#side note I never get tagged in tag games I’m so excited!

[adroitjackal]

@judesstfrancis tagged me!

rules: choose 4 of your favourite characters from 4 pieces of media as options and let your tumblr pals decide which one most suits your vibe

I’ll tag @nimblermortal @ploridafanthers if you want to participate, and also anyone else who wants to!

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

Taglist: 

@jxssimae

@jackierose902109

@dvrkstxrlightt

@yesimwriting

@1989tvcore 

@kookie29 

@dopeoafslimebanana

@vadergf

@nsyncvinyl 

@ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

@brunettegirl

[pretzel-box]

HII, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME REQUESTING SOMETHING IF IM DOING SOMETHING WRONG FEEL FREE TO DELETE THIS ASK, BUT I WAS WONDERING…. In one of his lines sebastian makes a joke about having cards and such, the later says “ive never played cards actually.. meaning to learn.”. SO WHAT IF, i were to kindly and politely ask for anything that includes gender neutral reader teaching sebastian how to play cards, thank you for reading this in advance :3

UNO!

words: 1,7k

tags: uno, the card game.

authors note: I had too much fun with this and added Uno into the scenario! Sebastian learns everything about the wonderful world of cards.

Years ago, during a weekend at your grandparents' house, your grandpa placed a worn stack of playing cards in your hands and asked if you'd ever played. At the time, you hadn’t—being young and inexperienced—but that was the day you learned. Every time you visited afterward, your grandpa would teach you a new card game, keeping you entertained for hours.

So, when Sebastian mentioned that he had a deck of cards buried somewhere among his tools, junk, and files, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. Excited, you immediately hopped off his tail, which you had been using as a comfy seat, and began rummaging through his things in search of the cards.

“Don’t expect me to play with you,” he huffed, trying to avoid getting pulled into your sudden enthusiasm. He tried to mask his lack of skill by pretending he simply didn’t want to play, but your excitement made it clear that he wouldn’t be able to escape.

Before he knew it, you were sitting in front of him, shuffling the deck with ease, your fingers expertly spreading and reassembling the cards in one fluid motion. The sound of the cards snapping back together caught Sebastian’s attention, and despite his initial reluctance, he found himself watching you with curiosity.

You smiled at him, seeing the interest flicker in his eyes. “Come on, it’s not that hard. I’ll teach you.”

Sebastian grumbled under his breath but sat down across from you, folding his arms as if to keep up the pretense of disinterest. “Fine. But I’m not going to enjoy this.”

“We’ll see about that,” you teased, dealing out a hand of cards to him. You started with something simple, a basic game that didn’t require too much strategy. As you explained the rules, Sebastian’s brow furrowed in concentration. He kept glancing from the cards to you, trying to piece together what you were saying.

“Wait, so I can only play a card if it matches the suit or the number?” he asked, holding up a card as if it might give him the answer.

You nodded encouragingly. “Exactly. And if you can’t, you draw from the deck until you get something you can play.”

Sebastian stared at his hand, clearly overthinking his next move. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, his frustration starting to show.

“It will, just keep going,” you assured him, demonstrating a few moves to help him along. Slowly but surely, Sebastian began to understand, though he still looked uncertain with each card he placed down.

But as the game progressed, something surprising happened—Sebastian’s competitive side started to show. His earlier confusion faded as he began to grasp the game’s rhythm, and soon he was playing his cards with more confidence. You noticed the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth whenever he played a particularly good move, and it made you smile in return.

By the second game, Sebastian was leaning forward, more engaged than he would have admitted. “I got it this time,” he said, his voice tinged with unexpected enthusiasm. He played a card that blocked your move, his eyes lighting up as he realized he was starting to get the hang of it.

“Nice move,” you praised, genuinely impressed. Sebastian’s smirk grew, and he gave you a sidelong glance that was almost playful.

“Don’t think I’m going easy on you,” he warned, but there was no real bite in his words. He was enjoying himself, and it showed.

As the games continued, Sebastian’s initial reluctance was replaced with growing excitement. He began to anticipate your moves, even teasing you when he managed to outplay you. The grumpy, stoic man you were used to was momentarily replaced by someone who was genuinely having fun, and it warmed your heart to see him like this.

By the time you reached the fourth game, Sebastian was fully invested. He was still far from a card shark, but he was learning quickly and starting to enjoy the process. After winning a round a rare smile of his made a brief appearance.

“I knew you’d get into it,” you replied, happy to see him loosening up. “Maybe next time I’ll teach you something more challenging.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, the hint of a grin still on his face. “You think I can handle it?”

“I know you can,” you said confidently, shuffling the deck once more. “But first, let’s see if you can win another round.”

And so, the two of you continued playing, the shop filled with the sound of shuffling cards, quiet laughter, and the growing bond between a grumpy fish and his human friend.

Three days had passed since you first taught Sebastian how to play cards, and in that short time, it had become a regular part of your routine. Whenever there was a lull in your mission and you saw his open vent around, you’d pull out the deck, and Sebastian—despite his initial reluctance—would join you, slowly improving with each game. The more you played, the more his gruff exterior seemed to soften, revealing a side of him that was competitive yet surprisingly good-natured.

On the fourth day, you decided it was time to take things up a notch. When you walked into the shop that morning, a mischievous grin spread across your face. Sebastian looked up from his work, his brow furrowing in curiosity when he noticed the new deck of cards in your hand.

“What’s that?” he asked, eyeing the colorful box with suspicion.

You sauntered over to the table where you usually played, setting the box down with a flourish. You found this in a dumpster around one of the many office rooms. “This,” you said, holding up the deck, “is a game called UNO. I figured since you’ve gotten pretty good at regular cards, it’s time for a new challenge.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, still wary but clearly intrigued. “UNO, huh? Doesn’t sound too tough.”

You smirked, shaking your head as you started to shuffle the cards. “Oh, you have no idea. This game’s a bit different. It’s not just about matching suits and numbers—you’ve got action cards, wild cards, and, of course, the dreaded Draw 4.”

Sebastian watched as you dealt out the cards, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You began to explain the rules, showing him how to match colors or numbers, how to use the action cards to skip turns, reverse the order, or make the other player draw more cards. Sebastian listened intently, nodding along as he picked up the basics. But when you explained the Draw 4 and Wild cards, he gave you a skeptical look.

“So, I can change the color and make you draw four cards?” he asked, holding up the card and studying it closely. “That sounds a little unfair.”

You chuckled, enjoying his reaction. “It’s all part of the strategy. You have to know when to play those cards—and when to save them for later. Trust me, once you get the hang of it, you’ll see why it’s so fun.”

Sebastian wasn’t entirely convinced, but he went along with it, sorting his hand and planning his first move. As the game began, it became clear that this was a whole new level of challenge. The fast-paced nature of UNO, combined with the unexpected twists from action cards, kept him on his non existent toes.

At first, Sebastian struggled with the new mechanics, hesitating as he tried to remember which cards did what. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him concentrate, his usual grumpy expression deepening into a thoughtful frown. But soon, just as with the regular cards, he started to catch on. The competitive spark you’d seen before returned, and before long, Sebastian was playing his cards with growing confidence.

“You’re getting the hang of it once again,” you noted, as he successfully played a Skip card, blocking your turn and earning a satisfied grunt from him.

“Yeah, it’s not so bad,” Sebastian admitted, though his tone was more grudging than he probably intended. “Still not sure how I feel about that Draw 4, though.”

“You’ll learn to love it,” you teased, winking as you placed down your own Draw 2 card, watching as he groaned and drew two more cards from the deck.

As the game continued, Sebastian started to enjoy himself, even laughing quietly when he managed to reverse the play order right before you could make your move. It was clear that he was getting into the spirit of the game, and the playful banter between the two of you made it even more fun.

By the time you were nearing the end of the game, Sebastian had only a few cards left, his earlier hesitation replaced by determination. But just as he was about to play his second-to-last card, you laid down a Wild Draw 4, changing the color and forcing him to draw four more cards. He stared at the card you’d played, then at the stack he had to draw from, his mouth opening in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, though there was no real anger in his voice—just the frustration of someone who was so close to victory but had it snatched away at the last second.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you watched him reluctantly pick up the four cards. “Welcome to UNO, Sebastian. Anything can happen.”

He gave you a mock glare, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “This game’s ridiculous,” he grumbled, though you could tell he was already plotting his next move.

Despite the setback, Sebastian managed to hold his own, and when the game finally ended—with you barely winning by a single card—he was already asking for a rematch.

“Again,” he said, shuffling the cards himself this time. “I’m not losing like that twice.”

You grinned, happy to see him so engaged. “You’re on. Just don’t blame me when you end up drawing another four cards.”

As the two of you began the next round, the shop filled once more with the sounds of shuffling cards, playful competition, and the growing camaraderie between you and the man who was quickly becoming more than just a grumpy store owner.

[xcherricutie]

🌺 drift away 🌺

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 1.4k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic (I can't help myself)]

[Notes: My first Hazbin Hotel one shot. Still new to Tumblr, and new to writing one shots, I'm used to writing longer form. Hope this post is up to the standard. It's like, 1 in the morning and I have work tomorrow morning, enjoy. I will hopefully get out a part that's kinda like a prequel, I wanna do Other Friends lol. Obvs inspired by Steven Universe.]

Let’s go in the garden, 

You’ll find something waiting, 

Right there where you left it, 

Lying upside down...

Excitement shot through your system, your feet dragging along the ground as a giggle bubbled from within you. You paused every few seconds as the man before you looked back, a single brow raised at your antics. He took a few steps forward, the sounds of your feet tapping as you followed along filling the air. He sighed, turning around. His eyes, golden sclera and deep red irises, landed on your own, though unfocused. Almost as if looking straight through you. 

He’d tried to keep you here, to stop you from following. He knew you were only doing what you were meant to do. You were made for him. An angel born purely to keep Lucifer in check, to keep him happy. You loved being by his side, you loved spending time with him on Earth, in the garden. You thought he loved it too. You thought he loved you. 

Taking a deep breath, Lucifer forced a smile for you. His wings softly flapped behind him, lifting him off the ground, raising him to be just above your face level. His finger tapped your nose, his enchanting voice coming through. “Here in the garden, let’s play a game, I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

“Here in the garden, stand very still,” His hands on your shoulders, you looked up at him with a beaming smile, happy to spend time with your love. 

“This’ll be so much fun,” Your voice, soft and delicate spoke, earning a smile from him. Your heart fluttered at his smile, his cheeks crinkling slightly as his eyes closed, appearing relaxed. At least to you. But appearances weren’t all what they seemed. 

“And then he smiled, that’s what I’m after,” You clenched a fist, pressing it to your chest, trying to calm your fast beating heart. You could feel the eyes of the demon behind you on you, the very demon that came from him. “The smile in his eyes, the sound of his laughter.” 

You could see the scene replaying before you all over again. You could even hear the soft chuckle that had once escaped his lips, his hands softly squeezing your shoulders. You knew she could see it too, but you didn’t want to acknowledge the memories that had begun to rush back to you, memories from long ago. Memories you’d wished you could forget. 

“Happy to listen, happy to play, happily watching him drift away...” 

Lucifer’s grip loosened on your shoulders, his wings flapping as he pulled away, leaving you to your little game. You watched him fly into the bright sky, disappearing in the light of the sun with another. But you didn’t think anything of it, because he loved you. He was playing with you, spending time with you. 

The girl behind you could only watch in silence, her throat squeezing closed as she tried to keep her inner turmoil to herself. She knew exactly where she was, exactly where you had taken her. The wilted bushes, the out-of-control bramble, the spiraling roots through the grass. This was the long-abandoned Garden of Eden. This was where it all began. Where Charlie’s father, Lucifer, had started humanity’s spiral into chaos, starting with you. 

“Happily waiting, all on my own, under the endless sky...” You glanced up to the stars dotting the night sky. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. You never wanted anyone to see this, you never even wanted to see it again yourself. Yet, here you were, sharing your vulnerability with the person you’d come down to Hell to kill. The princess of Hell herself, and Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie. You had let her in, showing her your memories. “Counting the seconds, standing alone, as thousands of years go by...” 

The roots had begun to cling to your still form, your body aching, your wings begging to be spread once more. Your hair, once something you had been proud of, now in shambles, grown out nearly to your feet. Deep bags had sunk into the skin under your eyes, a telling sign of your exhaustion. For how much longer must this game go on, you wondered, but never dared voice it. You were meant to make him happy, right? 

“Happily wondering, night after night, is this how it works? Am I doing it right?” Your fists clenched, unable to bear looking at your old self any longer, watching as your sickened form disappeared, turning into speckles of gold in the wind. You stepped forward into the place where you had once showed Charlie your older memories, resuming the familiar stance you had been in for over ten thousand years. “Happy to listen, happy to stay, happily watching him drift away...” 

A cool breeze blew through your hair, reminding you of the countless nights you took solace in the feeling, the only thing that reminded you that you were still alive, still conscious. Your eyes met Charlie’s, a faint smile on her face as you spotted the tears welling in her eyes. You turned away with the breeze, taking a step in the opposite direction of Charlie, startling her as she was quick to follow. 

“You keep on turning pages, for people who don’t care, people who don’t care about you,” 

You walked along the edge of a pond, legs brushing against the soft petals of the flowers surrounding the pond. The breeze pulled along the flowers, a long dead water lily being ripped from the ground. Grasping the weakened petals of the flower in your hand, you turned to Charlie with a soft smile, placing the flower in her blonde hair that felt just the same as his. Just as you pulled your hand away, turning your attention to the water, the flower crumpled in her hair, falling apart. 

“And still, it takes you ages, to see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there, everyone’s gone on without you...” Your eyes drifted back to the spot you had become a part of for so long. The spot you thought would one day claim you and set you free from the pain that he’d left behind in you. Charlie’s eyes followed, her eyes widening to see more of your memories, more of what her father had caused. 

“Finally, something.” 

The two seraphims, Sera and Emily, stood before you, fear and sorrow written across their faces. Emily ripped roots that had grown to hold you down tightly off, while Sera ran her fingers through your broken hair, tears streaming down her face. 

“Finally, news, about how the story ends.” 

Sera rambled on and on about everything you had missed. About how humanity had progressed. About the angels that had replaced you in society. Everybody thought you were dead, at the hands of the Devil. You didn’t understand any of it, not until she explained just what had happened, why you were even standing here, playing this game. 

“He isn’t an angel anymore, fallen long ago, leaving you for Lilith, and his brand-new daughter...” 

“Isn’t that lovely?” 

Tears streamed down Charlie’s face as she watched your younger self burst into tears, sobbing violently into Sera’s chest as she hugged you tightly, muttering useless apologies over and over. You cried and screamed, telling her to stop lying and to bring you to Lucifer, to end this game already. You begged and pleaded, telling her that it wasn’t like that, that he loved you, he asked you to stay and play with him. He couldn’t abandon you. You were his angel, his love. 

“Isn’t that cool?” 

You ignored the pain that squeezed your heart, watching as your memories faded in those familiar golden glimmers, begging that this would be the final time you’d have to see them. You ignored the hot tears that dripped down your cheeks, your emotions leaking through, escaping the tight hold you’d kept them in for so many years. 

“And isn’t that cruel? And aren’t I a fool to have happily listened, happy to stay, happily watching him drift, drift...” 

You squeezed a fist to your chest, your heart slowing down finally as you sighed deeply. This was the end. This garden, where everything had begun, would finally see the end of the story. Where you would finally let go of the memories that haunted you for ten thousand years, and move on with your life, putting an end to his little game. 

“Drift away...” 

[diorsluv]

feather , part 1

“ not another take ”

series m. list next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, markestapa, luca.fantilli, and 78,682 others

yourusername after 19 years of being my brother, jamie still takes the worst photos

view all comments

jamie.drysdale I WAS TAKING 50 PICS PER SECOND.

→ yourusername AND I WASN’T READY FOR ANY OF THEM.

→ jamie.drysdale you’re so ungrateful

→ yourusername love u too

trevorzegras is he ruining your trip?

→ yourusername oh my god he’s been annoying me nonstop for the past theee days

→ jamie.drysdale stop spreading rumors

→ yourusername YOU WOKE ME UP AT FOUR IN THE MORNING TO ASK ME IF I WANTED MCDONALDS FOR LUNCH

→ jamie.drysdale THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE WORM

username4 ur so stunning

username66 MY IDOLLL

markestapa come back to michigan we miss you 😞

→ yourusername YOU miss me????

→ markestapa good lord HE said he misses you a lot

→ yourusername idk who “he” is markie, ur gonna have to specify 🤔🤔

→ edwards.73 he’s WHINING

→ dylanduke25 he just collapsed onto the ground

→ mackie.samo i can hear him crying from the other side of the yost

→ jamie.drysdale WHO IS “HE”??? yourusername DO YOU KNOW WHO “HE” IS??? WHY DOES HE MISS YOU HELLO?

→ yourusername calm ur tits bro ✋

username1 what’s going on in mark’s replies..

lhughes_06 when are you coming back 🙏

lhughes_06 leave cali and come back 🙏

lhughes_06 imysm please come back to michigan 🙏

lhughes_06 i’m so lonely without you i need you to come back 🙏

lhughes_06 THOSE COMMENTS WERE NOT ME I SWEAR

→ yourusername awww i can’t believe you missed me that much

→ lhughes_06 NO PLEASE RUT STOLE MY PHONE YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME

→ rutgermcgroarty dude i’m deathly sick rn i physically cannot have stolen his phone

→ jackhughes aw moosey long distance isn’t working?

→ lhughes_06 WHY ARE YOU TARGETTING ME WHAT DID I DO

_quinnhughes are you flying up here when we play the ducks?

→ yourusername YOU KNOW IT

→ jamie.drysdale i’m trying to convince her not to i promise

→ yourusername i wouldn’t miss a chance to spend time with my huggy wuggy bear

→ _quinnhughes blocked.

username29 jamie’s an amazing photographer

liked by jamie.drysdale

username93 LUKE’S COMMENTS LMAOOO

→ yourusername he wants me to clarify that it “wasn’t him” (you shouldn’t believe him)

yourusername

liked by adamfantilli, lhughes_06, _alexturcotte and 92,177 others

yourusername guess who’s who??

tagged: edwards.73, markestapa, luca.fantilli, rutgermcgroarty

view all comments

mackie.samo how come i wasn’t invited 🙁

→ yourusername I’M SORRY THEY KIDNAPPED ME SO I COULDN’T INVITE YOU 💔💔💔

→ mackie.samo it’s okay we can still have our annual cookie baking session

→ rutgermcgroarty COOKIES?? CAN I JOIN

→ mackie.samo NO it’s us two only 😠

→ yourusername mack’s the boss, sorry rut

username47 tag yourself i’m the skeleton mark’s hugging

→ username22 how’d you know it’s mark wtf

→ username90 i’m the yellow glasses ethan’s wearing

jamie.drysdale of course you go and do this as soon as you get back

→ yourusername DON’T JUDGE

adamfantilli luca’s the second right one on the right photo isn’t he..

→ yourusername YES HOW’D YOU KNOW??

→ adamfantilli i could smell the stupidity

→ luca.fantilli WOAH WOAH?? WHAT DID I DO?

→ yourusername FANTILLI FIGHT ⁉️⁉️

→ adamfantilli mom got mad at me because YOU left the house messy before we left to catch our flight

→ luca.fantilli your room was the only messy room in the house stop lying

username65 friend group goals

liked by yourusername

username7 wtf i wanna do this with my friends

username74 FASHION ICONS

trevorzegras come back and watch us play lil drizzy ❤️

→ yourusername first of all never call me lil drizzy again

→ yourusername second of all i’m going to the nucks game when you play BE PATIENT 🙄

next chapter notes ) this was actually so fun to make im excited to make moreeee 🫣 also the official nickname is drizzle i’m calling it rn bc drysdale=drizzle=drizzy=drizz AND I KNOW IT SOUNDS STUPID BUT I SWEAR YOU WILL COME TO LOVE IT

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hear me out.... Steven with a praise kink 👀

You jokingly call him a good boy (because I call him my human golden retriever) and BAM. Confused boner! You take advantage of it and keep teasing him.

(Marc and Jake would never let him live it down, either)

Ijcioajfidi HELP. THIS. AHHH. I’m not sure why chess playing came into my brain. But here we are, reader likes and plays chess and is pretty good at it.

(Side note: in one typo I wrote ‘chestboard’ instead of ‘chessboard’. You just know my subconscious is thinking about Steven’s boobs.)

Good Boy

Steven Grant x F!Reader Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: INSTANT BONER, p in v sex, teasing, swearing, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 2147

_______________________________________

“So, think about how you would stop me.” You said as you looked from the chessboard to Steven. 

His brow was furrowed in concentration, his glasses pushed high on his nose. A few rough curls dangled over his forehead as he bit softly at his thumb in thought. 

“I could move here?” 

“That’s really good.” You smile. “Excellent move, because you’ve also stopped my bishop.” You point to the piece on the board. 

Steven smiled. He liked chess, played against the computer occasionally. But it wasn’t much more than a way to pass the time. 

However when he found out that you had won some amateur competitions when you were in school, and that you still played regularly, his excitement at the prospect of playing a game with you was so completely heart-warming that you instantly said yes. 

In the first game, you’d been determined to go easy on him. Just to get a feel of Steven as a player. You’d accidentally won in less than ten minutes. 

There had been a small tinge of panic, a worry that, like some of the previous partners you’d had, he would be annoyed. Instead Steven grinned, thrilled that you’d beaten him and sung your praises until you were so positively overwhelmed you had had to kiss him repeatedly to get him to stop. 

This was your second game. He had asked in that delightfully enthusiastic way he had if you could play again, “if it’s not too much trouble love, and you want to of course, don’t want to be annoying, do I? No. But I’d love it if you could teach me some strategies?” 

“So I’m going to move here,” you picked up your knight and moved it slowly. 

Steven frowned. “But then I can take it?” 

“I know.” You grinned. 

He paused and looked at you, unable to stop himself from smiling at your glee and then nodded. “Okie dokie, there’s something I’m not seeing then.” 

“Is there?” Your innocent tone didn’t fool him for a second. 

“There definitely is.” 

You chuckled, looking back to the board. “Good boy. Look, take your time, but don’t worry if you can’t find it, I’ll explain.” 

There was a long pause. You frowned a little and glanced back to him. His eyes were a little wide, his cheeks dusted with pink. He was sitting stiffly now, his hand clenched into a fist with his knuckles pressed against his mouth. 

“Steven?”

“Hmm.” The sound was too quick. He didn’t look up from the board.

“You okay?” 

He nodded, a short sharp and very un-Steven-like movement. 

You paused for a second, looking at his features carefully as you wondered if Marc or Jake had fronted suddenly. Though, why they would try to hide it from you, you weren’t sure. 

On further inspection you were pretty sure that it was Steven. 

“You sure you’re okay.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled and swallowed, looking through the board and not seeing it. 

“Okay…” You swallowed, watched him for a moment longer before you pointed at your rook. “If you take my knight, I’m going to take your pawn with my rook and you’ll be in check. You can’t take the rook with your queen because then you’d be in check here. So you’d have to move your king like this, and then I could move my other bishop and you’d be in checkmate.”

You looked up at him, chewing your bottom lip. Had he had enough? Was he bored? Fed up of your explanations? 

“Okay. Right. So I won’t do that, I’ll move here.” He spoke quickly, still not looking at you. 

You nodded, watching his move. “Good, so…”

The moment ‘good’ left your mouth Steven sucked in a breath, shuddering. 

A sound you very much recognised. 

Oh.

You quickly thought over your previous conversion: move this piece, are you okay, take your time, good boy-

Good boy. That was it. 

A small smile stretched across your lips. Steven was still staring, fixated, at the chessboard and didn’t notice. He moved his piece silently. 

You waited a beat before you spoke. “That’s a great move Steven, good boy.” 

He shivered straight away, his breathing hitched. He tried to cover the sound with his hand as he closed his eyes.  

“What’s wrong Steven?” You teased slowly. 

His eyes snapped up to yours, wide and embarrassed. 

“Don’t you like being called a good boy?”

The smallest groan grumbled in his chest, his muscles tensing. 

“Or, is it that you like it a little too much? Hmm? Being my good boy?” 

His skin flushed with heat as he glared at you. His eyes dark. 

“What?” You bit your lip as you grinned. “A good boy would answer questions when asked.” 

“Please.” He whispered.

“Please what?” 

“Please stop. Marc’s taking the piss.” 

You frowned, the playful tease dropping from your tone. “Why’s Marc taking the piss?” You’d done kinker stuff with all of them, Steven liking being called a ‘good boy’ wasn’t really something to write home about. 

Steven sighed, pouting a little as he closed his eyes and took his hand away from his mouth. “Because I’ve got a hard on.” 

You bit back the giggle that wanted to spill from your chest. Something about him having to close his eyes to say it was just so perfect. “So?”

“It happened the second you said it.” 

“The very second?” 

“Hmm.” Steven kept his eyes closed. Interesting.

“So literally, I said it, instant boner.” 

“Yep.”

You couldn’t resist one playful tease. “So, if you’re in a park and you hear some say good boy to their dog, is it bam, erection?”

Steven shifted a little as you said those two words, trying his hardest not to moan. His cock was pressing, painfully hard, against the stiff material of his jeans. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s never happened before. And now- Marc, shut the fuck up.” His voice was a little needy until it came time to address his alter.

“Marc behave.” You said kindly. “So… it’s only ever happened now?”

“Hmm.”

“When I said it?”

“Yeah.”

“What happens when I say it again?” You whispered. 

Steven squirmed a little, even the thought of you saying it getting him hot under the collar. “Feels… nice. Sort of.” He pushed at his throbbing cock with the heel of his hand and opened his eyes, his head slightly drooped. 

“Sort of?” 

“Yeah, like… you know, he jumps to attention every time you say it.” He blinked heavily, his cheeks burning. God, you must think he was a right little freak.

“Good boy.” 

He groaned, unable to stop the sound in time and looked up at you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t nice that you were making fun of him like Marc and… oh. 

Realisation dawned. You were biting your lip and smiling. You liked it. A lot. 

Steven swallowed audibly. 

Slowly you stood and walked around the table to stand beside him. Steven pushed out his chair a little, angling it so that he was facing you. He went to stand but you gently pressed on his shoulder. He followed your command and stayed sitting down, looking up at you with pleading eyes. 

He played at his jumper sleeve nervously as you watched him. His dick hard and pulsating with need, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. 

He swallowed again. “Love-”

“Good boy.” 

He moaned softly, screwing his face up as his cock twitched at your words. 

You bent down quickly, grabbing hold of his cheeks and kissing him deeply. Using his brief surprise to slip your tongue into his mouth and push him back against the chair. 

Steven whimpered against you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders and the back of your neck as you ravaged his mouth and robbed him of his breath.

“Good boy.” You muttered between the kisses, swallowing his hushed whimpers and soft moans. Revelling in the way he pulled you tighter, needy and desperate for anything you’d give him. 

You brushed your hand against his groin, squeezing the outline of his cock. 

“Fuck!” Steven hissed, clawing at your top and thrusting up into your touch. The rest of his words were lost as you kissed him hard and lightly bit his bottom lip. 

You trailed your lips down to his jaw and neck, sucking at his pulse point and pushing him even further back into the seat. 

His breathy moans sent a wave of heat along your spine to your core, twisted in your belly and overwhelmed every thought. 

You squeezed his cock again, the heat of him radiating through your hand. “Good boy.” 

The words barely left your lip before Steven answered you with an accompanying groan, his length twitching against your palm. 

You moaned, so dizzily high with the sounds of his pleasure. Without thinking you undo his belt and unzip his jeans, pulling his trousers and boxers down to his calves in a hurried motion with a little help from Steven as he raises his hips. His cock springs free, needy and weeping with need. 

You take him in hand, stroking him twice before pulling his jumper over his head. He whines at the loss, chasing your mouth and kissing you urgently the second the material is off and on the floor. 

With your lips desperately pressed to his you pull down your own trousers and underwear, kicking one leg free and not bothering about the other as you take his length back in your hand and straddle his thighs. 

Him being so worked up, so desperate for you when you hadn’t even touched him is a stronger aphrodisiac that anything you’d ever experienced.

You don’t even give him a second to react before you’re lining him up with your already soaking entrance and slowly sinking down. “Such a good boy Steven,” you breathe, your voice rising in pitch at the end as he inches deeper, his thick cock splitting you so wide. 

He moans headily, pressing his face into your chest and mouthing at the tops of your breast through your top. 

“Love, you’re so wet.” He bites his bottom hip, his fingers pressing against your waist hard enough to leave bruises. 

You pull at the back of his hair slightly, scratching your nails along his scalp as he finally bottoms out. He pulses within you, twitching and aching and so, so close already. 

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you Steven?” 

He whined against you as you rocked your hips, quickly starting to lift yourself up and sink back down, setting a brutal pace as you began to bounce on his cock.

“Such a good boy letting me use you like this.” 

Steven moaned, chasing your hips and thrusting deep. He was drunk on you, needed you. Every moment, every word you said sent waves of pleasure through his body and made his head spin. 

Even in his intoxicated state his muscle memory kicked in, bucking up into you perfectly to make you see stars. Each spot that would break you apart memorised and stored deep within his very soul. 

He fucked up into you harder, growling with his desperate need. His leg kicked out and caught against the table's edge, rocking the chessboard and knocking pieces over. 

The sound just loud enough to register in his mind. “Sorry, I-“

“Doesn’t matter Steven, please,” you moaned. At this angle the head of him constantly pressed so deep, rubbing consistently over that special spot and not even giving you a chance to breathe. No pause or reprieve from the oncoming onslaught of pleasure that threatened to overtake you. 

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whined, your thighs shaking and thrusts growing sloppy. 

Steven growled, grabbing hold of your hips and pistoning upwards, not allowing your pleasure to dip. “Please, please, please, cum on my cock, please love, please. Tell me I’m your-”

“You’re my good boy.” You came dizzyingly hard, your fingers digging into Steven’s shoulders and leaving marks. 

But he didn’t care. Couldn't care as you squeezed and fluttered around him, moaning ‘good boy’, and shaking as you fell apart in ecstasy. 

Steven gasped, the air catching in his throat, the pleasure so potent it was like his heart stopped. He came deep, hot and thick, his hips still thrusting to prolong your high and to fuck his spend deeper into you. 

You held each other tightly as you recovered, breathing hard, sweat sticking to your skin. It was only then that you pulled off your top and bra, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothing. 

Steven nuzzled into you, softly kissing along your collarbone as you stroked his hair. 

He chuckled suddenly and you moved back every so slightly to look him in the eyes. 

“What?” 

He grinned, dreamy and love sick, up at you. “Marc’s changed his mind. He’d quite like you to call him ‘good boy’ too.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love

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[mountttmase]

Winter Sun - Chapter 5

Note - lil early treat as the game is on tomorrow. this is probably one of my favourites so I’m super excited for you guys to read it. Once again thank you sm for being so lovely I just adore you guys 🥺 also I added in a anons suggestion last minute I hope you like it 🤭 and feedback is appreciated as always 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6.1k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut & angst

Masterlist

You didn’t know if the heat was getting to Mason, but he could barely keep his hands off of you as the week went on.

Every night the pair of you ended up in one of the others room to let off some steam and you were beginning to wonder how you’d survive without him when the holiday finished. Even during the day he’d try and sneak you off if he could. Pretending you’d gone for a nap or to make a call so he could quickly make the pair of you cum and you couldn’t lie, you were having the time of your life.

It wasn’t just the sex though. He was right, you were his for the week and no matter where you were or what you were doing he was practically glued to your side. You were having the best week with him and all your friends and the little arrangement only made it even better.

You kept to your side of the deal too, making him breakfast and lunch if he wanted it. Treating him to ice cream when you were out even when he refused and making sure he always had his sun cream on but you knew he was secretly loving being taken care of in this way. Often finding him staring at you longingly as you made him something to eat like he wanted to pull you in and not let you go.

You felt good. Better than good, you felt wanted and needed and even though you both promised that the friendship came first and no feelings would be involved you noticed you’d started to slip.

You thought about him constantly when he wasn’t around, only feeling truly content when he was next to you and you felt yourself becoming in tune with the way he acted towards you. One misplaced glance or change in the tone of his voice had you spiralling but you were too afraid to say anything to him in case you made a fool of yourself so you kept it in. Trying to be as relaxed as possible around him.

You’d had a great week by all accounts though, getting drunk in the evening and soaking up the sun in the day and before you knew it there were only a few days left. Today was a little different though as you were meant to be having a girls day and Carly had arranged for the four of you to go pottery painting whilst the boys had their own thing going on but when you left you realised they were coming with you. Ben explaining that due to the weather their speedboat experience had been cancelled so they were tagging along to paint with you.

‘I’ve never done pottery painting, I don’t think I’ll be any good’ you told Mason as you all approached the building. Him holding the door open for you and you smiled as you walked passed him.

‘You decorate your cakes all fancy though, surely you can’t be too bad’

‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see’ you winked. Joining everyone else as a sweet older lady explained what you had to do.

Once she was done you were all allowed to go and pick your pottery, and once again you felt Mason brush up besides you as you looked for something to paint.

‘What are you thinking of painting?’ You asked him, eyes scanning the shelves for something exciting and you watched as he picked up a small stubby sort of vase before sending you a wink.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know’ he laughed before turning on his heel and making his way over to sit with the rest of the boys. Leaving you stumped before turning back to your only other hope.

‘Carly? Whar are you painting?’

‘Gonna paint Ben a mug I think, and maybe a little bowl for my cereal’ she mused, grabbing the biggest bowl she could see before taking it back to the girls table. You watched with a smile, knowing how much she loved her cookie crisp but your eyes were soon wandering over to Mason like they always did.

In the end you picked up a mug, wanting to paint Mason something too and then a mug for yourself before joining the girls. Sitting and gossiping as you let your creative juices flow and even though you were trying your hardest to paint something nice for Mason your lines were all wobbly and you thought it looked silly but you hoped it liked it.

For your own mug you decorated it with little strawberries and daisies, this coming out a little better than Masons but you were clearly taking too long as the girl’s had gone to join the boys to show off what they’d made as you were finishing up.

‘That's pretty’ Mason smiled, taking up the seat next to you. ‘The mugs not too bad either’

‘Oh hush it you’ you laughed. Secretly enjoying his compliments and you knew you were blushing as much as you tried to hide it.

‘Sorry, but it’s true, I am a bit concerned though. Please don’t tell me you’ve spent this whole time doing that’

‘Of course not’ you laughed, nodding your head to the side and you watched his eyes light up at the Spider-Man mug you’d painted for him. ‘I know it’s not great but I thought it might look good on your mug tree I got you’ you laughed, referring to the one you’d got him as a house warming gift and you watched his eyes soften as they flickered back between you and the mug.

‘You painted that for me?’

‘Of course. Just another little thank you of mine’ you teased but you could tell he was touched that you’d made something for him.

‘I guess I should show you what I did’ he laughed, a nervous expression on his face as he went to retrieve his item but you were more than confused when he set it down in front of you.

This looked nothing like the vase he’d picked up before. It was covered in little hearts of all shapes and sizes, pretty flowers and a few cupcakes hidden in here and there plus a slightly bigger pink heart that had gwen Stacey’s pink mask inside. Making you smile as you recalled all the times you’d spent watching it together and you loved the way both of yours tied in together without you meaning it too.

You were just about to ask what it was when you noticed the word tips carefully written in a fancy font on the front and your eyes shot up to his nervous ones.

‘It’s for your bakery. Thought it might look nicer than the coffee jar you’ve got sat by the till’ he laughed and your heart melted instantly.

‘Oh Mase’ you laughed. Dropping your brush and pulling him in for a hug and he held you back just as tightly. Tucking his head into your neck as he was a little shy and your heart thumped at how lovely he had been.

‘Bit of luck I painted something for you now huh?’ You laughed. Pulling back to look at his flushed face before his eyes darted to the Spider-Man mug in between you.

‘I’ll treasure it forever’ he laughed before helping you pick everything up and take it over to where everyone else’s were. The lady let you know they’d take around a week to be finished and you all wrote your addresses down for each piece before going to grab a quick lunch so you could get back to the villa. The weather now changing and after your busy morning and early afternoon, all you could think about was heading over to your chair and blocking out the rest of the world.

Well everyone but Mason at least.

He was still in the kitchen grabbing himself a drink, promising to follow you outside shortly to join you and with a quick, sneaky pinch to his bum you took the few steps from the kitchen to outside.

‘You coming in, y/n?’ Ben called, motioning his head into the pool as you walked around the edge towards you but you shook your head. Heading straight for the lounge chair you’d claimed as your own so you could get set up with your book however Ben seemed to be having different ideas. Stopping you in your tracks with his hands on your shoulders and the cheeky smile on his face unnerved you. ‘Come on, I haven’t seen you in there once this week’

‘So? I don’t want to’

‘But you have to, it’s the rules’ he laughed, turning you so you were now facing away from him, his chest pressed against your back as he bent slightly before lifting you from the floor.

‘Chilly I swear to god, put me down’ you shrieked, voice full of fear but you could tell he thought it was all hilarious. Swinging you from side to side as you thrashed and kicked your legs, your breaths short and sharp like you couldn’t take enough air in and as your eyes began to sting from fear you couldn’t help but let out a frightened whimper.

‘No can do, everyone needs to go for a swim or you can’t say you’ve had a proper holiday’ he laughed, swinging you back one final time before launching you into the water.

Everyone’s laughter and cheering was suddenly silenced, all you could hear was a rushing noise as you tried to fight your way to safety. You didn’t know what way was up and what was down and the more you struggled the more lost you became. Your lungs burning as you resisted the urge to open your mouth and scream but you were so frightened you didn’t know what else to do.

I’m gonna die, the only thought that was rushing through your head but the sudden feeling of someone’s arms around your waist as they dragged you up and back to the real world knocked the wind out of you.

You were gasping for breath instantly, your hands gripping onto someone’s strong shoulders as you tried to calm your aching lungs before you felt their hand on you back so they could pull you into them. Your arms snaked around their neck as you hid your head into them and they rubbed up and down soothingly to try and relax you before pulling you flush against them with their lips to your ear.

‘It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’ve got you, yeah? I promise it’s alright’

‘Mase’ you whimpered, booming coughs erupting from you as you clung to him even tighter. Wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you to his chest tightly and you knew you were going to be fine.

‘I know, Muffin. I promise I’ve got you’ he told you gently as he slowly walked you to the steps of the pool, gently walking you out whilst you clung to him like a koala and once you were up the steps and on the side you let yourself slide down his body so you could stand on your own. You could feel him start to pull back, probably wanting to check you were okay but you were having none of it. Small sobs now poring from you as you realised you were okay, the shock of it all finally hitting you and the embarrassment of everyone having seen you flapping about like a wet fish made you hold him even tighter as you cried into his neck.

‘Y/n I-‘ Ben started from behind you but Mason was quick to cut him off for you.

‘Don’t, Ben. Just don’t’

‘I didn’t-‘

‘Ben I swear to god if you don’t fuck off right now’ Mason growled, his body going stuff as he pulled you impossibly closer to his body. ‘I mean what the fuck were you thinking?’ He roared, but you didn’t want to start and argument so you pulled back in the hopes he’d look at you. He looked furious, cheeks flushed as his brows pitched together and you could feel the anger pouring from him but you watched his expression soften at the sight of you.

‘Can we just go inside’ you whispered through your tears and without so much a look in Bens direction, Mason lead you into the kitchen and away from everyone else before picking you up by your thighs and placing you on the counter.

‘Are you okay?’ He whispered, holding you by the jaw so she could get a good look at you and even though you were still crying and taking in strangled breaths you nodded your head. ‘What happened?’

‘H-he threw me I-in. I p-panicked’ you stuttered out before he pulled you back into his chest so you could calm down. You knew you were fine but your heart was still beating out of your chest and you were thankful you had Mason to grip onto.

Once you were calm again you pulled back to look at him, a soft concerned expression on his face as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead and you couldn’t ignore the goosebumps that traveled over your arms at the gesture. His touch was grounding you more than you thought it would but the feel of his lips on your skin made you feel even better.

‘You really don’t like the water do you?’ He asked softly, a small smile on his lips and you shook your head softly as you rubbed at your eyes. ‘Can you swim?’ He questioned gently and you took a nervous gulp before answering.

‘No’ you whispered, wanting to look away out of embarrassment but his non judgemental stare settled you and your carried on looking into his gentle eyes.

‘Y/n’ he sighed, but you could tell there was smile behind his voice as he slightly scolded you. ‘You need to tell me things like that. How am I supposed to look after you if I don’t know?’

‘Sorry’ you chuckled but he just shook his head before pulling you back into his embrace.

‘It’s alright. Just as long as you’re okay’ he mumbled, pulling back to look at you and you sent him a reassuring smile.

‘I’ll be fine’

‘Good’ he laughed before dropping his head to press a light kiss to your lips.

You froze, that’s against the rules being your first thought but he didn’t seem to be reacting in any way so you kept your cool and acted like what he’d just done was normal even though it was anything but.

‘Do you fancy going out for a bit? We can head to the beach rather than hanging here, I just know if I see Ben I’m likely to throttle him’ he joked, squeezing your waist lightly and you agreed, still a little embarrassed about the whole thing so you let him help you down so you could quickly leave.

You tried to be quick, drying yourself off and changing into a new bikini and a pair of shorts before chucking on an over shirt and trainers snd meeting Mason in the hall outside your rooms.

He was dressed in shorts and a tank, clearly throwing his own outfit together pretty hastily but looking at him still made your knees weak. The fact he’d have his tattoos on show for you today too made your tummy flip so when he held out his hand you took it straight away before he led you outside and thankfully you didn’t see anyone on the way out. Following Mason with your head down and once you were out he steered you towards the main town.

‘Thought we could have a walk on the beach maybe? Or look round some shops?’

‘Sounds perfect’ you smiled, squeezing his hand gently as you followed him down.

You arrived at the shops first, the pair of you looking at all the trinkets and souvenirs before Mason asked if you’d like to play a game and you looked up at Mason with a confused expression.

‘Whenever me and my family go away we get each other a magnet’ he told you, head motioning inside one of the tourist shops at a giant wall of magnets. ‘You go in here, I’ll go into the shop opposite and we can buy each other one. You know, one that reminds us of the other’ he explained but your silence made his face falter. ‘Or if that’s weird we can just-‘

‘No Mason I love it’ you giggled, squeezing his hand before letting go. ‘I’ll meet you out here in a sec yeah?’

‘Okay’ he nodded shyly before you both went in separate directions. There were a few you were considering but in the end you picked up one that looked like a rooster as it reminded you of Nando’s and you’d seen them everywhere this week and once you’d picked up a few more things for people back home, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Carly’s name flashing up on your screen and you felt nervous instantly. She wasn’t around when the pool fiasco happened and you knew she was probably worrying where you were.

You met him outside where he was looking at you with a cheeky smile before quickly swapping the little paper bags they were hidden in, both bursting into fits of giggles when you saw you’d bought each other the same one.

‘You fancy a walk on the beach? We can stay away from the water if you want’ he smiled but you just laughed and took his outstretched hand. Walking along the shore as he intwinted his fingers with yours.

It all felt so surreal, getting caught up in the moment even though you know you shouldn’t have, but the way he was acting so soft and caring with you made your heart flutter and you had to remind yourself often that he was still just your friend.

He stopped suddenly, pulling his phone out his his pocket before seemingly trying to take a picture of the sand in front of you and you were confused as to what he was doing until he threw a peace sign up in the air, looking down to see his shadow on the sand so you joined in as he took a few more. Both giggling away until he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his side before popping a kiss on your forehead and snapping a picture.

You looked up at him carefully, his bright eyes looking down into yours and the urge to kiss him was stronger than ever. He beat you to it though, planting another illegal kiss on your lips softly before taking your hand again so you could carry on walking.

‘You feeling better now, Muffin?’ He asked quietly, a hint of worry still in his eyes but it needn’t be there.

‘Much better. Thank you for looking after me Mase’ you told him sincerely, wrapping your arms around his waist so you could hold him close. ‘Sorry for ruining your peaceful afternoon’

‘Don’t be silly, I’d rather hang out with you anyway. I was thinking, maybe we could grab some dinner out? Unless you wanna go back, we can do that too’ he told you, rushing at the end like he thought he’d overstepped but you were enjoying your alone time with him so you sent him a reassuring smile.

‘No I like the sound of that. Maybe we could have a little picnic on the beach? I don’t think I’m looking too presentable to be sitting in somewhere’ you laughed, looking down and your thrown together outfit and still damp hair but the soft smile on his face relaxed you.

‘I mean I think you look great but whatever you want’ he winked, squeezing your sides playfully.

After another quick walk around the town, Mason pointed out a take away pizza place and put your order in before you popped into the small supermarket opposite to grab some drinks and sweet treats before taking your food back to the beach so you could eat and watch the sunset.

Even though you didn’t like the water, there was something about sitting by the sea and the sound of the waves that made you feel at peace. And sitting with Mason as you spoke casually about future plans and how he was looking forward to the rest of the season made your heart sing.

‘I know we haven’t known each other too long in the grand scheme of things, but you know I’m really proud of you, don’t you?’ You told him softly, watching the most heartwarming smile stretch across his face before he patted the space in front of him so you’d sit in between his legs. Once you were comfortable his arms snaked around your waist and you placed yours on top of his as he pulled you as close as he could to him. His lips by your ear so he could speak to you quietly.

‘I’m proud of you too, Muffin’ he whispered, the smile in his voice evident but you both started giggling as he kissed the side of your head. ‘I’m serious. You’ve got your own thing going on and you’re so successful and like I’m just so happy for you, you know? No one deserves to be happy more than you’

‘You deserve to be happy too’ you told him, moving your shoulders round slightly so you could look at him and you almost melted when his hand came to rest on your cheek so he could stroke it gently.

‘I am happy’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, I know it was a big choice to go up there and have everything change. And yeah maybe there are certain things I would of liked to of kept the same but I think it’s worked out pretty well’

‘I think so too’ you whispered, your smile mirroring his as he continued to gently stroke your cheek. ‘Though I miss having you around’

‘I miss you too’ he smiled

‘Hmmm me or my cakes?’

‘Your cake’s obviously’ he laughed, making you roll your eyes playfully as you looked away from him but he was quick to hold you closer and scatter kisses on top of your head until you looked back. ‘I’m kidding. It’s mostly you’

There was that feeling again, wanting to kiss him more than anything and you knew he felt the same because his eyes kept flashing down to your lips as they flickered all over your face. You figured you’d just take the plunge, he’d kissed you twice already today so you reached up and thankfully he caught on and met you in the middle.

Kissing Mason like this made you feel giddy. You were breaking every rule in the book but there was no intent behind it, just two people showing the other how they felt and you hope Mason could tell how much you appreciated him for everything

‘Thank you for this week, Mase, I was really worried about coming but I’m so glad I did. I’ll never be able to repay you’

‘You don’t have to thank me or repay me’

‘But I do. I really appreciate everything you do for me’

‘Well do you send me cakes a lot’ he winked, ‘and you're always there for my games, good times and bad you're by my side so I appreciate you too. More than you know’ he told you softly. A warm fuzzy feeling spreading over your skin and you didn’t have the confidence to look at him anymore so you faced forward as the pair of you snuggled closer and listened to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

‘Shall we head back? You’re starting to get cold and I don’t have anything for you’ Mason asked after a little while and even though you were content in his arms you knew it was getting late and you’d have to head back soon so you begrudgingly nodded.

‘Okay’ you whispered, taking a slow walk back with his hand in yours the whole way. When you got back, the house was silent and you weren’t even sure if anyone was in so you made your way down to your rooms after putting your leftovers in the fridge. Standing awkwardly outside your doors as he scratched the back of his neck.

‘You wanna come in here for a bit?’ He asked, making you raise your brows at him suggestively but he was quick to settle you. ‘Nothing like that, I just thought we could hang out for a bit. Watch a movie before bed?’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah I just… I don’t wanna leave you yet like it feels weird to me’

‘It feels weird to me too’ you admitted shyly and your heart stuttered at his soft smile. ‘Listen, I’m just gonna have a quick shower, get changed and run upstairs for a water. You want me to get you anything?’

‘Why don’t you get us some snacks, I’ll let you pick’ he told you and with a final kiss to your forehead he let you go.

After your shower you found one of your nicer sets of pjs and you made your way upstairs but the sight in front of you made guilt rush through you. There was Ben, his face sat propped up on his fists as he leant against the counter and you could see how miserable he looked just from a glance.

You felt awful, you knew he hadn’t meant anything in a mean way earlier and when his eyes flickered over to yours you sent him a sympathetic smile.

‘You’re back’

‘Yeah we got back about fifteen minutes ago’ you told him as he sat up but he kept his eyes glued to the counter as he nodded his head and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Without another word you made your way over to him, touching his shoulder so he’d turn a bit before pulling him into your arms. You felt him relax immediately as he held you tightly and you rubbed his back gently hoping to let him know everything was fine between you.

‘I’m so fucking sorry, y/n’ he told you quietly but you could hear the emotion in his voice and it was breaking your heart. ‘I honestly had no idea, I was just trying to have a bit of fun’

‘I know Ben. I know you didn’t mean it horribly and I’m fine I promise. I don’t tell people I can’t swim cause it’s a bit embarrassing but you didn’t know that’ you reassured him as you pulled away but kept your hands on his shoulders. ‘As for Mase I think he just got a bit scared but I’ve had a word with him. There wasn’t any need for him to speak to you like that’

‘It’s fine I deserved a telling off’ he smiled shyly and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. ‘You promise you’re alright?’

‘Fit as a fiddle’ you winked before walking over to the fridge. ‘I was more embarrassed than anything else. Like me, a full grown woman who can’t swim?’

‘Well if you fancy a lesson I can try and teach you. We can call it part of my apology’ he offered and even though you were petrified you wanted to do something to make him feel better.

‘You know what, I’ll take you up on that’ you laughed, shutting the fridge as you gathered your haul in your hands. ‘Let’s start in the morning’

‘It’s a deal’ he winked, a bright smile on his face and you felt better than you had all afternoon knowing you were fine.

‘I better take these down to his majesty’ you joked, motioning towards your full arms. ‘I’ll see you in the morning though, yeah?’

‘Course. Have a good night y/n’

‘You too’ you smiled and with a quick kiss to your cheek you both made your separate ways to your rooms. You didn’t bother knocking when you got to Mason's room, walking in so you could drop the snacks and drinks straight onto the bed but after you’d shut the door and finally caught sight of him, your mouth went dry.

He was lying horizontally across the bed on his side, flicking through the channels to find something to watch clad only in a pair of tight black Calvin’s. As soon as you made eye contact he sent you a sweet smile, shuffling up a bit straighter before patting the space in front of him and it felt like your heart was going a mile a minute as he helped you get settled. His warm skin pressed fully against yours as he tangled your legs together and wrapped his arm around your middle, but it was the light kiss pressed against your temple that made you blush harder than anything.

‘Comfy?’ He asked softly, lips right by your ear casing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin, you just hoped he wouldn't notice and when he didn’t say anything you just nodded and let him hit play.

It was a comfortable silence, but then again you were always comfortable around Mason. The pair of you munching your way through your snacks as you absentmindedly watched the film that was on until you felt him reach for his phone. Tapping away for a few minutes before he placed it back on the bed until you felt your own phone buzz on the side table.

‘I’d get that if I were you’ he told you quietly. Eyes not leaving the tv and you thought it was a bit weird of him but you didn’t question it. Reaching for it to see who it could be but you were surprised to find it was Mason trying to airdrop you something. The first thing looked like a picture of you taken from behind at a beach bar the other day and you felt your heart race as you pressed accept.

You weren’t prepared for what was coming through to you though. A full album of candid shots of yourself from nights out and day trips that Mason must have taken sneakily and you felt your whole body flush as you flicked through them. Seeing yourself through his eyes a little and you’d sworn you’d never felt more beautiful than right now.

‘Mason? What the hell is all this?’ You asked, looking up at him with a wide smile and you watched his cheeks turn the same shade of pink yours probably were.

‘Just some pictures I’ve taken this week that I thought you might like’ he told you. Trying to shrug it off but you knew he knew what he’d done was special to you. ‘I thought maybe you could use some for your daily instagram dumps you seem to love. Do you like them?’

‘I love them, thank you’ you told him. Pulling him towards you tighter and you shivered as he kissed your shoulder.

‘That's okay. I know the others were constantly asking the boys to take pictures and I didn’t want you left out. I’ve kept a few for myself though’ he teased. Making you laugh as you looked back up at him.

‘I suppose I’ll allow it’ you smiled. Reaching up to kiss his jaw before your eyes went back to your phone so you could look through them again and try and find your favourite but it didn’t take long for your eyes to go heavy. It had been a long and slightly stressful day and the warmth of Mason's body and the calmness that you felt about being around him was sending you to sleep quicker than anything. He must have felt it, moving you round so your front was now pressed against his chest with your head in his neck but you knew you couldn’t get too comfortable. Sleeping in the same bed was against the rules.

Not that you’d stuck to the rules at all today.

‘Just gimme five minutes and I’ll go to my room’ you told him quietly, the rumbling of his chest as he laughed waking you slightly but not too much.

‘Don’t be silly, stay here tonight’

‘But Mase-‘

‘But nothing. Just go to sleep, Muffin’ he whispered into your hair and you knew your skin was covered in goosebumps.

You didn’t say another word, just snuggled down further into him as he held you even closer. His hands absentmindedly stroking over your skin and lulling you further into sleep, the last thing you remember being his lips on your forehead as he pressed feather light kisses to your hairline.

When you woke up, you knew it wasn’t morning yet. The sky was a little lighter than when you went to sleep but your thoughts were confirmed when you quickly checked your phone and the time read 03:47am. You weren’t sure why you were awake but you quickly dashed to the loo, carefully untangling yourself from Mason as to not wake him but you saw his eyes open when you returned. You had been contemplating going back to your room but he opened his arms for you as you stood awkwardly and you couldn’t deny him.

‘Sorry, Mase. I didn’t mean to wake you’ you whispered, crawling back into his arms but you let him spoon you this time, smiling at the feel of his arms around you and his lips pressed to the base of your neck.

‘S’okay’ he whispered back, continuing to press small kisses over the bottom of your neck whilst he let his hands wander your body carefully and before long you could feel yourself getting turned on.

You weren’t sure if this was his intention or if he just wanted to feel you but you knew your breathing had gotten deeper as he began to massage over you waist and hips before finally taking your bum in his hands and you couldn't help but moan a little bit. Yes the pair of you had been touchy all day but you’d missed his hands on you like this and once he could hear how he was making you feel he started taking things to the next level.

It was your thighs next, hands reaching forward to massage them softly whilst he littered your neck with kisses and it wasn’t long before you felt him prodding you in the back which caused you to let out a little chuckle. ‘Shhhh’ he laughed, letting his hands travel inward to part them before hooking one up and over his body. Leaving you open for him to do as he pleased.

You felt you hips moving before you’d even realised, grinding your bum down onto him and the chuckle that left his lips would have almost left you embarrassed but you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel him again.

‘You just can’t wait can’t you, baby? So needy for me’

‘Please Mase’ you whimpered. Your spine tingling at him calling you baby but thankfully he didn’t want to make you work for it. Just as needy as you it seemed as he pulled your shorts from you and freed himself just enough to be able push himself into you. One arm wrapped around you to hold you close as the other hooked under your thigh to hold it up as he bucked his hips into you from behind and the kisses he was pressing to the back of your neck were driving you wild.

It was lazy and delicious, the pair of you taking it as slow as you could so you could just feel each other rather than chase your highs. Not having sex for the aim of getting off but just because it felt good to be pressed up against each other, to feel him rock his hips in and out of you just like he knew you loved whilst whispering the most heavenly praise in your ear.

You look so fucking beautiful

Feels like you were made for me, you know that?

Let me hear all those pretty noises you make. I don’t care if anyone hears us I wanna know how good you feel

You’re doing so well for me sweetheart

I’ve got you, let go for me gorgeous

When you’d finally come down from your high, you could still feel him pressing the most delicate kisses to the back of your neck until he was burying his face in there. Taking a huge breath like he was absorbing you in and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

The pair of you didn’t move, Mason just feeling heavier and heavier as he sunk into you even more. Falling straight back to sleep so you joined him knowing you’d hadn’t felt this content in the longest time.

y/n

liked by masonmount, carlywlms_, benchilwell and others

Y/n a day well spent 🩷

view comments

masonmount ✌🏻

y/n ✌🏻

declanrice that pizza look insane

y/n It was 👩🏻‍🍳😘 there’s a few slices in the fridge if you want some

carlywlms_ missed you this afternoon 💜

y/n I’ll be there to annoy you tomorrow 💜

okaylaaa omg the magnets 😩 @woody_ we need to get some before we go

y/n they had so many, it’s hard to choose 😭

woody_ I’ll take you tomorrow 😉

benchilwell 💛

y/n 💛

laurenfryer_ you didn’t want to show everyone your Spider-Man mug, no?

y/n I didn’t want to embarrass everyone else with my skills

lukeshaw23 tell Mase that’s not part of his meal plan

y/n It’s a one off treat 😉

masonmount let me tell you, I’ve had many treats this week 😌

__nads hope you’re having the best time 🩷 everyone’s asking after you 🥺

y/n thank you, i hope it’s okay going okay 😂

__nads sugar mumma is still standing 😉

masonmount can you post me up some brownies for when I get home please? Or just whatever’s left over tomorrow, I’m not fussy

y/n @__nads ignore him please 🙄

masonmount no no, she owes me

__nads I’m not getting involved in your domestic 😭

Tagged: @footiehoemcfc @prideofpd @yoursselo @chelseachilly @willow-writer-ivy @mm-vii @katharinanadiaa @mmountseb @carlottawllms @saltyheartnightmare @masonmtxo @harvestmount @chillymountsjess @treblebluesblog @pulisicsgirl @bluesswift @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Best Intentions - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x femme Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock and trauma. Word count: ~4.3k

Summary: An overview of how Tom and her came to be friends, and the set up for the story now that he's returned to Longsight. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The imposing red brick building of Plymouth Grove Primary School is gigantic and intimidating to her as she enters through the gates to the playground, the thought of being left here for the entire day makes her clutch at her mum’s hand with tight desperation.

Her first day of school is one she’ll never forget, forever imprinted in her mind, owing to a big pair of blue eyes filled with mischief, and a grin with a pair of front teeth that remind her of a rabbit’s.

It’s morning break as she surveys the playground nervously, trying to decide if she feels brave enough to join in on a nearby game of hopscotch. It’s then that she feels a warm puff of air ruffle the back of her hair, and she spins around to see a sandy haired boy running back towards a group of laughing lads.

“I did it! I gobbed in her hair!” He shouts.

Humiliation warms her skin as tears prickle her eyes, and she hurries inside to the girls’ toilets to unsuccessfully try to locate where the offending spittle has landed, all the while sniffling back sobs.

It’s when dinnertime comes and she sits unhappily sipping her milk that she sees him again. He sidles up to her, alone this time, a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t really,” he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, “Gob in your hair, I mean. I was dared to, so I pretended,”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to manage, not sure of what else to say.

“I’m Tom. Mates, yeah?” He says with his bunny toothed grin, and she can’t help but smile back.

He sits himself next to her, opening his own milk and they spend the remainder of the hour getting to know each other.

She’s surprised to learn that it’s his first day too, she had assumed from his confidence that he would be a couple of years above her. He lives with his dad, Douglas, who works as a bus conductor, his mum - Josie, and his sister, Lois, who is a couple of years above them.

He learns all about how she lives with her mum, and it’s just the two of them as her dad had passed away when she was a baby. Her mum runs the shop off of Stamford Road with her uncle, who lives in the flat above it.

Tom’s eyes light up at the mention of this. “The one with the jars of sherbet straws?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “And treacle toffees!”

By half past three that afternoon, as the children file back out of the school gates, her and Tom are firm friends.

Her mum and Josie stand waiting to collect them, and they discover that they live only a few streets apart, so the four of them and Lois walk home together, chattering excitedly about her and Tom’s first day of school.

From that day forward, the thought of being at school for the entire day fills her with excitement. Tom makes it a less scary place to be, and is quick to defend her if ever anyone tries to give her trouble.

Their friendship remains solid as the years pass, as does Tom’s compulsion for finding trouble. He adores showing off and being the centre of attention, but it’s always her he runs to when it’s time to face the consequences. She is a privy to a side of him that nobody else is, she has seen his fear, his sadness and his doubt.

They sit on the wall adjacent to her mum’s shop, a paper bag rustling between them as they help themselves to sherbet straws. Tom and Lois had walked home with her and her mum. Josie hadn’t been there to pick them up, she hadn’t been for a few days now.

“Should probably go home soon,” she slurs around a mouthful of sweets, “Need to do my homework.”

Tom nods slowly, moving his own sweet around in his mouth. “D’you…d’you think you could help me with mine?”

“Why?” She chides, “‘Cause you spent all lesson mucking about?”

“Come on,” he pleads, “Me mam’s not well, last thing she needs is me getting into trouble because I can’t do sums.”

She clicks her tongue and sighs. “Fine,” she says, jumping down from the wall.

“Smashing,” he grins, following after her.

She smiles over her shoulder at him. “What are mates for?”

Josie’s illness worsens and she passes away around the time that they start secondary school.

Tom’s behaviour becomes more uncontrollabe, exacerbated by his mum’s death, but with her and Lois at the all girls school, and him at the all boys, there is little that can be done to stop him.

Things come to a head one day when Douglas opens the door to an angry neighbour, who berates him for Tom having stolen the milk from their doorstep, running away laughing, before dropping and smashing it when they’d chased after him.

He’d come to her after Douglas had given him a stern telling off, head bowed and looking sorry for himself.

“He hates me,” Tom had said sullenly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Tom, you just need to behave yourself. Why’d you do it?”

“Was dared to,” he says with a shrug.

“Like when you spat in my hair?”

He presses his lips together, lowering his eyes. “I dunno why I do it. It’s just hard since mam’s gone, dad doesn’t understand me like she did.”

It’s then that she notices the tears that rim his eyes, and she pulls him into a hug.

When had he gotten so tall? He feels massive compared to how he used to.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “I’m glad we’re mates.”

The next few years follow a similar pattern; Tom gets into trouble and immediately runs to her each time, basking in the safety of her presence and comforting words.

As they grow older, Tom’s misbevaiour evolves into petty crimes which soon attract the attention of the police.

She also begins to notice the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him each time she pulls him into a hug, a troubling new habit he’s developed, no doubt to impress the older boys. 

He now seems impossibly tall, and with every inch he grows it feels like he pulls a little bit further away from her. It makes her heart ache.

She grows used to seeing him walking home in the mornings looking bedraggled, a cigarette perched between his lips, after having spent the night in the back of a pub to avoid the police, who would no doubt have been knocking at the door of the Bennett household the previous evening.

When news of war having broken out in Europe reaches them and lads Tom’s age begin signing up to the draft, Tom decides he’s having none of it.

“Signing up as a conchie!” He tells her, as they sit on the wall together, waving the green booklet for emphasis.

“Your dad was a conscientious objector,” she says, narrowing her eyes in disbelief, “Your beliefs are suddenly the same as his are they?”

Tom tuts, flicking his lighter absentmindedly. “Just don’t wanna sign my life away for a load of bollocks that’s got naff all to do with me,”

His mind soon changes once the police come knocking again. He enlists in the Navy, action he considers less direct than fighting on the front lines.

The night before he’s due to ship out, he has a rowdy celebration in the local pub, jeering and clinking glasses with those who’ve not yet joined the draft. She watches on with a heavy feeling in her chest, she knows behind all his claims of how many Germans he’s going to kill and how he’ll have a bird in every port that he’s terrified of what’s to come.

That much is proven as he walks her home later that night, unsteady on his feet and reeking of beer. He sways in front of her once they reach her front door, big blue eyes misty and filled with emotion.

“You okay, sailor?” She asks with a soft smile.

“Can I– can I stay the night?” He asks, suddenly seeming like the little boy he was back when they were in primary school and he’d apologised for pretending to spit in her hair. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

She’s never shared a bed with Tom before. They’ve always been just friends. Her throat runs dry at the thought, but in that moment he seems so vulnerable, she can’t deny him anything.

They creep up the rickety wooden stairs to her bedroom, careful not to wake her mum, and squeeze into the single bed that occupies the space. He clings tightly to her, long limbs wrapped around her, like a drowning man grasping onto a lifesaver.

“I’m so scared,” he whispers into the darkness.

“You’ll come back,” she reassures him, “You have to, who else would be my mate?”

She feels him smile against her shoulder. “Yeah, who else would put up with you?”

They giggle, before shushing each other as she elbows him in the ribs, and they fall asleep curled around each other.

Tom’s gone when wakes up.

They write letters back and forth to each other, but each one feels distant and lifeless. He’s writing with the mask he shows to the rest of the world, giving an emotionless recount of each of his days. She supposes he might be afraid or whose hands his words may end up in, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, so she clings to every letter, vapid as they are, grateful to still have a connection to him.

She visits the Bennett household once a week, to share the letters they’ve been exchanging - to her disappointment, the ones she receives are much the same as the ones he sends home to Douglas and Lois.

Over time, her mum and uncle join her on her visits. Her mum brings cakes and her uncle gets into the habit of playing cards with Douglas. She is glad for the closeness between their two families, it makes Tom’s absence seem less daunting.

It’s at the Bennetts’ house where she learns the news of the attack on the HMS Exeter, the Naval ship that Tom is stationed aboard. Her blood runs icy cold at the news, though the Exeter was victorious it is not without deaths and casualties.

The weeks spent waiting for news are agonising, and it’s Tom she’s thinking of as she leans against the shop counter, eyes fixed on the large front window, but too lost in her thoughts to see through it.

“Quarter of sherbet straws when you’re not away with the fairies,”

The familiar voice startles her out of her reverie and she looks up wide eyed at Tom’s smiling face.

God, he’s grown into those bunny teeth. Has his smile always been so handsome?

“Tom!” She squeals, rushing from behind the counter and throwing her arms around his neck. “Do your dad and Lois know you’re back?”

He hugs her warmly before pulling back. “Yeah, popped home first to say hello. Left me new bird there, actually, thought you’d wanna meet her?”

She hates the way her heart sinks at this, but nods regardless, flipping the closed sign on the shop door and locking it behind her.

Tom tells her all about the Battle of the River Plate as they walk back to his house. He grows solemn when he’s finished, glancing sideways at her.

“I saw people die,” he says quietly, “I thought I was gonna die. Can’t believe there’s so much of my life I’ve pissed up the wall.”

It’s then that she notices how much more mature he seems, wise beyond his years. He’s seen things that no man his young age should have seen. She reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture which he returns.

“So, this is Vera,” he gestures towards the kitchen table as they head inside.

She laughs, relief washing over her, when she sees the little canary sitting in her cage.

For a few days it feels like everything is back to normal, until Tom gets a new posting and has to leave again.

“I’ll come back,” he tells her, taking her hands in his, “who else would be your mate?”

She can’t help but smile. “No one else would put up with me,”

He’s away longer this time, his letters are fewer and the worry gnaws at her with more intensity than ever before.

For the second time in her life she cries over Tom Bennett when she hears that he’s been declared as missing in action on the beaches of Dunkirk, a suspected capture by opposing forces.

Lois falls pregnant, and for a time the advancing stages of her pregnancy and eventual birth are a welcome distraction, a reminder that there is life amongst all the death that surrounds them.

Her grief is amplified when bombs fall over Manchester, a bottomless pit opening in her gut when she finds out that there was a direct hit on the Bennett house. Her uncle and Douglas had been inside playing cards at the time, neither had survived.

Her mum moves Lois and her baby into the flat above the shop, with her uncle gone the space is no longer occupied and it makes sense for them to have it, considering they no longer have a roof over their heads.

It’s comforting to have them so close, a little piece of Tom to hold onto until he comes back, if he comes back. She hates herself for thinking it.

When Tom next steps through the shop door, there’s no trace of his grin from last time. He looks skinny, haunted, he’s aged. There’s an anger within his blue eyes that replaces the mischief that used to sparkle there.

He doesn’t need to ask for her to know what he’s after. There will be no hugs of greeting this time.

“She’s upstairs,” she says softly, her stomach tied into knots.

He simply nods and walks towards the back to go up.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to hear the muffled sounds of arguing and not five minutes later he storms back downstairs and out into the street. She follows after him, grabbing the quarter of sherbet straws she’d bagged up for him.

He’s sat smoking on their usual spot on the wall, and she hops up beside him, placing the paper bag between them. He doesn’t touch them. She wonders when the last time he ate anything at all was, he looks so thin.

The silence between them feels painful, she doesn’t know what to say, but she can tell from the way his hands shake and the urgency with which he drags on his cigarette that if she doesn’t say something then he certainly won’t.

“You can’t be angry with Lois, y’know,” she says gently, “it’s not her fault,”

“Then whose is it?!” He snaps angrily, eyes narrowing as he looks at her.

He’s never spoken to her like that before and she shrinks away from it. “It’s not my fault either,” she whispers sadly.

His face softens, a look of shame replacing his anger as he averts his gaze, his lips twitching. “Sorry about your uncle,”

“Sorry about your dad,”

His return is brief, only a couple of days this time. Enough time for him to visit Douglas’ grave, but not enough for them to talk, not properly anyway. He reveals that he was taken to an American hospital in Paris, after being shot in Dunkirk. A woman named Henriette had helped him to escape France and he’d made his way home via Spain. It’s all so matter of fact the way that he recounts it, but she only has to look into his eyes to see the turmoil he’s feeling. It crushes her.

He looks fearful and uncertain when they say goodbye, the urge to cling to him and beg him not to go is overwhelming.

“You’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?” He asks.

“Course I will, I always am,” she replies with a sad smile.

He cups her cheek, his large palm engulfing her face and leans down to press his lips to hers. She startles at first, they have never kissed before, but she quickly reciprocates, moving her mouth against Tom’s. His lips are so soft and there is a tenderness behind the gesture that brings tears to her eyes.

She’s breathless when they part, his forehead resting against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“Mates, yeah?” He whispers.

The word makes her heart twinge. “Yeah, mates.”

Her fingers trace lightly across her mouth as she watches him walk away, kit bag slung over his shoulder.

Tom sends no letters at all the third time he leaves, so eventually she stops writing to him. She figures it can’t be nice for him to hear about how life is carrying on without him, how his niece has started to walk and talk, a new house built in place of his old one with a new family living inside it.

She can’t bear how the world continues, while she feels stuck in place, waiting for his return. It isn’t fair that there are people getting to laugh and love and live their lives, while he’s sacrificing his so that they may have the privilege.

With the exception of the morning paper sort, her mum has taken a step back from the shop, needing more rest than usual, and without her uncle around to help out, she’s taking on more hours in order to keep things ticking over. The sweet jars sit empty, rationing is difficult to get used to. She’ll never be able to come to terms with sending people away without the food they want and need, simply because the shop either doesn’t have enough stock, or they have already used their allotted portion for the week.

Her mind drifts back to how skeletal Tom had looked when she’d seen him last. She hopes he’s managing to eat.

It’s the beginning of September, the dying embers of summer glow dark orange on the horizon, as the evening battles the day for dominance in the increasingly earlier darkening of the sky.

Lois is on an evening shift, so her mum is round at the flat looking after the little one. She has the house to herself, and has lost count of the amount of times she’s read and re-read the same passage in her book, unable to take the words in.

She frowns when she hears the door knock, unsure of whether she should answer it or not, she’s not expecting anyone. Her hesitation provides enough time for a second knock, more urgent this time, so she relents, going to the front door and opening it.

It feels as though time freezes when she sees Tom standing there, gaunt and tired looking.

He doesn’t give her time to react, dropping his kit bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him and presses a bruising kiss to her lips. His hands pull at her clothes as he backs her towards the living room sofa, and she lets him.

She just needs to feel that he’s real, that he’s really back, so she loses herself in the moment, allowing him to climb on top of her, her own hands moving to strip him as he does the same to her.

Her fingertips stroke down his back and she’s shocked to find she can feel every vertebrae in his spine, and all the ribs that protrude through the skin. She’s never touched him in such an intimate manner before, but she knows he’s never been so emaciated. He feels hollow, yet there is strength to how he manhandles her.

Pulling her thighs apart, he settles between them, pushing her open with the thickness of his cock. She gasps, arching against him, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he pistons his hips in quick succession against hers. This is no gentle lovemaking, it is filled with raw animalistic need, a desire to feel something, anything.

His breaths are ragged against her neck and he finds release quickly, spilling inside of her with a grunt before collapsing and pulling her tight to his chest.

They lay quietly on the sofa together, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the space. She has a thousand questions she longs to ask him, yet none of them seem appropriate. Despite the fact that Tom has just brutally had his way with her, she’s still in shock that he’s returned.

“I’m sorry I never wrote,” he says eventually, “was tired of never having any good news to tell you,”

“You’re back now,” she says quietly, fingers tracing over the bullet wound scar in his shoulder, “that’s all that matters,”

“Still mates then?” He asks.

Her heart lurches at the word. Is that all they are after what’s just happened?

“Yeah, still mates,”

He drifts to sleep in her arms and she holds him, until his thrashing pushes her from the sofa. She lands with a heavy thud on the living room carpet, watching in horror as Tom’s sweaty body writhes and cries out in terror in his sleep.

She kneels beside the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him and coax him awake. He startles, wide eyed, before clutching at her, burying his face in her neck and sobbing until he drifts into unconsciousness again.

As Tom settles back into life in Longsight, he goes right back to wearing a mask for everyone.

“Are you a hero?” Children shout as he walks down the street.

“Always have been, always will be,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Yet each day ends with him muffling his cries into her neck after she’s soothed his night terrors, she knows better than the act he puts on for everyone else’s benefit. She suspects that Tom may be suffering from shell shock, but doesn’t dare to bring it up. Knowing his father had the same, it is likely a sore subject for him.

His return sees a new development in their friendship, them sleeping together the night he came back isn’t a one off occurrence, yet each time he still continues to refer to her as a mate. It’s confusing for her, but not an issue she wishes to push, knowing that Tom is struggling with enough already. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready, she just needs to be there for him.

Tom gets a flat nearby, and finds a job at the local garage. Having served in the Navy has imparted mechanical skills to him, and he can easily work his way around an engine.

She sits perched on the workbench of the garage, admiring the view. Tom’s sandy coloured hair is pushed back from his forehead, his navy overalls tied around his waist, leaving him in just the white vest he wears underneath. His first customer of the day has yet to arrive, so he’s clean for now. She bites her lip at the thought of how dirty he’ll be by the end of the day.

It has become routine for her to spend a few mornings a week watching him work - her mum has never gotten out of the habit of insisting she wants to open the shop and sort the morning papers before heading home, so she is left to her own devices most days until the early afternoon. Tom doesn’t seem to mind having her hang around the garage.

When a car pulls in, a portly gentleman stepping out, Tom walks to greet him.

“It keeps overheating, I can’t understand why,” he explains to Tom.

“I’ll take a look for ya, mate. Come back in an hour, yeah?”

The man looks over at her with slight concern. “Will she…uh…be assisting you?”

Tom grins. “Nah, she’s just a mate, won’t let her near your motor, don’t worry.”

Just a mate.

She thinks back to how he’d knelt behind her not long after they’d woken up, just a couple of hours ago, pulling her hips back to meet each of his thrusts.

Just a mate.

Mates don’t do that.

Tom’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “Stupid old sod, just needs to put coolant in the engine. Gonna tell him I replaced the fan belt and charge him extra.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He gives an easy shrug. “He’s loaded, he can afford it.”

She sighs, looking at her watch. “I’d better push off, mum’ll be expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Probably not,” Tom says. “Booked solid tomorrow, but come round to mine after?”

She nods, waving and walking away. She’s used to Tom letting her know when the garage will be busy, so makes a point to stay away so he’s not distracted.

It’s not until the end of the day, when she fishes around in her pocket for the keys to lock up the shop that she realises she has Tom’s lighter. She’s too tired to pop round and drop it off at his, so decides she’ll swing by the garage in the morning to give it back.

Her fingers wrap around it in her pocket, preparing to take it out to hand back as she approaches the garage the next morning.

She stops in her tracks when she sees a sleek black motor car parked in the vehicle bay, a tall, sophisticated, beautiful woman standing beside it. Her perfectly manicured nails stroke down Tom’s bare arm as her ruby red lips pull back into a smile.

Her heart lurches in her chest as she watches him reach out to tuck a strand of the woman’s long, dark hair behind her ear.

Her throat tightens, nausea bubbles in her stomach as she turns and walks away, the lighter long forgotten. It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away. She angrily swipes at the wetness that rims her eyes.

Just mates.

Fine, if that’s what Tom wanted then that’s all they’d ever be.

[oleander-nin]

I’ve been playing dead by daylight lately ; and now I’m wondering how would the the general yandere rise turtles hcs react if reader made a bet with them if there beat them in DbD , the boys will let the reader go and if reader loses the reader stays with the boys forever.

A/N, not important: Sorry for the wait. Also I have no clue of what Dead by Daylight is, so I just kind of made it a general thing of any game you might play. Also I misread your ask and didn't add the losing rule. My bad, sorry. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Lying, breaking a deal/promise, isolation mention, kidnapped reader, dark themes, yandere themes, mentions of violence

Words: 2057

Summary: Headcanons of if you made a bet to be set free.

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay @lexiechr

Michelangelo:

He doesn’t like the idea of it. He’ll ignore your requests at first, especially if you’re not asking him straight up. If you keep pushing it, he’ll finally sit down with you and let you talk. He doesn’t like it at all, mostly because the entire point is to gain your freedom. Mikey was certain he’d made it clear you’d never leave him.

He might concede after a while. After all, you’re both just playing a game, and you must know he’s not actually letting you go, right? You’re happy with him, this has to just be some emotional thing you’re going through, and you want to win a game. He doesn’t mind indulging you in that, especially since there’s no harm in it. It’s just a game.

He doesn’t take the game very seriously when you first start playing. He’s just happy to play the game with you and try to bond. He doesn’t even make his own condition if he wins because it’s not like he’s letting you go anyways. It’s no more of a bet than calling someone a rotten egg after a race. 

If you’re losing/lost:

He ignores the devastation on your face, smiling widely at you as he shifts closer to you. He was ecstatic you were spending time with him, and you seemed so happy and serious while playing the game. It’s clear you enjoyed it, and you weren’t even fighting him while playing!

He tries to make a night out of it, quickly ordering pizza and bringing in drinks and candy as he starts to set up different games. He’ll make you happy, he swears. Just stop pouting and come play.

Mikey relies on your love, so he’ll keep playing with you until you seem to be opening up again. He’ll pull you close and kiss you after every game, trying to wear you down. If you’re trying to avoid him, or want to quit after a while, Mikey will ignore your protests and hold you close. He’s a bit upset seeing you genuinely sad that you lost. He makes a note to cook your favorite tomorrow, just to show you being with him wasn’t all that bad. I mean, if you really wanted to leave, you would have tried to run. Clearly he’s doing something right.

If you’re winning/won:

He just leans over and gives you a kiss for doing such a good job before asking if you wanted to play again. He likes seeing you so excited over winning, ignoring the fact you were happy because you thought you’d get to leave.

Gets upset when you demand he let you go, his frustration growing as you get more insistent that you deserve to leave. Mikey finally puts his foot down, harshly telling you you’re never leaving him. He’s not losing you, ever.

If you keep trying to fight him on it, he’ll just pull out your old chains and start treating you like when you first got there. No more privileges, no more opinions, no more leaving his side. You’re stuck in his room until you decide to drop your silly thought of getting away.

You really needed to learn you weren’t ever leaving him, and he’ll teach you by any means necessary.

Donatello:

When you first bring it up, he’d laugh. Why would you be serious about such a thing? Not only are you saying you want to leave him, but you also think you’d beat him at a video game. It’s absurd.

When he realizes you’re serious, he’ll consider it for a moment before agreeing. He’s a bit peeved you really want to try and ‘win’ your freedom, but he’s willing to stay calm and see how this goes. Especially since he could get something from you if you lose. He makes you swear that if you lose, you’ll start showing him more affection as a payoff. 

When you both first start playing, he’s not only determined to beat you, he wants to crush you. He’s heavily insulted by your want to play the game for something you should know you’ll never get. The only reason he agrees in the first place is because he knows this is the first time you’ve willingly played a game with him. It’s not like you actually tried to escape, only asked for it. He’d take that over you making a break for it any day.

If you’re losing/lost:

He’ll gloat the entire time. He’s mad at you, and is incredibly competitive. Those don’t exactly mix well.

If at any point you seem to be starting to gain the upper hand, he’ll subtly cheat to keep you down. He wants to end the match as soon as he can so you have less time to possibly win. 

Is so smug when he beats you, he feels the entire ordeal worth it. He doesn’t even feel like punishing you for trying to gain your freedom in the first place. He liked being able to play with you, even at the stakes.

Will absolutely expect you to uphold your end of the deal. If he tries to hug you or kiss you after and you try to push him away, he’ll remind you of the deal. He loves seeing the defeat on your face as you give into him.

If you’re winning/won:

Slowly gets more frustrated as the game goes on. He’s not worried about you leaving, he’s not letting that happen even if he ‘promised’, but he’s still salty you’re beating him.

He’ll cheat, whether by messing with your controller/person, or hacking the game and completely nerfing you. He hates losing.

If you are able to win despite his cheating, he’ll probably let his anger boil over. Not only did you ask to be granted freedom, but by the terms, you technically earned it. He’s furious and might start yelling at you, or accusing you of cheating as well. When you try to get him to keep the terms of the deal, he’ll just snap at you to shut up and will get more furious at every mention of it.

You’ll probably end up in isolation for a few days to weeks afterwards. Enjoy your freedom.

Raphael:

Raph gets incredibly frustrated the first time you ask. Why would you want to leave? You’re safe with him, and he loves you. You asking to leave like that is a bit of a punch to the gut.

He gets more clingy with you for a while, always slinging you over his shoulder when he needs to go to a different room, and holding you tighter at night. He’s afraid you’ll try and make a break for it at some point now, so he makes sure to not let you out of his sight. 

Raph doesn’t want to play the game with you at all. He doesn’t like the bet placed on it, and it just makes him angry every time you bring it up. He does eventually break down and agree to do it, but it’s mostly to get you to stop asking. At no point does he plan to let you go, no matter what he promised you.

If you’re losing/lost:

He feels a bit bad because you seem so upset, but knowing why you were so upset boils his blood. He’ll lightly tease you to get you to cheer up and let it go, hoping you’d both be able to just forget this and move past it. It was just a little game that he wasn’t taking seriously, so neither should you.

He’ll hold you close afterwards, feeling mostly relieved. You lost on your own terms, so he knew you wouldn’t try to argue with him. If you try to insist on another match, or to try a different game, he’ll just shut you down.

Tries his best to make you happy and tells you how much better it is with him. If you were gone and without his protection, you could be hurt. He tries to remind you of all the villains he’s fought and makes up recent cases and such to try and show you that being with him is better.

If you’re winning/won:

A bit bitter he lost, but just kisses your head and compliments your skills of the game. As you wait for him to let go of you, or bring you to the sewer entrance, and he does no such thing, you start to get upset.

Raph pays no mind to your whining, cursing, or demands, just hugging you close as he silently waits for you to calm down. He tries to be gentle, but gosh you were just being so awful and it’s not really his fault he squeezed you just a bit too hard.

Raph will make sure to keep a tighter grip on you for the next few months. He doesn't trust you to not try and make a break for it now. He stays within arms length of you at all times, and if he ever has to leave, he has you chained to the wall. He’s sorry about it, he swears, but you really are better off with him. One day you’ll see that, he’s sure of it.

Leonardo:

Silently furious at the request, but immediately agrees. With one caveat, of course. If you lose, you have to start acting like you love him. Be affectionate, call him pet names, stop flinching, the whole nine yards.

He’s not worried about you winning, mostly because he’d never actually set you free. Leaving him isn’t an option, not not, not ever. You’re his true love, his soulmate, and no silly bet you’ve made will change that. As far as Leo’s concerned, he’s gaining more than he’s losing from this deal. You’ll still have to hold up your end after all.

Leo has you sit in his lap while you play, mostly because he’s afraid you’d try to make a break for it after you realize he’s not letting you go. After you proposed the initial deal, he lost most trust in you. He’s not going to take any chances.

If you’re losing/lost:

Teases you relentlessly. You suggested playing for your freedom, you took the chance and even chose the game, and you couldn’t even win. Leo thought it was hilarious.

If you whine or backtalk at all, he brings up the terms of the bet while he covers your face in kisses. He’s overjoyed you lost and now have to follow your part of the deal. He’s immediately showering you in affection because he knows you can’t push him away for it.

He’s incredibly smug that he won too, almost forgetting about how angry he was about the deal in the first place. You lost, and now you have to commit to being his forever. By your own doing, you’re stuck pretending to love him until you actually do. He can’t see anything wrong with the arrangement. He’s completely ecstatic.

If you’re winning/won:

A bit peeved at first, mostly because he’s annoyed he lost. His arms grow tighter around you as he stays silent for a few moments. He can hear you clearly telling him to let go and honor his half of the bargain, but why should he? It was a stupid game, and you don’t get to leave.

As you get more erratic, he finally figures out what he wants to do. With gritted teeth, he slowly lets you go so you could leave. He tries to not get angry at the joyous look on your face as you realize he’s upholding his end.

He watches you leave the room, his eyes trained on your back as you run towards the entrance. He’s not too worried, his mind thinking through every small possibility in case his plan goes wrong. He reaches over to the side of his bed and grabs one of his katana’s, the room quickly encased in a bright glow.

Within seconds, you’re back in his lap as Leo’s face nuzzles into your neck. Leo pays no mind to your surprised and tensed form, his arms tight around you. Every angry cry and scream goes ignored while Leo holds you close.

He can’t help but smile as he reminds you that he never agreed to not hunt you back down.

[pulisicsgirl]

breathe, you're okay - mason mount

summary: when the mounting pressure of a Women's UCL run is falling on Y/N's shoulders, she isn't handling it by herself as well as she would like everyone to believe she is

pairing: Mason Mount x footballer!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, no established relationship, !!descriptions of a panic attack!!, discussions about mental heath, supportive Mase

requested: no

notes: surprise!! I'm sorry I haven't posted in months-- my life kind of went up in flames over the summer and I haven't had the time to write that I was hoping to. I have a few WIPs in my drafts, and I am still working on all of your requests! Please let me know what you think of this!

The hot afternoon sun beat down on you, and you felt the drops of sweat sliding down the side of your head and tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you ran up and down the field, weaving between cones, carrying the ball at your feet, running through a series of consecutive drills that were designed to refine your skills and test your endurance.

You did your best to recall the instructions that your coach had carefully laid out before the team began the drill, but with the heat and the fatigue that was seeping all the way into your bones, it seemed impossible to remember. You wound up relying on the teammate in front of you to recall what you needed to do next.

You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you heard the sound of the whistle—two short chirps, signaling for you to halt your movements. You draped your arms over your head, drawing in deep, heaving breaths as you attempted to get your heart rate under control.

You joined the rest of your teammates as they gathered around the coach, preparing for his parting words before everyone was dismissed.

“Good session today, ladies,” he clapped his hands in front of him, looking around the circle. “I’m seeing a lot of good things. A lot of improvement in our touches and finishing. You all are looking really good.”

A couple of the girls clapped at his words, the rest too exhausted to do anything but listen.

“We have the day off tomorrow, so use it well. Rest, recover, and come back Monday ready to go. We’ve got some heavy prep next week before the second leg on Friday,” he continued, and a couple others whooped, getting excited for the upcoming big game.

“They’re gonna be a really tough opponent, I’ll be honest. We know that their back line is really strong, tough to break through.” Your coach’s eyes fell on you, and you knew what was coming next before he even began to speak, your stomach sinking slightly. “But that’s what we have Miss Y/N, for, right?”

Several of the girls cheered for you. The girls near you slapped you on the back, trying to get you hyped up. And the weight that had settled in the pit of your stomach grew heavier.

The Manchester United women were on an impressive UEFA Women’s Champions League run, overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds to make it to the semifinal. And according to the media (and now your own teammates and coaches), it was all thanks to you.

In the group stage, a decisive game in which your team had gone down 2-0 in the first half had seemed hopeless until you had scored two goals in the second, assisting on the third to put your team through to the knockout games. Another three goal contributions in the quarter-final matches had put you in the spotlight of all of the team’s media coverage, thrusting a wave of attention upon you that you had never asked for.

You had gone down 1-0 in the first leg of the semi-final, and now you were playing from behind. And it seemed that everyone expected you to be the one to pull them out of it.

So now, you were left feeling the pressure as the second leg was fast approaching.

“Alright, ladies. Have a good rest of the day and a great day off tomorrow.” He clapped his hands, dismissing you all. The circle of girls dispersed, chatting among themselves.

“Am I still leaving the cones out for you?” the coach raising his eyebrows at you. You only nodded in return. “Okay, don’t work yourself to death.”

You laughed humorlessly as you fiddled with the ball at your feet, not meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder to try to draw your attention to him. “Get some rest tomorrow, okay? We all see how hard you’re working. Give yourself a break.”

Another nod is all that you can muster, and you don’t miss the short sigh that he lets out as he drops his hand from your shoulder and walks to join the rest of the group moving indoors.

You repositioned a few of the cones to set up your own drill and got right into it.

Across the field, on another training pitch near yours, Mason watched as you carried the ball with you up and down the field, weaving between cones, practicing a few skills that he had seen you implement in games, and taking a shot on the goal at each pass.

He was supposed to be doing a bit of extra work with a few of the boys. The men’s team had finished their training session about an hour before, but a few of them still felt like they wanted to get a bit more done before calling it a day. So here they were, running a few small three-a-side games to utilize the last of their energy that day.

But he couldn’t help but notice how you never stopped.

During the team training, you were always one of the hardest-working ones out there. When he had returned to the pitch from lunch, you were taking shots on the goal with the rest of your team nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even sure he had seen you eating lunch inside when he thought about it.

And now here you were, sprinting across the length of the field, over and over, after the rest of your team had hit the showers.

He felt a twinge of worry for you but brushed it off as one of his teammates called his name to pull his attention back to the game they were playing.

Your head was spinning as you pushed yourself to keep moving. Your entire body was drenched in sweat. Every muscle ached from overexertion as you gritted your teeth, forcing them to keep moving. The sun was dizzyingly bright as the evening set in. You could feel the heat practically radiating off of your skin. Your lungs were burning with your heaving breaths and your mouth quickly grew dry.

“That’s what we have Miss Y/N for, right?” Your coach’s words echoed through your head as you carried the ball down the field.

“Y/L/N carries the Man U Women through to the semifinal!” You recalled the title of the article as you weaved between the cones.

“I really believe Y/N Y/L/N could be the one to lead Manchester United to their first Women’s Champion’s League trophy!” You heard the words of the pundit clear as day as you planted your foot, striking the ball cleanly. It soared through the air, curving toward the goal, and struck the crossbar. The ball flew away from the goal, bouncing pathetically on the ground in the penalty area.

You took a pause, the words and expectations crashing around your mind leaving an unsettling feeling in your chest. As you stood there, you couldn’t seem to get your panting breaths to grow steadier.

Your shirt suddenly felt too tight on your neck. You grasped the fabric, pulling it away from your body in an attempt to allow yourself to breathe easier, but nothing seemed to be helping.

Your head was spinning. You felt your stomach sink, a feeling like when you plummeted down the tall hill of a rollercoaster, a sick feeling settling in your abdomen. Your skin began to crawl, and you just couldn’t stop hyperventilating.

You began to panic. Eyes searching frantically for relief. You weren’t sure what you were looking for—something, anything.

You suddenly felt like you were too out in the open, needing to seclude yourself away from the sight of prying eyes. You set into a sprint, off of the field and around the corner of the nearest part of the building to you, trying to find some shade from the hot sun and hide yourself from anyone who might see your pathetic state.

But it was too late. Mason had seen the whole thing.

They had just paused their game for a short water break. He had seen you take the shot, instead hitting the crossbar. It only took him a few seconds once you paused to realize that something wasn’t right.

He watched the way your chest rose and fell rapidly in quick, short breaths. When you began attempting to pull your shirt away from your body, he instantly knew what was taking place. He’d recognize that feeling anywhere.

You were having a panic attack, whether you realized it or not.

As soon as he saw you take off for the side of the building, he was running after you without so much as a word of explanation to his teammates.

Once in the shade of the wall you hid behind, you began pacing, unable to keep still. Every inch of your body felt jittery, and you felt unsteady on your legs. You couldn’t manage more than rapid, shallow breaths. Your throat felt tight, your breaths sounding more like wheezes, and it was starting to make your head spin. Your hands flew to your head, scratching at your scalp in an attempt to somehow rid yourself of the feeling.

You were startled by Mason swiftly rounding the corner, concern written all over his face as he stopped in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he spoke calmly and evenly. He quickly reached up, taking your wrists in his hands so he could gently but firmly pull your hands out of your hair to keep you from hurting yourself.

“I can’t, Mason. I can’t,” you panted, shaking your head ‘no’ frantically and still trying to weakly pull your hand from his grip.

“You’re okay, Y/N. Try to slow down your breathing,” Mason’s calm voice directly contrasted your frantic behavior, speaking in short sentences so as to not overwhelm you more. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

A short sob fell from your lips, and you felt the tears spilling over and down your cheeks.

“We’re gonna lose,” you sobbed, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “The semifinal, we’re gonna lose it, and it’s gonna be all my fault.”

In that moment, everything clicked into place for Mason-- the UWCL run, your success in the games leading up to the semi-final leg, the pressure from the fans and the team, the countless extra hours you had been putting in.

A loud noise in the distance, coming from the direction of the parking lot, startled you, snatching your attention and you whipped your head to the side, eyes searching frantically for the source. He released your wrists from his hand, testing the waters as he turned your head back to look at him with a hand on your cheek.

He cradled your face with a hand on either side, keeping your focus on him. His thumbs wiped the tears away that had slipped down your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you,” he repeated the affirmations he had already been telling you.

As he stroked his thumbs softly over the skin of your cheek, he felt that your breathing was already growing a bit slower. You had reached up, holding onto his wrists with both of your hands to steady yourself, feeling too unsteady on your feet. His hands were gentle and soft on your skin.

Mason watched your expression, taking long deep breaths for you to emulate. Your eyes were still wide, darting frantically around his face, but you were trying your best to follow his breathing. He continued whispering short reassurances.

“You’re safe.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got you.”

You were beginning to calm down, but your eyes darted to something behind Mason, pulled away from the calm atmosphere he had tried to create for you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he spoke gently, pressing his forehead to yours so you would only focus on him. You were shocked at how little the intrusion on your personal space bothered you. In fact, to your surprise, the closeness seemed to settle you a little more.

You continued focusing on your breathing, gripping tightly to his wrists as if you thought he’d disappear if you let go. Your eyes were clamped closed, listening to Mason’s soft and slow breathing. You felt your pounding heart being to slow its pace.

The panic you had been feeling subsided, leaving behind a wave of extreme fatigue. You felt completely and utterly drained.

Mason must have noticed the way that your body slumped over, and he guided you to sit down on the grass, leaning back against the brick wall of the building. He sat down next to you, leaving space so he didn’t make you more nervous. But in the haze you felt in your mind, you felt a need to still be close to him, leaning over so you could place your head on his shoulder. A short pang of guilt washed over you as you noticed the crescent-shaped indents you had left on his wrists, your nails digging into the skin as you had held onto him.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your eyes slipping closed as you continued focusing on breathing slowly. A gentle breeze blew through, cooling your clammy skin and brushing through the blades of grass.

“I used to get them sometimes, too, you know?” Mason broke the silence, speaking softly.

You responded with a quiet, “hmm?” unsure of what he meant.

“Panic attacks,” he explained. “At the end of last season, before I left Chelsea. There was a lot of pressure. Any time I played, everyone had something to say about it. Even when I didn’t play, some would find a reason to be upset. It all just got to be too much.”

A deep sadness filled you while you listened to his words. “How did you get through it?”

“Ben found me having one in my car after training one day.” He was quiet for a moment. “I tried to power through it—like you. Skipping lunch and staying late to train a bit extra on the field or put in an extra session in the gym. But once Ben realized what was going on, he made sure that I was taking care of myself properly and wasn’t dealing with it on my own anymore.”

You sat up so you could look at Mason’s face, and you saw a hint of sadness there. “So I’ll tell you what he told me. There are 10 other people with you on that field at all times. If you fall down, there are 10 pairs of hands ready to help you back to your feet. If you succeed, there are 10 others to celebrate with you. But it’s not all on you.”

Your eyes were misty, welling up with tears at his words. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a secure hug as the tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“No matter the outcome of the game next week, you’re an incredible player, Y/N.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve already done so much so early in your career. The media and the fans will say what they want—don’t let them get to you. And your coaches may get carried away with their expectations for you, but it’s just because they’re so excited to see you succeed. Just be the player you know how to be, and your achievements will speak for themselves.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you whispered after pondering his words for a moment. No words could express the gratitude you felt for the relief he had brought you just by letting you know that he was there and he understood. But as he squeezed your shoulders lightly in response, you hoped he knew just how thankful you were.

Eventually, Mason helped you to your feet, guiding you back toward the fields. You were still feeling a bit weak and unsteady, so he made sure you remained upright with a gentle hold on your arm as you walked. Deciding it was time for you to call it a day, he insisted on collecting the cones that you had been training with, not allowing you to help him by picking up even one of them.

It took some convincing but you told him you would be fine to drive yourself home—his only condition was that you texted to let him know you made it there safely.

“Alright, then. Rest on your day off tomorrow. Give yourself a break, okay?” he spoke as he put the last of the cones away. “I’ll check in with you on Monday, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The two of you had been friendly before today, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves close friends. He just wanted to be sure that you knew you had people in your corner.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you nodded, smiling at him. With a final hug, he sent you on your way as he turned to rejoin his (undoubtedly confused) teammates where he had left them.

“Remember: rest!” he shouted back at you as you parted ways, and you couldn’t stop the blushing smile that worked its way onto your face.

tag list: @landoslover @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti

[realtalkswithfinn]

“Are You Wearing Mismatched Socks?”

Shang-Chi x widow!reader

summary: Shaun sees a new game circling the internet and decides he HAS to challenge his girlfriend to a round.

warnings: violent play fighting, very brief mention/ joke about DV (no actual domestic violence!!), very brief mentions of Shang-Chi and Readers times as trained assassins, sex joke at the very end.

authors note: I have never written any sort of fight scene or action before so this is very new to me, but it had to be done. Also, I requested this idea to another creator here on tumblr before deciding I wanted to give it a go myself. If they write their own version, I’ll tag them so you can read that version as well!

“BABE!”

“WHAT?”

“COME IN HERE!”

“WHY?”

“JUST COME HERE!”

You sigh, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. You roll off the edge of your bed, clicking your phone off in the process, and saunter down the hall toward the sound of his voice.

Shuan stood in the center of… what used to be your living room? Both recliners and your big green couch were pushed flush up against the walls. You could see your coffee table stacked on top of your dining table in the next room over. All your blankets and knick knacks were scattered throughout the space. On the bookshelf, counters, window sills - anywhere but where they belonged.

He was looking down at his phone with an amused smile on his face.

“Done some… redecorating, have we?”

He glanced up, excitement clear on his face. “I’ll put it all back later. Give me one of your socks.”

You stared at him. “Give you… one?”

He nodded, jutting his palm out. “Yeah.”

“… why.”

“I found this game, it looks super fun!” He said, walking over to where you stood. He held out his phone, which was playing a video of what looked to be a set of twins. Each girl wore one white sock. “The goal is to rip the other persons sock off and keep yours on!”

You watched the girls tickle, tackle, and wrestle each other until one emerged victorious, sweaty sock in hand.

“I don’t know Shaun, I’m not sure I wanna play a game where I have to free your dawgs.” You teased.

“Hey! My ‘dogs’ aren’t that bad. Yours on the other hand-“

You smacked his arm. “Hey-“

“That’s the spirit!” He said, tossing his phone on the couch. “Now, give me a sock.”

“Get your own so- HEY!”

He yanked your right leg up by the back of the knee, quick but careful to make sure you didn’t fall, and slid your sock off. “See, next time, you’ll try to make sure I don’t do that.”

Oh, it’s on.

“Fine.” You sigh, trying to seem unamused. In reality, you were rather excited to play. The game looked fun enough when the girls played, but a round between two ex- child assassins? Things were going to get interesting fast.

Shaun beams at you and slides the sock onto his own foot. He looks at you, then your remaining sock, and raises an eyebrow. “Are you wearing mismatched socks?”

“Do you want to play or not?”

He backs away, hands raised in a surrender motion. “My bad, my bad, I should know better than to question you.” He moves a good three feet in front of you and reaches out for a handshake. “May the best man win.”

You yank his hand forward and flip him over your shoulder, slamming him down hard onto the cushy carpet. You twist and dive, aiming for his pink striped sock, but he rolls away quickly, jumping to his feet.

“That’s totally not fair! We hadn’t started yet!”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you made all your opponents wait for your mark before fighting.”

He scoffed. “I was trying to be civil with you.”

“Don’t.”

He kicked out with his bare foot, leaving the socked one on the ground. The impact set you back a bit, but you regained yourself before slamming into the TV.

“Watch the furniture!” He teased, diving down toward your feet.

You dove over him, rolling and landing on your feet far on the other side of the living room. You crossed your arms and tapped your socked foot impatiently. “Gee, I thought the great Shang-Chi would find this game tedious. Assumed you would’ve won by now.”

Shaun rolled his eyes before running toward you again. You attempted to jump out of the way, but he snagged you by the waist. He tackled you to the floor as carefully as he could. Sweet, but his mistake. He only held you with one arm, using the other to stop your fall, making it easy for you to wiggle out of his grip.

You rolled slightly to the left and knocked him face first into the carpet. You crawled toward his foot, forgetting to keep your own feet away from his hands. You yelped when you felt him grabbing at your ankles and started kicking violently. He managed to tug your sock a bit, but lost his grip quickly.

You yanked yourself away from his hands, curling your feet under yourself into a crouch position. Shaun wasted no time crawling toward you, laughing as he went. You scuttled backward but came to an abrupt stop when you slammed into the couch.

He was closing in. You didn’t have anywhere else to run, so you took the offensive route and thrust yourself forward, sending the two of you sprawling across the carpet. The force of you landing on him was unexpected and totally knocked the wind out of Shaun. While he laid there catching his breath, you swung around and reached for his sock.

Of course, he regained his breath too fast. He sat up and grabbed you, pinning your arms to your sides. “Not cool y/n.”

“I can be less cool.” you panted. He started to say something, but you thrust your arm back and elbowed him in the ribs. You snaked out of his grip and ran across the room yet again.

Shaun stood up slowly, rubbing his rib. “Come on!”

“Sorry baby.” You laughed. You stuck out your bottom lip in a teasing pout. “I’ll kiss it better after I win.”

“Oh no, I can’t let you win after this.” He chuckled.

But you had a plan.

…Hopefully, the TV wouldn’t pay the price.

You ran at your boyfriend, gathered at much momentum as you could, jumped up, and wrapped your legs around his neck. He stumbled, but managed to regain his balance.

“Aw dude!” His voice was muffled. “Can a guy get a warning before getting a crotch to the face?”

He started smacking his own back, desperately trying to grab at your sock. But ultimately he couldn’t reach your feet at the angle. You laugh and let yourself fall backward. You dangled yourself from his shoulders and looked through your eyebrows to locate which foot had the striped sock.

Honestly, there were a million ways Shaun could have escaped this position. But all of them would’ve been pretty painful for you, and you knew he would never actually hurt you for a game. Or anything, for that matter, but especially not a game. So he continued to reach and grab for your sock.

You reached down and tickled his right leg. He kicked out a little, as that was the last thing he expected from you. He stopped reaching for your sock and grabbed your thighs instead, trying to keep you from falling while he lost his balance.

You took the opportunity to snatch the sock off his foot.

“BOO!” Shaun complained.

“Whats that?? I can’t hear you over the sound of me WINNING!”

You reached your hands down to the floor and unhooked your legs from behind Shaun’s head, gracefully kicking down as if out of a handstand, and waved the sock around in victory.

Shaun stared at you. “I can’t believe you just black widowed me.”

You shrugged. “I can’t believe you talked such big game just to be taken out by a little tickle.”

“And a crotch to the face?”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “So… what do I win?”

A mischievous grin spread across your boyfriends face. “Who said you won? We gotta do best two out of three.”

“What? No! I won fair and square-“

Shaun ripped the sock out of your hands and took off down the hall. “BEST TWO OUT OF THREE!”

————

You padded into your bedroom with a glass of water and a handful of ibuprofen. Shaun was already under the covers, but you could see bruises sprouting up around his exposed upper body. You weren’t much better — you had a nasty spot right on your cheekbone, as well as littered all over your body.

“Hey,” you greeted gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He set his phone down and looked up at you with his beautiful brown eyes. “Hey.”

You took his hand and dumped a few ibuprofen into it. “Maybe we should play a little gentler next time.”

He smiled before popping the tablets into his mouth. “Maybe.”

You passed him the water glass and he took a swig before passing it back to you. You took your own dose and set the glass on the nightstand. Shaun pulled the covers up for you to crawl under, to which you happily did, curling right up against him.

He ran his fingers over the forming bruise on your cheek. “Aw dude. Does it hurt?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“People are gunna think I hit you.”

“You kinda did.” You laugh.

“Not on purpose!” He defended. He moved his hand to cup your face before sending you a pointed stare. “You, on the other hand, had malicious intent.“

“And who won all three rounds?”

Shaun glared at you but couldn’t argue. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the bruise. “Thanks for playing with me.” He said softly.

You reached up and rested your hand over his. “Anytime. Thanks for putting the couch back.”

He chuckled, closing his eyes. “Anytime.”

————

“Dude, what happened to you?” Katy asked gawking at Shaun, who had stiffly shuffled into work covered head to toe in bruises. “Bad guys?”

“Y/n.”

Katy curled her lip in disgust. “Didn’t need to know that dude.”

“What? Oh my god Katy, no, we were playing the sock-“

“Nope. Too late. Image is already there.”

“KATY.”

[statusexile]

Rip Off the Tag, Get Him Mad

Summary: Konig’s magnetic walk and mysterious mask make him a new darling in the fashion industry, and you manage to score an exclusive interview with him. You might not know what he looks like — but you sure do know what he tastes like.

Pairing: Konig x Reader

Warnings: afab!reader, dub con, dom!Konig, p-in-v, fellatio, mating press, dirty talk, brat taming, breeding kink, cum eating, creampie, badly translated German, reader goes by she/her pronouns, probably not very accurate in terms of both journalism and fashion but who cares I’m only here for sexy times.

Word count: 3,696 words

NSFW. MDNI!

a/n: Got inspired while listening to New Bottega by Azealia Banks and all I could picture in my head was supermodel!Konig for no reason lmao. As always, suggestion and feedback are always welcome along with reblogs and likes. Thank you for reading! ❤️

I put the boy in Galliano, now he’s a fuckin’ model

It was four in the morning and you had just landed in Vienna, your third destination for this week alone. Paris and Milan had taken their toll on your body, leaving you feeling so exhausted and jetlagged that you wondered if they had already become your permanent companions forever. Tired and bleary-eyed, you are ready for a break, but duty called.

You’re one of the most seasoned and notorious fashion journalists, never holding back on saying what everyone’s thinking, even if it means models walking out or crying during your interviews. It’s not personal though; you’re just doing your job, and damn, you’re good at it. Your knack for keeping it real and staying objective makes you stand out in the game.

You managed to sneak in a few hours of sleep before getting ready for Vienna Fashion Week. That afternoon, you rocked a cool vibe with an oversized black blazer that had this rad belt and chain combo going on. The vibe continued with a flowy, see-through black maxi skirt — the kind that made people do a double take. Toss in a mini bag swinging casually by your side, and you are ready to own the fashion week. Of course, the look wouldn't be complete without knee-high black boots, giving off major laid-back but put-together vibes. You kept your makeup minimal because you wanted your outfit to be the focal point of the entire look.

As you arrived at the event, fashion photographers and paparazzi started flocking to you, asking what you’re wearing and what you’re most excited to see during this fashion week. You posed for some photos and answered some questions. After navigating the sea of photographers, you made your way inside, where the atmosphere buzzed with the energy of influential figures in the fashion world, celebrities, and social media influencers. Greetings and compliments flowed as you mingled with the diverse crowd, exchanging smiles and posing for candid snapshots with some of the industry’s most notable figures.

You found yourself in the company of those who shaped the fashion landscape. The anticipation for the runway shows heightened as you took your seat in front row, surrounded by the pulsating energy of the fashion elite. The runway was set to unfold, promising a spectacle that would undoubtedly leave an incredible mark on this fashion week.

It was a runway showcasing the Fall/Winter ready-to-wear collection for men from one of the most prestigious high-fashion brands in the world. Anticipating a display of dark and muted tones, you were aware that the brand had embraced a theme this year focusing on leather. Getting a peek at this theme had you all hyped up, ready to see the slick and stylish gear they’re about to drop.

It doesn’t take long before the lights dim, signaling the start of the show. The sharp contrast between the dim lighting and focused spotlights heightens the dramatic atmosphere as models strut down the runway, showcasing the leather-themed collection. Stud appliques, dark makeup, and industrial styling add an edgy flair as they graze the runway. You’re making mental notes for your upcoming review, absolutely impressed with what you're witnessing. The collection has been really magnificent, surpassing your usual expectations.

The entire show lasted around fifteen minutes before the final model made his entrance. The man that has been the talk of the fashion industry for the last eight months. He strutted in wearing an absolutely grandiose leather coat, wearing a Swarovski-studded mask that covered his entire face. The confidence in his walk conveyed a commanding presence, making it seem as if the entire audience was under his control.

Konig, a native Austrian with real name, age and hair color unknown, stands six foot ten, weighing two hundred and seventy pounds and has piercing blue eyes. The man has been nothing but an enigma, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Opening and closing runaways for prestigious high-end brands — a position that takes years for other models to secure. And what’s even wilder? He pulled it off within his first two months in the industry.

His social media has tens of millions of followers and zero following. The entire page is a curated showcase of his portfolios and videos of his runway walks, nothing more. It doesn’t seem like he’s the one handling his account either. Everything is perfectly set up, adding this extra layer of mystery to him.

You can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Who’s behind his sudden meteoric rise? Is he a nepo baby? Is he some kind of industry insider pulling strings to get all these bookings without even having a single portfolio before? Could he be a pro basketball player doing a side gig in modeling? Or what if he’s an alien in human disguise? So many questions, but not a single answer. You’ve asked so many people in the industry about him, but it seems like nobody has a clue either.

You’ve seen his casting polaroids and test shoot photos, and even in those, he’s wearing a mask, revealing only his eyes. It really makes you wonder, because that’s the complete opposite of the purpose of taking those photos. They’re meant to showcase your bare face, not cover it up. Yet, somehow, he’s scoring bookings when practically no one has seen his face. How does he even manage to do that?

There are rumors circulating that just a very few high-profile figures in the industry actually know what he looks like, and they can be counted with one hand. Some claim he’s hiding an unflattering appearance under that mask, that’s why he insists on covering his face despite of his exceptional walk and stage presence. Others insist he looks like he’s actually sculpted by a Greek God himself, but he prefers recognition for his walk rather than his looks.

He’s also notorious for rejecting interviews and walking out on them. Even when he agrees to an interview, it's usually short and filled with vague answers. But one day, you send a proposal for an exclusive interview to his management and discover that he’s accepted your request, but he insists it should happen at his own home in Vienna. His request seems a bit unprofessional to you, but it’s your only chance to uncover who this man really is. So, you agreed on his term.

And fortunately for you, that lucky day is today.

After attending a handful more runway shows for the day, you’ve wrapped up your work and are heading back to your hotel. Now, you’re diving into drafting the upcoming articles slated for this fashion week, as you prepare to interview Konig, the man and the myth himself tonight.

Your heart is pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you have no idea why. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt anything like this. You’ve interviewed dozens of models in your life, so what’s the difference between them and him? Usually, it’s them who are scared of you, not the other way around.

Brushing aside that feeling, you started preparing for the interview this evening. After a refreshing shower, you got dressed and did your makeup. Wearing a silk white long-sleeve shirt paired with a black pencil midi skirt and black stilettos, you finished the look with a bold choice — ruby red lipstick. For some reason, you’re feeling especially bold for tonight’s interview.

He lives not far from your hotel as you reached your destination in less than fifteen minutes. Following the address provided by his management, you entered the building and found his apartment. Without hesitation, you rang on the doorbell.

He opened the door in no time. It caught you off guard as it was the first time you’ve seen him up close. Describing him as tall seems like a massive understatement; his presence is downright colossal as he stands right in front of you. Dressed in a balaclava, a snug black t-shirt accentuating his sculpted body, and green army-colored cargo pants. This is the first time you’ve had a close look at his eyes, and they are breathtaking — a gorgeous shade of steely blue.

“I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.” Konig said as he gestured for you to come inside.

As you entered his home, you could see that this man has an exquisite taste in decor. His loft has high ceilings and large windows, making the space feel open and airy. The brick walls and exposed piping create a natural, industrial feel, while the rich, warm tones of red and orange add a cozy touch to the space. The walls are adorned with numerous photographs of his work as a model.

He gestured for you to take a seat on the couch and asked what you’d like to drink. You told him water’s fine, so he disappeared into the kitchen for a bit. When he came back, he placed a glass of water on the coffee table in front of you. He sits on the couch across from you afterward.

“Konig, thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me for this interview. Our magazine really appreciates your time and willingness to share your story with us.” You told him as you took your phone out of your bag, opening the recording app on it.

He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms. “Anything I could do to help, miss.” he said. You could hear his deep voice with a thick German accent as this is first time you heard him speak.

“By accepting this interview, you consent to being recorded during our conversation today, alright?” you said to him as you pushed the ‘record’ button on your phone. He only nodded in approval.

You began your interview by asking him cookie-cutter questions, such as what inspired him to pursue modeling as a career, how he handles the challenges of balancing work and personal life, who his fashion icons are and how they influenced his personal style, how he stays fit and healthy while maintaining a demanding modeling schedule, and how he handles criticism and negative feedback from the fashion industry and the public. And of course, he answered them all with cookie-cutter answers too.

You could hear the cockiness and smugness in his tone, and you could feel that it annoys you a little bit. Despite being a relative rookie in the scene, his ego seems to radiate through his presence. However, that’s precisely the reason you’re here for this interview — to unmask who this man actually is.

You’re now ready to ask him a tougher question, intending to push his buttons slowly but sure. You’ve convinced yourself that it’s going to happen today. It has to, because this is your only chance.

“Can you explain your reasoning behind the mask? Usually models rely on their facial features as a part of their appeal, so covering it seems counterintuitive.”

Konig seems a bit caught off guard by your question. He stays quiet for a moment, clearly thinking how to respond. You can see that the question has ticked him off a little bit.

“Is that your attempt at a compliment? I’m flattered. I can do whatever I want with my appearance.” Konig answered sarcastically, but the annoyance in his tone was crystal clear. “Besides, I don’t think it’s interrupting my work. I showcase the clothes on the runway, demonstrating what they need to sell. At the end of the day, that's what matters as a model, isn’t it?” he continues.

You can’t argue with him because, well, he’s right. He did his job exactly the way they wanted, and he’s damn good at it. So, all you can do is nod at his answer.

You kept your composure as you continue with your interview, “It’s been suggested that your parents are highly influential figures in the fashion industry and that their connections may have contributed to your quick rise to fame. How would you respond to those allegations?”

Konig let out a scoff, his tone dripping with mockery in response to your next question. “I get it, there are some rumors going around that my parents are some moguls in the fashion industry and they have connections that helped me get where I am today, but let me set this straight: my parents have never worked in the fashion industry and all the success I’ve achieved is because of my own hard work and determination. Just because my career has taken off doesn’t mean it isn’t legit.”

Konig is clearly annoyed at this point, but he still manages to answer your question. You’re surprised he hasn't kicked you out of his home yet. But when you’re about to ask your last question but he suddenly cuts you off,

“You’re really nosy, aren’t you?”

“What can I say, it comes with the job requirement.”

You finally manage to talk back to him because his attitude is clearly getting under your skin, just like your questions seem to annoy him. While he might believe he can act however he pleases, he’s unaware that you’re a journalist. If it weren’t for your commitment to integrity and professionalism, you could easily run your thoughts about his attitude at this point.

“Look, one last question and I’ll be out of your hair,” you told him, you can see his patience is clearly running low at this point. However, what he didn’t know is that you’re about to drop a bomb on him.

“Did you earn your success through talent or hard work or did you have to do… other thing to get where you are today?”

His eyes narrowed into a fierce glare while he stares at you, he clearly doesn’t like the question at all. You could practically feel the tension in the air as he clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth underneath that mask as a silent display of anger.

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“And my question still stands.”

He leans forward on the couch, anger flashing vividly in his eyes and now you can almost feel the heat of his irritation as he growls in frustration.

“You can cut through the formal bullshit and just say what you want to say.”

You take your phone from the coffee table and press the ‘stop’ button, finally responding to him in a calm manner.

“Did you fuck your way up to the top, Konig?”

And that was his breaking point. He suddenly stands up from his couch as he walks toward you, anger intensifying in his eyes. He grabs your chin forcefully, making you meet his gaze.

“Not only nosy, but you also have a filthy little mouth, aren’t ya, maus?” you could feel his strong hand squeezing your face so hard that it feels like he’s trying to break your jaw. It was so painful that you couldn’t answer to him at all.

“But don’t worry, I’m gonna do something about it, so you won’t run your filthy mouth anymore, especially at me.” he growls at you while his other hand is unbuckling his belt and unzipped his pants, revealing this thick, enormous cock, already dripping with precum. He grabbed it and then started smearing the precum on your face, slapping his cock a few times on your cheeks.

“You need some serious disciplining, maus. Didn’t they teach you at school that it’s not nice to curse at other people, hm?” Konig started to tease the tip of his cock of your lips, smearing your lips with his precum.

“You’re lucky that I’m here, maybe I can teach you a thing or two about how to behave towards other people. Now open that filthy fucking mouth.” his other hand squeezed your mouth open and he thrusted his cock inside your mouth, forcing you to engulf his entire length in one go, making you violently gag as you could feel his tip touched the back of your throat. And now, he moved his hand from your face to your hair, grabbing a handful of it as he rapidly fucking your mouth.

Tears began streaming down your cheeks, mascara and lipstick began to smear across your face. It’s getting hard for you to breathe because he shoved his cock so deep and slamming it on the back of your throat, pounding over and over again mercilessly. His grip is so strong; it feels like he’s going to rip your entire scalp off.

“Fuuuuck, this mouth of yours is so fucking tight and warm. You should consider leaving your current job and become my personal fuck toy, maus. I would love to use this filthy mouth however and whenever I want, it seems like it’s the only good use for it.” he snickers with a devilish gleam in his eyes while he keeps fucking your mouth relentlessly. You started choking on his length, but he didn’t seem to care, in fact, it made him slam his cock even faster.

It feels like this has been going on forever, and you’re afraid you might get lockjaw anytime soon. But you could feel he’s so close to orgasm as his cock starts twitching in your mouth.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum. I hope you’re ready, schatz, because I’m gonna fill that filthy mouth real good,” he grunts as his thrust becoming more and more erratic. It only takes a couple more thrusts before he came, coating you’re the walls of mouth with his thick seeds.

Konig finally pulled his cock out from your mouth. His cum tastes so bitter, but when you’re about to spit it out, he forcefully grabbed your face again, now facing his face directly.

“You’re not allowed to spit it out. I want you to swallow it but only when I said so. Now be a good girl and keep it in your mouth, but if you didn’t, I can promise that you won’t like the punishment at all. Understood?” he snarls at you but your mouth is so full of his cum you so can only nod at his words.

“Good, because I’m not done with you,” Konig suddenly pushed you back down to the couch as he pulls your legs up forcefully, ripping the side of your tight skirt and yanked your panties, also ripping it in the process. He puts your legs around his waist as he put his cock on top your stomach, seeing how deep it’s gonna go inside of you.

“Hmmm, I don’t think the entire thing is gonna fit. But don’t worry, schatz, I’ll make it fit. I know you can do it, you’re a big girl after all.” Konig lightly taps your cheek, he’s trying to sound sweet but you hear the venom in his tone. You know at that moment he’s definitely going to destroy you.

“Are you on the pill?” he asked again. You can only shake your head, hoping that he’ll go easy on you. “Heh, good.” he suddenly pulled your legs up over his shoulder and titled towards you, he then whispers in a husky tone,

“Weil ich dich so hart ficken werde, bis du mich zum Papa machst.”

His cock suddenly dipping into you, makes you nearly chocked on his cum. You can feel the tip of his cock stretched your cervix thin, slamming the same spot repeatedly as he folds your body like an origami. You feel like you’re going to sprain your neck if you stay in this position for a long time, but of course he didn’t care. He keeps using your body like you’re his personal cum dumpster.

You’re trying to protest but you can’t open your mouth, otherwise you’re gonna spill out his cum and you definitely don’t want that. Only a stifled whimper escapes your lips. He chuckled in response to your failed attempt at protest.

“Not”—thrust—“so”—thrust—“nosy”—thrust—“any”—thrust— “more”—thrust—“aren’t”—thrust—“you”

He’s pounding you hard and fast with each syllable of his words. Your eyes rolled back to the back of your head. Your mind went numb at the intense pleasure.

“Your pussy is so fucking tight, and it’s all mine to use.” he growls at you as he keeps fucking you mercilessly. You’re not on the pill and he’s not using a condom, so there’s a chance he’s going to get you pregnant after this, but they way he’s fucking you so hard and so good makes you not want him to stop until both of you are satisfied.

You can feel he’s close to orgasm again and so are you. Just a couple more thrusts, he finally came inside of you as both of you reached your climax at the same time. Filling you with his thick, milky white cum. Your cheek throbs with pain, your mind feels foggy, and your vision blurs into static.

Konig finally put down your legs, as he seeing his thick cum oozing from your now sore, puffy cunt. He gazes at it, amusement and desire dripping from his eyes. “Now swallow my cum, maus. Stick your tongue out when you’re done, I wanna see you swallow it all.”

You obey him as you swallowed all his cum and sticks out your tongue as a prove. “What an obedient girl.” he said, you can see him smiling through his mask.

He pulls up his pants and plop down next to you on the couch, while you’re still catching your breath and trying to gain your composure.

“I’ll be in New York in two days, and I assume this interview isn’t over. I will tell my manager to send you the hotel address where I’m staying and the room number. I’m expecting to see you there.” he said softly as he caresses your hair gently.

You replied, “I will come, but with one condition: I want to see your face. Otherwise, it's not going to happen.”

He chuckled at your request, “If you play your cards right, that request is not off the table,” he said as he keeps caressing your hair, “But only if you’re a good girl, okay, beautiful?”

He scooches over towards you, leaning as he whispers in your ear,

“Otherwise, I’ll use you just like I use the rest of them.”

[starlostseungmin]

seungmin is the type to have a roast battle with his s/o pls 😭 i feel like being his partner would be so so fun bcs u never know what this man wants to do?? he'd be like hey baby date in 10 mins and by date he means walking around the neighborhood to feed puppies or some shit like that

— claw machine, ksm.

i have merged your two soft thoughts so i hope this is just the way you were thinking about !!

side note: please do not send in requests, this is only for my soft hours writings thanks! ✨🤍

there’s never a dull moment when you two are together, with all the endless bickering and debates, the sarcasm and jokes that are half meant, seungmin would always get away with it. by what it means, he always wins. he loves to see that fuming face of yours whenever he annoys you, he would laugh at your clumsiness, especially when you fall on your face. there are times when he tries to bite your hand when you feed him food or pull away your headphones when you’re spacing out with the song you were listening to. the way he would be sweet-talking you but with a mixture of playful manner and annoying nicknames such as pipsqueak and nincompoop. 

“there’s a mini-arcade at the park in the neighborhood tonight, you want to go?” he asked a while ago when you and now both of you are outside. strolling around the park where a few game booths were being installed. 

“there’s a claw machine! you know i love those,” you said when he scoffed in response. 

“you suck at playing that,” he said. 

“ya, kim seungmin!” he loves it when you call out his name like that. a sign of triumph that he is proud of. but it is not every time he’d claim victory when he knew he has a soft spot for you. he would come back apologizing when he feels you’re upset and shower you with hugs and kisses. yet, you can’t stay mad at him, and you never felt upset, you just love acting like you were for cuddles. and because they were all jokes, seungmin would never hurt your feelings recklessly. 

“what? have you ever gotten a plushie? you wasted money the last time we played together,” he retorted. 

“and what? can you do any better?” you said rolling your eyes. 

“stand back and watch,” he said and bought tokens from the booth. you stood beside him as he inserted two coins into the machine, he was aiming for a pochacco plush for the sake of his leisure but ended up failing on the first try. 

“damn, the claws are slippery,” he sighed in disbelief and inserted coins again, still failing on the second try.

“you just suck,” you said, laughing at his grimace. 

“shut up,” he said, not taking his eyes from the game and still letting the plushie slip from the claws. 

“way to go, sucker,” you said rolling your eyes. 

“i’m trying my best to win a plushie for you,” he said, shaking his head while you pout your lips. “don’t pout, or i’ll kiss you right here,” he smirked as you smacked his arm lightly making him laugh. “oww!” 

“i hate you,” you said. 

“i love you more,” and by miracle, seungmin managed to get two. one was pochacco and the other one was a pompompurin one. two of his favorite sanrio characters but of course, you share the same love as him. you didn’t know how he did that but it was awesome. “say your apologies, baby cakes, i won, not just one but two! ha!” 

“eww seungmin! what the fuck did you just call me?” you said with your face painted with disgust.

“baby cakes? pfft,” he snorts.

“peasant! you maniac, i’m choosing minho’s cats over you!” seungmin made a loud gasp, dramatically.

“fine! i’m not giving you one of these and i won’t tag you along when i feed the puppies!” he said as he started to walk away, then regret started to follow.

“no, no, come back!” you cried, chasing after him but he just walked at a faster pace until he ended up running away with the two plushies while you go after him. “kim seungmin! come back here, you dimwit!” you said in between your excited laughs.

“catch me if you can! slowpoke!” he laughed and when you managed to catch him, he’d tackle you for a hug and kiss your face. “sooo, wanna go feed the puppies?” he asked, as if a tail was wagging behind him and ears being folded down. a puppy himself being excited.

“yup!”

and by that, the puppies wagged their tails while enjoying the food you brought with seungmin as you both sit on the sidewalk.

taglist : @wolfchanchan @1-800-lixie @luvhyun3 @lix-ables @zoe8stay @gwynsapphire @cherryhanji @lixesque @seungly @sleepyleeji @comet-falls @kim-seung-mo @ppiri-bahng @myjisung @snow-pegasus @milkybonya @l3visbby @wilczachannn @asters-abditory @tangylemonade @hwan-g @awkwardnesshabitat @chrispychans @therealhyunjingf @jeonginwrld @starseungs @skizzel

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Dancing Your Way Through The 501st

501st x Jedi!Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re not sure who you want to go home with tonight, so you challenge your favorite 501st boys to woo you on the dancefloor.

Pairing: 501st x Jedl!Fem!Reader

Characters: Rex, Echo, Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, Tup, Dogma

Tags & Warnings: 18+, suggestive themes, implied sexual content, alcohol, flirting, teasing, kissing, biting, dirty dancing

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: Just for fun and because I was feeling frisky. You get to choose who the reader goes home with 😉 This is probably the spiciest thing you’ll ever see from me. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta Read: Once again, by the lovely @commander-sunshine to check if I actually had any spice in this thing or if it was just flour. Thanks babe.

@clonexreaderbingo Square: "What are you doing here?"

Song used in fic:

It’s Friday night and you're back home on Coruscant for the first time in several rotations. You bustle about in your apartment as you get ready for a fun night out. You slip on your favorite dress, the knee-length navy-blue one that has the silver sequins cascading down the side, and pop on matching heels. The dress is form fitting, but loose enough that you can still move well. You do a quick check of your make-up and hair in the mirror, make some fine-tune adjustments, and give yourself a little spritz of your favorite perfume, a mix of velvety rose and strawberry. 

Being a general in the war is a very taxing lifestyle, but so is being a soldier. Every time you and the men are on leave, you pop into 79s, pick up one of the 501st boys, and show them a good time back at your place. It never turns into anything serious, but it’s a fun way to blow off some steam and enjoy life away from the battlefield. You find the flippant exchange to be mutually beneficial and exhilarating. The men enjoy it as much as you do, so you don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

As you stroll towards the entrance of 79s, you wonder who is going to be there tonight and who you’re ultimately going to bring home. The uncertainty and anticipation both excites you and makes you a little nervous, but the unpredictability is thrilling and you giggle to yourself as you open the door to the bar. The music is loud, the clones are louder, and the drinks look endless. You scan the bar and notice your favorite captain sitting by himself. You walk  over to him, your heels clacking on the hard floor, and glide your hand across his back to announce your presence. 

“What are you doing here?” Rex asks as you take a seat on the bar stool next to his. “I thought you’d want to take the night off.”

You order a Coruscant Cooler from the bartender and flash Rex a flirty smirk. “I’m always in the mood for a good time.”

Rex chuckles and takes a sip of his Fofo. “So, who’re you taking home with you tonight?” 

You purse your lips in thought, and swirl your drink in your hand. “Not sure yet.” You swing around on the barstool and look out into the crowded bar. The choices tonight are tough. The 501st always has the best men to choose from, and with so many of them here tonight, you’re having a hard time picking the one you’ll be taking home. 

“Need some help deciding?” Rex asks, his voice a deep rumble while sliding you another drink. 

You giggle at Rex’s subtle advance. “Why captain, is that an invitation?”

“Maybe,” Rex gives you a small smirk. 

You chuckle and grab your drink before getting off your bar stool. “That would be unfair to the rest of the boys.” You sway over to the DJ and give him a small request before returning to Rex. 

Rex raises an eyebrow as you down the rest of your drink and order another. “We’re going to play a little game,” you explain as you hear the beat drop for the song you gave the DJ. You step closer to Rex and slowly turn him around to face out into the crowd. You trail your fingers up the side of his arm and give him an alluring smile. “You and your men have one song to try and convince me to go home with you tonight.”

J-Lo, ya tú sabes, no hay más na'

It's a new generation

Mr. Worldwide

Of party people

Get on the floor, dale, get on the floor

Red one

Let me introduce you to my party people in the club, huh

“Well, then,” Rex stammers and blushes at your advances. He turns back to the bar, downs the rest of his drink, and then turns back to you. “We should get started.” Rex slides off his bar stool and stretches out his hand as an invitation. You smirk and take his hand as he leads you to the dance floor.

I'm loose

And everybody knows I get off the chain

Baby it's the truth, it's the truth

I'm like Inception

I play with your brain

So don't sleep or snooze

Rex may be a man of few words and he can come across as awkward, but he becomes a different man when the beat drops. His movements are gentle, but bold, taking his time to make sure you are having a good time. He’s not too grabby, but his hovering hands drape so softly over your waist and hips. The feather-like softness makes you shiver and long for a deeper, more intense touch. You swing your body forward to try and close the distance, but he never lets you get too close. His incessant teasing makes you want him even more.

I don't play no games so don't, don't, don't

Don't get it confused no

'Cause you will lose yeah

Now, no pu-pu-pu-pu-pump it up

And back it up like a Tonka truck

Dale

Rex knows he’s being a tease, but it’s all part of his plan to get you to go home with him tonight. He can’t give you everything you want or else why would you go home with him? He stares into your sparkling eyes, forcing you to blush, and look away in embarrassment. You just might be falling for him, but the night is still young and you have plenty of more men waiting to woo you before you make your final decision. Although, those eyes of his are hard to ignore and you find yourself leaning further and further into his teasing, hoping he’ll give you something more.

If you go hard you gotta get on the floor

If you're a party freak then step on the floor

If you're an animal then tear up the floor

Break a sweat on the floor

Yeah we work on the floor

As you enjoy your dance with Rex, you feel a rough hand tug at your arm and pull you back against a well-defined chest. It’s Jesse. The force and boldness as he steals you away from Rex makes your heart flutter into your throat. He growls at the captain from behind you to let him know it’s his turn and to back off. The vibration of his deep voice alone is enough to make you bring him home with you right now. He smirks at your flushed face and gives your ear a little nip to tease you with. His breath makes your hair stand on end and your insides hot and bothered. 

Don't stop, keep it movin'

Put your drinks up

Pick your body up and drop it on the floor

Let the rhythm change your world on the floor

You know we're running shit tonight on the floor

Brazil, Morocco, London to Ibiza

Straight to LA, New York, Vegas to Africa

Jesse is an aggressive dancer, but not in a ragefully or disrespectful way. He knows what he wants and he’s going to show you what he wants. His assertiveness makes your heart pound as he places his hands firmly on your hips as he grinds on you. The heat and friction between the two of you is unparalleled and leaves you wanting something more. You enjoy his roughness, but just as you start getting riled up, he hands you off to someone else. Your disappointment is audible as you separate, but he gives your butt a light smack to remember him by.

Dance the night away

Live your life and stay young on the floor

Dance the night away

Grab somebody, drink a little more

Without seeing who your new dance partner is, you feel two large hands covering your eyes and a hot body swaying in time with yours from behind, softly brushing your backside in a teasing manner. The intrigue delights you and your breath quickens in anticipation of who it is. But deep down, you know there’s only one man who will do something so playful, yet so gentle. These hands must belong to Echo. He removes his hands from your eyes and  turns you around to face him, revealing that your hunch is correct. He gives you a smile that leaves you breathless.

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

Although Echo is a walking rule book in the field, that changes when you get him on the dance floor. There are no rules on the dance floor. There are no rules when you are in his arms. There are no rules when he wants something. He is nothing but respectful and enjoys giving you the reins to do what you want. He’s game for anything and follows your lead, adding in his own spicy ideas here and there that make your head spin. And the way he stays in tune with your body is divine. As if he’s reading your mind and knows which way you’re going to move next. 

I know you got it

Clap your hands on the floor

And keep on rockin'

Rock it up on the floor

Your dance with Echo has you entranced so deeply, you could stay like that with him all night and never leave. Alas, and to your displeasure, he ends your dance, leaving you with a small kiss on the temple. He gives you a little push towards your next dance partner and winks at you. You blush and stumble slightly towards the next man, Tup. To be honest, he looks a little scared. It’s very possible that Tup has never danced with a woman before. You feel for the young clone and decide to give him the time of his life and give him a dance he soon won’t forget.

If you're a criminal, kill it on the floor

Steal it quick on the floor, on the floor

Don't stop, keep it movin'

Put your drinks up

You grab Tup’s hand and pull him further onto the dancefloor. He’s unsure of where to put his hands, so you guide them to rest on your hips. The look on his face as he touches you makes you smile. He could melt in ecstasy standing just like this. You give him a playful nibble on his neck to entice him and you feel the heat begin to radiate from his body. He thinks he’s losing his mind as stars fill his vision. He’s still unsure of himself, but he knows he wants to take you home tonight. Something about the way you feel, so soft and warm, it makes him shudder.

It's getting ill

It's getting sick on the floor

We never quit, we never rest on the floor

If I ain't wrong we'd probably die on the floor

Brazil, Morocco, London to Ibiza

Straight to LA, New York, Vegas to Africa

You continue to show Tup all of the best moves to seduce a woman and he’s learning quickly. You finally get into a good rhythm, when you’re ripped away from Tup’s arms and pulled back into another set of arms. The disappointment on Tup’s face makes you sad, but you know it’s time for a new partner. The gruff hands that tore you away from Tup belong to none other than Kix. He twirls you around and gives you a sultry smirk. The fire and passion in his eyes make your insides quake and quiver expectantly. You already know this dance is going to be hot.

Dance the night away

Live your life and stay young on the floor

Dance the night away

Grab somebody, drink a little more

The way you describe Kix’s style is somewhere between Rex and Jesse. It’s both aggressive, yet sensual, almost worshiping your body as you move under his touch. His hands glide up and down your body, caressing every curve and nuance along the way. He enjoys feeling you tremble under his expert fingers and knows exactly where to touch you and how much pressure to apply. For extra measure, he gives your neck a possessive bite and squeezes your butt to make you squeal. He smirks and whispers something in your ear that makes you gasp.

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

Kix has you fully under his control and you never want him to stop touching you. The way he grips you, his dirty mouth speaking in your ear, it has you under a spell. Just as you’re getting heated, he lets you out of his tight grasp and releases you to the next man in line. He does a quick check to make sure his bite mark is still visible on your neck and lets you go. Still in a daze from your short dance with Kix, you accidentally bump into your next partner, Hardcase. To be honest, at this point, you could use a drink, but the song is almost over so you keep going.

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

You brace yourself for this dance. Hardcase is a wild man even when he isn’t on the dance floor, but when you let him let loose, all bets are off. All he wants to do is have fun, and if you’re not having fun, he’s not having fun. He doesn’t care if you take him home tonight or not, because he believes in living in the moment, which right now, means dancing with you for as long as he can get. He twirls you around until you’re dizzy and giggling. You forgot how much fun dancing can be and are loving every second of Hardcase swinging you around the dancefloor.

That badonka donk

Is like a trunk full of bass on an old school Chevy

Seven tray donkey donk

All I need is some vodka, some chonky konk

And watch and she gon' get Donkey Kong

Baby if you're ready for things to get heavy

Hardcase also has a mellow side to him that not a lot of people get to see. When he’s had his fun, he wants to be frisky as much as the next guy. He swings your hands up to his shoulders and grabs your waist, swaying  back and forth to the beat of the music with exaggerated movements. Just because he lives in the moment, doesn’t mean he wants to be left out of the running. On the contrary, he’s competitive and wants to win. He gives you another fast twirl as your dress splays out and you spin right into Dogma’s arms as he catches you from falling.

I get on the floor and act a fool if you let me dale

Don't believe me just bet me

My name ain't Keith but I see why you sweat me

L.A., Miami, New York

Say no more get on the floor

You wonder if Dogma will be similar to Tup, since they’re batchmates and inexperienced. He does hesitate for a moment, but you can see something in his eyes that Tup didn’t have. Perhaps it’s lust or he’s craving your touch. Either way, he grabs you and pulls you into his arms and begins dancing. You're a little shocked at his boldness and the way he handles you. You’re not sure where he learned these moves from, but you’re not complaining. His movements aren’t methodical, but the unpredictability of what will happen next is enough for you to want more.

Dance the night away

Live your life and stay young on the floor

Dance the night away

Grab somebody, drink a little more

Your dance with Dogma is fun, flirtatious, and playful, bringing you back to your teenage years of wanton abandon and insatiable appetite. As you enjoy yourself and sway your body to the beat of the music, two strong hands pick you up off the floor and sling you across a broad shoulder. You blush and quickly place your hands over your dress to keep the whole bar from seeing your panties. The steady hands place you back down on the floor and your flustered face is greeted by Fives’ mischievous smirk. You try to compose yourself, but he doesn’t give you a chance.

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

Fives grabs your waist and pulls you close to his body, your hot centers brushing against each other as he teases you. Fives, a mix of Echo’s playfulness, Jesse’s aggressiveness, and Kix’s sensuality, has no filter when it comes to dancing. He will take what he wants and make you feel every bit of his desire until you're begging for more. He runs his hands across your hips and your backside, making your body shudder. He turns you around and kisses the back of your neck as he sways with you and firmly presses himself against your butt, making you gasp. 

La la la la la la la la la la la la la la

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

Tonight we gon' be it on the floor

You continue your fervent dance with Fives until the music comes to an end. When the beat finally stops, he gives your shoulder a small nibble and lets you go. You wobble forward and attempt to make your way back to the bar. You’re not sure what just happened, but it was the best five minutes of your life. You sit down on the stool you started at and Rex is still sitting on the one next to yours. You order the same drink you had earlier and chug it with reckless abandon. If it’s one thing, the 501st boys definitely made you thirsty.

“So,” Rex begins as he swivels his stool around to look at his men standing around the bar in anticipation. “Which one of us gets to go home with you tonight?”

Still reeling from all of the fabulous and hot dances, you look up from your drink at all the men pining for you and wonder how you’re going to be able to choose just one. 

Masterlist

A03

Tag List: @nahoney22 @kixs-husband @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream

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[reasonandfaithinharmony]

2023 writing gif-making round up

Rules (adapted for fic, gifs, art, etc.): Share what you made this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you made or just the projects you're most excited about. Thank you for the tag, @thisbuildinghasfeelings!

January

Um. Coming to terms with the idea of 2023? I dunno. But certainly nothing creative happened here.

February

Boyfriend → husband (Schitt's Creek) — A side-by-side comparison of how David refers to Patrick in season 4 and season 6. (Brought to you courtesy of a lovely text post by @jesuisici33.)

David questioning Stevie's motives (Schitt’s Creek) — A fun look at David's expressive face. 😄

March and April

An existential crisis. Or two. Or five. 🙃 Managed to finish absolutely nothing.

I did come in contact with a lot of 911 Lone Star content, however. Which explains everything that follows. Oops?

May

Marry me. (911 Lone Star) — Ah, my first gif set for this show. A parallel of TK referring to Carlos as his husband when he proposes, and then during their wedding ceremony.

Wedding → honeymoon (911 Lone Star) — Holding hands right after they first kiss as husbands. (Promo footage that didn't actually make the final episode cut). And holding hands poolside on their honeymoon.

Note: From here on out, everything in this list is for Lone Star, unless otherwise specified.

June

TK and Andrea helping Carlos get ready — A parallel set highlighting similar moments from Best of Men and a deleted scene from In Sickness and in Health

We almost forgot. Your boutonnière. — In which I attempt to put a couple pieces of unaired footage back together: the deleted scene with Andrea and Carlos + promo footage of what must be the same scene

Heart tutorial — Danielle Savre and Stefania Spampinato teach Rafael Silva how to make a heart sign with his hands at the First Responders Reunion 🫶

July

🤨 (affectionate) — Listen. I love this dynamic. Had to do the parallel set.

Nothing ever stays the same, Carlos. — A look at TK and Carlos' conversation in 2x04 in parallel with Carlos' wedding vows. The first set I wanted to do for Lone Star. Took me a while to get to it because I wasn't sure how to put it together.

August

TK needs you all to RSVP — My first attempt at this type of post. Incorrect quotes? Text post memes? I don't know what to call them, really. But it was definitely fun. And then it became the thing I did most often. Lol.

And if it never changes? // What if everything changes again? — A parallel set for me and ~5 other people, putting Tarlos in 2x04 side by side with Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

September

You're a menace to society *smooch smooch smooch* — My next incorrect quotes/meme post. And my contribution to ascribing cat-like behavior to TK.

I like him a normal amount — A fandom reaction gif, essentially. Courtesy of Joey Tribbiani on Friends.

Love is stored in humans finding out we can make heart shapes with our hands — Had to revisit the heart tutorial for Rafa. This time as one of the incorrect quotes/text posts.

When you can be silly and slutty with them — Oh, I had fun with this look at TK and Carlos' relationship. 😍

Pretty sure this happened at least once — In which we learn TK was seen trying to catch a frog outside the firehouse. Obviously.

October

Carlos is lit like an angel — Commentary on that beautiful moment from 2x02 where TK falls into Carlos' arms.

I put my emotions into my cooking. // This tastes… horny? — A playful and sexy look at Carlos in the kitchen with TK, and then heading upstairs… 😏

I adore you. Why are you like this? I’m going to kiss you with such fervor… — Oh, just exploring the Tarlos relationship dynamic with a text post and a scene from 3x18.

November

Unedited Gif Game (26 entries so far) — This has been very fun. I think it was good for me to have a bunch of low-stakes gif projects where I was not in charge. Lol. I will spare you individual links to each of them. But they should all be in the tag linked here. I will probably make this an ongoing thing, as long as it's not annoying everyone.

December

Episode vs. Promo: Yee-Haw (1x02) — Let's start diving into some more unaired footage, shall we? And let's start with some alt takes on that first make-out scene.

Missing moments: then and now — From an almost-kiss in 1x02 to an alt kiss from their wedding.

You're a miracle, TK Strand. My miracle. — A rather large close-up gif of that alt wedding kiss. Why? So we can see the teardrop that beads up under Carlos' eye.

Tags below the cut…

Tagging: @rmd-writes, @reyesstrand, @strandnreyes, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @carlos-in-glasses, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @birdclowns, @welcometololaland, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @rosedavid, @heartstringsduet, @noxsoulmate, @chicgeekgirl89, @paperstorm, @tailoredshirt, @guardian-angle22, @swearphil, @carlos-tk, @three-drink-amy, @orchidscript, @danieljradcliffe, @lightningboltreader + open tag!

[canarias-stuff]

Phases of Love / Kuroo Tetsurou X Fem!Reader - Chapter 3

Summary:

They lower the net by Coach Nekomata’s request, and Kuroo doesn’t lose time going near it, but this time he doesn't go alone, you go there too. You throw your initial self-consciousness aside and starts jumping to get the ball, it’s a trial and error process, you can feel your fingers grinding on the ball, you can see Kuroo trying to jump as high as he can, and when you and Kuroo finally spikes the ball to the other side of the net, you knew that you would never forget that feeling.

Just like you would never forget the smile that appeared on Tetsurou's lips.

Author's note:

It took sometime, but I finished the chapter! It's longer than the other 2 too!^^ So, I hope that you have fun!^^

Tags: Romance; Eventual romance; Slow Burn; cross posted Ao3.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Elementary School

You were right, Kuroo Tetsurou is cute in several senses of the word.

He is a cute kid in appearance. He is taller than other kids their age, has chubby cheeks, big and sparkling hazel eyes, and then, there’s the bed head hair.

You can’t stop yourself from asking him about his hair when he finally sits at the end of Kenma’s bed still holding the volleyball.

“(y/n)...” Kenma’s voice sounds like he is trying to warn you, to be mindful of your words (he wouldn’t admit that his first thought of Kuroo was how funny his hair was), but you are too curious.

Kuroo doesn’t seem to be offended by the question.

“It’s…natural.” He answers sincerely.

“What?!” And this time, even Kenma looks surprised.

A few months later you would learn that the hairstyle was a result of the way he kept his head between the pillows (a bad habit of his), but this is just months later.

…

After that day, you become friends with Kuroo too.

The less shy he becomes around you and Kenma, the easier it is to talk and interact with him. He laughs, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing at his hyena-like laugh. He yells while running after you and Kenma, he yells when he tosses the volleyball or tries a spike and fails, and yells when he loses or wins a round of games.

“You’re loud, Kuro.” Kenma says an afternoon, when the three of you are sitting on the grass, looking at the orange sky.

You look at the youngest boy, curious at the slightly different way that he calls the older one. A nickname , you think surprised and happy that Kenma was leaving his shell one step at a time.

“I’m not!” Kuroo retorted, not realizing that he wasn’t Kuroo anymore, but just Kuro.

“You are.” He insisted.

“I’m not!

“You are.”

And you smiled fondly at the two, because it looks like Kenma wasn’t the only one leaving his shell.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Yes, you are Tetsu .” You say, giving him a nickname too, because (in your childlike brain) there’s no way that you are the only one that would stick with “Kuroo” or “Kuroo-kun”. There’s just no way that you would be left aside from this small group of friends.

This time, he blushes, realizing that you changed the way that you call him.

Kuroo Tetsurou's reactions are cute, be it when he is excited, gets complimented, and especially when he gets embarrassed.

“I’m not!”

…

Golden, hazel and (e/c) stare at the broken flower vase on the floor of your mother garden.

“I told you it was a bad idea.” Kenma is the first one to open his mouth after you accidentally knocked the vase with the volleyball.

“B-but I really thought that I was getting better at receiving the ball…” You try to justify the reason why you choose to play volleyball in your garden instead of the riverbank.

“W-what should we do?” Kuroo asked, slightly panicked. It was the first time that he got involved in trouble since arriving in that neighborhood, and he really, really, didn’t want to get scolded.

“Glue! I need glue!” You suddenly say. “I just need to put the vase together before mom comes back.”

Kenma stares at you with a frown, and Kuroo looks at you as if you are a genius.

“That’s…”

But the bed-head boy cuts the other boy.

“...a good idea!”

“No…really, we should just…”

“Okay! I will get the glue!” But Kenma’s words fall to deaf ears as you go inside your house to find the sticky material.

“...apologize…”

When your mother comes back, the three of you get scolded not only for breaking the vase but also for trying something as dangerous as to glue pieces of glass.

That day, Tetsurou finds out that you are a troublemaker, and Kenma is the voice of reason. Does it make him reconsider your friendship? Absolutely not. It just makes him think that everyday would be an adventure.

…

“Hey…why don’t you find better people to play with?” Kenma asks when they decided to go back home. “Playing volleyball with newbies like me and (y/n) has to be boring…”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, slightly offended. “I’m not so bad at it!”

“Nope! Nuh-uh! Playing with you isn’t boring at all!” Tetsurou denied it, shaking his head. “You two learn it quickly and are super smart!”

You couldn’t stop sending your best smug smile in Kenma’s direction, who just rolled his eyes.

“Oh…really…?” The youngest one of you said.

There was a short pause before Tetsurou continued.

“Actually...I played in a team before…” He says, staring at the ball in his hands. “But then I had to move.”

“Oh…hummm, but I think you could find more people to play with here, if you looked.” The younger boy commented, but judging by the other silence, Kuroo didn’t really want to, and neither Kenma nor you couldn't blame him, because neither of you wouldn’t want to do it either.

“H-hey!” The black haired exclaimed, surprising you both. “Do you have free time this saturday?”

…

“A gymnasium?” You muttered, staring at the big building.

It’s the place that Kuroo decides to bring you and Kenma along on that sunny saturday morning.

“You ready? Cause here we go!” Kuroo says excited, but there is still some uncertainty there. “I meant it! We're gonna go there right now!”

“Then go.” Kenma replies dryly.

Thump. Bamm. Baf. Bomm.

It’s loud. There were a lot of people and volley balls. Some volley balls almost hit you (you and Kenma flinched with the force), but Kuroo's eyes were sparkling, and instantly you knew that that boy found a refuge in the middle of a place that he barely knew.

An adult approached you three, and with a smile, invited you to play together. Kuroo doesn’t need another invitation, he is already running to the middle of the court, Kenma declines, he prefers watching people play, and you…you decided to stay with your younger friend, because you don’t see any girl and suddenly you feel self conscious.

Kuroo plays with the beginners while you and Kenma look around. The older kids are training in a different area, and you are really impressed by them.

“That over there.” Kenma says, pulling the sleeve of your shirt to draw you attention. “That looks cool.”

“What?” And you turn your head to look at whatever caught Kenma’s attention.

BAMM.

The boy’s hand slaps the ball, and it goes to the other side of the court. It’s really cool.

“Ooh!” Kuroo approaches you two again with a big smile. “That is spiking! It’s super cool!”

“Why don’t we do that?” Kenma asks, and you are surprised that your younger friend is actually showing some interest in volleyball.

“But you can only do stuff like that if you’re really tall.” Tetsurou answers.

“I can see on your face that you want to try, Tetsu.” You comment, and his face goes red.

“W-well that…”

“Oh? So why don’t we lower the net then?”

And you three turn in the direction that the new voice came from. 

“Oh! Hey, Coach Nekomata!” The instructor that was playing with the beginners exclaimed, approaching the short old man that just showed up from behind you three.

“The first and most important lesson to teach is how fun it is to succeed at something.” The old coach, Nekomata, continues as the three of you keep looking at him, not really sure with who he is talking to.

“It’s been a while, sir! I didn’t know that you were coming.”

“I just happened to be passing by today, that's all.” He smiles.

Coach Nekomata? You wonder if he was also a volleyball teacher.

“Do what you love, and success will come.” Nekomata says, and you are almost sure that he took a look at the three of you. “Have you heard that saying?”

And something inside you stirs hearing that.

They lower the net by Coach Nekomata’s request, and Kuroo doesn’t lose time going near it, but this time he doesn't go alone, you go there too. You throw your initial self-consciousness aside and starts jumping to get the ball, it’s a trial and error process, you can feel your fingers grinding on the ball, you can see Kuroo trying to jump as high as he can, and when you and Kuroo finally spikes the ball to the other side of the net, you knew that you would never forget that feeling.

Just like you would never forget the smile that appeared on Tetsurou's lips.

…

After that day you can see how volleyball grows on Kuroo, and as much as you would deny it, it did to you too, but the volleyball neighborhood association has only a boy’s volleyball team (there wasn’t any girls playing aside from you) so Kuroo is the only one who actually plays on a team, you can only go there and train tosses and receives.

“Aren’t you upset?” Kenma asks once, joining you on your train, while Kuroo plays with other boys.

“Why?” You tilt your head holding the ball.

“I mean…you can’t play in a team…”

You hummed, pondering the question.

“Yes, but I can see Tetsu’s smile, so it’s okay.”

Kenma stares at you like you grew another head, and really, you can’t see any problem with your answer, because it was true that you were happy for Tetsurou.

…

Eventually summer vacations end, and the time that you can spend together is cut to half (it also means that the chances to get in trouble decrease). It’s the start of the second week of august and the three of you have to return to school, at least you all attend the same elementary school, but Kenma is one year younger, and you and Kuroo are in different classes (or so you found out when you help Kuroo find the school board’s room).

Tetsurou doesn’t look as nervous as you thought that he would be, actually, that morning, Kenma looked 10 times worse, but could you blame him? Kenma wasn’t exactly the best with people, he didn’t even want to interact with other people, but still, you knew that he was concerned at how people view him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, tilting your head a little bit to take a good look at the black haired boy’s face. Because right now, even if you were worried about Kenma, you were also worried about your new friend.

“...yeah…” Kuroo answers, but you can feel some insecurity in his tone.

“Don’t lie, Tetsu!” You point a finger at him.

“Hahh?!” He immediately reacts, stops walking and turns to look at you. “I-I’m not lying, (y/n)!”

“You are lying again!”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

You stare at each other, hazel eyes glaring at the direction of your (e/c) eyes and vice versa, and then…

“Pfftt.”

You can’t hold your laugh, and neither can he.

The other children passing by stare at you two weirdly and with arched eyebrows, wondering what was so funny.

“Thanks.” Kuroo says as soon as his laugh dies.

“No problem!” You grins.

…

As expected, Kuroo fits well with his new classmates, you could even say that he becomes kind of popular among boys and girls from school. But by the end of the day, the three of you would walk together to get home, retelling fun facts of your day (in Kenma’s case he would gladly ignore you two to play his game) and sometimes stopping to get ice cream at a convenience store.

The three of you would still go to each other's houses or play volleyball by the riverbank together because neither of Kuroo’s new volleyball teammates lives nearby, so your bond gets stronger day by day, and you start to understand how each other works.

…

“THERE! DID YOU SEE?!”

Kenma is the type who speaks low, it’s really rare to see him so excited about something that’s not a video game, so you almost fall from your place in his bed when he cries.

“Hum?” You say trying to suppress a yawn.

“What?” Kuroo blinks, eyes focusing on the TV.

Tetsurou brings videos of professional volleyball matches to watch together, for an hour or two, you can say that you and Kuroo are excited to see it, but after three or four hours you both are almost sleeping. Kenma is the only one who doesn’t nod off while watching game after game, on the contrary, he is the one who gets excited. Like now.

“He looked over to the right for just a second, making you think he’d set it there, but then he put it to the left!” The younger boy points.

“Is t-that so?” You say, but honestly you can’t really see such a thing.

“Ugh…come on, that’s enough watching games!” Tetsurou grumbles. “Let’s go outside and play one!”

“You were the one who brought those DVD’s though.” You commented, and this time he doesn’t have a good comeback.

“Oh…speaking of…” Kenma suddenly says, pausing the video and turning to Kuroo. “Remember the one you brought last week? Bring that one again.”

“Hum?!” Tetsurou and you exclaimed.

Oh no! Okay, you and Kuroo like volleyball, but you don’t want to rewatch hours of the same game again. You turn to Tetsurou, eyes begging for him to change subjects, begging him to find something to distract Kenma.

“Kenma!” And Kurro seems to get the message. “I really think that you should be a setter! It’s really cool! You get to be…like…the mastermind and stuff!”

What is stuff? You wonder, but who cares? Kenma already looks distracted.

“Not only that, setters don’t have to move around too much either! It’s a super awesome position!” The bed-head boy continues.

Lies. You know for sure that Tetsurou is saying that just because he wants Kenma to join the team so they can play together.

But the “I’m considering this now” face that Kenma is making is just so funny, that you can’t suppress your laughs.

“What?” They both ask.

“Nothing!” You giggled. “Come on! Let’s go play outside!”

“Let’s go!” Tetsurou beams.

“Ehhh…really?” But Kenma is not as excited.

The next time that you go to the gymnasium, Kenma, for the first time, play volleyball with other children that are not you (and join the team), and you can’t hide the prideful expression on your face

…

Sometimes after school, Kuroo goes out with some classmates to play football. On those days, you and Kenma decide to stay indoors, playing video games, because you don’t really like the sport and your younger friend definitely isn’t the type to run after a ball (except for volleyball, because if he really hated it, Kenma would have said something already).

But Kenma’s father wanted to see his son go outside.

“Tetsurou-kun.” He called.

Said boy stopped, and his friends went ahead.

“Yes, Uncle Kozume?”

You and Kenma are going down the stairs to get some snacks when you hear the conversation, and for some reason, both of you stopped to hear it.

“Say, do you mind taking Kenma and (y/n) with you to play football sometime?”

There’s a pause, and you exchange a look with Kenma.

“But I don’t think that they want to go, sir.” Comes the answer, and Tetsurou really sounds like he gave a lot of thought to that. “I understand not wanting to go out sometimes. If they want to go even a little, I’ll definitely invite Kenma and (y/n), but right now, I don’t think they want at all.”

Oh. You were caught off guard. Tetsurou knows you and Kenma for less than 2 months, but he does understand how you two feel.

“When Kenma wants to do something, he tries as hard as he can, though. So I don’t think you have to worry Uncle.”

“Ah, okay.” The older man accepts with a slightly surprised expression.

Kenma has a small smile on his lips too.

“And (y/n)...” Tetsurou continues, and you wonder what his thoughts are about you. “...well, she hates football, so I take back what I said. I won’t invite her at all. Also, she is really bad at it.”

“Hahhh?!” You yell, startling everyone. “Say it again!”

That day, Tetsurou didn't play football, he played hide and seek.

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