in his arms. “You heard that? You'll get all the kisses and cuddles you want.” He looked up at you with a playful look in his eyes. “Maybe I will too,” he added.

[schoenpepper]

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty (Housewardens)

Intro: You're a wild little thing, aren't you? Let's see how the NRC dorm leaders deal with you, then.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, not much i think idk tell me if i should pop a warning somewhere, it's reaaally long

A/N: My goodbye gift before I die in college. Not that I'd be too busy though, my prof list isn't even complete yet. Hollywood lied to me about college it all sucks (not even started first day yet). Oh this was a request btw so I hope you like it anon. Even though I'm not sure I really followed through with the request I'm sorry.

Masterlist

Headcanon order (on the what he thinks of you part):

Fierce, reckless, territorial, soft to people close to you

You tried to tell Neige you weren’t interested in the National Arcane Academy Culture Fair, you really did. But your best friend is a lot less of a pushover than he seems to be, hanging onto your arm and pulling you right to the middle of the chaos. NRC is dark, dreary, and every corner seems to be black and covered with spiderwebs. Which, honestly, is quite the refreshing turn from the bright white glitter you’d gotten used to in RSA.

“Their science club is doing a cafe!”

The black-haired, starry-eyed boy points at a spot on the map. “It’s not too far from this place, maybe we can drop by and try out their treats.” he smiles happily. You look away (two years is not enough time to get used to the sparkles that magically appear whenever he beams) and sigh. “Where are the dwarves? Won’t they enjoy going to the cafe more than I would? I told you I was just fine sitting on a bench somewhere until the SDC.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re right. Where are they—” you pull him back as he turns, but not before he bumps into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking…”

“Hm? It’s fine, oh hey, aren’t you that superstar on the news?”

The ginger is getting uncomfortably close to your friend’s personal space, so you get in front of Neige, shielding him from this nosy NRC student.

“Y/N!” Neige gives you a worried look, tugging on your sleeve, “I should apologize.”

“What? He said it’s fine already.”

“Ace, are you disturbing these visitors?”

At the sound of the new voice, the young man in front of you straightens up almost unnecessarily straight, back taut and expression nervous. A short student with strawberry red hair is accompanied by a tall student with glasses and green hair. The redhead seems very uptight, with the way he drags down this ‘Ace’ person to his level by the collar to chastise him from apparently ‘disturbing’ you. Neige waves from behind you, trying to stop them while making sure not to leave your circle of protection. “No, we bumped into him, it was my fault really.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods as he lets go of the other person’s collar, “my apologies that you had to see that shameful act. If you need anything, please let the culture fair committee members know, you will recognize them by this badge.”

“Cool, but we’re just going to the cafe. Thanks for the help, bye,” you cut the conversation short and pull Neige away.

“Y/N, that was very rude.”

You shrug, “What was I supposed to do? Didn’t you see that guy has an on and off switch for exploding like an active volcano? Did you want to be on the receiving end of his next outburst?”

“Don’t be so judgmental, Y/N, you barely know the person,” Neige sighs.

“I don’t need to know him.”

Exchange program:

It turns out that you did, in fact, need to know him. Neige somehow managed to convince you to sign up for an exchange student program between RSA and NRC, so you got sorted into Heartslabyul and the guy you insulted at the culture fair is now your housewarden.

Ace and Deuce are okay, if not a few cells short of a brain sometimes. You do enjoy getting caught up in their shenanigans whenever the dorm leader and his eight hundred something rules get a tad bit too stifling. At some point, their dumb (affectionate) tactics manage to work their way into your heart, so you begrudgingly call them friends.

You think Cater’s a good guy, if not a bit social-media-obsessed. You don’t mind having him nearby because he generally just chats about random things. As long as you manage to put up with him asking for a pic every once in a while, he’s not awful. Trey is a comforting presence. He may or may not have Pavlov’d you with the way he always has a sweet treat with him, making you calmer and more susceptible to behaving within his general vicinity.

Riddle is a whole ‘nother thing altogether; you make him mad. Er, madder than usual, at least. Something must be in the tea in Heartslabyul because you and the housewarden in the same room is a guarantee for a beheading. Usually you, but there have been a fair number of innocent victims who’d just happened to get caught up in your squabbles. Riddle is a flame and you’re a tankful of gasoline, always with a witty comeback or something else that’s sure to make every situation worse.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Think a dry, wooden cottage smack dab in the middle of the woods and a wildfire. That’s how you and Riddle get along. You’re hot tempered; pot, meet kettle. You’re sarcastic and snippy, traits that he most certainly does not appreciate. Every time he’s lecturing you about something or the other, you speak. And every word that comes out of your mouth makes him want to collar you.

…Another one? How did his dorm somehow get stuck with the most ‘act first, think later’ individuals? You give Riddle a headache, but don’t worry, he’s all too used to it. He will bail you out of trouble and every stupid situation you find yourself in, but also, he will assign you a 5000 word apology essay each time he does.

Riddle gets it. It’s a sign of disrespect when people touch your things without your explicit consent, and he’d get mad too if it was him in that situation. Does, however, do a double-take when he sees you tackle someone to the ground after you hear them insult Neige, screaming something about “your people”. Turns a blind eye.

Since…since when have you and that duo been so close? He’s not mad (for once). But he does feel rather…upset. You’re always such a spiky individual, so to see you almost melting into the couch, head on Deuce’s lap as he patted your hair and legs over Ace’s, it’s almost surreal. He’s not angry, no, but then why does he still feel unhappy?

Love story climax:

“I just don’t understand. Why do I feel so uncomfortable when I see Y/N together with other people?”

Trey hums from where he’s standing in the kitchen, letting Riddle know that he’s listening while whipping the bowl of cream.

“You’re smart,” Trey chuckles, “you’ll figure it out.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and looks back down at the chopping board, cutting off the top of another strawberry. It wasn’t an illness, but maybe if he diagnosed it like one, he could arrive at a proper conclusion. He mentally retraces his steps and every unpleasant feeling that had welled up inside him. He feels okay, good maybe, when he sees you. He gets mad when you retort while he’s trying to discipline you, but even then, he seems to have started to find it rather…cute? And he gets unreasonably anxious when you’re so close to your friends.

…No. No. Absolutely not.

Riddle Rosehearts is not in love with you.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

You still make him mad, but now instead of being collared, you just need to coax him a little and this strawberry shortcake is ready to fold like a collapsible tent. Make it up to him by being sweet and loving him lots, okay? If it’s to other people, he doesn’t really care as long as it doesn’t get violent. You are exempt from the apology letters though, congrats (he thinks that time writing them could be better spent with him).

Riddle probably needs heart medication at some point, you’re going to drive him either insane or to his inevitable death. He gets a lot more protective of you now because you’re his partner, but please please please at least try not to get hurt. Or try to consider if you might get hurt before doing something. Or how about this, you call him up before you make any decision at all?! Yeah. Heart attack.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t realize that you have a tendency to be overly possessive and territorial of him. Riddle isn’t exactly the type of guy to frequently get love confessions (he should be), you know? So the only time he nottices is when you catch him in the middle of equestrian club meetings or something, and he’s just a step too close to some newbie. Tells you to keep it down and assures you, his love for you is real and unchanging.

Happy guy. He thinks he’s silly when he gets so giddy at the smallest things you do, like kissing the back of his hand, but he can’t exactly stop the somersaults his heart does whenever you’re being so affectionate with him. Regardless, it’s quite rude to make public displays of affection, so be reserved and try to keep it all in private. Will blush at every little thing until like, two years into the relationship.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Neige’s words are cut short when you tackle the hyena beastman to the ground. He looks at you, horrified, and was likely about to chastise you before you pulled out a familiar leather wallet from the beastman’s pocket. “Thief,” you hiss, “you picked the wrong students to mess with.”

“Tsk, [laugh with me].”

The hyena rolls around and you’re unable to control your own movements, rolling with him. You’re lying on the ground when the magic snaps but he’s already running away, Neige’s wallet in hand. “Oh no you don’t!”

You weave through the crowd of students and booths, trying to keep your eyes trained on the mop of caramel hair that was zooming farther and farther away from you. You finally spot him by one of the stages, where he sprints by a tall lion beastman who catches him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. You come to a stop, panting lightly as you glare at the lion beastman. “Is this guy a friend of yours? He has something of mine, so you better have him give it back quick or I’ll—”

“Ruggie,” The lion yawns, “no stealing during the culture fair.”

“Finders keepers!”

“Ruggie.”

“Fine.”

You get Neige’s wallet back and immediately turn tail and leave. These NRC students are freaks (no stealing during the culture fair? then it’s okay to steal any other time?).

Exchange program:

Something something it’s better to make friends than enemies. While not a saying you’ve ever given a fuck about before, it’s hard not to care when it led you to where you are now. Due to a mass voting in RSA for whoever to send to the exchange program, you’ve been bolted out as the sacrificial lamb (that’s what you get for always picking fights). Savanaclaw takes you in because you wrestle one of their dorm members to the ground on your very first day.

Jack Howl is probably one of the closest things you’ll see to another RSA student in this place. You get along well with him because he doesn’t take your quips at face value (or rather, he doesn’t care for your insults and dry sarcasm). Ruggie takes a bit more getting used to, but he’s a really cool dude when you manage to keep all your valuables away from arm’s reach.

And Leona…he’s like a stray cat. And you’re also a stray cat. And you’re in the same dark alley, coexisting together. You ignore each other most of the time unless the other gets a tad bit too close. It’s not too bad when the boundaries are in place.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

He’s too tired and sleepy most of the time to deal with your temper. Not as if you can do anything about it though, try as you might, you can never win against Leona. You can talk crap about how lazy he is or whatever, he doesn’t care, but whenever you even attempt to fight him you’re already subdued one way or another. Leona thinks you should pick and choose your battles well.

While Leona is a big believer of instincts, there’s a fine line between believing and charging in like a bull seeing red at the first tingle of a gut feeling. He’ll let out a sigh but still, he’ll fish you out of trouble and claim you’re bothering his naptime and he’ll totally leave you to fend for yourself the next time the consequences of your stupid actions find you (he will not).

He’s a lion, of course he’s territorial. So he understands your need to stake your claim on a certain place or item, as long as it’s not something he’d already claimed as his own. Leaves you about it. Territorial about people though? Same thing. Do as you will, he can’t muster the energy to care.

A low growl is emitted from his chest, pupils constricted into pinpricks, ears and tail stiff—Leona isn’t dumb. He knows that the instinctual actions of his body mean something, and in this case, it means he’s annoyed watching you be all buddy buddy with Ruggie. You, the little porcupine you are, laughing so easily with the guy you swore was your enemy, it makes him gnash his teeth in anger (envy).

Love story climax:

He can’t get you out of his head.

The few months you’ve been at NRC, you’ve started to become an existence that he didn’t mind constantly having around. He’d found you annoying at first, so why is it that now, just seeing you so happy with Ruggie is enough to drive him insane? He keeps his eyes closed but he can’t sleep. You’re still lingering in his vision, a hazy mirage by the moonlight of the savanna. Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

Why can’t he stop thinking about your hair and how soft it looked to touch? Why can’t he stop thinking about how incredible your skin would feel on his? Why can’t he stop thinking about your lips…?

Fuck.

Leona rolls over in his bed, burying his face in a pillow. Maybe if he suffocated to death he wouldn’t be haunted by thoughts of you. But, if you’re so willing to be close to Ruggie, why not Leona? He could be your…friend too. Do you already think of him as a friend? You tend to run to him with that stupid smile and chatter away even when he tells you to go away, is that a sign that you saw him as some sort of confidant? Whatever.

Leona’s not good with emotions, but he’s the farthest thing from a coward.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Okay wildfire, Leona likes it, but you need to tone it down a bit unless you want your ass handed back to you on a platter. No he’s not threatening you, it’s just that you should already know the folks in NRC aren’t scared of fights. No he doesn’t care that you’re not scared of fights. Stop picking fights. If you sass him back enough he will sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why he always has one hand on you, whether on your hip or the back of your neck. It’s not because he’s a clingy kitty (stop teasing, he’s not a cat!), rather, it’s so he can easily stop you when a situation arises and you decide on something he wishes you didn’t decide on. Now that you’re in a relationship, he’ll sit you down and start a long discussion on why you should learn to think before you act.

Let’s get something straight, you are part of his territory, not the other way around. He’s just as protective and possessive of you as you are to him, if not more, so pretty much everyone knows to book it when they see you two together. Any poor soul who has a crush on either of you quickly get the picture.

Tsk, you’re so clingy (affectionate). Unlike most guys on the list, Leona doesn’t give two shits about other people, ergo, he doesn’t care when you kiss or touch him in public. In fact, he encourages it. Go ahead, mark him up. But if he reciprocates, he’ll tell you he’s just doing what you’ve been doing, so you have no right to refuse.

You knew it was instantly trouble when the person he bumped into had all the tells of a bad mood. You push Neige behind you while he apologizes profusely to the stranger. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” His words obviously went unheard because this annoyingly tall NRC student only grimaced, and you know from experience that when someone bares their teeth at you, it means they haven’t forgiven your pitiful apology.

“You can’t see where you’re going, hah, maybe I should squeeze you ‘til your eyes pop out? Maybe you’ll see it then?”

Let it be known that though you were half this asshole’s size, that did not mean you were going to take this lying down.

“Hey, back off. He said it was an accident.”

You feel Neige tugging on your sleeve. “Hey, Y/N let’s just—”

“I don’t care if it was an accident, I’m in a slump and you just made it worse, y’know?”

“Well I don’t care if you don’t care. You better back off before I take your slump and shove it down your stupid—”

Another unfamiliar figure approaches, this one shorter than the asshole, with purplish-white hair and glasses, yet somehow looking just as dangerous with the kind smile he has on. He gives the guy in front of you a very pissed-off look behind the carefully maintained grin. You think he might be trying to whisper, but it’s not very quiet.

“Floyd! I told you to sell the drinks while Jade and I are gone, what are you doing here?”

“Ehhh, but I didn’t feel like selling drinks.”

They’re gone before you even know what’s going on.

The interaction only cemented what you’d known before you even got here; everyone in NRC is a weirdo.

Exchange program:

Apparently, someone’s great idea for a prank is signing you up to be an exchange student to NRC. So, hurray.

You’re plopped into Octavinelle because the very reliable headmaster of NRC drew lots from some magical (rigged) thing. It doesn’t take you too long to realize that the quick-to-violence guy you’d met a little while back is one of the frontrunners of the dormitory. Thankfully, your second meeting has Floyd in a better mood than before, and he decides that you’re interesting before bestowing you your very own nickname; catfish. You do not appreciate it.

Jade is easy enough to get along with, you’ve discovered it’s good to just do as he says and as long as he has nothing to gain from it, he won’t torment you (too much). Though, he does make your hackles rise every once in a while because dear Seven he gives you the heebie-jeebies, even despite the perfectly polite thing he has going on.

Azul, it takes you way too long to befriend. He starts off avoiding you almost entirely, like you’re a contagious disease (if only you knew). You’re not the type to suck up to anyone, and definitely not the type to force close proximity with someone who seems to hate you, so you leave him alone. Eventually, one potion explosion, two torn contracts, and one messed up lounge later, you and Azul become acquaintances. Friends, maybe. Uh, tentatively.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Azul thinks you’re unnecessarily high-strung. Well, where do you get the energy to always be so combative and hot-tempered? He’d rather stay away from people like you when business isn’t involved. He’s one to always keep calm and cool after all, he doesn’t think he’d get along with you at all.

Your tendency to act according to your nature and intuition and just general however you feel like acting, it’s an enigma for sure. Azul prefers a plan and at least three other backup plans, so you running headfirst into any situation makes him sigh and take another step back from you. Sevens know it might be contagious (does not call you stupid to your face, but to your back? Absolutely).

The first time he saw you almost bite Floyd’s head off for just touching your things without your permission, it was enough for him to put another strike on his record. Oh dear, you really are a handful, aren’t you? Does not realize your territorialism extends to people until Jade showed him what happened to the last student that tried messing with one of the dwarves.

Azul thinks he needs new glasses. Is that you? Looking so sweet and cuddly with your friends? Really? He gets flashbacks to when you almost scratched his eyes out that time he tried roping you into one of his contracts. Now seeing you all clingy with that celebrity, he feels…uncomfortable. It must be because you’re acting strange (he’s not jealous, thank you very much).

Love story climax:

“Yeah their food is crazy good,” you grin at Neige, helping him choose a few items on the menu, “as long as the bill is paid, at least.”

While Azul is flattered at your actions to recommend the Mostro Lounge to your closest friend who’d dropped by for a visit, there’s an annoying, itchy, gnawing feeling in one of his hearts that makes him unable to sit still. He pushes your original waiter aside and approaches your table with his little notepad, shooting you the most charming smile he’s able to give. He taps his pen against the paper to get your attention. “Y/N, I’m so glad to see you stop by again. I assume you’ll have the usual?”

“Oh, hey Azul,” he does not fail to notice the way your tone gets softer with him, “yes please. And can you add some other dishes for my friend here? Maybe two or three of your most popular ones, just so he can try them.”

Azul nods, jotting down your order. Then, he places a hand over his chest, grinning, “Of course, and just for you, it’s free of charge!”

It doesn’t take him long to confess now that he knows you like him too.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Thinks it’s hot 100%, he will die on this hill. While he still doesn’t appreciate you constantly getting into fights with other people, seeing you angry is so interesting to him. Also, you turn down the sarcasm with him, so he can fully enjoy seeing you tear someone a new one. Will not stop you unless it’s beginning to get physical.

His hair is about to turn white. Except, it’s already white. Anyway, the point is that you stress him out very much, as you being reckless means you tend to get into situations that isn’t in his Plan A. Or B. Or C. He bails you out of trouble with a calm smile and an eloquent speech, and it’s usually enough to resolve the situation. This doesn’t mean he likes you having virtually no self-control or self-reflection skills though, you’ll have to have a long talk with him (communication is key).

Azul thinks it’s cute when you let him pop your personal bubble, and he’s very happy to watch you try to pick a fight with anyone who gets too close to either you or him (keyword being try, he does his best to stop any actual fights from happening). He doesn’t mind you seeing him as part of your ‘territory’, as long as he gets something in return (and you don’t get too suffocating).

Watching you curl up into him whether in public or private gets him flustered, but especially in public. Angelfish, the big bad businessman has a reputation to uphold, you know? Still, he can’t find it in himself to push you off when you’re just so adorable like this, knowing how feisty you typically are. Do try to save it for private spaces though, he would also like to cling onto you shamelessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Something is off about the person Neige bumped into. Call it a gut feeling, or maybe it was the way the brown haired student was instantly alert, sweeping the white haired boy to a ‘safer’ distance before deciding on whether or not it was worth it to actually face you and Neige. You’re not sure what exactly is wrong, but your intuition is saying that this is not the kind of person your all-too-naive friend is supposed to fraternize with.

“It’s fine.”

His answer is curt, and he steers the other boy away immediately. You share a look with Neige, when you click your tongue and pull him along to find a map.

“They seemed nice.”

You hope there will not come a day when your friend is at the mercy of people with bad intentions, as it is very likely that he’d be eaten alive. “They seemed like bad news. Everyone here seems like bad news.” You reply, finally finding the botanical gardens where the cafe had been set up. You sit across from Neige at a table where some student takes your orders. Neige asks for a caramel macchiato with extra caramel and some macarons, and you opt for something a little less diabetic. “Don’t say that, Y/N. They didn’t even do anything to us, even though I was at fault for bumping into them. Isn’t that nice?”

You roll your eyes, “It’s nice that they didn’t, what, beat us up? Have higher standards, LeBlanche.”

“They seem like they’d make for good friends, that’s all,” he laughs softly.

“You think that of everyone.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

Exchange program:

Neige’s great plan to get you more “accustomed” to people is to throw you to NRC in the school’s newly-cooked-up exchange student program. You can’t stop him, because he really is only thinking of the best for you, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it, right? You get put in Scarabia because they have a lot of room.

Jamil is…okay. He’s a lot of things, but mostly, he’s not someone you’d ever find back at RSA. He’s a stressed out nanny most of the time, but there are a few moments when he feels more morally gray than people should probably be.

Kalim, however, you get along with splendidly. With him as your housewarden, you almost feel like you’re back with your normal circle of friends. Except Kalim is like, horrendously richer than them (and a bit more airheaded, though you think that could still be debated).

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Sorry, but most of your sarcasm is going to bounce right off Kalim’s head. He will not notice it unless you’re really blunt about it, in which case, why? It’s not easy to be mad at someone who’s so genuine all the time, and being unnecessarily mean to him is just, well, mean. It’s best to just go along with him. You can’t win against this type of person.

Twinning! No, seriously, you’re two cookies cut from the same dough, with the exact same cookie cutter. You and Kalim are exactly the same in this kind of thing, and it drives Jamil absolutely insane. Sorry to say but whatever trouble you stir up you’re going to have to face yourself; Kalim is no help, he rarely even has to face the consequences of his own actions, much less yours.

Kalim is the kind of guy to unintentionally get too close, like, all the time. No he doesn’t mean it, but it also doesn’t help when your instincts go nuts because he borrowed a pencil without asking. He does notice that you’re very protective of your stuff, but he doesn’t really notice what he does most of the time, though he tries to respect your boundaries. Does not notice it translates to people.

Oh hey! You’re hanging out with Neige, that’s so cool, can he come with? No…? You want some time with your friend because he’s only visiting for a short time? That’s cool…yeah, he can give you guys space. It’s not very often that the Al-Asim heir finds something that makes him feel disappointed or upset, but this is certainly one of them. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know why.

Love story climax:

You’re such a sight to behold.

Kalim wonders if Neige knows how lucky he is, able to touch you and hug you like he does. You don’t even fight back, only returning the embrace with a smile. There’s a sharp pain in Kalim’s chest and he wonders what he has to do in order for you to let him that close. He’s your friend too, isn’t he? It’s…so unfair.

“Kalim?”

Jamil approaches him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the fountain for a while.”

He sees the change in Jamil’s face when he notices that it’s you sitting by the fountain. “I see.” The words make Kalim laugh. He rests his elbows on the railing and leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. Of course, Jamil would know. Jamil would understand. Jamil can see the blooming feelings in his chest that he himself took far too long to get.

He wonders if you know.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being in a relationship does not make Kalim able to detect sarcasm. If you ever try to sass him, he will take it at face value. Anyway, now that you’re this close, it’s easier to understand that with his background, Kalim has never wanted for anything, and no one ever really says no to him. He has a tendency to not hear what you’re saying sometimes, only believing in what he wants to hear. You’re going to need to find some time to discuss this with him.

The only way that this would differ from when you were just strangers/friends with Kalim, is that Jamil is now kind of obligated to help you out when you find yourself in situations you can’t (and likely don’t want to) talk your way out of. At some point he just hypnotizes you to stay out of trouble, at least for a weekend, so he can breathe. Between you and Kalim, he’s probably about to overblot again.

Are you jealous? Kalim laughs it off and hugs you, promising he only loves you and no one else! It’s unlikely he understands the nuances, but Jamil assures you it’s better that way. Your protectiveness goes a bit unnoticed, if only because he’s used to bodyguards and being protected, and it’s also very unlikely that he notices your possessiveness.

Kalim lives for displays of affection! Physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation—his most fluent language is every love language ever. You want to hug in the middle of a crowd? Sure, he might lose you in the throng of people, after all. Want to kiss? Why not? Make sure not to miss his lips, okay? Private, public, with an audience or alone, Kalim will love you and he will do it in a way that you will never doubt his feelings for you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t—oh! You’re one of Vil’s friends, right?” Neige holds out a hand to the purple-haired boy for a handshake while you look on with a raised brow. “Um, Epel, I think, is what he called you?”

This Epel kid puts on a smile and shakes Neige’s hand, but it’s easy to tell it’s fake. He’s looking around nervously, as if to ascertain that no one sees him holding hands with Neige, and he takes it back as quickly as he’d put it out. “Right, I need to go, it was nice seeing you,” Epel laughs awkwardly and attempts to leave. He’s rooted in place once his name is called out by someone tall, blonde, and annoyingly pretty. You know from watching your friend’s works that this is the person who often played his rival; Vil Schoenheit. He does not give you the impression that he considers Neige a friend the way that Neige sees him go be.

“Epel, it’s time to go back for rehearsals,” he snaps at the younger boy, before putting on a perfectly practiced smile as he turned to Neige, “apologies for the trouble, we’ll leave you be now.”

And they walk away.

Your friend next to you is waving happily while you cross your arms.

(Clearly, that pompous-looking peacock has something against Neige.)

“It’s a shame, I wanted to introduce you to Vil, but he seems very busy.”

You scoff lightly, but at the very least, you try to mask your distaste. There’s no need for you to tell him that Vil likely hates his guts and the very dirt he steps on, not unless the other makes a move on it. “I don’t need to know anyone here,” you roll your eyes and hold onto his wrist, pulling him away, “let’s just find that cafe. Botanical gardens, right?”

“Right!”

Exchange program:

Due to a few…accidents, the faculty members of RSA have chosen you to represent the school in an exchange student program (they want you shipped off to NRC, like, bad). Pomefiore is the very lucky winner of the “which dorm should this kid be in” raffle, which means hell for you.

Epel is surprisingly funny. He’s probably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever met (and RSA is filled with pretty boys), yet his natural way of doing things is so crude, for lack of a better word. He feels good to chill with, and escape from all the prissiness that the dorm (and its housewarden) has to offer. Rook, though, you stay far away from. Sometimes when you’re alone, you feel like someone is watching you. And it’s probably him.

If there was anyone in this entire school that you absolutely loathe, it’s the world-renowned model actor blah blah blah Vil. He cannot stand your flippant attitude and you cannot stand his everything.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Vil does not know who Jesus Christ is, but I assure you that if he did, the name would be on his tongue 24/7. You don’t stand a chance in a verbal or physical fight with Vil, so you’ve learned to settle for making stupid comments behind his back. That he can still hear. He finds you very frustrating to work with, but he does love a challenge. You’ll learn to be more elegant by the time he’s done with you (you will not).

Part of the ‘does not give a fuck’ club. Whatever mess you find yourself in is your business, do you understand? He’s not one for spoon feeding, potato, so all your problems are your own to bear. Vil thinks that basing everything off intuition and instinct is straight up barbaric, but unfortunately for both you and him, you can’t be moved to Savanaclaw.

What are you, an animal? He can understand not wanting other people to touch your possessions, but must you hiss like some sort of raccoon? Fine, he’ll back off if he must. Your possessiveness of people doesn’t escape him, he just doesn’t think it’s any of his business. However, your actions now, in part, reflect Pomefiore which is under his rule and jurisdiction. Watch how you act.

It’s such an ugly feeling, and one that Vil refuses to define. And it’s Neige again, why is it always Neige? He knows you’re close but must you be that close? You’re always against people being in your ‘bubble’, so when he sees you all over that doe-eyed rival of his, it leaves him seething. Stop holding his hand, stop whispering so close to his ear, stop ignoring Vil…please…

Love story climax:

“Mira, Mira, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

Since he already knows the answer, why does he keep asking? Vil’s never pegged himself as a masochist. Then, what the hell is he doing to himself?

“Searching. The account with most comments tagged as beautiful, Neige LeBlanche.”

…Of course.

Why is it that Neige can get what he can’t have every single time? He works just as hard, doesn’t he? If not more. Neige is the protagonist, Vil is the antagonist. Neige is the hero, Vil is the villain. Neige is your best friend.

Who is Vil to you? Do you even think about him half the amount of times that he thinks of you? Is he a stranger? An acquaintance? A naggy dorm leader that you wish to avoid as much as possible?

He’s come second to your best friend one too many times.

He’s not giving up your heart, not to Neige, not to anyone.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from annoying (derogatory) to annoying (affectionate)! While he doesn’t enjoy your cattiness too much, Vil does like a bit of bite. He’ll indulge you just a little, everything’s fine in moderation, after all. Just make sure you know when to tone it down, darling.

Vil is a responsible person, and he expects you to be responsible too. If you pick a fight all on your own, he has no qualms letting you face the consequences by yourself. But he’s not heartless. If it really is too much for you to handle, or if it’s not your fault, he’s more than happy to help you mediate things (or beat someone up idk).

Jealousy isn’t pretty, but he rather likes the color on you. This man is beloved by literal millions so you’ll have a hard time keeping him all to yourself. But if it’s any consolation, his love is all yours, alright? Vil wouldn’t mind a possessive lover just as long as you know your place. If you think of him as part of your territory? Well, why not?

Vil Schoenheit has a reputation to keep. He can’t just let you do whatever; he’s a public figure. So all your lovey dovey-ing will have to wait until you and him are behind closed, locked, chained doors with shut windows covered by heavy curtains, do you understand? If you do, then feel free to adore him as much as you want to. He will return your affection in kind.

“I didn’t notice you there, sorry!”

“It’s fine…gosh these normies are so clumsy, can’t even walk without tripping over their own feet…though I guess I’m not one to talk.”

Your sense of hearing has an impeccable range, at least, more than enough to hear this walking matchstick’s grumbling that he’d likely meant to keep to himself. You glare at him and push Neige back, rolling up your sleeves. This guy might be tall, but he’ll bend to your level with a nice kick at the groin. “What’d you call my friend, you blue-raspberry-flavored lightstick?”

“Y/N, stop it!”

He squealed, seemingly panicking as he backed away. “What the, I say a few words and you pick a fight irl? That’s so lame.”

“I swear to the Seven if another stupid word leaves your—”

“Threat detected.”

A cute, blue-haired (blue-flamed?) robot kid is pointing some pretty big laser guns your way, so you’re forced to take a step back, watching him slowly lower them. “Hello, please refrain from threatening my big brother, or I’ll have to annihilate you.” The kid warns you with a chipper tone of voice, but he’s glaring at you harshly.

“Y/N,” Neige whispers, “let’s just go.”

You weigh your options and decide that, even though you can probably take that six-foot gremlin, it’s very unlikely you’ll come out unscathed with the adorable death machine in the mix. You send the man one last glare while your friend pulls you away from possible homicide.

Exchange program:

The greenhouse going up in flames was definitely not your fault. Uh, totally unrelated sentence aside, you’ve been chosen to represent RSA to go on an exchange student program to NRC. Because no one from Ignihyde was at the meeting (physically), they couldn’t exactly turn you down. Most people ignored the panicking tablet, anyway.

Ortho is a sweetheart, you’ve found, when you’re not threatening to de-ball his beloved older brother. But the catch is that you can’t spend much time with him without also spending time with Idia. Which, ew.

Your housewarden is someone you barely ever saw. But you’ve taken it upon yourself to annoy him as much as humanly possible (no you’re not petty who said that), so you usually camp outside his door to spook him from ever leaving. This escalates to occasional talks through the door, which turns into him slipping you a controller, to him realizing you can’t play if you don’t see the screen, to actually letting you hang out in his room.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Make no mistake, Idia’s tongue is just as poisonous as yours, if not more. The combination usually leads to trash talk that once made Ortho splash the two of you with cold water. He thinks you’re funny, but you’re both petty so most verbal fights turn to you two swatting at each other like children.

Bro, don’t you have a strategy for every level? You can’t win if you just wing it all the time, y’know? Idia’s the type of gamer who spends several hours at a game’s wiki page just to find the best route to the finish line, so you being as you are kinda gives him a headache. And look, he’s not helping you out, okay? None of his business.

What…you chill in his room but don’t let him have some of your honey butter potato chips? That’s lame af, but like whatever. He notices the people thing when he sees you through one of the cameras (that he did not plant nuh uh) in school, about to commit murder because someone called Ortho things neither you nor Idia appreciate. Hey, he’s rooting for you.

It took him like three weeks just to be able to sit two meters away from you without you bitching about it, so Idia is, understandably, a bit peeved when he sees you practically when he finds you hugging Ortho. He shouldn’t be annoyed, it’s Ortho, for sevens’ sake! But it’s not like he can just stop feeling frustrated. He can’t stop feeling disappointed. He can’t stop feeling…wait, what is he feeling? Jealousy? No! Absolutely not!

Love story climax:

He has to look away when you turn your head, lest he get caught in the act of totally-not-staring. He tries to focus on the game and on the way his character is moving on the screen.

But why is it that he feels like it’s a waste of time?

He loves gaming! The online world is his passion, his everything. But when you’re sitting right beside him, he thinks he’d prefer to admire you, adore you, instead of beating his high score at Kingdom Odyssey: Rise of Dragonheart. He takes another peek at your pretty face, glowing by the light of the screen. Your features morph into one of excitement, and he feels his heart lightening too when he catches your bright smile.

“I won! You lost, suck it!”

He doesn’t even mind you gloating, because your smug smirk is just…

Ew. Gross. Blegh.

It’s like he got turned into a shoujo manga character right there. Idia turns back to the screen. “Dumb luck, noob. Next round it’s gg for you.”

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

He doesn’t fight with you as often…but he still fights with you. Nothing serious of course, but trolling each other has become as much of a love language as quality time is. Idia really does enjoy trash talking with you the most, if only because you turn it into a competition. When you lose, he makes you do something silly. Like uh, marrying his character in Sunfall Brookes…

Worry not! Idia, being the super awesome and totally cool genius he is, has whipped something up so that Ortho is behind you at every turn. He can’t support your stupidity irl most of the time, but having his little brother (who is fully equipped with deadly laser guns) back you up is probably good enough. So it’s fine, you’re fine, worse comes to worst Ortho’ll pick you up and fly you right back to your loving boyfriend (who may or may not be waiting to hear about your stupid actions).

While you do share your potato chips now, it seems to have become a bit more troublesome. Like, what do you mean does he love Moonkiss Eclipse the Magical Sparkle Girl more than you? Of course he loves you more (pssssst Ortho can you hide the body pillow before my s/o pops me into a body bag). Your main enemy will be the thousands of fictional characters that Idia loves, so good luck!

Idia’s not like, super great at public displays of affection. He’s not great in public, in general. Your clinginess and kisses and whatnot will have to wait until you’re back at either his or your room, ‘kay? It’s worth it though, you get to see a shy, blushy Idia with flaming pink hair.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I AM FINE, HUMAN! YOU CANNOT INJURE ME WITH YOUR WEAK HUMAN BODY!”

Neige’s sheepish apology is met with a loud, annoying, obnoxious response. It makes you want to deck the green haired man in the face just for damaging your eardrums. “Hey, cut it out, will you? You’re loud,” you click your tongue, glaring at him, “and very annoying.”

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ANNOYING, HUMAN?! I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, ONE OF MALLEUS-SAMA’S MOST LOYAL RETAINERS, AM A FIGURE OF—”

You figure you’re unlikely to get anything useful out of this student whose head seems very deep inside his own ass. Just as you’re planning your escape route (or how to get away with murder), a voice that successfully stops the blabber arrives.

“Sebek?” a beautiful horned fae intercedes from the sidelines, “I thought you were with Silver and Lilia.”

“MY LIEGE!”

This is probably your cue to leave.

With your hand wrapped around Neige’s wrist, you whisk him far far away from this school’s legion of freaks. As good as the eye candy (the horned fae) was, another word from the green weirdo is bound to have you arrested after socking him in the gut.

“Y/N? Where are we going?” Neige asks hesitantly.

“To the cafe,” you answer curtly, “then after that we’re going right back for your SDC practice, okay? I cannot stand one more second with all these NRC students around.”

Exchange program:

RSA held a very, very random name drawing for the exchange student program, and surprise, it’s you! And apparently, during a housewarden meeting, Diasomnia offered to be your dorm during your stay (no one needs to know Diasomnia’s housewarden wasn’t there).

You start sort-of acquaintances with Silver, but he’s actually an amazing antithesis to you. Since, you know, you’re always blazing in your fiery temper and he’s just…asleep. Maybe not antithesis. Anyway he’s a good friend.

Being in the same dorm as Sebek does not make you tolerate him more. In fact, you butt heads so much that Lilia’s assigned someone in Diasomnia to always be watching the two of you when in the same room. Lilia is cool, he’s cute, he’s super fun. You get along nicely with him once you’ve gotten used to being jumpscared.

Malleus, to be honest, you barely ever saw. He’s a bit stuck in his own world, and it’s not as if you cross paths often in your schedule. He’s more a bystander in your world before something (a fight with one of his retainers, you can guess which one) happens, and you finally manage to call him a ‘friend’.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

My, you’ve got quite some courage, saying those things in front of the Prince of Briar Valley. Malleus doesn’t mind though, in fact, he welcomes it. He sees it as a sign that you’re friends. After all, none too many would do as you do and sass him, saying such crude and bold words. As long as you don’t cross a line, the fae prince will smile with a ready retort in light fun.

He thinks your antics are amusing, to say the least. But you know that thing where his superiority complex kind of comes out every once in a while? Yeah, he sees you as entertaining. Kinda condescending. The good thing about this is that he doesn’t get mad at the situations you find yourself in, plus it only takes a snap of his fingers to clean up your mess. The bad thing is that you feel like half a court jester.

Malleus understands your natural instinct to claim some place and things as territory. He’s a dragon fae, after all, and those myths and legends of their greed do hold some degree of merit. This extends to people? How interesting. Watches on with amusement as you tackle a student to the ground for calling Lilia ‘weird’.

In all his years of living, this is the first time that anything has made him feel this way. There’s a bitter taste lingering on the back of his tongue, and neon green sparks curl and flicker around his fingers. It’s out of his control, he can’t help it; you’re so unbelievably unlike yourself right now it’s driving him insane. Why would you cuddle with Silver under a tree like this? Do you feel something for his knight? Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Love story climax:

“Beloved.”

The word is strange, weighing heavily on his lips. And yet, as he watches your sleeping figure, mind almost subconsciously erasing Silver from the picture, he finds it to be a word befitting of you. Lovely. “It will be dark soon,” Malleus whispers, and the prince is brought to his knees next to you if only so that you may hear his yearning, “it is best to return indoors and sleep there.”

Your eyes flutter open; you are a vision he cannot ever hope to erase from his mind.

“Sorry, I was,” you let out a soft yawn, stretching your limbs, “I got really tired from PE. Oh, I should wake up Silver.”

Malleus can’t help the lightning that zooms across his fingertips. You didn’t seem to notice the term he’d used for you, still addled from sleep. You’re focused on gently shaking his retainer awake.

It matters not, for you will be his soon enough.

(How could you ever hope to be more territorial than a dragon, dearest?)

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being assertive and straightforward with your words is a great trait of rulers, beloved (yeah, in a relationship means he’s planning for marriage babe, keep up). Sass and sarcasm will have to be taken down a notch though, although he loves you, the faes in Briar Valley are old and not very accommodating of your hobby of wordplay. He does enjoy it, however, so feel free to speak as you wish when the two of you are alone.

In this kind of situation, he babies you a lot more. It’s not really condescension though, he believes that you can handle yourself especially since he now sees you as an equal. But Malleus is highly, if not overly, indulgent of the one he loves. Sees no need to change it unless something big happens. Is more liable to clean up after your messes, this time out of love.

Malleus thinks you’re so adorable when you’re jealous, with the way you get so fussy and protective over him. It’s not as if you really have a reason for jealousy, the prince is less ‘lusted after by many suitors’ and more feared. At least, that’s what he believes. So you only have Lilia and Silver to comfort you after a long day of fighting with his many many admirers.

Have a sense of decorum, dear, a public place is not suitable for displays of affection. Or so he says, but really, who is Malleus to stop you if you wish to be loving and sweet? He’ll melt faster than you can even say his name. He will have to hold back on reciprocating temporarily, but rest assured he has a mental tally and will be repaying you threefold once you’re in his private quarters.

[dev1lm4n]

moth to flame

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: you're pining over wicked fantasies or who you recently discovered to be mr. miller, even when it's indubitably wrong.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: explicit (18+), pre-apocalypse, accidental voyeurism, masturbation, age gap (joel's in his mid 30's and reader is in her early 20's), reader is an exchange student but nationality is not mentioned

notes: set in 2013. do reblog or comment if u enjoyed it!

Turbulent wind pushed on the pickup truck to no avail. That, paired with the soothing rhythmic grunt of the ignition created a perfect moody atmosphere. It was the peak of summer; yet somehow, for whatever reason, Austin was looking awfully somber. Gray and bland like the taste of soaked cereals. Sarah was bound to return to school despite the hefty weekends she’s spent with the newest addition to the Millers, and she didn’t like it at all. She’s making it real obvious too for everyone. Cheeks puffed up like she is five and always a loud thump following her every move.

She landed her dad’s coffee on the table with a loud thump. She stormed back into her room with a louder thump. She swung the pickup truck’s door with the loudest thump you’ve ever heard, before making her way over to the school’s gate. Her small pout remained on her face despite your cheerful wave and words of encouragement from behind the rolled window.

She’s a cute kid, you decided. 

You’re sure things would link perfectly between you and your host family if it weren’t for the fact that you practically avoided Mr. Miller like he’s the goddamn plague. Everytime you slipped out of your room, you had to make sure he wasn’t in a five meter proximity. You’d rather be dehydrated and starved than to meet him after his day-time job (which you’ve recently learned was a contracting gig), lingering around the kitchen with a stale sandwich up his mouth. Similarly, you treated Sarah as a trusty messenger for every message you had for her dad. Whether it’s a leaky sink or a hefty request to drop you off at your college.

It’s a genuine miracle Sarah never questioned you on your abnormal behavior, nor did Mr. Miller. Was this your streak of luck?

You tucked your phone back in your pocket after a quick run through your texts, eyes focused back towards what laid ahead of you. Mr. Miller’s broad shoulders stretched across the length of the car’s cushioned seat, moving with a steady pulse at every breath of air he claimed. Your careful eyes watched over the seams of his shirt; the correct side up after Sarah’s clever remark earlier that morning. Slowly, you traced along the nape of his neck with your bare eyes. Further and further, right until you could finally spot the dark brown strands tangled in with hints of gray. It looked soft.. much like how it appeared to be on his videos. You wondered how it’d feel like to run your hands over it, feel it through the ridges of your knuckles, and pull on‒

“Hey, you listenin’ to me?”

The man’s baritone voice penetrated the thick silence and you were left aghast. Soul sucked out of your body as your eyes flickered towards the rearview mirror, eventually catching the small smile playing on his dangerously charming face. He’d be the end of you that’s for sure. This was a bad idea, asking him to drive you to college just because taxi rates are crazy high this time of the year, leaving the two of you alone. Alone and hidden under the privacy of his truck, you were fucked through and through. You just hoped he wasn’t clever enough to somehow figure out your utterly shameful thoughts.

“Sorry.. um.. I was thinking of something. What were you saying, Mr. Miller?”

Yeah, that’s right. You were thinking of how nice his hair would feel when you’re gripping on it for dear life, but he didn’t have to know that.

“No worries, kiddo. Just.. I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

At the last syllable he uttered, you were already rigid. Parched, feeling like your tongue magically turned into sandpaper; you’d always consider yourself to be an excellent debater at all parts of life, but his lone question left you high and dry. Your eyes darted back onto the rearview mirror and instead of his candid expression, you were met with his scintillating gaze. Curious and prodding into the deepest part of your head. It enthralled you, encouraged you to say the truth.

“You’re always scurrying off when I’m around,” he gave a thought to what he’s about to say. “I get that Sarah is friendlier and a lot more relatable to talk to. Talkin’ to an old man isn’t exactly preferable, is it?”

He let out a polite set of laughter, which was met by a deafening silence. You crumpled under the tension. Awkward and wanting nothing more than to escape the car like some fugitive in handcuffs. Killing Me Softly With His Song by Fugees continued to play faintly in the background, once again becoming a fitting ringtone for your impending response.

“No,” you denied slowly. Effectively lying, but it was as obvious as a kid trying to pocket candies from the cash register. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

His expression eventually twisted into one of mirth; brows quirked with interest, a tight smile edged to unfold. He’s probably finding the telenovela-inspired reply hilarious, but the man’s polite enough to store all his witty comments in the back of his head.

“What I mean is,” you paused to inhale deeply. What were you even supposed to say? You used to watch all his explicit videos and therefore you couldn't look him in the eye without getting reminded of every single scene? Lying has never been your forte, but the other option was far too humiliating. Even for you. “I’m naturally awkward, Mr. Miller. I.. I feel embarrassed when approaching you. Feels like I’m bothering you or something.”

That was half a lie. A white lie, you’d conclude.

“Oh sweetheart, you never bother me.”

The way he said that nickname had you sweating buckets. Seconds away from throwing up your entire breakfast menu out of sheer nervousness. You knew he meant it in a platonic familial-bond type of way, but God did it remind you of what he calls all his pretty co-stars.

“You and Sarah are my number one priority now. You know that, right?”

“Right. Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

“I’m home.”

Exhaustion trailed after your every step as you made your way through the empty hallway. A result of caffeine-induced studying paired with the buzzing busyness of commuting in peak-hour. This was all easily avoidable. You should’ve accepted Mr. Miller’s offer in picking you up after his gig up West, but the fear of making a slip up is overriding your desire for convenience. You wouldn't want to make things even more weird than it already is. Your most prized possession, the laptop you’ve owned since the beginning of time, weighed your shoulder down exceptionally as you trudged through. A loud grunt passed your lips as you stumbled across; appearing exactly like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

“Oh! You’re here!”

You took a step back to meet the feminine voice, bubbly and hearty from the girl sitting in a criss-cross manner in front of the TV. Sarah was smiling. A big toothy smile that was too hard to resist, despite the fatigue weighing your shoulders down. You’re just soft when it comes to the little girl.

“Dad’s giving me a massage. Do you want one too?”

You must’ve been dog-tired, because you foolishly didn’t notice the large figure looming over her from the sunken couch. It was admittedly dim in the living room, but he was as obvious as an elephant, big and rigged with muscles out of a need for his profession. Both his contracting gig and his other.. scandalous endeavors. Breathing was all that you needed to focus on for now, and perhaps schooling your expression. You’re almost entirely sure you wouldn’t be able to speak no matter how hard you try.

A small unsure quirk of your head was what you settled with and Sarah, being the nicest girl you’ve ever known, quickly ushered you to sit by her side. On the wooden floor. For a damned massage from Mr. Miller.

You complied, of course. Even when you look mildly petrified by the idea.

“What’re you up to all evening?” 

His voice grazed your eardrums, alike to a powerful gust of wind, as you seated yourself on the foot of the couch. Sarah by your side, looking fondly in your direction, giving you all the more pressure to appear put together when you could simply falter at the bare sound of his voice. You needed to get your shit together. Mr. Miller’s an actual man, for fucks sake, it’s horribly immoral to think of him as the Wicked Fantasies in these kinds of setting.

“Studying.”

“Is that why you’re so pent-up?”

No. You’re pent-up because you’ve spent the entire week trying to be on your best behavior, trying to act like you’re not openly thirsting over this sweet girl’s father, trying to act like you’re not tipping into insanity from merely being placed in the same room as he is, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Think so,” you hummed softly.

“Poor thing.”

Anticipation almost killed you right there and then. You knew he was going to place his calloused fingers over your shoulders, knew that it was the basic requirement to give someone a shoulder massage, but you couldn’t help but develop butterflies in your belly at the thought. It wasn’t beautiful nor poetic, instead, it was an absolute nuisance to conceal your thoughts. When he began to place his hands on your upper back, you flinched.

A hitch in your breathing, then a throaty groan.

You were sensitive, touch-starved, and his touch practically confirmed that.

Mr. Miller’s touch was expertly firm yet gentle, the way you imagined it for a long time. His calloused fingers glided along your trapeze muscles with finesse. Fluid and seamless, as if he’s a master to the human body. Your eyes fluttered shut as he focused on the tension points. The nook between your bones which was constantly weighed down by your bag didn’t go unnoticed. His skilled fingers kneaded away every knot and tightness, making you surrender to his ministrations.

You didn’t want him to stop.

You wanted him to touch you more.

To have each one of his rough fingers stroke every soft bend of your body, like how he treated May and Sadie as if they were his own personal ragdoll.

To feel him under the constraints of your thin t-shirt, without a veil separating the two of you.

You craved him so bad, even when it’s wrong.

“You feel better?”

When he spoke, his raspy voice was magnetic to the core of who you were, as if he's able to resonate with all of you when others can barely achieve a fraction of it. It sounded sincere, like he truly cared about your well-being and not to simply feed into your secret desires. He meant well and you’re here acting like a starved pervert. The thought made you cringe ever so slightly.

“Yeah. Much better.”

“Good then, kiddo.”

The nickname turned you sour. You're more than willing to debate him on it, unlike last time.

“I’m not a kid.”

“No?”

He was so smug about it too. Even when you're looking all pissy.

“No. I’m a fully grown adult, Mr. Miller. Do note that I’m in my twenties,” you schooled him persistently.

“Twenties? Wow, you’re truly ancient.”

“Yeah and you’re a dinosaur, Mr. Miller.”

The silly quarrel you’ve gotten into with the older man made Sarah burst into laughter, breaking your tenacity and effectively making you laugh along with her.

It was the first time in forever that the Millers laughed that hard together.

As the evening sun painted the kitchen in sepia hues, you stood before the cutting board; a bunch of onions staring right back at you, waiting to be transformed. You have always been passionate about cooking as you viewed it a stress-relieving activity, similar to those medley of coloring books marketed for adults. With a polished kitchen knife in hand and earphones stuffed in, you began your culinary adventure. Your hands moved swiftly, guided by blind confidence. The rhythmic sound of knife to wood began to echo all around the room.

“What are you cookin’ up?”

You could hear him as clear as day, timbre vibrating through your ear canals. Only then did you notice that he had indeed pulled one of your neatly stuffed earphones away, leaving you exposed to the world. To him who you’ve been avoiding despite your little chat in the truck. You looked dumbstruck. Lost in your own thoughts, your eyes wandered up the pools of honey in his eyes. The subtle movements, his thoughtful expression, all seemed to weave a tapestry of intrigue in your mind.

“I’m just chopping up onions here. Nothing exciting, really.”

It took all of you to tear yourself away from his gaze. Even so, the sensation lasted, leaving an anchor of trepidation in your chest.

“You’re back early,” you remarked matter-of-factly.

“Construction guys finished cementing early. Why? You miss me?”

You chuckled fondly. Only to shake your head as you mouthed a brief ‘no’. It’s hard not to entertain the cheeky older man despite your best effort. He was better than you could ever imagine from the confines of your laptop. He had a personality, one that easily made anyone hooked, and a kind heart, therefore it’s terribly hard to keep your burning feelings at bay. It’s wrong. Terribly wrong to view him as such when you’re almost entirely sure he viewed you as his kin, as someone to protect and show guidance to. You were drawn to him like a moth to flame, but he didn’t need to know that.

A sudden lapse in concentration caused your knife to slip, nicking your finger in the process.

A sharp sting shot through your hand.

Then a bead of crimson appeared, mingled with the pungent scent of onions.

“Shit..”

Momentarily stunned, you sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes widened with surprise. It didn’t hurt that bad yet, but it’s still a sight that made you frantic and out of your element. You instinctively brought your injured finger close to your tightly pressed lips, intending to investigate the severity of the wound. Droplets of blood seeped its way through the slim cut as you pressed on the soft pads of your pointer finger. You need to get the wound clean and so tap water was your first option.

However, fate had other plans in store.

“Oh no.. does it hurt, sweetheart?”

You grimaced at the nickname. This wasn’t a good time to get all desperate, but his voice did nothing but burn you with need. Without hesitation, Mr. Miller took hold of your nicked finger, his touch tender and reassuring. He guided your finger closer to his lips and in the many years you've lived, this was the most sensual scene you’ve ever witnessed. Your eyebrows quivered, a mixture of confusion and anticipation swirled within you. 

He was your drug.

One touch and the intoxication was fatal. Whatever he wants to do is what you’ll do and there isn't a thing you can do to stop him - not that you’d want to.

With gentle care, he leaned in. He had to crouch ever so slightly to get to your level and never once did his velvety brown eyes leave yours. You’re starting to think that he was doing it on purpose. That this entire scene you’re trying to make sense of was just a part of his orchestrated show, that he indeed felt the same way you do and was just as afraid of confronting it. Though you’re never really sure; the sheer attention he gave you made your brain turn into mush.

His warm breath ghosted over the wound, and before you knew it, he pressed a soft, delicate kiss on where crimson was pooling. Your breath caught in your throat. You wanted to choke. The sting that had plagued you a moment ago now seemed to dissipate into thin air, replaced by a warmth that spread from your hand to every inch of your aching body. His mouth was a furnace. Plush at all sides as his slick tongue stuck flat against the nick.

The concentration in his face, the emphasized crows feet, the stray strands of brown dappled on his sweaty forehead. 

“It’s a little old-fashioned, I know,” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours, “but sometimes a little love can make the pain go away.”

“Love?” you mumbled foolishly, still in a trance.

“You’re a part of the Millers, remember?”

What he said stung you more than the nick. It pushed you off the ledge of delusions. Your gaze slowly grew somber despite your best efforts to stay nonchalant.

“Of course, Mr. Miller.”

The steady patter of rain upon his window stirred Joel awake, droplets yet to scatter the nascent rays of the settling moon. A strange occurrence for late summer. Though, the gentle sound brought a certain calmness to his mind; a soothing melody, one that stripped him of fear and incompetence. He looked around, blurry vision still intact while he scrambled to find the time. His alarm clock flashed back the time in big bold numbers. Barely past midnight, he noted internally. Joel wasn’t so sure on why his throat felt incredibly parched, dry to the bone, in need of refreshment even when it’s only been a few hours since he tucked himself in. Was it the one beer he had at dinner?

With an irritated sigh, he groggily stumbled out of bed. His knees creaked at its rusty hinge everytime he took a step down the dimly lit staircase of his home. He felt like a nutcracker. An old worn-out one at that. He wondered if he’s gotten too old for this, too old for construction and his side job - has he developed arthritis? His worries came to a halt when a soft glow caught his attention, emanating from a partially open door. 

If he remembered correctly, it was the small room by the garage he’s gifted to you. 

Curiosity piqued, he hesitated for a moment.

Would he be an absolute prick if he took a short peak? Probably. But you interest him. You’ve always been interesting to him, in ways that confuses him more often than he’d like.

He neared the door. One step at a time, praying to whatever God up there that’d be kind enough not to let the wooden boards ahead of him creak at his heavy steps. In that solitary moment, he felt a mixture of emotions welling up within him. It was as if he knew that he was about to stumble upon a secret, a private moment that’d be permanently embedded in his mind. He contemplated once again when he’s just a step away from getting a clear view. Respect for you tugged at his conscience, yet an overwhelming ugly curiosity pushed him to stay, to try to understand the significance of your nocturnal act.

His brown eyes peered through the small gap left.

He could see you now, but you couldn’t see him.

In the dappled moonlight, he carefully mapped out each and every one of your soft curves. How you were bathed in gentle light, sat comfortably on top of your stacked comforter as you typed away at your laptop with lightning-like speed. How you slowly leaned forward to get a closer look at the blaring screen, hair left relaxed and rear-end clearly emphasized by your inept sleeping shorts. How you eagerly repositioned yourself, straddling two rolled pillows as if you were to ride a horse. Joel didn’t mean to look. He didn’t mean to stare in such a perverted, disgusting manner. You were just too captivating and he was one weak-willed man.

With bated breath, he continued to observe.

Joel found himself captivated, his thirst momentarily forgotten, as he marveled at the scene unfolding in front of him.

This was wrong, he reminded himself. This was you he was looking at, not anyone else. You who he always viewed as a wide-eyed young girl still trying her best to navigate around her life. You who’s naive enough to believe his lies that the pink condom packets in his pick-up truck were single-packet wet tissues. You who’s sweet enough to cook his entire family a good dinner for once; turkey, mash, and green beans. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t crave you, because you’re you and he’s him.

His dilemma fell short when you clumsily tugged both your thin shorts and cotton panties off your legs, shin planted deeply into the pristine comforter. Your cunt gleamed under the thick moonlight, arousal formed in globs of clear stickiness right around where your tiny hole appeared. The visage caused him to stiffen in his sweatpants, twitching uncontrollably as he watched you rub yourself along the soft material.

Joel had a first-class view on how you cautiously ground down against it and he was.. shamefully thrilled. A moan bubbled up, before you did it again, and again, and again, each time the pillow appeared more and more damp.

“Fuck,” you hissed to yourself and it drove Joel insane. He pushed his pants down embarrassingly as if he’s some teenage boy catching a coincidental sight of a strip tease, before he cupped himself through his briefs. You’re putting on such a good show, even when it’s not for him, or for anyone on that matter. He watched with anticipation as you leaned back on both hands, edging yourself, before you rutted against it desperately.

Your hole throbbed, contracting and loosening everytime the soft material made contact with your sensitive nub. It’s all that you focus on now. Which was working wonders, considering your quiet gasps and labored breaths were starting to turn into much vulgar noises. Loud moans and whimpers that made Joel’s cock grew with interest, dribbling with pre-cum and desire.

“Please, please, please,” you begged breathlessly.

Both of your hands disappeared for a split second. He wondered silently where it went, but the honest shadows on your wall told him more to the story. You were cupping both your breasts, massaging it kindly before going over to pinch and roll your nipples to harden. You seemed to be sensitive there. Would you enjoy his thick fingers around them?

“More.. oh please,” you begged helplessly.

He wished to come and help you, to stick a finger into that tight hole of yours, to circle your clit with his thumb, flicking indulgently until you gave up. But it’s all a part of his far-fetched fantasy. Watching is more than enough for now. Joel couldn’t even see your face, but this entire thing got him off better than all the pornos he’s personally made.

“I’m gonna- oh, oh, God.”

Your cries echoed around the room, He could see how you quivered, thighs clamping shut around the drenched pillow as you reached your final ecstasy. Everytime you rolled back, he salivated over the sight of your sopping cunt. Untouched and sensitive even from just humping. Your thrusts never falter, not even when you’re making a mess on top of the once pristine, white pillow. What a dirty girl.

Joel watched you until the very end. Right until you collapsed forward, flat on your stomach after exerting such work on your body.

Cock sore and in need of relieving.

Though, something else caught his interest. A revelation that he found to be more important to comprehend than the state of his throbbing cock. 

The video you're watching to get yourself off.

They were his.

[dira333]

Cupid on a mission - Sugawara x Reader

Featuring: @screamin-abt-haikyuu x Asahi and @6okuto x Akaashi

Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain can you spot the fic exchange I put in here?

"Whatever you can do, I can do better," you say, chewing at the straw of your drink as you flutter your eyelashes up at Sugawara and Sawamura.

Daichi groans. “Don’t start,” he mutters under his breath, but Koushi’s already leaning in, teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

“Oh? You think you’re better than me? Please.”

“Tanaka and Kiyoko? That was me,” you beam, pointing at yourself with your thumb. “What do you have to show for yourself?”

“Going to Nationals?” Daichi asks only to raise his hands when both you and Koushi turn to send him an unimpressed glare.

“Listen, hotshot,” Koushi’s putting an arm around your shoulders as he speaks. With anyone else, you might think he’s trying to flirt, but this is Koushi. You’d know if he flirted with you.

“Why do you think Kageyama is the favorite Volleyball player in all Karasuno? Among the girls, at least.”

You furrow your brows and pout. “That’s not that hard. You’re working with a quiet canvas here. As long as he doesn’t try to smile, he’s pretty good-looking.”

“You want something ha-”

“Asahi,” Daichi interrupts, “You could try and set up Asahi.”

You turn toward him and Koushi follows, his arm still snug around you. He’s wearing one of those ridiculous cardigans today that make him look like the sweetest little librarian ever, although you’ve learned to fear the prankster behind the facade. It’s also ridiculously soft and you want to curl into it, not that you’d ever try.

“With whom?” Koushi asks, one step behind you. You’ve had your eyes set on a particular pair for a while now, but Asahi is already anxious enough. You don’t want to give him a heart attack.

“I think he has a crush on-”

“Already ahead of you,” you interrupt Daichi and pat Koushi’s hand, slipping out of his grasp. “Watch and learn, young Padawan.”

You feel his eyes on you as you walk on, slip through the open door from the kitchen into the living room, where Nishinoya has challenged Hinata to a dance battle. 

It’s not that hard to spot Asahi when you know what you’re looking for. A quiet spot, away from the spotlight, but where he can keep an eye on either Nishinoya or… ah, there she is.

Zaira’s chatting with Yachi and Kiyoko, wearing a cardigan not unlike Koushi- whelp, no time to think about him, you’ve got work to do.

“Hey,” you greet your friend with a smile, “Sorry, I got distracted. Daichi brought his mother’s Pizza Pockets. Can you play along for a moment?”

“Play along?” Zaira asks, a little confused, but takes your hand. 

“Sorry,” you say to both Yachi and Kiyoko, “I gotta steal her for a second. I’ve got something to prove.”

Yachi’s mouth is hanging open - but Kiyoko just grins, probably because she’s already figured out what this is all about. She knows the Third-Years better than anyone else.

“Where are we going?” Zaira asks as you make your way through the room toward the door to the backyard.

“Asahi, Hi!” You smile, “Wanna come along, get some fresh air?”

He blushes, but nods, eyes flickering between you and Zaira as he steps out into the chill of the evening.

“Oh,” you say as if you’ve forgotten something, “Could you hold this for me, Asahi?”

You look into his eyes and drop Zaira’s hand, small and warm, into his.

His hand closes around hers and they follow along for a few steps until it registers.

Asahi’s face bursts into flames and Zaira stutters like the fool in love that she is. 

“It’s really nice outside, don’t you think?” You say, walking toward the trees in the back where the leaves have turned red and gold. From the corner of your eye, you can see that they’re still holding hands, looking in opposite directions, unable to speak.

And behind them, illuminated by the lights in the house, Koushi’s leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He looks cozy and warm and like he might admit that he’s lost this bet.

“I’m sorry,” Zaira rips her hand out of Asahi’s grasp at that moment, ruining your little fantasy of rubbing your win into Koushi’s face. “I didn’t- that wasn’t- I didn’t…”

Asahi’s staring at his hand, completely missing the look of betrayal Zaira throws you as she storms away.

“Why did you do that?” Asahi asks, his voice strangely broken. He blinks at you. 

“I…” 

“Because she knows that you like Zaira,” Koushi announces, stepping closer. “And she’s not above using steamroller tactics to get you two together.”

“But I don’t want that-” Asahi croaks and Koushi has the audacity to wink at you as he wraps an arm around his friend. “I know, I know. Come on, let’s get inside and we’ll talk about it. I do have an idea…”

-

“Koushi’s still in bed,” his mother announces when you show up at his house the next morning. 

It worries you a little that she’s not the least bit concerned about you barging in on her son. Has she too already picked up on the fact that Koushi’s not into you? But who could he be into? Yachi? No, she’s too timid. 

You’re still debating that question when you hammer your fist against his door, wait one second, and then burst through.

Koushi blinks at you, shirtless, hair a mess, with a crease on his cheek from the pillow.

“Am I dreaming?” He asks, voice raspy from sleep.

You stare at him, speechless for a good minute before you catch yourself.

“I need to know what you told Asahi last night.”

“Mhm,” he hums low in his throat, curling into his blanket again. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I do.” You step closer. 

His room is unusually tidy for a guy his age, not that you don’t know that already. You’ve spent more than enough hours in here, studying for exams. 

On the chair by his desk rests a jacket that looks oddly familiar.

“Is that mine?” You ask, walking over. 

“What?”

“The jacket.”

“I think so. You left it here last time you came over.”

“And you didn’t give it back to me?”

“I was going to, but I forgot about it,” he waves it off like it’s nothing.

“We see each other every day in school and you forget about it?”

“I had other things on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“Graduating, for example?”

You press your lips together. You can’t argue against that.

“What did you say to Asahi, Koushi? Are you sabotaging my plan of getting them together just so you can pretend you’re better than me?”

“I am better than you. At least at this game.”

“Please,” you scoff. “Name one couple you made happen?”

He smiles, clearly pleased that you asked.

“Oh, gladly,” he slips out of bed, grinning when your eyes immediately shoot to his face. It wouldn’t be the first time you saw him in just his boxers, but the last time happened so long ago, it doesn’t really count.

“Takeda-Sensei and the cute Journalist.”

You scoff. “That was too easy. She was basically throwing herself at him.”

“Coach Ukai and his childhood friend.”

You bite down on your tongue. That one was a hard one, you had to give him that.

“Fine, that one was good,” you begrudgingly give in, “But so was-”

“Ah,” he grins, holding up one hand. He’s halfway in his pants and you roll your eyes as you wait for him to continue. 

“Akaashi and that girl that went to Nekoma… what was her name again?” 

“Nia. And it doesn’t really count if you don’t even know her name.”

“Please, they both needed that push.”

“Still-” He interrupts you again.

“And there’s that really cute couple… ah, no, I can’t tell you about that yet.”

“Yet? What does that mean? Who are you- Koushi! Are you planning on setting someone up? Who?”

“Not telling,” he smirks and pretends to close his mouth and throw away the key.

“You’re a menace.”

“You love it.”  You grimace behind his back. He’s right, but you’d rather die than admit it.

-

“Where are we going?” You ask half an hour later when he steps out of the bathroom, hair now just as messy, but in a different way. You wanna drag your hands through it, but you’d rather chew off your fingers one by one than admit that.

“Follow Asahi around as he confesses his feelings to Zaira.”

“What?” You’re on your feet in a heartbeat. “When? Why? How did you manage-?”

“I told you,” he preens, “I am better at this than you.”

“You’re not.”

“Am too. Mom, we’re going out.”

“Okay, stay safe you too.” She pops her head around the kitchen door. “And come over more often. It’s nice having you here.”

“Oh, erm, yes, thank you,” you stammer. This invite might have been cute when you were kids, but now it just feels weird. 

-

“Why are you staring at me?” You ask Koushi. You don’t know where you’re going and he’s refusing to tell you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t notice if he keeps looking at your face for over five minutes. If he’d been anyone else you might have thought he’d finally noticed your beauty or found some hidden feelings for you in the back of his ink-black heart. But this is Koushi, and you know to expect the worst.

“Nothing, just… are your eyebrows uneven?”

“They’re not!” You exclaim on instinct, though grabbing your phone to check. 

“Take a picture,” Koushi orders, and the tone in his voice has you follow through, starting the timer. Usually, when his voice sounds like this, something fun is going to happen.

He leans in, face serious, so you keep yours similar. Then, right when the countdown runs out, he presses his lips to your cheek.

Your heart lurches into your throat and you have half your mind to turn your phone away, not yet ready to examine the face you made.

“What was that about?” You all but whisper-yell, trying to be conscious of the people riding the train with you even though your heart wants to lurch out of your chest and slap him in the face.

Koushi grins and rests his head on your shoulder. “Not telling,” he hums low and even though you try to push him off, he’s staying exactly where he is. A menace, clearly.

-

There is no sight of Asahi whatsoever.

“We’re pretty early,” Koushi guides you toward a coffee shop, the colorful pastries literally screaming at you to get one. “Let’s get breakfast first.”

“I just had breakfast.”

“And now you’ll have it again. You still drink Chai Latte?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Let me guess, the lemon pie?” He points at an adorable little creation, the yellow color brightening your mood just by being in your field of vision. You pout.

“I don’t like it when you know me that well.”

“Sorry, not sorry. What do I like? You know that?”

“Of course,” you boast, “I’ve been forced to be around you for far too long not to know that. You like everything spicy, so I’d get the chocolate chilli parfait for you. And you’re a wuss, so you drink Hot Chocolate.”

“I do drink Hot Chocolate,” he confirms with a smile, “but I think I’d prefer something sweet today.”

“Ah,” you cock your head to the side to look him up and down. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well, but it is me. - Yes, we’d like one Chai Latte, one Hot Chocolate, the Lemon Pie and the Unicorn Roll please.”

“The Unicorn Roll?” You ask him, voice dropped low. 

He smiles in a way that leads all attention back to that awful mole next to his eye. It looks like it’s winking at you.

“Yes, The Unicorn Roll.”

It’s a monstrosity of cream and marshmallows, decorated in colorful sprinkles and topped with a tuft of rainbow cotton candy. You’ve wanted to try it ever since it came into fashion, but just looking at it has your teeth hurt and you can never betray your loyalty to everything lemon flavored anyway.

But looking at it now, sitting in front of Koushi as if it’s just a normal dessert, it wipes everything Asahi out of your brain.

It almost makes you miss the fact that Koushi’s paying.

“I can pay for myself,” you insist, a little too late, but he’s already pushing you forward, a warm hand at the small of your back.

“Can I try yours?” Koushi asks and you’re still a little out of it, pushing your plate toward his.

“You wanna try mine?”

“I- yes…” You blink, before digging your fork in, taking out the left eye of the poor little Unicorn.

“I don’t think this qualifies as breakfast,” you groan once your mouth is empty again, thinking fast how you could possibly get another forkful of this delicacy.

“Doesn’t matter though, right?” Koushi digs his fork into your lemon pie and you take that as an invitation to take out the right eye as well.

-

“You know…” you ask between bites, now taking freely from both plates, “I apologized to Zaira. I said I was sure Asahi was going to confess now, and that I’d give him a little push. I still need to know what you told him so I don’t lose a friend as well.”

“Mhm…” He puckers his lips as he’s thinking, now slightly tinted pink by the cotton candy. “I suppose I could tell you.”

“I suppose you could.”

“I told him I’d confess my feelings if he’d confess his.”

Your fork drops loudly onto the table and you almost toss your cup off it as you try to grab it, trying to look as if you didn’t care about his words at all.

“Pretty… uh, pretty bold of you, don’t you think?”

“Well, not really. I’m pretty confident she feels the same way.”

“Oh, but does Asahi know that too?”

“Well, yes. He said it wasn’t a fair exchange, but he’d still try.”

“And how is he going to do it?” You ask, hand curled around your fork in a tight fist. You don’t want to talk about Koushi confessing. Asahi confessing is a much safer topic.

Koushi checks his phone. “He’s doing it right now. He’s meeting up with Zaira at that little park across from her house.”

Your mouth falls open.

“At the park?”

“Obviously,” Koushi smiles, eyes twinkling. “Do you think he’d confess in the open? Where all the people can see him? No way.”

“But… but why are we here then?”

Koushi’s smile changes to something softer and your heart lurches, slipping into your throat. Breathing is suddenly impossible.

You need to get out of here, fast.

“I need to go,” you manage to push out, grabbing your bag from beneath the table.

You don’t look back, but all the way down the street you don’t hear him follow you. 

Well… it’s settled then. You’ll have to move to Tokyo. 

No way you can show your face again after booking it out of there like this.

Now he’s surely going to think you like him.

-

The swings are vacant, the ground covered in leaves.

You pull your phone out of your bag, not surprised to find a flurry of messages from Zaira, each one of them more ecstatic.

And even though you gave them a push, it’s pretty clear that you’re not the one responsible for her happiness. At least not this time.

“Chai Latte, slightly chilled for the Miss?” A voice asks behind you.

“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” you tell him, not surprised when he still settles on the swing beside you.

“No jokes, I promise.”

You huff, but accept the paper cup of Chai Latte, sipping it instead of looking at him.

For a while no one says anything.

“If you’d confessed first, I’d have won a bet,” Koushi announces eventually, making you halt your movement to turn to him.

“You bet on me confessing to you?”

“First. I bet on you confessing first.”

“With who?”

“My mom,” he admits, blushing slightly. “She called me out on my crush during Junior High.”

Your jaw falls open. “That was when you used to pull on my hair!”

“It looked really cute!” Koushi defends himself. “And you always got all huffy and paid me more attention than anyone else.”

“That’s disturbing.”

“It’s honest. But I… I really like you. And you are better than me in some things. Not all things, but some things.”

You purse your lips. “For example?”

Koushi smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I’m better at kissing though.”

“Prove it,” you hiss and his smile turns into a grin.

“Gladly.”

-

-x-

Dread’s creeping up your spine. 

“Oh no,” you announce to the table, interrupting Yachi and Zaira’s quiet conversation. “Koushi’s getting bored.”

“How can you tell?” Yachi asks.

“Can’t you?” You ask, just as the door opens.

“Baby?” Koushi asks, dragging the syllables, “You’ve not paid me any attention for at least fifteen minutes, that can’t be healthy.”

“You’re a big baby.”

“And you love me. What does that say about you?”

“That I have no taste?”

“No, you have a lot of taste.” He grins, propping his head on your shoulder and squinting down at the table. “Oh, I like that color for your nails. I saw some shoes that would fit really well the other day.”

“We cannot buy another pair of shoes.”

“Mhm, we cannot, but I can.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “You’ll never save money that way.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“Girls,” he addresses your friends then, “I have to take her away for a minute or two. Important business, you understand. Zaira, Asahi’s in the kitchen. You should join him, maybe, because Tanaka’s trying to talk him into cutting his hair. Oh and Yachi, Tsukishima is-”

“Tsukishima is being annoying?” You interrupt your boyfriend, sending him a glare. He will not ruin your plans for Yachi. “We already know that. You can stay here if you want, I’ll be back shortly.”

“Mhm, not if I have anything to say in that matter,” Koushi announces, dragging you out of the room. The giggling of your friends follows you, but you don’t really think too much about it.

There are other things on your mind. 

Koushi’s hand in yours, or the smile he’s throwing at you, or the fact that he’s not pulling you into the living room or an empty bedroom, but outside, where it’s freezing..

You might love him, but you’ll shove his face into the snow for that.

Tip me?

[allieebobo]

College Tennis: Origin Story

Demo | Characters | Dev log | Ko-fi

Tennis/Sports x Slice-of-life x College x Found-family x Coming-of-age x Coz

Experience the ups-and-downs of life as a freshman on the Cargill University varsity tennis team amongst a colorful cast of characters.

Compete in nail-biting singles and doubles matches, forge lifelong friendships, pursue budding romances and make a name for yourself, both on and off the tennis court.

Will the once-great Cargill Coyotes succeed in reclaiming the NCAA Div I championship title for the first time since the 90s? Will you come into your own as a promising young tennis star, primed for the professional leagues? Most importantly, how much are you willing to sacrifice in pursuit of these dreams?

Full character customisation

Customise your gender, height, build, personality, physical appearance, languages spoken, tennis style, dominant hand, and more!

Strike a balance between: tennis, keeping up a rich social life, and maintaining your grades

Nail-biting tennis matches

Every match is different! Play matches throughout the fall and spring seasons, leading up to the NCAO championships—that is, if you make the Cargill team.

Intricate tennis game mechanics: Factors such as your condition/energy, preparation for the match, opponent's play style, doubles partner chemistry, as well as your choices at key junctures of the match etc. will affect the outcome of the match!

Craft your own distinctive playing style and make a name for yourself on the tennis court

Hone your strength, agility, finesse, serve-and-volley skill, and endurance over the course of the game!

Romance four possible characters

Rayyan Afiq, the gruff, hot-headed no. 1 seed

Guillaume/Geneviève Lavigne, the sardonic international student on your floor

Tobin Harris, the warm, unflappable team captain

Sam O'Connelly, your nerdy and spirited high-school best friend

And forge lifelong friendships with many more...

Rayyan Afiq The rival

Gender: Follows the gender of your team Age: 20 Nationality/Ethnicity: Egyptian-American

Student information: Junior, Anthropology major Player information: Vice-captain, No. 1 position, Aggressive Baseliner

Appearance: 5′6 (f) or 5′10 (m). Lean, athletic build. Dark, wavy curls, and thick sweeping eyebrows over piercing dark-olive eyes. Tawny, honey-brown skin.

Description: Surly, intense, and proud. Ambitious and driven to excellence in everything they do. Willing to give up almost anything for their tennis career. Has a soft-spot for cats. Loves organising things, has a plan for everything, and dislikes surprises.

Tobin Harris The captain

Gender: Follows the gender of your team Age: 20 Nationality/Ethnicity: African-American

Student information: Junior, History major Player information: Captain, No. 2 position, All-court player

Appearance: 5′9 (f) or 6′1 (m). Tall, solid build. Short black hair, warm, brown eyes and a calm, assured demeanour. Dark bronze skin. A smile that lights up the room.

Description: Kind, laid-back, selfless, and sociable. Goes out of their way to make everyone feel welcome, but has a tendency to stuff down their own emotions in the process. Surprisingly private and cautious when it comes to their own desires/wishes. Gentle to a fault, steadfast and unflappable. If not playing tennis, probably can be found cooking, hanging out with friends, or going to the library.

Geneviève/Guillaume Lavigne The exchange student

Gender: Gender selectable (f/m) Age: 20 Nationality/Ethnicity: Half French (father's side), half French-Canadian (mother's side)

Student information: Third year exchange student, Political science bachelor’s degree. Hall-mate.

Appearance: 5′6 (f) or 5′11 (m). Toned, supple build. Dark, tousled hair with fair skin. Smoky grey eyes, with a smattering of freckles. Permanent half-smile.

Description: Rarely excited or enthusiastic, always armed with a dry remark. Slightly cynical, but softer than they look. Very intelligent, though they don't often let on what they're actually thinking or feeling. Rich (and intensely private) inner world.

Sam O'Connelly The childhood best friend

Gender: Gender selectable (f/m) Age: 18, Freshman Nationality/ethnicity: American

Student information: Freshman, Undecided major. Player information: No. 6 position for the UCLA Bruins

Appearance: 5′4 (f) or 5′8 (m). Trim build, with a small frame. Curly russet hair that often sticks out in all directions. Mischievous light blue eyes and an infectious smile.

Description: Excitable, with a chaotic positivity that radiates from them like sunshine. Fun-loving and scattered, and nerdy. Competent tennis player, but too often distracted by other hobbies and interests. Somehow manages to survive on a diet of Cheetos and Ben & Jerry's ice cream.

More character descriptions here, face-claims here.

[mochatsin]

When MC can Draw (Dateables Version)

Drawing and the arts is one of the things you’re most passionate about. There’s a lot of things, and certain demons, that are out there to give you inspiration to draw. How will the dateables react when they find out you’re a great artist?

Wow my first dateables version of my prompts. Hope i’ve written them all well. This version is requested from my tumblr :0 thanks for reading!

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

Diavolo

Diavolo took notice when you saw your eyes lingering among the paintings during your tour around his castle. There were portraits of prominent figures from Devildom, from old kings to spearheads that shaped their history. He explains how there’s one royal painter for every royal king, thus the similar styles in every portrait. Since you’re an exchange student then it’s essential you learn about these demons, and Diavolo is happy to tell their tales for you. 

He was taking a stroll around RAD before going home when he spotted you in the school’s gardens, seemingly preoccupied. He wanted to call on you but he was more curious to see what you were working on. Diavolo watches you closely from a distance, afraid that you might hide from him if you spot him like how the others do.

To his surprise, he saw you working on a portrait of him in a style that’s similar to the ones he’s shown you. The way your eyes lingered on those paintings when he toured you around before, it clicks to him now that you were trying to study the art style itself as well. It’s almost identical, but with your added personal touches to make it unique.

His towering size doesn’t hide him very well when you immediately spot him at the corner of your eye. The pillars don't do justice to how large Diavolo is as a demon. You try to conceal the art you were making, it’s embarrassing when the subject of your art is actually a few feet away from you. But he quickly smiles as he walks over to you. Now that his cover's blown, he definitely wants to see everything up close now.

“I didn’t mean to be rude and spy on you like that. But you don’t need to hide anything! Even from a glance I could tell you’re talented. Would it be alright for me to see what you were working on?” You can’t really turn down such a polite request, but you most certainly can’t turn down the volume of his voice that’s booming with excitement as he flips from one page to another.

When you finish your portrait of Diavolo, expect it to be treated like a national treasure. A beautiful artwork of the young prince made by the human exchange student? It deserves the best frame that Diavolo can get his hands on. Expect Barbatos by your door the next day with high quality art supplies. He’ll treat you like one of the finest royal artists to ever live in Devildom.

Barbatos 

He invited you for some afternoon tea at the castle as thanks for lending him a hand in his duties the other day. Though there were some other matters around the castle that Barbatos needed to attend to, he asked for you to stay put first and help yourself to some of the treats he had prepared beforehand. 

You always admired the intricate designs of the tea set Barbatos always prepared whenever you came over. Since you’re a bit bored, you took out your sketchbook and decided to draw the fancy little tea cups while you wait for Barbatos to come back. 

The tea sets that Barbatos prepares always have beautiful pattern designs that range from dainty floral prints up to sets that look more expensive than the Mammon’s weekly bills due to how much the patterns are embedded in gold. If you look closely, you could probably spot little devils on it and it’s cute in its own way.

Little did you know he’s been actually observing you for a while now. He finished his last minute duties rather quickly since it would be rude to keep a guest waiting and that’s when he spots you keeping yourself busy by drawing, your glance going from the tea set to the paper. He wanted to admire that look you have whenever you concentrate for a little bit.

He lets out a small chuckle which gets your attention, a gentle smile on his face as he approaches you. “You’re quite the talented one, aren’t you?” Barbatos says as he takes a seat next to you, glancing at your sketchpad. “Maybe you can tell me more about your work while we enjoy some tea together?” 

Barbatos wouldn’t push for you to show anything, but he’ll be happy once you do. He’s impressed at how well you can make patterns that range from something simple to ones that have intricate details. He likes how you can make a portrait of the tea sets he’s been preparing, and secretly he grabs his finest sets to see if you’ll be inspired enough to draw it as well the next time you visit. Maybe he can also pull some strings to put your own pattern designs onto an actual tea cup and serve it to you next time. 

Simeon 

Sometimes you go to Purgatory Halls to get away from all the constant nagging and chaos of the demon brothers. It’s nice to find that peace and quiet you needed to do your daily tasks or just laze around since you felt like it.

Simeon lets you stay in his room for today while he tries to focus on writing for his novel. He plans on introducing a new character soon and since he trusts you, he starts talking about the character itself. How they compose themselves, what they’re like, the possible role they’ll play in the story, you get all these details before the chapter is even written.

Once he’s done talking he lets you get back to whatever you were doing while he continues trying to figure out how to write the next few parts. Though he soon hears the sound of scribbling pens and wondered if you were doing some homework? He could’ve sworn you were done with those already.

He turns around and to his astonishment, you were sketching the character he was just discussing with you earlier. Given his detailed accounts of the character, you were able to design it well. It’s an understatement to say Simeon is happy. He is ecstatic. You brought this character to life in just a matter of minutes all for him, and that brings Simeon more ideas on how to proceed with writing. 

“You never told me you actually knew how to draw. Your talent at visualizing is exceptional.” Simeon would listen carefully while you talk about your journey to the arts and how you honed your talents while he looks through your other works. Afterwards, he starts to praise your art like a professional critique, telling you what he loves in each work.

His heart skips a beat whenever he finds your old works that’s dedicated to his novels. Learning that you’re also talented with the pen like he is, just in a different element, makes him feel a little bit closer to you. If you’re not busy, he may ask for your help when it comes to visualizing something he’s having a hard time with. He’ll treat you to something nice as thanks!

Solomon

Being Solomon’s apprentice means that there are times he’ll require you to assist him with his research. There’s a few spells and potions that he wants to work on, though they all require a lot of preparation work. You both agreed on doing a bit of divide and conquer on those tasks so that it won’t be too time consuming to finish. 

You managed to do a lot of chores for him which is quite tiring, though Solomon is grateful for your efforts and he has one last request from you which he said is essential to the potion he’s making. There’s a delicate Devildom flora that Solomon harvested recently, and you have to make sure the flower stays fresh because it can wither very quickly if not taken care of and the potion would fail if that happens. He’ll take it off your hands once he’s done preparing everything else.

Normally, one would’ve kept it in a vase full of water and called it a day. Though you decided to not only put it in a vase, but draw up a summoning circle that would keep it fresh. It’s something that you learned from Solomon’s notes, and the sorcerer is astonished you drew the circle so accurately enough to work on your first try when he came to check up on you. 

“Now how did my little apprentice actually manage that so quickly? That would’ve taken me several tries to get the patterns done.” Solomon says with an amused smirk, staring at the circle in awe. Getting one line wrong would’ve instantly killed the flower but right now, he sees that not only is it very much alive but it looks more vibrant than ever. The magic is more potent, Solomon is sure that any potion he makes with its petals would be very effective.

While he was waiting for the potion to boil over in the cauldron, he decided to learn more about this hidden talent of yours. He makes you draw some summoning circles from one of his books, already starting out on the difficult types to draw. All of it is perfect somehow since you’ve had a history of drawing, so your hand is quite steady and you act like it’s no big deal. Solomon will definitely want to see your works in the future.

“A lot of sorcerers can cast magic, but not everyone has the talent to make summoning circles as quickly and accurately as you do.” That’s big praise coming from humanity’s strongest sorcerer. Though that means he’ll want to exploit that talent and call you over every time he needs it in his experiments, it’s a win for him either way because he gets to spend more time with you. 

Luke 

There’s a new event in Devildom where the angels and you were teamed up to open a stall that’s focused on selling sweets and pastries. Luke appreciates your input when it comes to taste testing his sweets since none of the demon brothers are able to give proper critiques like you can, Simeon tends to be a little too nice to Luke, and Solomon is never allowed near the kitchen. Ever. 

Your company is always welcomed and Luke would gladly add any of the sweets you recommended onto the menu. You always come back to the House of Lamentation with a bag full of samples you both baked that day, which always brings a smile to the brother’s face. 

You come back to Purgatory Hall only to find Luke seemingly having a dilemma. He reassures you that it’s not because of the batch of sweets and pastries since you helped him perfect the menu. It’s the fact he needs to make a logo and design for the stall. If it can’t attract any customers then all the effort you both put into baking this would go to waste. 

You sat down with Luke to brainstorm with him, watching the angel stare blankly at the paper with frustration while you ask him for what ideas he’s already had so far. Luke had to go back to the kitchen to pipe some frosting on the cupcakes, though by the time he came back you were already done with the sketch.

Luke is awed at the design, seeing as how you incorporated both his and your idea for the stall in a way that still blends well together. “Y-you’re incredible! How’d you do that so fast though? You know what, let’s show Simeon first!” If Luke had a tail, it would be wagging from sheer joy. He’d be so excited to get the decorations and paint for the stall that he almost forgot about the cupcakes in the oven. 

By the time the stall is finished and running, Luke would definitely flaunt your talent not just for helping him bake but for also designing the stall. “You like the design? They did that!” He would say with an excited grin on his face before pointing at you. Luke enjoys working with you that you both barely notice the brothers getting jealous over the amount of time the angel gets to spend with their human. 

[goldenwilliamson]

winners and losers | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

summary: bit of an angsty one where leah and matildas!reader play against each other in an england v aus friendly (based on that one in april this year) where england lose. leah blames herself. reader takes on sam kerr's position lol. the goals and the game is based on this game if interested

word count: 2.5k

When you found out that a friendly had been scheduled between Australia and England, you and Leah had initially felt excited. It wouldn't be the first time you two had come up against each other in your national teams, and it sure wouldn't be the last. Something about playing against each other lit a fire in your belly. It made you both want to be performing at your highest level, almost showing off to the other about how well you can play for your country.

You had also recently been made the captain of the Matildas, something that made Leah immensely proud.

"I can't believe we get to do a coin toss together," you had told Leah when you first found out about the Australia v England game.

"That's what you're most looking forward to? The coin toss?" Your girlfriend laughed at you.

"I've never done one with you before!" You defend yourself.

"You're a bit cute you know?" Leah poked fun at you.

"I'm also looking forward to seeing you in your England kit with the armband on," you said.

"Mm, do you have a thing for captains or something?" Leah said.

"I do when it's you," you told her, which made her laugh.

"Well I for one can't wait to see you as captain, baby," she kissed you as she said this.

—

People often asked about how you deal with playing against your girlfriend, and you always said the same thing: "In football there's got to be a winner and a loser, and we both know that."

You and Leah were well equipped to deal with losses and to support each other no matter the outcome. You were professionals, and you loved each other enough to not let the result of a 90 minute game impact your relationship.

The day rolled around that the Matildas would be playing the Lionesses, and you and Leah hadn't seen each other for a few days while you were both in camp. You exchanged a few texts in the morning, wishing each other luck, and promising to see each other when the game was over.

It was an important game for the Matildas. The Lionesses had been on a winning streak since Sarina Wiegman became their manager, making them one of the toughest teams to beat in the world. The Matildas were also trying to strengthen the depth of their side, bringing in younger players in the lead up to the World Cup. It was going to be a difficult game, and they knew it.

As kick off approached you felt the electricity of walking into the stadium alongside England players at a home game. Even though the crowd wasn't there for you team, you still felt the excitement as you walked out side by side with Leah as the captains. You went through the pre-match process of the anthems and then the coin-toss and exchange of the pennants with Leah. She had already adopted her stern game face. You looked in her eyes, feeling slightly disconnected from her, knowing the stakes were so high for your team.

Before you split to get in position you and Leah shook hands and before you stepped away she pulled you close so she could speak into you ear.

"Looking good captain," she said, stepping out of her professionalism for a moment, finally smirking and letting her serious exterior relax. You laughed for a second, having been caught off guard.

"Are you trying to throw me off?" You say playfully and she shrugs her shoulders innocently before patting your cheek and running off to her spot in the back line.

You smile as you move to your space on the pitch as the striker. Then the ref blew the whistle and the game was underway.

Australia held up well against the strength of the Lionesses, maintaining possession and creating some chances. But it was in the last quarter of the first half when things started to fall into place. Clare Hunt sends the ball forward and you can see that it's going to fall in a prime position for you. As Australia's leading goal scorer you knew what had to be done, and you started to run for it. Leah saw what was happening and began to run too, racing you to the ball.

Leah knew that you only needed one shot and you would put the ball in, and with the mounting pressure she attempted to header the ball back towards Mary, but incidentally ended up planting the ball right at your feet. You heard her wince as you saw the opportunity for the goal open up right in front of you.

Even though you knew it was a major blunder on Leah's behalf, you seized the moment, you chipped the ball over Mary with ease and watched as it hit the back of the net.

As you turned around to celebrate you caught one quick look at the disappointment on your girlfriends face before you were surrounded by your teammates. It was an important goal in an important match. You knew that the goal was gifted to you by Leah, and she would no doubt be regretting it for the rest of the game, but you couldn't have let that opportunity go.

At half time Tony assured you all that you could come out of this match on top. You were up 1 point against an undefeated team, and now you just had to maintain the ground that you've already covered.

The second half continued with little luck for England who seemed unable to get a strong shot on target. But on your side, another chance opened up in the 67th minute. You were running out on the right when the ball came to you, and glancing into the box you saw some yellow jerseys and sent the ball in. Charli Grant found it and sent it into the net, giving Australia a 2 point lead as you entered the final leg of the game.

At this point excitement was bubbling, and you and your team were fired up, knowing it was all about holding onto the lead now. And as the game drew to a close, you had managed to do so. At the final whistle the result was 2-0 to Australia.

You and your team celebrated, knowing this win was a massive achievement, especially in the lead up to the World Cup. Your teammates praised you for your goal and for your assist in the second goal. As you started to shake hands with the England players, many of whom you had a great relationship, you struggled to find your girlfriend.

You scanned the blue jerseys and saw she was almost on the other side of the pitch to you, speaking to Georgia and looking like she was giving herself a hard time. Warily, you jogged over.

"Hey," you said tentatively, and Leah hardly even looked at you.

"Good work mate," Georgia said, giving you a hug,

"Thanks G, you too," you said, beginning to feel awkward as Leah remained quiet.

"You alright?" You looked at your girlfriend with concern and she shook her head. You tried to touch her shoulder reassuringly, but she slinked away from you.

"I need a minute," Leah said bluntly, leaving you to stand with Georgia, feeling useless, unable to console your upset girlfriend.

"Did you get a word out of her?" You ask Georgia.

"Yeah, she'll be alright. I think she just feels guilty about that giving away that ball to you," Georgia explains. Of course, you think. You knew in the moment that her mistake would weigh on her, but you didn't expect it to be this bad.

"Yeah, okay. Well I'll give her some space I guess," you tell Georgia.

"That might be a good idea for now," Georgia affirms, patting you on the back.

You make your way back towards your teammates, shaking your head, feeling the pride of your win being overshadowed by Leah's disappointment in herself. The team circles up and Tony gives the team the praise they deserve, but your eyes wander around the pitch, watching Leah. You see her talk to her team mates, gesturing frustratedly, looking like she is taking the responsibility for their loss.

Before all the England players make their way off the pitch you decide you have to talk to her before you get on the bus back to your hotel, not wanting to leave her in a bad way. You jog over to her and grab hold of her wrist.

"Lee," you say as you she turns to face you.

She sighs, "Look I'm just in my head. I'll get out of there soon, but I just need some space, okay?"

Your heart breaks slightly, but you let go of her arm and say you understand.

With practiced ease she takes your hands in hers and kisses your knuckles, "I'm proud of you," she clarifies, "I'm just annoyed with myself."

"Alright," you take a deep breath, "Call me when you're feeling up to it."

She nods and leaves you standing alone as she follows her teammates back to the change room. Steph Catley notices you by yourself, having watch the interaction between you and Leah and she heads your way.

"Come on superstar," she hugs you from behind, "She'll be okay."

"Thanks Stephy," you smile, feeling glad to have players around who knew both you and Leah so well.

On the bus on the way back to the hotel, you put your headphones on as you mindlessly scroll through instagram, seeing all the posts about the game you just played.

A clip of your goal appears and you watch it a couple of times before clicking into the comments.

Williamson suddenly forgets how to defend when it's her missus

Such bad defending you'd think they planned it

Leah was hoping she could give her girlfriend a goal and England would still win... bad luck girls

Leah Williamson, the Matildas 12th player tonight

First Lionesses loss because Williamson was too distracted by Y/L/N

You cringe as your read them and quickly swipe out of the criticism of Leah. You rub your face with your hands, feeling upset that Leah will no doubt be reading all this too.

You take your headphones off and turn to Steph, who had sat next to you on the bus trip.

"Should I at least send Leah a text?" You ask her.

"I don't think it would hurt," Steph shrugs.

"I've just been reading the worst comments about her defending, and I feel like it's my fault," you explain.

"Y/N, it's not your fault. This is your job and it's Leah's job too. Obviously it's a shock to lose for the first time in a while, and she'll be carrying the weight of the loss because of one little mistake she made, but in the grand scheme of things it's nothing new, it's just football. She'll realise that," Steph says.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks Steph," you say, squeezing her thigh gratefully.

You pull your phone back out and open your messages to Leah and begin typing:

I'm sorry you're carrying the weight of this loss Leah. I know it doesn't feel good, and I hate that I played a part in you feeling this way. I know it's easier said than done but don't let one mistake make you doubt yourself. You're an immensely talented player, a wonderful captain, and the best partner I could ask for. I'm here for you when you need me. Love you xxx

You send it off without a second thought and allow your head to rest against the window of the bus until you arrive back at the hotel. You check your phone once you get to your room, but still there's no response from Leah. Switching your phone off, you set it down and decide to go to sleep, hoping Leah might get back to you throughout the night.

—

In the morning you check your phone and there is still no reply from Leah. You groan into your pillow, hating to not be on good terms with your girlfriend. You pull yourself out of bed and pack your things up before heading downstairs to say goodbye to all the girls flying back to their clubs.

You organise an Uber back to your apartment in North London, unsure about whether or not Leah would be there already. When you open the door you can hear the sounds of footsteps upstairs in your bedroom and you feel yourself tense up slightly.

You shut the front door behind you set your bags down. You glance into the kitchen as you start to walk upstairs and see a bouquet of flowers still wrapped up in paper laying on the counter, which is reassuring. If Leah was mad there's no way she would've stopped for flowers on the way home.

When you walk into your bedroom you find Leah hanging up clothes in the wardrobe. She turns and faces you with a nervous face.

"Hey," she says, setting down the shirt in her hands on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" You ask.

"Like the worst girlfriend in the world," she sinks into the end of the bed now and you move to sit down on the bed with her, tucking your feet up onto the mattress.

"I don't think you could do anything that would make you worthy of that title," you assure her.

"I don't know, I think being so selfish that you don't congratulate your girlfriend on winning a game is pretty shit."

"Leah, you weren't being selfish. You were disappointed and that's okay, losing sucks, especially when you've had as much success as you have."

"I was disappointed, but I shouldn't have acted like it was your fault, because it wasn't. I'm sorry for not talking to you, I promise I wanted to spend time with you after the game, but I chose to be a sook instead," Leah says and you laugh lightly.

"Poor Georgia had to mediate when you stormed off," you laugh.

"God, I was being proper stroppy," Leah scoffs.

"Well I'm glad you're feeling better now," you tell her, leaning in and finally getting the chance to kiss your girlfriend for the first time in days.

"Much better, and I'm sorry again," she says.

"It's alright. I'm used to Williamson tantrums, but usually I'm not on the receiving end," you say.

"And I promise you never will be again," she says, kissing you again.

"You're welcome for the goal by the way," Leah manages to make a joke of the situation, assuring you that all was fine.

"Yeah thanks, we needed that win," you laugh.

"Cheeky," Leah groans as she tackles you onto the mattress, seemingly ready to make up for her bad mood in another way.

[crystalflygeo]

two long dragon tongues down your throat is better than one <3

So I was going to answer this like a normal ask just fangirling and screaming yes but then it kinda reminded me of this abandoned wip I had sitting in my docs and IT WAS TOO GOOD TO LET IT PASS.

So sorry this sat on my inbox so long csvajckwxbhaj I promise I am not ignoring :c <3 work is just killing me and also this got out of hand HAHA WHAT A SURPRISE

it was written before 4.2 dropped (maybe before 4.1 even I can't recall) so there are some little things here and there that are technically not canon anymore//hit

Neuvillette is absolutely fascinated.

The chief Justice of Fontaine has lived for many many years, seen, learned and experienced a lot of what the world has to offer, at least within the confines of his beloved hydro nation. Always a diligent man, carrying out his role and job at the court to perfection. Yet there was something he’d always… disregard.

Some more basic instincts pertaining to his true draconic nature.

He’d had enough in his plate as it was, practically managing the nation, keeping lady Furina both entertained and out of trouble, taking care of the Melusine, and a myriad of other duties in between. Truth be told, he was a tired old dragon not having much time or interest in the pursuit of a romantic companion.

So how did he end up here? Having a sample of the most sacred and valuable treasure of another dragon. Their mate.

Neuvillette is mesmerized at how your body reacts, jerking and trembling in unadulterated pleasure. Entranced a how your lips part with labored puffs and cute little sounds he didn’t know humans were capable of. High pitched whines, long drawn-out moans. Hypnotized by your eyes, usually so alert, so smart and playful… now glazed over, clouded with euphoria yet so raw and sincere in their emotions, begging him not to stop.  

And your scent… oh, the most decadent sinful scent he’d ever sensed. His pupils dilating and turning back to slits as his stare focused on your drooling pussy. His mouth dry, his fangs aching. He wanted to drown all of his senses in you.

Darkened fingers slide across your folds, a little colder than normal for a human which is why he’d always wore gloves, but you mewl appreciatively and gladly accept them. Clenching warm and wet around the digits.

And his breath catches.

“Hmmm… you’re doing so well, baobei.”

The Iudex’s eyes flicker momentarily at the other man, or should he say, other dragon. The former Geo Archon Morax, quite literally a mythical figure exuding an aura of power far greater than his current own. He is older, wiser, stronger, a deity once involved in the likes of the Archon war and the Cataclysm. In this little… exchange, Morax is certainly the dominant dragon, simply letting Neuvillette please you.

Morax holds you close to his chest, purring contently in a display of affection towards you and confidence towards the other male, as if he needed not to worry about another taking what is his. Neuvillette knows if he were to even remotely try something funny, he’d likely face the infamous wrath of the rock. Under normal circumstances, he’d find it a little insulting to be treated like this. If he had his full authority…

But these are far from normal circumstances.

And he’s currently rather… ah… enchanted by you.

“Curl your fingers towards you and pump slowly… she likes that.” Morax explains, voice deep and rich like syrup. His hands roam your shoulders and chest, massaging softly at your exposed skin while he plants kisses at your neck, occasionally nibbling of a few past marks from his own fangs.

Neuvillette does as said, experimentally, and is rewarded by a sultry moan and a buck of your hips towards him when you feel those fingers wiggle and rub at a spot deep inside you.

“Oh? Got it on your first try Chief Justice, why you may be a natural.” Morax chuckles.

The younger dragon appreciates the praise underneath the teasing lilt.

“Now, you may use your thumb to rub at that little pearl, it’s just begging for attention.” Your mate nuzzles against your cheek, his own thumbs rolling over your perked nipples. “Slowly, careful… she is very sensitive.” He adds with amusement.

He does so again, the pad of his cool finger brushing over your puffy little nub, the spark of pleasure is immediate and you toss your head back and squeal.

“Please please please…” You gasp out, breath shuddering, body trembling.

Tears gather at your eyes and roll down your cheeks, it’s so much it feels so good.

The younger dragon stops and blinks at you, his demeanor shifting suddenly. His hands slip over your thighs to you hips, as if trying to cradle you, hold you closer.

Morax’s eyes narrow if only a bit, curious but wary of Neuvillette’s sudden… protectiveness over you.

“You’re crying… have I hurt you? Are you ok?” He asks softly, attention solely on you.

Your heart could melt at that, who knew the ever serious and imposing Iudex could be so gentle? He truly reminds you of your mate sometimes.

You nod, catching your breath a moment. “I-I’m good. Feels good.” You mumble, cheeks heating up with the confession. Your body already lays bare and presented for him, in it’s most vulnerable. But to open up your feelings too… “People… cry when they’re happy too, you know?”

He seems to consider it for a moment, you can practically se the cogs turning in his head, it’s rather endearing, his brow twitches the same way Morax’s does when he’s pensive, perhaps it’s a dragon thing? “I have observed that before, yes, but why-”

“Emotions are powerful. When y-you feel… so much… you need a let out. Be it angry, sad, even happy… our tears leak out, like emotions overflowing.” You smile and shift a little, hiding your face towards the crook of your mate’s neck. “Weren’t you the one who said waters carry emotions?” You nuzzle there and Morax responds accordingly, his hands once again massaging and roaming your body, knowing you’re still pent up and the sudden stop was probably a little frustrating.

Golden fingers slide over your folds and sink in carefully, thumb circling your clit once more and you whimper. “That’s it, my love… I want you to feel good. We want you to enjoy, isn’t that right?”

Neuvillette straightens up a little to meet Morax’s gaze. Not challenging (not yet) but there is something.    

“Indeed.” He leans in to nuzzle at the other side of your neck, the soft skin there unmarked. Morax tenses his hold on you, a slight growl coming out from deep within his chest.

“Careful Chief Justice. Remember our agreement.”

“Of course. No kisses, no marks, no claiming. No strings attached.” His lavender eyes a dark purple now as he follows the soft slope of your jaw. “I wouldn’t dare break a contract with the deity that presides over them.” He chuckles. “I just want to test…”

Or rather taste. His draconic tongue laps up softly at your tears, his hands tease your nipples as if trying to get more reactions out of you and you whine, arching towards him as Morax’s hand keeps working at your core.

It’s so… intense. They are both so clear about their desires, slow and reverent, kind in their methods, but so assured in their dominance that they will get what they want.

And oh, to be desired by two dragons truly is something…

“Interesting…” He mumbles pulling back. “So sweet.”

Morax nips at your mating mark then and tilts your head to press your lips together, your mouth happily parts for him and you let out a muffled moan as that long split tongue slides down your throat. Your feet kick and your fingers claw at whatever is closer.

Half-lidded golden eyes stare down at you with satisfaction, blown with lust. A third finger sinking in on your sweet pussy, faster, your juices gushing obscenely around them.

That tongue teases and chokes you and more tears come out of your glazed eyes, eagerly caught by another one. Bodies pressed together, hands roaming, Morax’s tail curled around your ankle keeping you open, Neuvillette’s swaying after him with excitement, cool fingers pinching your nipples, massaging your breasts…

“Mmphff…!” You squeak, high pitched and tense as the pleasure tips you over the edge and your body locks up in a delicious powerful orgasm. You sob and whimper as they work you through it. Shuddering. You see stars. Can’t think only feel.   

Once it settles Morax pulls back and you melt against him, chest heaving, legs weak, muscles aching just a little, they continue to pamper you with affection and attention.

Your mate’s fingers retreat with an embarrassingly wet noise and much to your further mortification he brings them up to his face and that sinful slip tongue once again comes out this time to lick them clean.

Neuvillette stares transfixed.

You groan quietly, it’s obvious what he wants…

Morax on his part only lets out a short laugh, possessive instincts seemingly more at ease now. “Oh? Want to have a taste too? I can assure you will not be disappointed.”

Archons, the way those sharp eyes shift to you.

“O-okay…” Your voice is barely a whisper. “P-please be gentle though I j-just…”

Your breath catches in anticipation as Neuvillette’s hands rest on your inner thighs.

And then your dear mate pulls you back into a kiss.

[meazalykov]

the ache

emily fox x reader (requested)

summary: you wanted her to be yours, and just yours.

warnings: angst, jealousy

you lean back against the bar, laughing at something lia said, your attention half on the conversation and half on the scene around you. 

the team decided to hit the bars together, enjoying the last bit of summer before the grind of preseason begins. 

you’re talking to lia and mariona, both equally as relaxed and silly from the drinks, but your mind keeps wandering.

you glance across the room and spot her—emily. your teammate on both arsenal and the national team. things between the two of you have always been… complicated.

there’s something there, you both feel it, but neither of you have ever said it out loud. you’ve danced around the possibility of making it official, but for whatever reason, it never happened. 

maybe you were both scared of what it would mean to cross that line, maybe you both thought you had time.

now, watching her talk to a woman who’s definitely not one of your teammates, you feel something stir inside you—something you hate to admit. jealousy.

you shake it off, turning back to mariona. “anyway, as i was saying—”

“y/n,” mariona cuts you off with her strong spanish accent, nodding toward emily, “is that who i think it is?”

you force a casual shrug, trying to play it cool. “yeah, looks like she’s found herself someone to talk to.”

mariona raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by your act. she opens her mouth to say something, but you quickly change the subject, not wanting to dive into your complicated situation with emily in front of everyone.

“so, preseason in the statessss,” you say, a bit too quickly, “are you ready for it?”

“you’re avoiding something,” mariona says bluntly, crossing her arms as she looks between you and emily.

you laugh it off, but your eyes betray you as they dart back to emily. the woman she’s talking to is leaning in closer, brushing against her body in a way that makes your blood boil. you bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying to focus on anything else. 

you can’t. the way emily isn’t pushing her away, the way she’s not doing anything to stop it… it bites at you.

“you’re jealous,” lia mutters under her breath, leaning closer to you.

“i’m not,” you snap, a little too defensively.

lia and mariona exchange a look, and you know they’re seeing right through you. they’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying. before either of them can say anything else, a woman approaches you with a smile and offers to buy you a drink.

it takes you all of two seconds to make a decision. if emily can entertain some random woman, then why can’t you?

“sure thing sweetheart,” you say with a grin, accepting the woman’s offer. you can feel the eyes of your teammates on you as you move toward the bar with her, but you ignore it. you’re doing this to get emily out of your head, to forget about the knot of jealousy in your chest.

as you lean against the bar with the new woman, you make casual conversation, but your eyes keep drifting back to emily. you spot her watching you now, her expression hard to read, but you can tell she’s not happy. she’s seen you, seen you talking and laughing with someone else.

good. let her feel what you’re feeling.

the woman you’re with says something that makes you laugh, and you make sure it’s loud enough for emily to hear. you’re flirting, leaning in just a little closer, letting your hand rest on the bar near the woman’s. 

you’re not even really into it, but you need this distraction. you need to feel like you’re in control of something.

then, katie mccabe comes out of nowhere, like a storm brewing with her girlfriend caitlin following closely behind. katie’s eyes bounce between you and emily, and you can see the wheels turning in her head.

“this is ridiculous,” katie mutters under her breath before marching over to you.

“uh-oh,” you hear leah mutter to mariona and lia, as they both watch katie approach with an almost terrifying determination.

“y/n, what the hell are you doing?” katie asks, hands on her hips.

you open your mouth to respond, but katie waves her hand dismissively. 

“nope. don’t wanna hear it. you’re both acting like idiots.”

“katie—” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“nope! i’m done with this. emily,” katie shouts across the bar, beckoning her over.

emily reluctantly walks over, her eyes shifting between you, katie, and the woman still hovering near you at the bar.

“katie,” emily says cautiously, “what are you doing?”

“what am i doing?” katie repeats, throwing her hands up. 

“what the hell are you two doing? look at you—jealous, flirting with randoms, making a mess of the whole damn night. this is ridiculous.”

you and emily exchange a quick glance, both of you knowing katie’s right but too stubborn to admit it.

“we’re just having fun,” you say, trying to downplay the situation.

“oh, cut the crap,” katie says, rolling her eyes. 

“everyone can see it—you’re both acting like jealous idiots because neither of you can just say what you want.”

you look down, avoiding emily’s gaze. she doesn’t say anything either, and the silence between the two of you is deafening.

katie sighs dramatically, grabbing both you and emily by the arms. 

“right, that’s it. you’re coming with us.”

“what?” you and emily both say at the same time, confusion written on your faces.

“you heard me,” katie says, dragging you both toward the exit where caitlin is already holding the door open. 

“we’re going back to our place, and you two are gonna sort this out. i’m sick of watching you dance around each other.”

“wait, we—” emily starts, but katie cuts her off with a glare.

“she’s not giving you a choice. let’s go!” caitlin cuts in.

before you know it, you’re outside, being bundled into a cab by katie and caitlin, neither of them giving you the chance to argue. you and emily sit awkwardly beside each other in the backseat, the tension thick between you. 

katie and caitlin exchange knowing looks, clearly pleased with themselves.

the ride back to katie’s apartment feels like it takes forever, but when you finally arrive, caitlin leads the way inside. katie marches you and emily down the hallway, pushing open the door to the guest bedroom.

“in you go,” katie says, practically shoving you both inside. 

“and don’t come out until you’ve figured this out.”

“what are we, teenagers?” you protest, but katie just crosses her arms, standing firm in the doorway.

“no, you’re idiots,” she says bluntly. “and you’re gonna stop acting like it. now talk.”

with that, katie slams the door shut, leaving you and emily alone in the room. the silence is almost unbearable, the weight of everything you’ve both been avoiding hanging in the air.

emily shifts awkwardly beside you, and you glance over at her. she looks as uncomfortable as you feel, but there’s something else in her eyes—something vulnerable.

you take a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. 

“so…”

emily sighs, running a hand through her hair. “so.”

you both fall silent again, neither of you wanting to be the first to admit what’s really going on. the tension between you is palpable, and it feels like it’s been building for months—maybe even longer.

“what was that back at the bar?” you ask finally, breaking the silence. 

“you were all over that girl.”

emily looks at you, her expression a mix of frustration and confusion. 

“i wasn’t all over her. she was just talking to me.”

“yeah? because it didn’t look like you were pushing her off.”

“what about you?” emily shoots back. 

“you were flirting with that woman like it was nothing.”

you open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. because she’s right—you were doing the exact same thing, even though it was just to make her jealous.

“i…” you trail off, unsure of how to respond.

emily takes a step closer, her voice softer now. 

“y/n, why do we keep doing this? why do we keep pretending like we don’t care when we both know we do?”

you blink, taken aback by her sudden honesty. you’ve never talked about your feelings like this before—at least, not directly.

“i don’t know,” you admit quietly, looking down at your feet. “i guess… i guess i was scared.”

“of what?”

“of messing things up. of ruining what we have as teammates on both teams, as friends.”

emily sighs, and when you finally look up at her, you can see the same fear in her eyes. 

“i was scared too. but y/n… i don’t want to keep doing this. i don’t want to keep pretending like there’s nothing between us.”

you feel your heart race at her words, and for the first time, you allow yourself to admit what you’ve been feeling for so long.

“i don’t either,” you say softly, taking a step closer to her. 

“but… where does that leave us?” emily whispers. 

you take a breath.

your eyes meet hers, and for the first time, there’s no hesitation. you step even closer, closing the small gap between you both, your heart pounding in your chest as you lift your hand to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face.

“is this okay?” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

emily doesn’t answer right away, she doesn’t need to. the way she looks at you, her eyes soft and filled with something you’ve both been holding back for so long, is all the confirmation you need.

you lean in, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away if she wants to. she doesn’t. her eyes flutter shut, and you close the remaining distance, pressing your lips softly against hers.

the kiss is gentle, almost tentative, but it says everything you’ve both been too scared to admit. 

it’s not just a kiss—it’s a promise, a realization that maybe you’ve both been waiting for this moment for longer than either of you will admit.

when you pull back, you’re breathless, your forehead resting against hers. your heart feels like it’s racing out of control. she runs her hands softly up and down your waist. 

for the first time in a long time, it feels like everything is falling into place.

"does... does that make us girlfriends now?" you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper, afraid to break the moment.

emily pulls back slightly to look at you, her lips curling into a soft smile. without saying a word, she leans in again, pressing her lips to yours, a little more certain this time, a little more sure. 

the kiss is still soft, but it’s something that confirms everything.

when she pulls back, her smile widens, and she nods. 

"yeah," she says, her voice just as soft as yours, "it does."

masterlist

[beardedmrbean]

Charlotte stood on the train tracks ready for a train to come sweeping down the rails and end it all.

However the driver of that train, 47-year-old Dave Lay, had other plans.

Slamming the brakes after receiving notice of a pedestrian on the tracks, Lay brought the train to a halt and got down to talk with the suicidal woman for nearly half an hour before eventually getting her safely to the next platform.

Local police met the pair, and helped Charlotte get in contact with local mental health support workers then and there. Shaken but feeling good about what he was able to do, Dave departed, imagining the episode had finished.

But Charlotte had other plans.

Looking him up on Facebook the following day, she sent a message thanking him for the kindness he showed her on the rails at Crossflatts Station in West Yorkshire, England.

“I walked down the tracks and sat down, waiting,” Charlotte told the British media service SWNS. “I’m unsure who raised the alarm about my presence but when the next train came, it slowed and stopped far from me. I’m so grateful to Dave for stopping that day and being so patient and understanding.”

After Dave returned Charlotte’s text telling her he was available whenever she needed to speak to someone, they began exchanging messages on a daily basis. They met for a coffee after chatting for two months.

Fast forward three years, and they tied the knot when Charlotte was 22 weeks pregnant with their first child.

Charlotte, a nurse at the British National Health Service, was previously diagnosed with major depressive disorder, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, and emotionally unstable personality disorder.

Recalling her decision-making process from that fateful day in 2019, she said that she was on the train to work in her scrubs, but nothing felt right. Dave’s arrival had all the hallmarks, she remembered, of a person trained to de-escalate mental health crises.

“I once asked him if he’d ever had any de-escalation training, because he was brilliant that day,” she said. “The conversation from what I can remember was just about mundane things and about both our lives, but it was enough to break the crisis.”

“Life didn’t feel as heavy anymore. The next day I made it my mission to find the man who had been so kind to me.”

DE-ESCALATING DANGER: Surveillance Shows Jon Bon Jovi Stopping Woman From Jumping Off Bridge in Nashville

Dave told the BBC he simply “said all the things he wished he could’ve said” to other people who have committed suicide, and for his part was desperately happy to hear from Charlotte, as he had no way of knowing if she ever approached mental health services, or if she made another attempt to enter the House of Hades.

“I needed to know she was all right. I’d contacted police to try to find out what happened to her and just wanted to make sure she was safe,” he told the BBC. “I felt like I had a duty to make sure she was all right. We’d had that rapport built by the side of the track.”

Charlotte says she hopes that by sharing her story, people will realize that, although it would be ideal if we all had specialist training to deal with a mental health crisis, we are all nevertheless capable of helping by being empathic and present.

[shitsndgiggs]

hey can i request an arda fic in which he and the turkish national team go to a restaurant and he develops a crush on their waitress?

A/N: This one is kinda short, sorry

BEYOND WORDS - ARDA GÜLER

In which Arda develops a crush on a waitress, despite the language barrier.

Arda Güler x waitress! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

As I made my rounds in the cozy restaurant conveniently near the turkish national team's training camp, my mind was preoccupied with the usual hustle and bustle of serving tables.

The evening rush was picking up, and I focused on taking orders and ensuring everyone had a pleasant dining experience.

The said national team was settling in for dinner in the far corner of the restaurant.

When I approached their table to take their drink orders, Arda, a young talented player from the turkish national team, and Real Madrid, hesitated for a moment before attempting to order in broken english. "Um... water, please," he managed, his accent thick but his sincerity clear.

I smiled warmly, understanding his struggle. "Of course, water for you," I replied gently, jotting down the order and glancing at him with a friendly nod, before moving on to the next order.

His teammates, who seemed to revel in good-natured banter, wasted no time in teasing him.

"Arda, mate, your english is worse than Kenan’s turkish!" one of them joked, earning chuckles from the others.

Arda chuckled sheepishly, his embarrassment evident as he glanced down at his menu. "I'm still learning," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile, stealing a quick glance in my direction.

"It's no problem at all," I reassured him with a warm smile, feeling a rush of empathy for his effort. "I understand you perfectly."

Throughout the evening, I found myself stealing glances at Arda whenever I could, intrigued by his quiet demeanor and the occasional glimmer of amusement that crossed his face during his teammates' antics.

As I brought out their meals and checked in on their table, our interactions were brief but tinged with a mutual understanding and curiosity.

Towards the end of their meal, as I cleared away their plates and prepared the bill, I noticed Arda lingering behind after his teammates had left.

Curiosity piqued, I approached him with a friendly smile. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" I asked politely, though I already had a hunch.

Arda looked up, seeming a bit flustered but determined. "Um... hi," he began nervously, his accent more pronounced in his nervousness. "I was wondering... if maybe... you would like to go out for coffee sometime?"

His sincerity took me by surprise, but his shy demeanor was endearing. "I'd love to," I replied warmly, genuinely touched by his courage.

Arda's face lit up with a relieved smile, and he fumbled for his phone to exchange numbers with me. "Thank you," he said earnestly, his english more assured now in his relief.

We chatted briefly about coffee spots in the area, and I couldn't help but be charmed by his genuine interest and effort to connect despite the language barrier.

Over the next few days, we exchanged messages, finding common interest in sports and mutual curiosity about each other's cultures.

[bloodymiso]

★ pakisabi nalang sa kanya — multifandom x gn!reader

how did they show their love for you pre-confession + how did they confess?

a/n: always wanted to do one of these posts teehee:3 | fandoms: genshin impact, stardew valley, l&co + haikyuu!! | warnings: none!

— through letters “sometimes, love creates a poet.”

words weren’t enough to explain their love for you, but putting some action into it might help. day and night, they put their admiration for you into sweet, beautiful words they wished would help them explain what you had done to their hearts. though they knew those words could never explain even a third(1/3) of what their heart ached to say. once, twice, even thrice a week you’d arrive to school/work with a little note under your desk, locker, or even in your lunchbox. letters filled with toe-wiggling poems, songs, and beautiful paragraphs which overflowed with love in every single line started piling up in your room. they wondered what you even did to their letters, were they rotting away in the trashcan? were they turned to dust by the fire you lit in your backyard? or were they kept safely in a small box under your bed, a heart encircled on its cover? little by little, they added clues to their identity, whether it be a flower which was related to them, or a little trinket from your past encounters. one day, they handed you a letter by hand, after of course getting you on a whole treasure hunt to find out where to go. that little adventure led you to a garden. with you sweaty, stressed out, and confused, they confessed right there.

gi. KAZUHA, diluc, fischl, XINGQIU, kokomi, alhaitham(HEAR ME OUT), charlotte sdv. ELLIOT l&co. kipps(again, HEAR ME OUT) + your faves!! ♡

— quietly “in silence, we often find the deepest connection.”

it took them a while to understand what was happening, the way their hearts beat faster at your mere presence, the way the curve on your lips seemed to infect their own, the way they always couldn’t wait for the next day purely because of you. after hours of staring at the ceiling, they came to a conclusion—it was love. that was all. you weren’t some sorcerer who snatched their heart, nor were you a weirdo who spiked their drink, you were you, and apparently, they liked that. ever since their “awakening” they started doing little things for you. whether it was returning one of your pens they saw on the floor, or refilling your water bottle whenever you were too focused on works/studies. all these little things came unnoticed by you, but they knew they were making a difference

day by day, the spark between you grew. smiles were exchanged as you made eye contact, now, they weren’t afraid to do things for you in the dark, now they could step out of the shadows, and help you as they were. their confession was abrupt, and unexpected at that. as they stood in front of your desk, they held out a singular rose.

gi. NEUVILLETTE, cyno, diluc, XIAO, sucrose, freminet, wanderer sdv. sebastian, leah, penny hq. KAGEYAMA TOBIO, kozume kenma + your faves!! ♡

— proudly “you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

oh this little shit. they couldn’t get enough of you, nor could practically everyone else around them, they had no choice! always blabbing about how angelic you were, how your happiness seemed to be so..contagious. “okay so today—“ they started, before their poor friend quickly placed a hand on their somehow always open mouth. “don’t even start.” you’d think people would like to keep their crushes secret, especially to the one they admire but nope! even you knew! get ready for flirting galore. i don’t think they would even need a confession, the whole nation practically knew at this point. there were times you thought their love for you was fake, that they were just joking. i mean, they never actually confessed.

well, until now, of course. they got news to spread around town that they got a lover and that they’ve been spotted at the local cafe which may or may not have caught your attention. now, they stood there, bouquet in hand(coffee in the other) and friends all around.

“so uh, would you like to be that lover?”

gi. TARTAGLIA, KAEYA, baizhu, beidou sdv. sam(?) l&co. LOCKWOOD hq. iwaizumi haijime, OIKAWA TOORU, tanaka ryūnosuke + your faves!! ♡

— through teasing “pride often gets in the way of love.”

oh god did you hate their ass. woke up at 5am just to be early to work/school?oops! they beat you there, now they won’t stop talking about it! they love teasing you, they just can’t stop. sometimes they wonder if the real reason theyre teasing you is to cover up what’s really under their skin, to cover up the hook you pierced through their heart. it ate them up from the inside, but no way were they gonna admit that! if someone’s gonna confess, it better be you first..

they would have confessed rather stupidly. having gone to a bar in the evening with their friends, they called your number(which they got after getting down on their knees and begging) and confessed right there, their voice slurred, it was obvious how many glasses they chugged down. the next day, they remembered absolutely nothing, it took you a few days before finally confronting them about it.

“wait what?! i confessed to you? d-do you like me back?”

gi. TARTAGLIA(again), KAEYA(again), itto, sdv. shane(ig) hq. kuroo tetsurō, TSUKISHIMA KEI, bokuto kōtarō + your faves!! ♡

extra. through songs/music ( kazuha, itto, elliot sdv, tsukishima kei & lucy carlyle) . through food ( XIANGLING, ningguang, emily sdv + me/hj)

(><) wanna support? reblog with tags pookie!!

[magics-neptunes-things]

Hate and love

Hello!

This one is from a request, you still can ask me to write something if you want to :)

I have to say that I'm not really sure about this one, but here it is.

Enjoy ♥

TW : Angst, harassment, divorce, loneliness.

______________________________________________________________

Your arrival in Barcelona at the winter transfer almost a year ago has gone rather well. You quickly bonded with most of the players and you didn’t have any trouble becoming a part of the FC Barcelona family. You maybe wasn't in the Top 3 of the public favorite players, but you don't really mind. You were a bit sad about the departure of some of them this summer, especially Jenni and Ana who were kind of mentors for you during these few months. And even if you continue to exchange news with them, you must admit that it is not the same.

Playing previously in Seville, you already knew quite well some of the players of the team, usually staying on the pitch after the matches to chat a little. You were separated during the World Cup, your national team not being strong enough to pass the qualifications you were in the first to return to training in Barcelona. This did not prevent you from making the trip to Australia to support your friends and obviously the Spanish national team.

You celebrated their victory from the VIP party with friends and family before returning to Barcelona in your daily routine. The world champions have gradually returned to training and you have welcomed new players to the team, always in a good mood.

Everything seems perfect told like that, yet there is something that bothers you since your arrival in Barcelona.

Aitana Bonmati.

She never seemed very happy to see you arrive and you never understood why. At first you said to yourself that she was perhaps afraid that your arrival would cause an imbalance in the group, as can happen sometimes when an element has a too strong personality. Some are afraid of change and you have not asked yourself more questions than that, letting this information slip into a corner of your brain. She wasn’t necessarily part of the small group of girls you trained with regularly anyway since you don’t play in the same spot on the field.

But this summer, you could see that the new arrivals had the right to a big smile and other privileges to which you were not entitled. It’s not really a question of ego, but you don’t understand what you did to her to make her react this way with you. And that's hurt.

You have even noticed with the passing of time that she tends to be rather unpleasant with you, not responding to your hello when you arrive in the locker room for example. It happens to her to roll discreetly her eyes when you speak and you even surprised once Ona throwing her an elbow in the ribs while making the big eyes. It was a relief to see that you were not crazy and that your teammates were taking your side, but it also confirmed what you thought.

And gradually, it plunged you into a kind of constant anxiety, reminding you of some of your traumas during your childhood and adolescence. During which you were often mocked, the girl who preferred to play football rather than dance. Your father always supported you in your choices, unlike your mother, your big brother and your big sister. When they separated you went to live with him and he sacrificed a lot so that you would be where you are today, but you never had the heart to tell him about the harassment you were experiencing at school.

**********

"Can I talk to you?"

Alexia’s voice surprises you while you were focused on the laces of your Converse, making you jump a little. Lost in your thoughts, you were ruminating about the disaster you were during this training. You didn’t put a single ball in the net, you got so distracted that you got a remonstrance from Jona and you almost kill Mapi with a bad pass. Mapi preferred to laugh and quickly came to reassure you by giving you a friendly slap in the back and a hug, to your greatest relief. You would have been horrified to be hated by another of your teammates.

"Sure" you mumble without looking at her.

Alexia’s voice was sweet when she offered to follow her to one of the conference rooms and you complied after picking up your bag and stuff. All the other girls have already returned and the corridors now seem deserted.

When you arrive in the room, you watch Alexia open the blinds slightly as you stand against the wall, very close to the door. You’re anxious and just waiting to be scolded. It often happened like this, teachers taking you aside to say that you weighed on the morale or level of the class. That you had to work on it if you wanted to be accepted and have good results. But no one ever seemed to wonder why you didn’t get along with your classmates. No one ever noticed or understood the harassment you were experiencing. You never mentioned that either, but you would have given ten years of your life for someone to notice. Anyone.

So when Alexia turns to you with an almost maternal expression, it completely disarms you. Her eyes were soft and you can easily detect a form of concern in it.

"You can come closer, I won’t eat you" Alexia gently smiles before sitting on one of the tables, probably to make this conversation less formal.

After hesitating for a second, you settle down in front of her playing nervously with your hair.

"What can I do for you?" you ask, instead of "How are you gonna let me know that I’m gonna heat up the backup bench over the next few weeks?"

"I just wanted to make sure that everything was fine. You seem a little out of place these last few days and it’s starting to worry us. I talked with Jona about it today"

She seems embarrassed to tell you that she told someone else about you without you knowing, making you frown. Your facial expression is probably misunderstood by your captain as she hastens to add

"Don’t take this the wrong way. we’re just worried about you"

"I... I'm fine"

You shrug before biting your lip. You are a bad liar, you know it. And it didn't fool Alexia.

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable with it. But there are other people here who will listen to you with pleasure."

"Don’t worry about me. It was just a time like this, but I’ll be fine"

Because it's what you always did. Figuring and fighting things alone, even if you have now friends who you trust and who you know you can count on.

"You don't have to do that alone, you know"

"Why do you even care?"

You roll your eyes. Sur Alexia is a great captain, and you like her a lot. As a friend of course, but you can't denied that she deserve her title. Like most other girls she is sincerely kind and knows how to distinguish between competition and friendships in the locker room. This is an example for you, as it is for many other girls. And even if she knows all this, she remains modest and does not take the big head. Pretty impressive, in your opinion.

"Is that even a question Y/N?"

Alexia laughs, but it’s a surprise laugh. She seems surprised at the sincerity of your question. And, seeing that you don't answer, she gently shakes her head before answering you.

"Because we care, you're part of this family and even if half of us are totaly crazy, we care for each other. Whatever your problem is, you don't have to figure out alone."

And these sentences, even if it seems to be the most natural thing for Alexia, break down the barriers you have put up until now. You feel tears wet your cheeks without being able to do anything to stop them. As if the dam that you had formed all these years had broken and all the tears that you had retained until today finally decided to come out. And obviously, it bothers you terribly.

You mumble excuses between two sobs, but after more or less calling you an idiot, Alexia breaks the distance between you two to take you in her arms and rock you against her. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but you still stop crying.

So you tell her everything.

The harassment when you were little, from part of your family and the children in your classes. The divorce of your parents which you feel responsible despite everything, this feeling of loneliness that you have since you were born certainly. This feeling of never being fully understood by anyone, until you arrived here. And then you talk about your teammate who reminds you of that, without giving her name. You don’t want to be a problem and Alexia doesn’t ask you to name her. Maybe because she already knows who she is?

The blonde listens to you without saying a word, patiently wiping the tears that continue to roll on your cheeks. When you are silent, exhausted by these confessions and your tears, she speaks again in a calm and soothing voice.

"I’m not going to pretend that I understand you because I was lucky enough to have a family that always supported me. I wouldn’t be here without them, honestly."

The bond between Alexia and her mother, even her sister is know by anyone. You nod, still looking at her.

"But you, you made your way all by yourself. You're only 21 Y/N, you don't realise how strong you are. But being strong doesn't always mean you have to be alone. You have friends here, people who love you and care for you. You are not alone anymore."

With that you smile at her, feeling relieved. As if the weight of all these years were coming off your shoulders. You even feel like you can breathe better. So you thank Alexia, with simple words but you couldn’t explain how much you think about them. As she lays a kiss on your cheek, you put your arms around her neck to hug her and press your words. She gives you your hug back before training you out of the room. Tomorrow is another day and you promise to do better than that.

**********

The rest of the workouts of the week are much better and you decide to completely ignore Aitana. You remain polite nevertheless, but you act as if she's not there. And this seems to annoy her even more but you decided that's not your problem. Many times you feel her look burn your back and you have time to see her black look before she realizes that you are looking at her and she looks away.

But your morale and your game are back to normal and it’s a great relief for you. For Alexia and your coach too, the man simply slips you a short compliment at the end of a session. No need to make tons and that’s enough for you.

The last practice before the next game goes as usual. You do your warm-ups with your fellow defenders, then you are shuffled for courses and drills before a five-player mini-team tournament is organized. You feel a form of anxiety that makes your heart beat when your team is against Aitana, but you decide to focus on the game.

It goes pretty well until you are tackled a little too ferociously by someone from the opposing team. The pain in your ankle and instantaneous and you can’t hold a cry of pain as you collapse to the ground.

"What the fuck Aitana?" Mapi snaps, but you don't really care for now.

The second duel that took place next to you seems to have stopped too, but the tears of pain that fill your eyes prevent you from seeing it for the moment.

"You're ok?"

Irene has knelt beside you and you feel a compassionate hand behind your back. Long black hair obscuring part of the view informs you that it's Ingrid. You answer a simple no with a nod and a few minutes later you are transported to the infirmary. Ona offered to accompany you and you agreed, realizing that you didn't want to be alone.

**********

"Sprain" informs you the nurse and you let yourself go against the file of the infirmary bed on which you are. "It means rest for two weeks."

You pout, but turn your attention to Ona when she places a friendly hand on your arm. You are so used to spending this kind of time alone that you sometimes forget for a few seconds that she is with you. You must be able to easily win the worst friend award.

"At least it’s not the ligaments" Ona said softly.

"You’re right" you sigh.

She gives you a compassionate smile and you assure her that she can take a shower and change. You still have the prescription to wait and the nurse must come back with your brace and crutches. After making sure you weren’t going to go home with an Uber but with her and Lucy, she eventually left the room. She even offers to inform the rest of the team of your injury and you accept willingly, not wanting to go to put a show there downstairs.

A few minutes pass and you always wait when someone knocks on the door.

"I still haven’t finished Ona, but you can come in."

Except that it is not Ona who enters, but Aitana. The look fixed on her shoes and the air of someone who goes to the torture room. And this time, the anger you had not yet felt takes hold of you.

"I came to apologize" Aitana mumbles without turning her eyes towards you.

"Well, it's done" you answer coldly, turning your back on her.

You don’t want to look at her. You’re mad at her, at her behavior. That she doesn’t like you is one thing, but that she makes you unable to play for two weeks is another.

"It wasn't voluntary"

You hold a sarcastic laugh and slowly shake your head.

"Ok."

Aitana seems surprised at your reaction, but you don’t care. It's true that usually you are more the one who flees the conflict and who prefers to go with the idea of the person in front of you to please her. She stands there and it annoys you. So you suddenly turn your head in her direction and you talk to her dryly.

"All right, you can go now. Just leave me alone."

The tone of your voice seems to make her react since she frowns and steps in your direction.

"Don’t talk to me like that."

You feel your heart racing, you have never been very good at dealing with disputes and emotions. Until now you had managed to buried them deep inside when they became too powerful but it seems that since your confessions to Alexia you are no longer able to do so. She says it’s a pretty good things, but you're not really sure about that.

"Don’t tell me how to talk to you when you’ve been treating me like shit since I got here, Aitana."

Aitana is stunned. She never saw you angry and expected you to accept her apology so that she could get out of this room as quickly as she got in. Her lost look irritates you a little more, she knew very well what she was doing by behaving as she did since the beginning. And you gradually realized that you didn’t deserve this.

"Who made you come here? Mapi, Alexia, Jonatan?"

She blushs and it's enough for you to understand that you are right. If she had the choice, she would never had been here, begging for your forgiveness.

"Get out" you groan, turning your back at her once again.

She didn't and you sigh before getting up as you can. It may not be the most graceful way to do it and it may take some drama off the stage, but you don't care.

"I said get out" you say, raising your voice now. "You don't want to be here and I don't want you here."

But she’s still not moving and your patience is coming to an end. From now on there is nothing else that separates you, except the bed on which you were lying a few moments ago. The nurse still hasn’t come back, but this might be the time to do it please.

"I- " began Aitana, without saying anything more.

"What do you want? Two weeks without me aren't enough? Want to break my other leg too?"

The frustration you feel about not understanding Aitana’s reaction and behavior may be pushing you a little to say things you never had the courage to say before. But it was less positive to return the floor to your interlocutor, whose face and eyes finally come alive again.

"I told you I didn't mean it" she half-screams and you snort. "Maybe I was wrong for acting with you like I did but..."

"Maybe?!" you interrupt her coldly.

"You made my life a living hell! You came here with your damn smile and skills and all my life fell appart!" Aitana is clearly shooting now and you blink, surprised by her rage. "I was in an healthy relationship, happy in my life and with this team. And you came along and everything fell apart! I am straight ok, I am so fucking straight but all I can think about all the time is you! I hate you for the way you make me feel but I'm not fucking able to change it even if I tried since you are here"

It is your turn to remain silent, your brain analyzing each of the words that she just said. And all this has absolutely no meaning for you, except the part where she confesses her hatred to you perhaps. Aitana’s breathing is fast and noisy, you can’t tell if it’s that or your screams that didn’t allow you to realize that you were no longer alone in the room.

"Hmm."

You look over Aitana’s shoulder and you realize that Ona has returned to the room with Lucy holding your crutches and a sheet of paper while she herself carry your bag.

"Maybe it’s time to go home"

Lucy’s perfectly expressionless face keeps you from knowing how long she’s been here. Two steps behind her, Ona makes her look between you and Aitana without saying anything. You nod and pass in front of Aitana with a limp, Ona reacting by breaking the last meters to help you take your crutches in hand.

You follow them silently to Lucy’s car and after some arguments with Ona you finally agree to sit in the passenger seat. By taking your phone out of your pocket, you realize that you have received some messages from your teammates wishing you a good recovery. And you quickly understand that they have created a tournus between them so that you are not alone at home. There will apparently be only during the trip next weekend where you will not have peace. But it makes you smile and a little forget what just happened.

"You want to eat with us tonight?" Lucy asks.

"Nah I'm good thank you. I usually watch some crap TV show on friday night."

You see Lucy peeking at you to make sure you’re not playing superhero and you feel the way she’s measuring you. You look up and sigh.

"I assure you it’s okay. Enjoy your Friday night, I’ll probably go to bed early anyway."

This time it's Ona that Lucy looks through the rearview mirror but neither of them insists, to your relief. Being alone doesn't bother you. Once at home, Ona helps you get out of the vehicle and before she can open her mouth, you speak again.

"I promise, i'm fine Ona."

"All right. I’ll leave you alone on the condition that you swear on your cat’s head that you will write me if you're not okay."

"Leave the poor cat alone" you joke, making her smile. "I promise."

**********

The doorbell on your front door makes you frown. You’re sitting on your couch, a blanket on your legs and your cat on your stomach. Your sprain is better, it must be said that after a week and a half of rest it would be dramatic that this is not the case. You have resumed muscle training, but it is obviously out of the question that you start running again for now. You can now move without your crutches and it was a great relief to be able to get rid of them. Your ankle is still carefully immobilized but you are now doing quite well.

Salma left your apartment half an hour ago, and you’re supposed to stop receiving visitors. Your father phones you every day and hasn’t done it yet, but he has no reason to show up here unannounced. That’s really not his style.

The bell rings again, waking up your cat who is rustling a little before going to eat croquettes in the kitchen. So you get up from the couch and go to the door, opening it without removing the safety chain to see who it is. And almost immediately you close the door, but the fingers of Aitana who slip into the opening prevent you to do so.

"Don’t make me break your fingers"

"Just let me in"

"No? What the hell"

"Y/N, please…"

The despair of her voice makes you flinch and you press your forehead against the door. You’re too sensitive to people’s distress to leave someone with that feeling. Even if it was Aitana herself who put you in this emotion there a few weeks ago. You sigh and, already regretting your gesture, you open the door to let her in. You avoid looking at her when she enters your home, closing the door behind her.

"You have a cat?"

You refrain from pointing out that if she had been interested in you instead of making you regret your arrival, she would know. If you don’t talk about your cat several times during the day, there is a problem.

"How do you know where I live?"

Aitana stop looking at your cat who spread out on your plaid to turn to you. With your arms crossed, you wait for his answer with a certain hint of curiosity. Aitana has never set foot in your house and if you are not mistaken, she does not really live in the neighborhood.

"I asked Irene"

She shrugs and you signal her to settle down on the couch. You go back to your place, gently pushing your cat to be a little more comfortable. With a simple look he made you understand that you're annoying, making you smile gently. You caress him to apologize as he stretches, rolls into a ball and closes his eyes.

"I came to apologize"

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Aitana looks at you with the same suspicion as if she had been the last piece of meat in the middle of a horde of hungry lions.

"I’ve already heard that before" you answer by arching an eyebrow

"I know. But I just... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, really. My problems shouldn’t have affected you. I should have handled things differently, but I was confuse and scared."

She looks sincere and does not look away when you judge her with yours. Next to you your cat stretches lazily before turning around on the other side and continuing his nap.

"Ok. Apologizes accepted"

She looks at you so long it makes you uncomfortable. You have never been in her presence for so long and you find yourself nervously wrapping your hair around your finger.

"If I could, I would do things differently, you know? I understand it’s out of the question that something is happening between us now, but I would like to start all over again. Get to know you, possibly offer you a date and then two if things go well."

You’re slowly biting your lip looking at her. You’d be lying if you said that the words she said in the infirmary didn’t mark you. You were far from imagining that the reason for his behavior was related to an attraction to you. You think it’s pretty toxic, but you like to think people deserve a second chance. After biting your lip, you bend over and reach out to her.

"Well... Hi. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

[mapiforpresident]

may i request prompt 10 with emily fox where they both play for the uswnt, please? maybe they are rivals in chelsea vs arsenal? thank you!

Enemies No Longer

Emily Fox x reader

warnings: none

You and Emily Fox, two formidable forces on the pitch, had always shared an intense rivalry. As a striker for Chelsea, you were tasked with outmaneuvering Emily, the formidable defender for Arsenal and the US Women's National Soccer Team. Another reason you didn't like facing off with Emily is that you were both American, however you had yet to be called up to the national team. Match after match, you faced off against each other, each determined to lead your respective teams to victory.

But despite the animosity that simmered between you on the field, there was an undeniable chemistry that crackled in the air whenever you crossed paths. Emily's tenacity and skill challenged you in ways you hadn't experienced before, pushing you to become a better player with each encounter.

However, it wasn't until you received the call-up to the USWNT for the first time that your perspective began to shift. Suddenly, you found yourself thrust into the same team as Emily, your former rival now your teammate. As you trained together and shared the same locker room, you couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in your perception of her.

Gone was the annoyance and frustration that had colored your interactions on the pitch. In its place bloomed a newfound admiration for Emily's dedication and talent, as well as a growing sense of fondness that caught you off guard.

It started with simple gestures - a smile exchanged across the training ground, a shared laugh over a post-match meal. Slowly but surely, your feelings began to evolve, morphing from annoyance to something altogether more complex and profound.

As you spent more time together, you discovered shared interests and passions beyond the world of football. Conversations flowed easily between you, each one revealing new layers to Emily's personality that you hadn't previously seen. You found yourself drawn to her warmth, her kindness, and the unwavering support she offered both on and off the pitch.

And then, one day, it happened - a fleeting touch, a lingering glance, and suddenly, the truth was undeniable. You were falling for Emily Fox, your former rival turned teammate, in a way you had never imagined possible.

As you stood on the pitch together, side by side, preparing for another match, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins. But this time, it wasn't just about the game. It was about the possibility of something more, something real and tangible that had blossomed between you despite all odds.

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of your first match with the USWNT. As you made your way off the field, your heart raced with a mix of exhilaration and nerves. But amidst the cheers and applause of the crowd, there was only one person you were searching for - Emily.

Spotting her near the sideline, you made your way over, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. She greeted you with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Great game out there," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

"Thanks, Emily," you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it - the moment you had been waiting for, the moment to finally lay your feelings bare.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out to take her hand, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. "There's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Emily's expression softened, her gaze locking with yours in silent anticipation. "What is it?" she asked, her tone gentle and encouraging.

"I... I've realized something these past few weeks," you confessed, your words tumbling out in a rush. "Being on the same team as you, getting to know you beyond the rivalry... it's made me see things differently."

Emily listened intently, her hand squeezing yours in silent support. "Go on," she urged, her eyes never leaving yours.

"I... I've developed feelings for you, Emily," you admitted, the weight of the confession lifting from your shoulders. "More than just teammates, more than just friends. I... I think I'm in love with you."

For a moment, there was silence between you, the air thick with anticipation. Then, slowly but surely, a smile spread across Emily's face, radiant and genuine.

"I've been feeling the same way," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've tried to ignore it, to push it aside, but... I can't deny what's in my heart any longer."

With those words, the floodgates opened, and all the pent-up emotions and desires that had been simmering beneath the surface came rushing out. You found yourselves enveloped in each other's arms, the world around you fading away as you basked in the warmth of your newfound connection.

And as you stood there, lost in each other's embrace, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together - one that transcended the boundaries of rivalry and united you in a love that was stronger than anything you had ever known.

For on that fateful day, amidst the cheers and celebrations of your first USWNT match, you had not only emerged victorious on the field but also in matters of the heart. And as you looked into Emily's eyes, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, forever and always.