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trulyhblue · 8 months ago

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Baby England (Part Three)

Jordan Nobbs x Young! Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x Young! Reader (platonic), Lionesses x Young! Reader

warnings — angst fluff, coarse language, mentions of anxiety.

A/N — Baby England’s Back!!!!! Half of this was deleted and I wanted to cry so bad but here it is. And do I have a twist for you… didn't expect it to get this long, but I have to make up for the hiatus somehow xxx

Masterlist

___________________________

It was a few days before the Semi Final, and you were sat amongst a pile of paperwork.

lionesses

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lionesses — semi final prep with baby England 💪🏻🙌🏼

Watch our clash with Sweden on the 27th @ Sheffield Stadium — 6pm GMT 🌟

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Comments:

yourusername — ❤️

*liked by lionesess

user1 — she is so adorable

^ user2 — she's so pookie.

georgiastanway — yeah the spiky hair

^ lionesses — stop bullying your little sis

^ georgiastanway — y/n get off the account

^ user5 — 💀

chelseawfc — love to see it 🙌🏼

^ user8 — UM WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

User67 — I NEED TO KNOW WHERE SHE’S SIGNING

^ user45 — apparently Man U want her

^ user9 — atp, EVERYONE wants her

^ user10 — imagine her in a barça jersey 😋

^ user 11 — gurl pls… imagine her at UNC 😍

User12 — I really hope she starts for this game

^ user13 — I doubt it, I think she’ll be a super sub

^ user25 — she started last match??? And she got potm… surely she starts again

^ user13 — 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

arsenalacademy — absolute gun(ner)

^ user7 — lets be honest, arsenal will NEVER let Y/N leave

^ user89 — she's a free agent after the euros. They technically cannot keep her if someone's willing to pay more for her

__________________________

You had been training pretty much every day, save for the week that had been dedicated fo media roles and interviews. You were switching between teammates for a while. One interview was with Leah and Beth, another with Alessia, Lotte, Georgia and Ella.

At training, the coaches worked the team tirelessly. You were struggling to keep a straight face when you were told to run laps before you were sent back to your rooms. A large part of your weariness was mental. It had been a day full of apprehension for the days to come. Making it so far into the Euros was an achievement in itself, but a home euro was something else.

You hadn't seen your family for weeks now, and you were starting to miss your childhood bedroom. Despite the long hours spent chipping away at school work, you missed your friends at home and your teammates back at Arsenal Academy. The Lionesses quickly became your favourite people in the work. Many of them were family to you. But the subtly of your dismay and expression of homesickness proved more and more apparent as the days went by.

This feeling was not to be mistaken with ungratefulness. Being apart of your National team was a dream come true. This was what you worked for, lived and breathed for. You had finally attained your dream — this was all you ever wanted. You were eternally grateful for the opportunity, the chance to bring football home. A home tournament was a once-in-a-lifetime possibility, and here you were experiencing it. Every day you woke up wanting to pinch yourself. This couldn't be real.

But school was pretty much impossible at a time like this. When all you wanted to do was kick a ball around, catch up on sleep, and actually socialise. You know, like every other one of your teammates. It seemed as if you were the only one encapsulated by the realm of education, despite many of the girls attending University. You weren't indifferent to your current situation. Being a student and playing in one of the biggest football tournaments in the world was going to be difficult. But you felt like spending quality time with your friends would do you well. You wanted to stop worrying about your stupid equations and do something worth your while.

You had been saying this since the Euros began.

In no way did you mean for it to change for the worse.

But the universe was not in your favour.

“You should choose what makes you happy.” Jordan soothed, milking out the same string of sentences you've heard all week. The two of you sat in a cafe not far from Sheffield Stadium, sipping away at your hot chocolates, having already finished your macaroons.

Your agent had sent you the multitude of contracts you had been offered from different clubs. Tomorrow, you were playing against Sweden in the Semi-finals. Sarina thought it’d be good if everyone had the day off before the havoc set in. You had spent the morning in your room, finishing off the rest of your History Essay. Jordan had picked you up not long after noon, bringing you away from the stress chipping you away.

“It shouldn't matter what anyone else thinks,” The older woman held your hand, and you managed to feel her subtle squeeze.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Its not my—”

You cut her off, huffing in exasperation. “Jordan, please.”

Jordan’s face was impassive, a prominent knot creasing the space between her eyebrows. Her hair was flipped over one side, concealing the half of her face which she leant against her hand. She was struggling to find the words that had the capacity to encapsulate both truth and love — two things you needed to hear as you sat in the near-empty coffee shop. You wanted her to be honest, you thought. You needed her to tell it to you straight.

But this was Jordan you're asking. The kind, restful, reticent woman you had known forever — a woman while true to her word, could only speak subjectively, with emotion muddled into words. She was the personification of empathy. You loved that about her. But with your mind in a haze, despite your unrelenting apathy to stay independent, you really wanted to hear someone else’s opinion, for you had thought it over too many times to comprehend.

Your first option, of course, was Arsenal. It was your childhood club, your parent club, your home. For many years, it stood as everything you loved. You grew up watchings greats like Kelly Smith and Leah paving the way for your generation. You felt more at home at Arsenal than anywhere else. Though, it goes without saying that you haven't been anywhere else to compare it to.

And Leah would be hell-struck if you didn't choose Arsenal, even if she wouldn't directly admit it.

Spurs had taken interest in you since your youth ages when you had tried out for both North London teams at the ripe age of six. It just so happened that you chose Arsenal since it was closer to home, and you often wondered what it would've been like if you had chosen Tottenham instead.

United was next. A great club full of incredible talents like Ella Toone and Alessia Russo, two of your close friends when it came to International duties. The Manchester Reds were brilliant, tough competitors, but you never found much affiliation with them. Sure, they were amazing, but was it for you?

Lotte and Alessia both spoke to you about UNC, and you were definitely looking into playing there as a second alternative. You knew your parents thought this was the best option, but with the offers you were receiving, it wasn't at the top of your list.

You waited for Jordan’s response, already knowing her answer. There was one club you refused to think about. One club you couldn't set your mind to.

But the contract looked all too appealing.

“Chelsea.”

Three years — you’d be eighteen when it ends. Just shy of 250k a year, not including bonuses, increasing at a negotiable rate. You were a free agent after the Euros, and your contract with the Arsenal Academy was ending at the start of August. The Blues had a fantastic team and were worthy opponents for the cup title. You were guaranteed as a regular sub and promised to be looked after and rehabilitated to full strength if injuries occurred.

You hadn't thought over this option much during your senior debuts. It was pretty much embedded into you that you were a Gunner through and through. You had grown up playing against your London Rivals, and the team’s hatred only intensified as the game got stronger. It stood as a testament of its time.

But there was only one more thing that was stopping you.

“What about Leah?”

Jordan sighed. She knew Leah was a Gunner through and through. She knew that Leah saw herself in you — going through the academy, debuting at a young age. Choosing a pro contract was bound to happen to you the moment you were called up. No one even thought you’d gain minutes. But with Jordan’s injury, and your inevitable image, clubs were reeling in the prospect of a prodigy.

“This isn't her career, chook,” Jordan muttered, taking a sip of her drink. “Wherever you go, you have to take different things into account. Whether you’ll get minutes, if they value younger players as much as their originals, y’know, its a lot to think about.”

“You think I’ll get minutes?”

“Maybe not as much as Spurs, or North Carolina, but it's in the club’s reputation. They're known for their attack, and so are you.”

“I don't want to be the one to tell her.” You cringed. Leah was your older sister, in sorts. You valued her opinion over anyone else. To tell her you were transferring to her rival club felt like a slap in the face to all that she's done for you, not to mention you’d verse her in the League.

“Well, it’d be worse if she found out over the media.” Jordan quipped, through light to the situation.

“How would I bring that up?” You scoffed, hiding your face in your hoodie. “Hey, Leah, I know I've played for Arsenal forever, but I think I should just betray everyone and go to their biggest rivals. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Jordan shook her head. “She’d understand.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Would she?”

“I’d be livid at her if she wasn't,” Jordan spoke, her tone much sterner. You sat back in your chair. “It's not like you're signing a life-long contract with them, anyway. It's three years. Three years where you get to improve your skills and expand your career. Leah loves you too much to be angry at you for more than an hour. In fact, that woman has never been angry at you a day in her life.”

“I guess I’ll break that streak when I tell you.” you muttered, looking down at your empty cup.

“Stop that.” Jordan huffed, crossing her arms. “You've got two more weeks to figure it out. But let me tell you this. Arsenal will always be there for you. You don't need to stick with them for your whole career to know that they will happily welcome you back with welcoming arms. That goes for all the girls… including Leah.”

“Right.”

“And I’ll tell her that straight if she even thinks about doing anything otherwise.”

________________

yourusername

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yourusername — bit of life 💙

tagged — jordannobbs, maryearps1, and yourfriend

Comments:

jordannobbs — my daughters growing up too fast 😭

^ yourusername — thanks mama 💗

jordannobbs — look at you glowing 💙

^ yourusername — all you

jordannobbs — proud x

* liked by yourusername

user1 — I'm loving Jord’s spam! She's so proud of her 🥲

^ user2 — literally mother daughter goals

wosofan — this is the first time I haven't seen leah in a Baby Eng dump

^ user9 — omg ur right

user78 — loving the blue theme

^ user8 — are you thinking what I'm thinking

milliebright — beanie gal 🤭

^ yourusername — meanie

^ milliebright — you’ll get used to it

^ user8 — UM HELLO

samanthakerr — where’d you get that jumper from in the third photo?

^ yourusername — dunno

^ user98 — HOW DO THEY KNOW EACH OTHER????????

maryearps1 — caught me off guard with that

^ yourusername — you asked me to take the photo 😂

^ ellatoone — HA! Caught.

^ mearyearps1 — 😒

user89 — WHATS WITH THE BLUE

lionesess — our put together baby 🌟

* liked by yourusername

georgiastanway — i didnt need to see the bottom of your shoes

^ yourusername — you see them all the time in training 🤷‍♀️

^ georgiastanway — dont.

chelseawfc — matching attire?

^ user78 — HUH IM SO CONFUSED

^ wowwoso — WHY IS CHELSEA HERE

^ user6 — WHAT IS HAPPENING

________________

Sweat was beading across your forehead, the nerves of half time creeping up to the steady beat of your heart.

You hadn't told Leah about the decision you came to with Jordan. You had been so caught up in how she’d react, mixed with the stress of this upcoming game, that you weren't in any stable condition to go through with it.

In addition to that, you were still making your final decision, the finality of Chelsea not truly setting in.

Beth and Lucy had already sent the ball flying into the back of the net, and Sweden had yet to take a chance to extend their stay into the finals. You watched from the wing anxiously, threading the ball to the more experienced players, staying in the pipe ways as you did so.

You had started, which still came as a surprise to you since. Your game against Spain was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay consistent in your performance while also keeping up with the newfound intensity of the game, but something just wasn't clicking for you.

England was doing great, up by two goals by the second half. You had kept yourself distanced from the vigour, passing out when needed, mainly staying on the wing in order to keep as much distance from making more mistakes.

You had been pretty reckless with your passing. Obviously not too catastrophic, but enough to send winces across the crowd.

Your passes weren't sloppy, but they weren't precise either. You didn't leave much opportunity for the forwards and were starting to rely on your defence too much.

There was simply something about your gameplay today that didn't mould with the rest of the team. You didn't want to be subbed off. You wanted to make an impact.

But it just was not clicking.

Ellen had just been subbed off for Alessia, who was wiping her hands over her shorts, watching the ball tread through the outskirts of Sweden’s half. You could hear the crowd’s apprehension linger when you were passed the ball by Leah, using all your strength to peel away from Blackstenius.

Your first touch wasn't the greatest, and Stina was pressuring you out near the line. In every other game, you were known for your cool persona when encountering stress. You could collectively juggle the presence of a marker while dribbling the ball down the line onto a seeking prospect.

But as soon as the Swed’s studs hit your foot, you were sent to the ground. Hot flashes of pain sprung from your ankle. It was nothing that wouldn't surpass after a few moments whining about it on the ground.

Nonetheless, the whistle blew for a free kick, and Leah’s figure was knelt beside you in an instant.

“You alright, kid?”

Leah wasn't dumb. She knew that you had been ignoring her these past few days. You were distant, passive, and overall neglectful of her efforts to talk to you.

You would usually knock on her door after dinner to play some card games or help you with schoolwork. You would squeeze yourself next to her on the bus rides, and partner up with her at training.

Leah would pretend to be annoyed, and you would act all innocent like it was second nature — because that is what it was.

But you refused to meet her lingering eyes during meals and chose to partner with Millie any chance you got. You’d sit with Georgia at meals, and Jess Carter during Bus rides. Hell, even during free time, Jordan would pick you up and take you out, and she wasn't even on the team.

Leah knew something was up, and you knew that she had caught on. Jordan wouldn't tell her. And you hadn't spoken so much as three sentences to her for the past week. So it was no wonder that you were struggling. There was so much pent up tension in your shoulders, you looked so apprehensive.

Leah pulled you up by your shoulders, holding out her hand to stroke your face.

“You tell me you want to go off and I’ll find a sub for you.” Her words were harsh, but there was good intention behind it.

You gulped, shaking your head. Leah was watching your every move like a hawk. This was the perfect opportunity for her to ask you what was wrong. She could see that you needed to get something off your chest.

“I'm fine, keep me on.” You put it soundly, sighing as Leah brushed off the grass that was left on your jersey.

“Don't think that this is the end of the conversation.” Leah retorted, refusing to let your longest interaction in days go. “You’d be barmy if you think I’d let you get away with this easily.”

“I'm not Barmy, Lee. I'm fine.” You replied.

Leah could tell by your smile that she had hit the sweet spot. You were willing to play, the injury minuscule with its attempts to shake you. Your captain kissed the top of your forehead, bringing you into a quick hug.

“Alright then, Fine. Go on and take that free kick.”

You pushed past her lightly, the uncertainty lingering in your body slowly sinking into the grass with every step you took. Everyone had taken the time to huddle together as a team, moving back to their respective positions on the field after you had collected yourself up off the floor.

As the match continued, it was as if you had a fresh set of legs. Everyone got whiplash from your sudden switch of performance that not only enhanced your gameplay but the flow of the game altogether.

You became more involved in the game, passing into your central attackers, and sprinting down the wing to create more changes for a wider goal difference. Georgia and Keira gained more traction with your involvement, and it somehow paved the way for the defenders to find a more secure backline.

The next time you found yourself marked by Stina, who had apologised for your minor Collison, you were lightning on your feet. The pace you set was incredible, and the ball was yours for the taking.

You weaved past her and one of the midfielders, glancing up to see Georgia’s figure near the box. Without thinking, you propelled the ball over the heads of both teams.

Wincing when it passed Stanway, you felt your shoulders collapse. Russo wasn't ready for your explosive play, only just managing to retain the ball at her feet. You sighed, running your hands through your hair when Alessia’s attempt was blocked.

You were about to run back, ready for Sweden’s possession, when the crowd suddenly flung off their seats. You were a good fifty metres away from the rest, Alessia’s figure much harder to find among the number of players congregating by the goal. You noticed Lessi run out near the corner, holding out her arms with a winning smile. Georgia soon clambered over the top of her, patting her shoulder with a matching grin.

You looked up at the scoreboard, catching onto the replay from one of the cameras. From what you could see, Alessia had backheeled the ball past the defenders, leaving the goalkeeper stranded, the ball falling easily into the goal.

Even years later, people always find your late reaction funny. Many of your teammates had already congratulated you on the assist before it all clicked for you. It was rare for a team to be dominating this much in a semi-final, and you weren't quite sure how you managed to pull off what you had just done.

You found Alessia’s shoulders and pushed up on them, swinging your legs around her waist and hugging her from behind. She squealed, pushing you off.

“You're incredible, Russo, seriously.” You screamed, out of breath from the seventy minutes of nonstop running. Less grabbed your arm and spun you round. “All because of that brilliant assist, Baby England!”

You were on such a high for the rest of the game that nothing you did was fully comprehended. You had so much faith in the team that everything moulded with so much chemistry, it was second nature. Three Swedish substitutions meant that you were bound to be taken off any minute. Leah had been holding you accountable at the back while Beth was pushing your talents forward in the middle. You were sure that this was the most you had ever run in a match. Your cheeks were flushed, your muscles were surely overworked, but you were running with so much adrenaline that it didn't affect you.

England was on the home stretch now. Keeping both offence and defence strong, making sure Sweden wasn't offered any thrilling opportunity. You heard Keira shouting directions from the other side of the pitch. Georgia was passing short, timeless passes to you. Rachel had her arm outstretched, ready to propel forward if the ball was coming her way.

You knew that Georgia was just time-wasting now. You just needed to win now, the goal difference didn't matter. You felt someone’s presence up behind you, forcing you to cross the ball back to Leah since both Gee and Kie were covered. You had been staying in the middle and towards the back end of the pitch all game, so it was a surprise when you burst forward past Sweden’s second-last line of defence. Leah had kicked it over to Lucy, who hadn't seen you leave. Georgia took the ball, marking her opponent while searching for your unknown whereabouts.

The only person to have seen you was Beth, who called for the ball and received it a second later. With one, quick, first touch, Mead sent the ball flailing over the top, towards where you were waiting, just outside the box. One of the defenders had caught on, and the goalkeeper hadn't prepared herself for your sudden attack. You watched the ball hurl a few metres to you left, leaving you no choice but to chase after it in a rush. Almost everyone was twenty metres behind, unable to come to your aid. You held your own, forgetting the people around you, and jumped just as the ball met your head. You had no idea how close the goal was, or if your header was even near where your direction was intended.

You winced at the contact of someone in your side, groaning with your arms cradling your head. The impact of the ground winded you, sending you gasping for air. But the crowd’s booms at Sheffield was enough to leave you breathless.

You had scored.

People piled on top of you one by one, yelling all sorts as you struggled to realise what you had done. Everyone was rounded, cheering, standing. You could hear Georgia swearing, and Leah telling everyone to keep their head on. You listened to Alessia and Rachel cheering with each other, and Beth pulling you up by your shoulders. Everyone collapsed into a hug around you, making it difficult for anyone to catch onto your tears.

You loved this team too much to ever let this moment go. Your tears were mixed with the sweat of the game, coating your cheeks, exhaustion setting into your shoulders. Your breath had caught up to you, but the daze was expressed.

You looked out to the crowd when Ella ran on to replace you. Everyone was on their feet, clapping boisterously as you waved them off. It was a tedious feeling that you couldn't quite shake. There wasn't a single person there that made you feel like you hadn't tried your best.

Nothing in the world could beat this feeling.

***

The celebrations of England’s win set off as soon as the full-time whistle blew. Fans rose from their seats, players crowded the pitch. You found your figure running towards Leah, tears already streaming down your face at an embarrassing rate. Your cheeks were flushed, and your body fell limb against Leah’s chest, eloping the serenity of her embrace with quiet sobs.

She held you close and tight, combing her fingers through your hair, breathing in the electric atmosphere that infiltrated the stadium. She could hear you crying into her, and she tried hard not to cry herself. She held a protective arm around your shoulders, sheltering you from the public eye as best she could. Leah looked down at her armband, feeling proud of her nation, then glanced at you, and felt even more emotion than ever before.

Over the years, Leah would find herself falling more and more defensive of you. She wanted to shield you away from the inevitable hate. She watched you grow into a spectacular player, a brilliant teammate, and a beautiful girl. Everything you did was at the discretion of the older woman, and Leah came to realise that you were somewhat of a daughter to her.

She was a Captain of her country and club. She was an idol to thousands of girls across the globe. But she was everything to you as you were to her, and that was more than enough.

“Played so well, Y/N.” She whispered into your ear, leaning down so that you could hear her over the chants.

You glanced up at her with watery eyes, clinging onto the woman and grinning. “Love you, Lee.”

“Love you, too, my girl.”

The two of you stayed like that for a little longer. Millie eventually pulled Leah into her own embrace, and you were making rounds across the field, congratulating your teammates and celebrating with them too.

England fans still banked up the stands, holding out their pens, phones and jerseys. Some people gave you some friendship bracelets, others asked you to take photos. Everyone was reeling at the huge win.

You end up finding yourself nearing a full walk around the field, and nearing the loop, where fans were starting to disperse. The last fan was a little girl in a wheelchair, with dark brown curls and green eyes. She was a little younger than you, but it was easy to fall into a conversation with her. She congratulated you, you thanked her for coming. It was by the end of your interaction that you slipped your shirt off, bringing the girl into a tight, gracious hug.

Many of the girls were already celebrating in the changing rooms. Champagne would've already been distributed. You wanted to make sure the fans were all aware that you were very thankful they were there to watch your team play. This was your first major tournament, and people commended you for always staying back. Though you didn't do it for the praise.

“If it isn't the Baby herself.” You heard someone call from behind you, causing you to turn.

You found Lucy and Sarina standing side by side, sharing big victorious smiles wider than you had ever seen. Lucy had already ushered you into a bone-crushing embrace, guiding your head into her chest — her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Sarina patted you on the back, mumbling something about performance and outcome, before you fumbled your balance against Lucy’s figure.

What you hadn't noticed until then was the man who was standing with the two women. He was not old, but not young either. His hair was dark brown, and he had a stubby beard. His posture was neat, his coat crowding his figure tightly for no cool air to leak in. If it wasn't for the intensity of the game you had just played, you would've agreed to say it was cold. But you were sweaty, fatigued, and starting to feel the effects of a semi-final.

The man was sporting a civil grin, holding his hand out for you to shake. You were completely oblivious to who he was, unable to decipher his identity from any of his features or appearance. It was only when he spoke that you heard the trail of a Spanish accent seeping through his endeavoured English.

“You are a talent, young lady.” He commended. Your cheeks flushed at the compliment, shaking it off with a bashful smile. “I must say, you are one of a kind, truly. That header was spectacular. A goal and an assist? Incredible.”

“Thank you but I couldn't have done it without the others.” You mumbled, trying to remember Jordan’s advice to keep eye contact when you were speaking to an adult. “My first half was poor. I don't think I deserve the recognition when my opportunities weren't used wisely.”

“Oh, shut your mouth.” Lucy scoffed, ruffling your hair. “I can remember my first Euros. I definitely didn't score off a header from outside of the box, that's for sure.”

“You're the best defender, I know.” You replied hastily, trying to reiterate the fact that you were pretty much a forward, and it was expected that you were to score.

Lucy sighed, shaking her head. “Bet you wouldn't say that in front of Leah.”

“Oh, wait!” Your mouth fell slightly agape. “Don't tell her I said that.”

The three adults chuckled from around you, making your cheeks go a little more red.

“I must agree.” The man stepped forward, shoving his hands that were once crossed over his chest into his pockets. From there, you caught sight of the Barcelona emblem embedded in his jacket.

Your face must've given away your realisation. “You're Jonathan? Barca’s head coach?!”

Lucy laughed harder than before, looking at the two coaches with the click of her tongue. “I told ‘ya she wouldn't recognize him.”

“I am,” Jona replied. You shook his hand for the second time that night. “You seem to be surprised at that.”

“What? Oh! No, um.” You became a nervous wreck. “I just, oh my god, does that mean you know Alexia Putellas?”Despite your North London spirit, there was no doubt that there was a fangirl within you at the knowledge of the Spanish team. You had grown up with the greats in Barca, and almost everyone in the England squad knew of your explicit crush on a certain Spanish captain, who just so happened to play for Barca.

“I mean, she is the captain, so you’d hope so.” Jona chuckled. “In fact, I was talking to her just a few hours ago. We were discussing the transfer season and some new contracts coming up.”

You instantly looked up at Lucy, who rolled her eyes at your oblivion. Sarina shook her head, glancing at you knowingly while Jona sighed in deliberation.

“I'm sure you have mulled over some of the offers you have been given from some of the clubs, no? I heard from somewhere that Chelsea are outbidding Arsenal.”

“Oh.” The thought of a professional contract, and making a denounced decision was long a foreign concept to you at that moment. You were presented with the complexity of the question, and could only shrug in response.

Jona reciprocated your affliction. “It is always a tough decision to make. But you have a very bright career in front of you. Everyone is expecting great, great things.”

“I'm tossing up between Arsenal and Chelsea.” You admitted. “They are my best offers.”

“You think so?” Jona looked complex, his eyebrows rising. When you nodded, he tutted, his head low. “Sarina and I were just questioning the fee being offered… or lack thereof.”

Your back straightened. “What do you mean?”

“300k for a three-year contract is hardly reasonable for a player like you.” He stated, rolling his sleeves up with a grin. Lucy and Sarina were in quiet conversation to the side, still active in what you were discussing but in their exclusive bubble.

“If I were to put in my bid, it’d be at least 800 thousand.” He continued. Your eyes nearly budged out of their sockets, unable to reply. “But it’d end up being just short of a million with the transfer fee.”

“My academy contract ends in two weeks.” The money Jona had just described was unattainable from your perception. “I'm just glad I got the offers in the first place. Your bid is too generous.”

There was no way you, a youth player, and academy girl who wasn't even had a club debut, was expected to be worth that much. He must've been pulling your leg, taking the piss like Tooney often did. It was not in the slightest chance that you began to unravel the weight of Jona’s words, and his intention behind the conversation you were just having.

“Are you saying you wouldn't accept it?” He asked.

You were so fucking dumbfounded that you started to laugh.

“You could offer me a job for nothing and I would take it.” There was a joking tone behind your statement, but you knew that there was an entire truth planted within your declaration. “Not that you would, but yeah, of course I would. The only thing I’d contemplate is learning the language.”

“I can get you a tutor.” He responded. “And the girls are lovely.”

You swooned just at the thought of the Barcelona team. “You're just being mean now.”

Jonathon looked at you in confusion. Lucy had overheard the last of your conversation, with Sarina off to find someone else. She scoffed, finding your idiocy a painful trait of yours. You glanced between the two of them, waiting for them to continue the blasted joke of you joining the best team in the world. You waited for them to ask you how Chelsea Blue was going to look on you, of if Academy was where you wanted to stay. Hell, you were expecting them to ask when you were moving into your own apartment due to the absurdity of Jona’s hypothetical posing.

But they stood there looking at you in silence. They were waiting for you to catch on.

And you did. Even if it was after several long moments of pause and silence. Even if you had dropped your jaw to the floor in utter shock, simply not believing that what was happening was actually happening. The thought of playing for a single minute was eradicated from your mind, instead replaced with a newfound excitement that left you jumping up and down.

There was no way, you thought. Nothing could've prepared you for this.

All thoughts of Chelsea, of Arsenal, were gone. Letting the news transfer to Leah was a distant memory.

You were no longer hesitating about what anyone else thought about where you would go. There was not an ounce of regret in your body that screamed out to you, telling you to think this over for even a second. You were not want to wait, to talk, to act, you were just waiting for this all to be a dream.

You knew that this was an inevitable choice. A feeling so right, so just, full of hope and solidarity, clung to you as you shook Jona’s hand yet again. Not filling registering his words, skimming over the implications of it all, aimlessly giving him your Agent’s number. It was all a blur from there.

It did not matter the money that went into the contract, or the financial gain that would equip you throughout the three years you were about to live in Barcelona. Nothing else mattered except the smile on your face, and the righteousness in your chest.

With the win of your National Team, you home, and the club you were bound towards, there was nothing stopping the bounce in your stride.

_________________

arsenalacademy

liked by babyengland, milliebright, and 207,367 others

arsenalacademy — After a standout performance in the Euros so far, Arsenal Academy Star, and England’s youngest, Baby England has signed a record-breaking fee of $3 Million, for a three-year contract with reigning Champions, Barcelona FC.

“I'm excited for this new opportunity. The Euros are massive, and winning with the girls against Sweden was a privilege I still can't put into words…

I have to thank Arsenal for making me the player I am, because they have taught me so many things, and I wouldn't be standing here today if it wasn't for them.

I also want to thank Jordan, Leah, and all the Lionesses for helping me with this. They have always wanted the best for me, and I couldn't have done it without them.”

The fifteen-year-old will begin training with the Spainish Team for the 22/23 season effective immediately.

Congratulations on this new chapter!

Tagged: yourusername

Comments:

soccerdonna — New Update: Chelsea had outbid Arsenal by $150k, and Barca by an extra 200k, as well as an increase in salary, which is negotiable.

User7 — I THOUGHT THEY WERE GONNA ANNOUNCE IT AFTER THE EUROS

^ user8 — WHEN HAS MY GIRL HAD TIME FOR THIS

^ user112 — FR MY GIRL’S FIFTEEN, A STUDENT, A FULL TIME ATHLETE, AND A BABYGIRL LIKE PLS

User5 — JONATAN WAS AT THE GAMES AGAINST SPAIN AND SWEDEN!!!! MAYBE THATS WHEN

^ user90 — THAT’S SO SOON THO HOW COULD HE HAVE DONE IT

ingridengen — welcome 🩷

*liked by yourusername

racheldaly — no villa talk 🤣 see you on the pitch soon chook 🩷

^ yourusername — thank you Rach 🙃

user6 — FIRST LUCY AND NOW BABY ENGLAND! WHO’S NEXT, KEIRA????

alessiarusso — big things!!!! proud of you like crazy 🙌🏼

^ yourusername — love you lessi bear 🧸

user1 — are you fucking kidding me? ARSENAL WHY DIDNT YOU KEEP HERRRRR

^ user67 — THE FACT THAT THEY WERE ONE OF THE LOWEST BIDDERS UGH

alexiaputellas — Bienvenido, guapa!

^ yourusername — omg ily

^ user77 — shes so real

user23 — I'm in mourning.

user8 — WHAT ABOUT LEAH

^ user4 — AND JORDAN

^ user7 — SHE WAS OUR ARSENAL BABY

jordannobbs — big things coming! So proud of you! 💙❤️

* liked by yourusername

user37 — the fact that we all thought she was going to chelsea

^ user27 — she really had us all fooled

leahwilliamson — smash it, my girl!

^ yourusername — love you lee 🤍

^ user78 — screaming into my pillow I cannot deal with this hurt.

^ user99 — I need to know if she told Leah before or after she signed 😭

^ user12 — the edits about to go crazy

^ user8 — “let's not forget, that no matter where she goes, Baby England will always be Arsenal.”

barcelonafemeni — Stargirl 🌟

^ user4 — you don't deserve her.

^ user90 — SALT IN THE WOUND

^ user3 — Idk about the rest of you, but I cannot wait to see her in the home jersey

^ user6 — ur the only one.

Lionesses — baby england growing up too fast 🥲

user5 — I'm still so confused on how she signed a contract in the middle of the fucking euros

^ user64 — it practically meant that Barca would've not only had to pay her the contract, but also pay Arsenal a transfer fee

^ user65 — I might be crazy but wouldn't that make her the most expensive transfer? With both the transfer money and the contract

^ user5 — it adds up to be just under $1 million 😀

georgiastanway — congratulations!!!!!!

^ yourusername — thanks gee!

ellatoone — you would've looked better in Manchester 😒

^ ellatoone — jkjk look at youuuuu 🩷

*liked by yourusername

____________________

A/N — HA! You thought she’d go to Chelsea… yeah right. Hope you enjoyed!

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radio-fmm · 5 months ago

Text

Sun kissed

Monkey D. Luffy x reader

Fluff fluff and just more fluff, confession, gender neutral reader no use of pronouns or gendered descriptions

1.5k words

You had never met someone like Luffy

He was once in a lifetime kind of guy, but familiar all the same; like the sun going down painting the skies with beautiful hues to then disappear as the moon anchors up above, the scenery a natural beauty that would repeat itself the next day but breathtaking nonetheless

Relentless and brave beyond belief, the only thing keeping him going when his body gives up being his unmeasurable conviction, a selfish captain that always gets what he wants, he hates being called a hero yet he possesses the biggest kind heart of gold you had ever seen

It wasn’t a surprise when you realized your admiration for your Captain went beyond just that, after all, he had freed you; offering you a place in his crew, an unbreakable friendship that you cherished and a promise to both achieve your dreams together

The roles of captain and crew member being almost nonexistent nor necessary; every single strawhat had sworn loyalty to Luffy just because he had been the purest of friends, not needing an explanation for their past or behavior before extending his support and kindness. He saw something in all of you and that was enough, his role only held by this unspoken respect and trust

However, the base of the strawhats crew was the already so mentioned friendship, there was this dynamic you had to follow even if it pained you to do so

Because you didn’t wanted to get in his way

Luffy was so busy working to be the king of the pirates, you knew the moment he got to see you walking before him with your heart in your hands he would decline the offering, even if the lines between your relationship were already so blurry

Even as you beat yourself up to ‘stay in the lane’ there was this natural flow that would bring Luffy to your shore, as it would also bring you to his

It’s always you and him

You the first to jump to defend his name even if held by gunpoint, screaming at the top for your lungs that he would be the next king of the pirates making his heart swell. You the first he looks for in the battlefield, he believes in your strength but his mind can only think about your safety and wellbeing. You the first to join in his laughter, joy spreading all across your being as you both giggle with big bright smiles that seem to grow bigger at each other’s sight. You the only one he doesn’t steal food from when you’re sitting at dinner

you and him

Regardless of how close and how happy you were, souls destined to intertwine, Luffy would be a liar if he said he didn’t notice the sadness and uncertainty that started to gloss over your face whenever your gaze looked for his. A lot of things he is, perceptive a quality a lot of people seemed to brush off

“Why are you doing that face?”

You sat side by side on his seat on top of The Sunny, the celebration for yet another victory unfolding behind you becoming a little unbearable since your eyes could not be peeled off your Captain, your heart heavy with unspoken feelings hanging form your tongue

You crook a small smile- “What face?” Your question answering his questions makes the pirate frown and huff in annoyance, his arms crossing in front of his scarred chest

“You have been doing that face every time I look at you”- even though he’s making an statement it sounds more like a reproach “Are you upset with me?”

Your heart falls to the sea that rocks the ship at a slow tranquil pace, your breath picking up speed as your try to make up for the emptiness in your chest- “N-No Luffy I could never get mad at you!”

He remains quiet, a frown still hanging form his lips as his eyes do a one over your nervous form, as if looking for an answer in your body language, but it ever appears- “Something is not right, you’re not… you”

Your face drops and your eyebrows knit in pain, making it now impossible to miss the thoughts that plague you as they reflect on your face, a quality of yours Luffy quite enjoyed- “I love you, please come back to you”

The first three words hit you like a Marine’s ship, eyes widening in shock mouth going dry as they replay for a couple more times before you come back to earth. A pang now replacing the emptiness you once felt as a remainder that you were in fact a real person, a human being with emotions and desires that could not be ignored for much longer

“I- you love me?” You sound absolutely incredulous

“Well of course I do! You’re one of my best friends” Luffy answered beaming with a 3000 kilowatt smile that has you burning at the sight of it

You feel dizzy, your mind reeling making everything around you spin, your breath that once struggled to be kept in now leaving your mouth in an exasperated sigh that makes your Captain confused

“What? Is that.. wrong?”

“No it’s not , it’s just that-” your words get stuck in your throat, you massage your head and temples as you meditate the answer you’re about to give, a fear creeping up that grows exponentially when you meet his eyes again

“I love you too, but not as a friend” it even surprises you how delicate and patiently every word left you, your heart coming back to life by beating faster and faster as every second passed

Luffy stays quiet again, which only feeds on your worry since he’s not someone that find themselves at a loss of words

“Oh… so like…” he struggles to pint point exactly what is it you’re trying to tell him, the thought of a romantic interest never crossing his mind before, the label lost in the wind of his wild determined motions that had led you to him. He knows this tingling sensation he gets whenever you’re alone isn’t something friends are supposed to feel, because it only happens with you. And it grows even stronger when you smile, and when your hands touch? He feels like he might combust; he knows you’re special to him, but it never occurred to him what that might actually intel

This ‘love’ Sanji always babbles about when he’s sitting waiting for his meal and tries to strike a conversation, though the cook seemed to had painted it as something more complicated, what Luffy felt for you was not complicated at all, he loved you and that was it, clear as water. This being the reason he had never approached you about it, he wasn’t sure how to go about this new feeling that was taking over him every time he saw you, an urgency to always be with you, his body begging to crash into yours

“Love” he completes his sentence though it feels like he’s assuring himself that what he just heard was what he understood

“Yes, I love you Luffy, more than friends do” he nods still thinking about your statement

“Ok! Me too!” Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of your skull, you’re so confused for a statement so blunt and direct

“Y-you… love me?”

“Yes, quite a lot, as much as meat actually!”- You had never came across someone like Luffy, he always seemed to surprise you with his antics but this… you were dumbfounded- “You’re funny, beautiful and strong! And so smart too! How could I not love you?” The way he speaks about his love for you makes your stomach turn in glee, like its the most obvious thing in the world, like he knows the sky is blue

Something you had never had before

A honest and real smile now spreads on your face which makes your Captain smile even wider back at you, his mission of bringing you back now complete and he basks on it, happy he got his way

“See! There you are!” His hands come up to crush your cheeks together, his fingers warm form the heat that exudes form them

“Luffy” the way his name leave your lips begs him to stop, big chocolate eyes hanging form above you like the stars in the night. Ever so slowly, your face cuts the space between you inch by inch leaving enough room for your stretchy captain to pull away if he wishes to. But he stays completely still, eager to find out where are you going and hoping it’s only closer

Your lips graze softly over his, a featherlight feeling that could be missed yet it sparks something deep inside both of you. You pull away to gaze at Luffy expectantly, as if afraid you had overstepped only to be met with twinkling eyes and a happy face. The butterflies in your stomach go wild once again but now they push you to kiss him again with more confidence and intention and Luffy welcomes it gladly, almost too grateful

“This is so fun, keep doing it!” He states between smiles and laughter that make you beam- “But only do it to me”

As if you were to love anyone else like this

Masterlist

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy x y/n #one piece luffy #luffy #one piece imagine #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #luffy op

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wonryllis · 6 months ago

Text

미래, 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: the backstory

FEATURING. insanely love struck BRAT TAMER lee heeseung with his SPOILED BRAT RICH GIRL reader GENRE. smau, fluff, smut, crack WORDCOUNT. around 800 ( MASTERLIST )

to say you and heeseung were from two different worlds would be an understatement. you were from two completely different galaxies. emphasis: completely.

if the world was your home and the galaxy was your entire lifestyle, then heeseung swears it would take him more than a billion light years to reach even the place he could stand to have a little glimpse of you who lights up everyone else's worlds around you.

reaching you is a long journey and attaining you: impossible in the advancement of science.

yet you were merciful enough to let— to want someone like him to stay, to hover around you like a housefly, to grow to have the guts to want you.

heeseung's uncle and aunt, deprived of parenthood for various reasons, had always loved to have him stay with them during summer breaks. an hour's drive from his house, a duplex that resembled his own albeit a bit smaller and two months of enjoying trips to water parks, amusement parks, aquariums and everything he ever wanted all in the short span.

he remembers little of it now, but sometime around when he celebrated upgrading from preschool to elementary with a little toy plane they gifted, came the news that their small business took a turn for the good and within a few months of it they moved.

the first time he went over after that was like stepping into a dream. the big mansion, the rich neighborhood and the nice neighbours, the pretty neighbour.

even for a five year old with the memory of a pea sized goldfish and a mind that had no sensible knowledge of romance and love, heeseung can precisely recall the moment he fell. fall, fall, fell, fallen. down that rabbit hole of special feelings that took him seven years to realize.

your brothers were nice enough to let him wander around their precious baby sister they so obviously were overprotective over, yes even for a six/seven year old. and soon that hospitality and little playdates turned into actual and genuine friendships and relations that heeseung grew to cherish, his prized little treasured found family. and love.

summer breaks turned into winter breaks and then into every opportunity he could find to pay them a visit longer than a week.

he was there during every big occasion of your lives and you and your brothers were there for his. probably because your families never minded the difference in class and always welcomed the other's presence.

it was just before the fall of his senior year in high school when heeseung took the decision to apply for scholarships in your city. his middle class family still lived in their cozy old house in the small town he had known his entire life and the city waited him a lifetime of opportunities he couldn't dare to lose. especially if he ever decided to woo you in the future he must have the capacity to pamper your spoiled heart.

you weren't just the daughter of a rich family. you were the only precious little lovely, beyond spoiled rotten daughter of a family that came from old money. old money bridging middle class. something he could never achieve, but to have the slightest chance he must be in position to give you whatever you want (besides an island like you asked for your 18th birthday, but that's okay he loves that side of you and perhaps he's sick for that, but he's far too in love.)

when his scholarship was approved and he scored a seat in one of the prestigious colleges near your neighborhood, it gave him the perfect opportunity to move in with his uncle and aunt, to move in next door to you.

to be blessed to have the chance to catch sight of you everyday. and to have the chance to hangout with you whenever he wished to and whenever you wished to.

always at your beck and call like your obedient little lord in waiting.

heeseung's actual love life (his efforts to get you to fall for him as he calls it) started in the third year of college when you joined as a freshman. and two years since, he's been trying. you're just way too oblivious to notice his subtle moves and heeseung is way too scared of your brothers to confess bluntly.

it's all just been a huge mess, and everyone (his and your friends) is just here for the comedy heeseung's life has turned into .. especially with you crushing on beomgyu—

PREV | NEXT

PREVIEW. you always get what you want, spoiled with the love of everyone around you. and it's all innocent love, at least that's what everyone thinks. it comes with much surprise therefore, when heeseung makes a move on you. thirteen long years of being in the brother zone having made him utterly clueless that if he’s going to date you he has to pass through your actual brothers first. and he knows how scary they can be. especially since they are known to have a sister complex and he’s been the third scary one with them, numerous times before.

taglist ( open ) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @aaa-sia @snoopypupp @criminalyun @oddracha @satan-223 @diorsyun @hooniehon @fakeuwus @caramelcandescence @intromortal @kookify @yutasberryy @sumzysworld @nikiswifiee @shuichi-sama @primroselover @rayofsunshineeee @aishigrey @yjwluvs @soraokkotsu @nyfwyeonjun @srhnyx @trashx678 @wondipity @winuvs @hoondiors @niniissus @firstclassjaylee @biancaness @enhaz1 @sophi-ee @un06 @heelariously @d-earlog @pharaways @ethelia send an ask to be added! (if your comment goes unnoticed it is not my responsibility)

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #PLS GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU LIKE IT ><#enhypen smau #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen social media au #enhypen heeseung imagines #heeseung imagines #enhypen social au #enhypen socmed au #heeseung smau

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ihrthoney · 5 months ago

Text

promise

pairings: obanai iguro x f!reader

warnings: some angst, fluff!

word count: 1.4k

an: muzan is dead and everyone is still alive, everyone’s scars healed just fine😁 also, if this flops ill kms 🫶🏼

Never would he have imagined actually committing to someone in this lifetime. This body of his was dirty, even after defeating Muzan, being reborn is the only way to cleanse the sins of his upbringing.

He tried to ignore your obvious advancements, he really did. There was no threat stopping him but he was stubborn if anything. Although, Kaburamaru, to no surprise, loves you. Whenever you and Obanai talk, the white snake slithers from his shoulders to your own. Iguro always scolds Kaburamaru when walking back to his estate knowing well the snake refuses to leave your shoulders so you guys can converse more.

Being so close to Mitsuri had helped him get over his fear of women, while not completely comfortable, he’s a lot more confident in conversation. Besides Mitsuri, Shinobu is another woman he isn’t afraid of, they send letters often and give each other advice.

Although, surprisingly, neither of them were the ones to give him advice about you. Sanemi, his best friend, had given him quite a lecture about letting go of the past. Sanemi didn’t say those exact words, given Iguro’s life, but he understood the gist. Apparently, the wind hashira had feelings towards Shinobu’s older sister Kanae, “We don’t have to fear for our loved ones every single day, but we still only live once. Don’t wait until the next to tell her.”

He knew he was right, but it didn’t stop him from feeling unworthy. A sick part of him hopes you reject him so that he can try again in the next life, one where he doesn’t have voices in the back of his head. Even so, the hashira wrote you a letter, confessing his feelings while sending some treats (with the help of Mitsuri).

You had knocked on his door in the wee hours of the morning, apparently making your way to his home as soon as the letter reached you. As he scolded you for being so impatient, he couldn’t hide the blush from his face as you beamed at him. After that night, you’ve both grown exponentially as individuals and as a couple.

In your eyes, everything was perfect. No threats of demons, your feelings were reciprocated and your relationship was flourishing, everyone has grown closer! So your dear love giving you the cold shoulder was very confusing and albeit a little hurtful.

Walking into your shared estate, Obanai walks past you and into your shared room. Lightly, you tug on his sleeve, “My love, what’s the matter?”

Despite his inner turmoil, he wouldn’t dare be harsh towards you. A little hypocritical given that he hasn’t spoken to you since he saw the interaction but he didn’t have any time to be alone and rid of the thoughts, so they stuck to him like a parasite even as you held hands on the walk home.

“I don’t feel like talking about it right now, I’m sorry. Would it be okay if we talked about it in the morning?” He begs, he just wants the warmth of your arms around him to shield him from such awful thoughts.

Saying no to Obanai was impossible, something you wouldn’t do even if you wanted to (which is never, you want to give him the whole world), “Anything you want my love. Just promise me we’ll talk about it first thing tomorrow?”

“I promise.”

The rest of the night was spent with you both attached to the hip. As you both washed the day away, you scrubbed at his back, smoothing your fingers through his hair as he leaned back into you. During dinner you insisted on cooking as he lay on the sofa. He didn’t listen, of course, itching to be near you and help you out as much as he can.

You both decide to eat outside in the back patio, enjoying the quiet, watching the stars shine down upon you after such achievements.

Both bowls are finished, set nearest to Obanai as he took them and turned towards you, adoring the details of your beautiful face. Unfortunately, the bliss was short-lived as he remembered today’s occurrences, “What were you talking about with… Tomioka?”

Moving your gaze from the stars to your lover's face, past the scars, you see a man who deserves everything good. A man who was once a boy who didn’t do anything to be treated and used. Iguro Obanai was the love of your life, in this and the next, you hope your soul finds him.

“He was insisting we go to the spa he recently visited with Uzui and his wives. I’ve never seen him smile before or laugh or talk so much, it was interesting, to say the least, in a good way of course! Anyways, he had asked if you still hated him which made me laugh because of course you don…” You’re cut off by the sheepish look Obanai is currently giving you,

“My love..” in his defense, he doesn’t dislike him anymore. Tomioka does look a lot happier, it was weird and he had the urge to make fun of him but Sanemi was also smiling which was frightening given the smile he usually wore was one of anger.

To your understanding, Obanai didn’t like Tomioka because he seemed miserable and such an attitude irritated him. It was valid to an extent, you didn’t really like how meanly he spoke, which you’ve told him so, “I knew you didn’t like him, but hate?” Quickly, Obanai jumps to his own defense, “I don’t hate him, I never did. Just… strongly disliked.”

Sighing, you slowly move his gaze back to your own, “If seeing me near Tomioka bothers you, I will keep my distance.” It honestly aches his heart, you’re so considerate of his feelings that despite your own view on people, there’s not a second of hesitation for you when it comes to him.

As much as he would like that, it wouldn’t be fair to hold you back from socializing. By nature you’re a friendly person, he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. To a fault, you were very honest, from what he has learned throughout the years of knowing you, you’re honest without even realizing it. He loves you, so much, more than anything ever.

Obanai Iguro swallows his pride, he promised you that he would try to move on in this lifetime, what good would it be if he tried to halt your guys’ progress?

“What are you thinking in that head of yours, my love?” Your hands move to place his head in your lap, he lays on his back and staring up at you, like you were the sun and moon itself.

Even though he wanted to repress these thoughts until the new day, the way your eyes shone with love made the words scratch out of his throat, “I was jealous,” is all he could bring himself to say. Obanai wants to elaborate but it seems he didn’t need to,

“Thank you for telling me how you feel. Is there anything I can do to avoid making you feel like that?” The former hashira closes his eyes, embarrassed to admit his request, “For the time being, could you keep your distance from Tomioka? I’m still getting used to seeing that expression on his face.” You laugh at his disturbed tone, he opens his eyes to see his favorite sound play in front of him.

Your laugh. You. You’ve saved him in ways he will never be able to repay.

But for you, he’ll do anything too.

“You know I’ll do anything for you. When you’re ready and comfortable, you say the words and your wish is my command.” His face scrunches at the last word, “Bleh, don’t speak to me like I’m royalty.”

“I hope you know that you are more than what was. Who you are now and will be is all that matters. I love you, Iguro Obanai.”

Sitting up, it’s his turn to cup your face, slowly he inches your faces together. Your eyes never cut contact until yours close, before closing the gap he whispers against your lips,

“I love you more than anything.”

#ᝰ honeywrites #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #obanai iguro x reader #obanai iguro x you #obanai iguro x y/n #obanai x reader #obanai x you #obanai x y/n #demon slayer fluff #demon slayer angst #hashira x reader

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monstersdownthepath · 2 months ago

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I think I've talked about this before, but Rakshasa Immortals are one of the most amusing but also interesting categories of archfiends in Pathfinder. Many fiends achieve the status of archfiend by taking it through strength, guile, or alliance, but Immortals reach their status through personal achievement.

Rakshasa--at least in 1st Edition lore, which I prefer to their 2e lore--are one of very few Outsiders who grow, age, and die, but unlike most mortals, they do not go to the Boneyard. Instead, they forcibly reincarnate themselves into new bodies. If a Rakshasa lived well and died peacefully, it can reincarnate into a form as great or greater than its previous one... but if they died in battle or having achieved nothing in their life, they are forced into lesser and lesser bodies with fewer and fewer of their past memories, until eventually their spirit is annihilated.

Immortals are just that: Rakshasa that have broken away from the cycle of reincarnation and, somehow, become truly immortal. For the majority of them this involves undertaking a task of incredible personal significance, one which often takes multiple lifetimes to complete, the reward for achieving this impossible personal goal being the freedom to glut on life's pleasures uninterrupted for the rest of their days. It's a twisted parody of the promise of eternal paradise, which certainly suits the twisted fiends.

I bring this up because many of the methods of immortality are funny. Vibhishah sealed the spirit of a great shaman into one of his whiskers, and when it inevitably fell from his face, he spent several hundred lifetimes searching for it again, achieving immortality when he found it. Dradjit sustains her immortality by wearing the teeth of another Immortal she killed by herself as a necklace. My favorite, however, is Zabha, whose quest for immortality saw him blaspheming against every non-Evil deity in existence, while also dancing on the graves of 10,000 different saints. I just appreciate the effort, if nothing else, spending weeks upon weeks in libraries, laboriously researching every god he could no matter how obscure they were in order to concoct the perfect way to blaspheme against them. It's implied that his quest wasn't just the gods of Golarion, either! Then comes the challenge of finding, breaking into, and then dancing on the graves of 10,000 different individual saints.

One almost has to respect the energy Zabha displays. The Ultimate Hater, the enemy of all that is Good... or even just Neutral.

#Pathfinder

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irmawrites · 2 months ago

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Night encounter

Summary: Living in Dragonstone, claiming a dragon, it all seemed surreal to Ulf. Having a Targaryen princess in his bed all to himself even more so.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: Ulf the White x Targaryen!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, she's his niece but she could be Rhaenyra's daughter or Alicent's daughter, it’s all up to you)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, slight degradation, corruption kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Word count: 2017

Author’s note: hi everyone! Not too long ago I received the following request: "I was wondering if you would do one where Ulf is infatuated with the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin after meeting her after he claims Silverwing and could it possibly progress into smut?". To say that I was delighted to receive a request for Ulf would be an understatement. I am literally obsessed with this character and I really wanted to write something for him <3 HOWEVER I am incredibly sorry it's filthy, it's inappropriate, honestly I'm almost ashamed I wrote it ahaha

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

From the first moment he saw you, Ulf knew he had to have you. Such a sweet little thing, all soft smiles and happy giggles. A real ray of sunshine. He and you may have been related, but you couldn't have been more different. Uncle and niece like the moon and the sun. Where he was rude and boorish, you were polite and gentle. Where his lack of manners and unkempt appearance worked against him, your tact and polished looks made you stand out among all the inhabitants of Dragonstone.

But while he appreciated your sensitivity and gentleness, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like when he finally robbed you of your innocence.

And a little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that it was just a facade, a role you only played in public. You weren't the perfect princess you pretended to be, of that he was almost certain. After all, hadn't he noticed your eyes wandering to his fingers several times while he licked off the meat juices that stained them? And then there was that one evening, during a meal, when your hand had wandered to his thigh. You had gently brushed his crotch, where a bulge was already stretching the linen of his breeches, without even looking at him, too busy laughing with Jacaerys. The older man remembered clearly how he had had to excuse himself in a hurry, feigning sudden fatigue and retreating to the chambers assigned to him. That night he had imagined your lips wrapped around his impossibly hard member, your silver curls between his fingers and your eyes locked with his as he pressed your nose against his pelvis, forcing you to take more, always more. He had come with a loud grunt, painting his palm white, and then swore he would have you. It was almost a matter of life and death for him at that point.

Perhaps the Seven had heard his plight, if they existed, for they soon offered him everything he wanted on a silver platter.

Claiming Silverwing was the achievement of a lifetime, and yet it seemed like a dull moment when he opened the door to his bedroom and found himself face to face with the woman he had been lusting after for weeks. Dressed in an almost transparent silk nightgown, you looked like one of his heated dreams. Instinctively, he even pinched the skin at the crook of his elbow to make sure it was all real and you weren't a figment of his wild imagination. "I couldn't sleep," he heard you say, your voice almost shy, "with this storm." Oh, but he knew that your nocturnal visit had nothing to do with the lightning that tore across the sky, or the thunder that shook the walls of the fortress. If you were there, it was simply because you too were unable to resist the tension between the two of you for a single minute longer. "Come in," his hand automatically came to rest on your waist to guide you inside, "I wouldn't want to keep a princess waiting".

If asked, Ulf wouldn't have been able to explain how he ended up in bed with your body pressed against his. Maybe it was you who had taken his hand and made him lie down beside you. Or maybe it was he who had persuaded you to slip into his arms, into his sheets, to find some welcome comfort. Everything seemed a blur now, especially as your buttocks pressed against his crotch.

You wiggled your hips. Maybe accidentally, maybe consciously, he didn't know, but the effect was the same. He could feel the warmth of your body under the layers of fabric, and he was desperate to show you what happened to women like you in the arms of men like him. It felt like a punishment, forcing himself to remain chaste and not give in to his desires in such a situation. Not to touch you when you were so close to him and his length was already so painfully hard.

He moved his lips to your ear, his breath caressing your skin. His hands slid down your chest and he let his thumbs lightly caress the two small, hardened buds. "Tell me to stop," he whispered as his fingers slid lower and lower, grazing the hem of your underwear in the hollow where your thigh met your hip, "tell me to stop if that's not what you want". "That's exactly what I want," your voice sounded like a breathless moan as your hand rested on his, as if to encourage him to give you more, " and I want you to continue."

The idea that he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted, made his head spin.

Between your legs, his fingers found your wet folds. "You're soaking wet," he breathed as he traced your slit from your entrance to that sensitive spot that sent shivers down your entire body, "we've barely started and you're already soaking wet." It was almost inconceivable that a beautiful, delicate princess like you would agree to give herself to a gruff old man like him. "How does it feel, here?", he asked as he kissed your neck, your back still pressed against his torso as his index finger circled your little pearl beneath the fabric of your underwear. "It's... It feels good", your voice was choked, a broken moan, "warm". Ulf gave an approving grunt. "And here?", his tone became more authoritative, and soon two of his fingers were inside you, stretching you just right. Tired of waiting, he barely gave you time to get used to the new sensation before he started moving back and forth, leaving you breathless. "Answer me". He could already feel you clenching around him, the friction against your inner walls something you'd never felt before. "I can feel your fingers inside me," you finally managed to answer, and to reward you he pressed a little harder against that sensitive spot that made you see stars, "I feel... full." He couldn't help smiling against the soft skin of your neck. "Don't worry, sweetheart," as if to back up his words, he pressed his fingers impossibly deeper, burying them in your wet warmth, "you'll feel even fuller soon."

He withdrew them almost immediately with an obscene noise. That would leave you empty, he knew, but he also knew that he wanted you to come around another part of his body for the first time, and not just on his fingers.

"Undress," the older man ordered, pointing vaguely with his chin at the little bit of clothing you were wearing. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips as you stood completely naked before him, kneeling between his thighs. "Such a pretty body," his voice sounded almost distracted, his fingers busy sliding down your sides as if to show you were to his liking, "a pretty mouth too, I wonder what it would look like around my cock." He saw you bite your lower lip before finally answering, emboldened: "Perhaps I could show you." Your hands rested first on his chest, brushing against the linen of the tunic he wore for the night. Then they slid lower, much lower, replaying a scene Ulf had seen a hundred times in his dreams. Your fingers undid the drawstring that held his breeches together and he had to remind himself not to make you pick up the pace, to give him what he wanted right then and there.

A curse escaped him as your hand finally wrapped around his manhood. It looked so big, massive, between your forefinger and thumb, which couldn't quite touch. And when your lips finally brushed the head, where he was already weeping for you, he threw his head back on the heavy silk pillows. It took all his strength and resilience not to close his eyes from the pleasure he felt from your back and forth movements and the wet warmth of your mouth. "You're doing so well," he growled as his hand made its way to the back of your head, finding refuge in your silver locks, "sucking my cock so well, like the perfect little whore you are." Around his member he could feel the vibrations of your audible moan. It seemed you liked it when people didn't really treat you like the princess you were supposed to be, but more like a cheap slut from a seedy pillow house. A discovery that couldn't have made him happier.

The vision was royal, the sensation divine. He felt like a king, he felt like a god, with a dragon under his feet and a Targaryen princess pleasuring him with her mouth. He had everything that he had ever wished for and yet he wanted more, needed more.

Bloody greed.

His grip on the back of your head tightened, forcing you back a few inches. His gaze fell on your red, swollen lips, glistening with spit and something else that testified to your sinful actions. You smiled at him, obviously proud of yourself, and he couldn't help but kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. "On all fours," he ordered, right against the skin of your neck, his voice hoarse with desire. The order may have been short, the tone a little awkward, hurried, but you understood immediately what he was trying to tell you. With your face now pressed into the pillows and your hips raised, Ulf could hardly believe that this was your first time, and yet. One of his hands cupped his still aching manhood while the other gripped the flesh at your waist. Captivated by the sight of his member disappearing into your wet heat, his eyes couldn't leave the spot where the two of you were joined for a single second. "Fuck," he groaned as he gave you time to adjust to his presence, "such a tight cunt." Despite his vast experience, he had never tasted, never felt anything like this in his dull life of Flea Bottom brothel escapades and quick embraces with nameless prostitutes. Perhaps it was because he was now living with real royalty, or perhaps it was because your exchange was different, more intimate, almost affectionate.

He withdrew almost completely, the friction against your inner walls agonisingly delicious. Your juices had left his member soaked and glistening, a sight that drove him deeper into you this time, the headboard hitting the wall with a thud. "M... more," you begged as he pulled out again, your voice like a broken moan that made his head spin with desire and possessiveness. The older man was more than happy to comply, quickening the pace of his thrusts. Soon the pleasure became too strong, too great to articulate anything coherent. He wanted to tell you how good you felt, how perfect you really were around him, but the words remained stuck in his throat and only grunts managed to break through the barrier of his half-open lips. But you weren't any better. Beneath him you were a mess of moans and gasps, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly. You were close, he could tell, you had grown impossibly tight around him, and he was tired of making you wait. So, in an act of mercy, he let his own fingers slip between your thighs to briefly rub your pearl and finally, finally, push you over the edge. He joined you almost immediately, his approaching climax accelerated by the rhythmic clenching of your walls around him.

It was probably foolish to pour into you with white ropes, to fill you in a different way this time. But when exactly had Ulf ever been responsible? The sight was simply mesmerising, the mingled evidence of your release flowing from your still clenching hole as he withdrew. So divine that he could hardly tear his eyes away. And as you pressed against him, seeking the warmth of his arms, your noses brushing together in an achingly tender touch, he mused that he was prepared to do many more foolish things to keep a thing as sweet as you by his side.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #hotd x reader #ulf the white #ulf the white x reader #ulf the white smut #ulf x reader #ulf the white x you #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon

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lonniemachin · 8 months ago

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Laila reached out to me to help share her fundraiser. She is a 22-year-old Palestinian architecture student urgently raising money to evacuate Gaza and continue her education in Cairo. She has only raised €2,489 out of her €35,000 goal so far! Please donate, and if you can’t donate, please share!

From Laila’s GFM:

My name is Laila Auda. I’m writing to you while my heart is heavy, my tears are pouring down out of fear and despair. My only shimmer of hope to achieve my dream of being an Architect relies on you.

I’m 22-year-old dreamer and 178 days genocide survivor. I’ve endured unimaginable hardships including four major aggressions and countless military escalations. I’m still reluctant to believe that I’m reliving the 177th day of the fifth war in my prime years. Not only have these wars destroyed my dreams, but they have also deepened my trauma and depression.

In 2018, I was granted the opportunity of a lifetime through the ACCESS Micro scholarship Program funded by the US Department of State for 2 years English learning.

In 2020 I graduated from Arafat for gifted high school with honor degree 94.4%. And I was granted to a scholarship for 2 years in EL-UNRWA College pursuing my dream of being an Architect. In addition of finishing 3 external courses of software's used in architecture beside the college. I’ve put immense amount of pressure on my back to fulfill my dreams in my early twenties, having a message of being an inspiring soul of success. I was already in my small circle as three of my siblings want to be architects too! They see how I stay up all night making study models.

Now I’m a third-year architecture student completing my bachelor's degree in the Islamic University of Gaza (IUG). The dream of completing my bachelor's degree in my homeland became almost impossible after the IOF bombed all the buildings of my university and amidst the terrifying conditions we endure daily being stripped of every human right imaginable.

I’m sure you’re aware of the situation we have been living. My words are laconic, but my pain is profound and my mental health has been irreversibly damaged due the state of war. Switching from a person who’s addicted to learning to a person who is thinking of how can I escape death. My dream is completing my bachelor's degree in Cairo university, come back to my homeland and be an active architect in the rebuilding programs.

My target is to raise 35000€, which will be allocated as follows:

(1500$) university registration fees.

( 5000$ ) education fees per year (*4 years > 20000$) as I’ll lose 1 one more year with the courses equivalence due to the difference between the plans.

for life expenses as student for 4 years. ( 10000$ )

Add to that 2.9% GoFundMe would take and the fees on money transfer the bank would take.

The overall sum amount is approximately 35000€ considering the bank my cousin- who's launching this campaign- is engaged which operates in Belgian currency.

Your support could mean the difference between dreams realized and dreams shattered. Together we can make a difference. Together we can ensure that the voices of those trapped in conflict zones are heard, and their dreams are not forgotten.

I love studying and I dream of a life where I can breathe giving. I want to help people to rebuild their homes thinking with them of every detail. I want to see people’s happiness by creating spaces that lies warmth within their souls..

I’m truly grateful for your time, consideration, and support. Your generosity will make a lasting impact in my life, illuminate the path toward a brighter and more hopeful chapter.

Every contribution, no matter the size it will be a step forward achieving my dream

If you would like to confirm the validity of this campaign, you can message Laila on X

Username: Laila_EYO

With gratitude

Laila Auda

#palestine #free palestine #gaza

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randombush3 · 11 months ago

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stuck with you (where else would i be?)

alexia putellas x reader

basically basically basically... this is (loosely) based on my friend's song, but it's unreleased so I can't link it. this is half procrastination and half inspiration. I've been ill and ig this is me being capable to write but not do my work. anyway! I don't really post on here but enjoy lol

[…]

The sun sweeps through the apartment softly. It whispers for you to rise, though that feels impossible. Impossible because of the gentle breathing beside you. She makes everything else hard to value.

You operate on borrowed time. Mornings like these, afternoons at airports and on trains. Evenings on the phone, missing each other more than either of you would care to admit.

Days together stretch, hours feeling like years, conversation flowing as though it runs the course of a lifetime. They contract too, but time works differently with her.

Eventually, the season ends. Blood, sweat, and tears seep into the depths of the grass, absorbed into the soil along with her care for her profession. She loves her job, she really does. But she loves you more. The final whistle signifies more than just another trophy added to her collection.

You meet her in Greece; an echo of the first time, when you were wide-eyed and lost, and she was focused on a goal she had not yet achieved. Now, you focus, in front of your laptop, working begrudgingly as she lazes in a bask of football-less heat. Your direction is clear, as is hers. She has watched you build your path – is proud of you for it – and now she holds your hand as you walk down it together.

It’s hot. Pleasantly hot.

Your skin is warm as she runs her hands over your body. She wishes to exist in this moment forever, fingers pressing into your hips, holding you in place as her lips taste the sweat on your neck, your stomach. The wetness between your thighs.

You keen into her, saying three words that you know she knows. You want her to hear anyway. They sink in. They always do.

She loves you too.

‘Goodbye’ is the hardest word to say; in any language, in any capacity. She hugs you to avoid its vicious syllables, and you kiss her so that she does not feel guilty about needing to go. It’s her job. You know that.

And so, instead of goodbye, you tell her that it was a pleasure to have been stuck with her for a while. Stuck in Greece, stuck on the beach, stuck in a bed that finally feels as full as it should be. ‘Stuck’ is all you can ask for, you say with a smile and a few stray tears. Stuck with her, stuck with you. Stolen moments, hidden on private boats, dinners in cleared-out restaurants. Together, the world does not feel so scary. You love her, a lot.

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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dairy-farmer · 3 months ago

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Aaw D:> tumbr ate my first draft of this. But I persist!

Because? Consider! Ra's being a GENUINELY charismatic, manipulative Threat! Oh shit!

He can read you at a glance. Offer you your hearts desires. Money, power, vengeance, purpose. Don't you YEARN? Haven't they WRONGED you? The world is... so very UNFAIR, isn't it?

Don't you want to feel safe again?

Be strong?

Poisoned honey, spoken in a pleasing voice. Any mask for any job. Mentorly, seductive, fatherly, concern, whatever breaks your walls. Makes you TRUST him. He's been doing this for years. Centuries.

Bruce calls it a cult for a reason.

Never let him get into your head. Let him talk. Give no quarter or it's DONE. Bruce drilled it in to all of them. If you give even a sliver of the smallest scrap... he will take you for all you are worth and destroy you. Mould what remains however he pleases. Bruce himself, BARELY had the mental and emotional strength to escape.

And he's the most stubborn bastard alive.

But... but Bruce is GONE. Lost to the time stream. And no one believe Tim. Will listen. Yeah, he's not explaining himself that great. But he's upset, his brain has always moved faster then his mouth, it's... it's kinda a terrible combination. But that doesn't mean he's CRAZY!

Of all the shit they've seen! THIS is where you think things become impossible!? THIS is when you won't even check?! Fine. He'll go on his own.

Except he's not on his own.

Because Ra's either believes him... or has spotted his chance to strike.

Murmurs and drawling and croons in his ears. Like the devil whispering temptation as it leads him farther and farther from home. Tim's TRYING. Remembers what Bruce told him. Give him nothing. But... but every snapped reply, every short answer, is met with such... predatory amusement.

He's making a mistake.

He KNOWS he's making a mistake.

But Bruce is out there. He... he has to get him home. He can do this.

Then Tamara Fox is sent after him by her dad. He gets stabbed and loses an organ, nearly dies in the desert. Now there's a hostage and fucking spider assassins hunting Ra's cult of killers.

Ra's, who no longer seems amused.

He can't-... he HAS to do this. For Bruce. For Tam. For the people they've killed.

He manages. They invade. The stuff of nightmares. Honestly, fffffuck Ra's, he can handle himself. He's getting Tam and Pru out of here and blowing everything to kingdom come. Except... except... shit, the leader. Touch of death. He's so tired. Reflexes not what the should be, torso still too stiff from being TORN OPEN.

Weeks of jet lag, poor sleep, worse diet, and just generally spotty meal times, have taken their toll. His reaction time is off. Not by much. But enough to die by. And... and this is it. He IS going too...

THWUMP!

Staff. With the sort of deadly precision even weapon master's would consider unachievable. The sort that take lifetimes to achieve. So close, if he blinked, his eyelashes would sweep the weapon that just saved his life. The force behind that strike would shatter bone. The follow up, clearly meant to kill.

Ra's Al Ghul.

Tim is already jerking back and toward Tam. No time to observe. But... oh. Oh. He must look so... so CLUNKY with a staff in his hands, in Ra's eyes. The man moves like a rolling storm. All dark untouchable mist and deadly flashing light. Dances have been less elegant.

But that doesn't matter. It CAN'T.

He has to get out of here.

Tim leaves Ra's to either win or die. Flees with Tam and Pru. Pulls up his "fuck you, Ra's" program. And tries to get it going...

Shit.

Only half the bases blew.

A blow, yes. But not the "get fucked, now and forever" like he intended. At least the alarms behind him are sounding. So THIS one is gonna go. Rip in burning peices, ya spider fucks! (No one tell Bruce. It's been a long year okay?)

Except when has life EVER been kind or fair to Tim? Even once? ESPECIALLY this year? Ra's. Barely sweaty from his death match and ready for round two, just kicked open the hanger door behind them. Still in full armor. Still fully armed.

Tim doesn't even bother to calculate in his head.

They're fucked.

He slaps the evidence Bruce NEEDS to be rescued into Tam's arms. Tells her to get it to her father. Begs Pru to get her there. Tells them... to run.

Stands his ground.

He gets his ass beat like a drum. It's not even CLOSE. He's wounded, exhausted, and down to one weapon. Less trained then Ra's. And Ra's? Already warmed up, well rested, armed to the teeth and IN ARMOUR. Also probably pretty mad, what with Tim blowing up his bases.

He... he doesn't expect to wake up.

But he does.

Fancy guest room. The sort of guest not allowed to LEAVE, but still. Rich woods, fine fabrics, tasteful design. Ra's in an ornate, silken, open robe and loose low hanging lounge pants, sprawled out like a tiger as he casually sharpens a sword.

Subtle.

Captured then. He would have expected a dungeon after, you know, the whole "fuck you" base exploding. And Ra's? Doesn't even pause in his weapon maintenance as he calmly, in an almost musing voice, informs him that there's no NEED for THAT.

"Bases can be rebuilt. Rabble recollected."

"But you, Detective?"

What a glorious last stand~. Why, Tamara was it? He's quite sure Tamara is TEARFULLY recounting "your valiant final moments, even as we speak. You've done all the work to kill yourself, FOR me, Detective. I would be a fool not to take advantage of that."

He finally pauses, testing the edge of the blade. Pleased with it's sharpness.

Tim let's himself flop back down on the bed, refusing to wait for eye contact with those gemstone green eyes. So... what now? Torture? Brainwashing? Lectures on how awesome you are and how Tim should totally join you?

Of course not. Why would Ra's do THAT, when he has Tim right where he wants him? Tired, hurting, isolated. Mentally and emotionally exhausted. In other words... broken down. The world has done his job FOR him. Not, of course, that he'd ever SAY that. Why show your hand, after all?

So, no, no~

Now? You rest. Ra's brings you food. And if you want something? You'll have to trade for it.

Theeeere it is! Time called it. And WHAT, you creep, EXACTLY will he be expected to "trade"?

So suspicious! But, of course, he understands. Their's has hardly been a pleasant relationship, so far. Riddled with conflict. He simply wishes for conversation. For Tim to take care of himself. Allow RA'S to take care of him. After all, Ra's knows he would never allow him to help, otherwise.

.....right. "help".

Tim knows that's bullshit. He is trapped and this is a trap. Some form of conditioning. A fostering of dependence, maybe. He refuses to fall for it. Ignores Ra's, turns over, and pretends to go back to bed.

Ra's just hums, amused.

Because... sure enough? For all that Ra's oh so helpfully furnished "his" room with books and art supplies? Non-technological amusements? He can only ignore the only other person in the room for some many days. Can only stew in his "what ifs" and not knows for so long.

Damn it.

So he trades. Cagey and suspicious, looking for traps in every bit of wording and every action. Just as Ra's knew he would. Slowly exhausting himself. Just as Ra's knew he would. Hyper-vigilance taking it's brutal, chipping toll.

Just as Ra's knew it would~.

He asks only you eat this lovely snack you will enjoy. Take a nap, as look so tired. Allow him to massage those worn, long abused muscles. Wash the unmanageable curls of your hair. A conversation, perhaps, on that topic you love so much. You are quite knowledgeable.

And... and damn it. The body? Straight out refuses to stay vigilante forever. Especially when there appears to be no threat. When things are soft and soothing. It starts to slip through his fingers like sand. He keeps catching himself. Forgetting. Catching himself again.

Ra's has such... such a soothing voice, when he wishes too. Like rich cologne on a winter's coat, wrapping you in a masculine warmth against the cold. Strong, deadly hands. Unfairly good as they gently cradle his head, run fancy soaps and scented oils through his hair. Untwist the mess his muscles have become.

Like... like he's on some sort of high end vacation.

Or some pampered pet.

He's actually back to a healthy weight. He doesn't look like a disaster survivor.. and he just... just...

He has to get out of here. Soon. I-It's so comfortable. Soothing. Like sinking into warm honey, it clings. He just... there's this growing part of him that wants... because... because, yeah. Yeah, maybe he IS tired. Maybe it WOULD be nice. To stay. To be taken care off. Pampered.

But he CAN'T.

He has to get out.

So he confronts Ra's. What's it gonna take? Hopefully. This will blow up. A fight maybe. Something to give him some ANGER. Anything but this damn comfort and softness. It's sapping his will to fight. But of course not. Ra's has got him read like a learning letters pamphlet.

Of COURSE Ra's will let him go~!

...if Tim does... one little thing for him...

Those fucking TRADES. And this is it, he can feel it. Trap already sprung and now comes the moment to either gnaw off his own leg or be captured. Ra's looks so unbearably pleased. Victorious in his machinations and now reaping his reward. Tim wants to break his stupid smug face. But that will get him nowhere.

What.

What is the God damned trade.

Oh~ Just a moment of your time. Allow Ra's a taste of the feast you so vigilantly gaurd against him. He spreads his arms, elegant, white teeth flashing like a damn shark. The very picture of a wealthy, powerful, scoundrel. Promises in a low purr to behave.

The part of his brain that lights up when he's about to do something stupid, practically explodes from his head just to beat him to death. Sings the song of ten thousand klaxons. Oh... oh this is so PROFOUNDLY stupid there are are no words. Is possibly THE WORST idea.

He still... agrees.

Watchs Ra's not so much stand, as rise to his feet. Fluid and controlled. Letting his robe slide from his shoulders in an easy roll, to fall into a pool on the ground. The sword is set aside. Ra's focus on him. Undivided. It... it should not be MORE terrifying, unarmed and in just pants, then armed and in full armor. And yet...

Tim's mouth feels bone dry. Mistake. Mistaaaake....

He feels hunted. There aren't even that many steps, to cross the room. Yet he's shifted, distinctly, from a stride to a prowl. Tim feels absolutely no shame in backing up. Trying to gather his thoughts.

Ra's doesn't give him the chance.

Before Tim can even full register more then "too close!", a powerful hand is sliding through his hair to cradle is head, an arm like steel wrapping around his waist. He's pulled into an overwhelming kiss.

He brain stops.

The taste of Chai and a commanding mouth, overwhelm him. Steal his air. Tease and focus his attention. He's manhandled back onto the bed. A hand trails down Tim's body, another reaching up to wrench one of the pillows free of the pile. A possessive mouth slowly meanders down his body.

Kisses, sucked marks, teeth lined tastes of skin.

His hands grip like they want to imprint themselves. Leave permanent marks. Are trying, very, very hard not too. Not yet at least.

Not even divine intervention could save his shorts, Ra's rips them. Guides a pillow under his lower back. Tim has all of a second to be confused before everything Iights up. He chokes on a squeak.

The rumbling laugh Ra's makes does NOT help. Powerful hands holding him in place, keeping him from escaping the... the hot and wet! Tim writhes. It not the first time someone's eaten him out. But... but! It didn't feel like this! Was teammates and just fooling around. Not practiced seduction and centuries of skill.

His legs are already shaking. He's gasping for air. Trying to buck his hips closer to that magnificent feeling, trying to get away from how overwhelming it feels. Clenching his fists in the sheets. Whining like he's wounded.

It's PERFECT. Ra's KNEW he'd be weak to pleasure.

Knew his Detective was worth the wait.

Rolls and teases his tounge down, just a bit. Brings calloused fingers into play. To drive his Detective mad. Tease his sensitive little gem, while he plunders deep and cruelly with his tounge.

It's delightful. Watching him come apart. Again and again. First on his tounge alone, then joined by his fingers. Finding the places he KNOWS his Detective his most sensitive, and rubbing, stroking, teasing without mercy or relent.

Until even that magnificently stubborn boy, is a teary, drooling, red faced mess. Thighs painted with his pleasure. Limbs weak and trembling. So BEAUTIFULLY compliant and needy. Reliant on Ra's for everything. Craving his warmth. His care.

Head empty of those ever rushing thoughts.

He, of course, keeps his word. Let's Tim go. Back to the real world. Too the cruelties man does to man. Too being unappreciated. Tired and overworked. Too an empty, uncomfortable bed. A poor diet. The judgments of so called friends.

Hmmm~ Ra's wonders~ how long will it take?

Before the world does his job for him? Again. Before his Detective is tired. Sore. Lonely. Worn down and in need of care. Of a little... pleasure. A warm body to hold him in the night. Companionship IS vital to a healthy human mind and body, after all. Ra's can be a "friend". A lover. Whatever works, really.

He has time.

And Tim? Tim made the mistake of letting him in.

-🐼🐼🐼

ra's being MASSIVELY charismatic, having an effect that just lulls people into wanting to follow and obey him makes a lot of sense honestly! especially since for the most part the situtation given is that people follow ra's more out of admiration for his power/control of the lazarus pits and that's really it. ra's being incredibly charismatic and inspriring the fanatical loyalty that cults exhibit is soo good!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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