#the last two somehow match the background and then you have the first one

[esote-rika]

derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.  

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his. 

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties. 

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.” 

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body. 

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.  

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest. 

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure. 

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties. 

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him. 

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you. 

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick. 

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade. 

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.” 

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else. 

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it. 

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after. 

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

[niceutossu]

Arguments | Atsumu x Reader

You had known the moment you began dating Atsumu that volleyball would always come before anything, whether that was the dates that had already been planned or seeing each other more than once a week you knew, so you were never really hurt. Volleyball was something he was so passionate about and devoted to, seeing his eyes light up every time he got to play never got old. No, your boyfriend’s obsession for the sport never bothered you, in fact you even admired him for his devotion.

What did bother you though was when he would bring up his commitment to the sport every time the two of you would argue. The small bickering you would have occasionally never triggered it but the bigger fights you two had did. Every time you would express any sort of irritation or insecurity against Atsumu because of his schedule, his lack of communication, or anything else in between he would bring up the same point: he was committed to volleyball above all else.

Volleyball was his priority.

Volleyball was his career.

Volleyball was something he loved long before he loved you.

Well he had never said the last one but that’s how it felt like in your eyes. After countless missed dates, calls, hugs, and everything else a boyfriend was meant to provide it was easy to tell why you had become so insecure. You had beat into your head that you weren’t nearly as much of a priority to him as the sport he loved. It hurt to not be on par with a sport of all things, but you would never admit that to him. You never wanted to be the clingy partner who prevented him from chasing his dreams but you couldn’t help the insecurity that had built up so high it was close to bursting out as Atsumu somehow devoted even more of himself to volleyball.

It all came crashing down when you confronted him after yet another one of his late practices, so sick of the empty bed and unopened messages and your entire one sided relationship.

You were laying on the couch in your empty living room, a random movie playing in the background as you rubbed at your tired eyes. It was late and you were waiting for Atsumu in hopes of planning the next date, or even just the next interaction the two of you would have.

Important matches had been piling up on Atsumu and the pressure to be the best setter he could be was clearly pushing him to work harder than ever. At first you had been completely understanding when he told you he might not be able to spend as much time with you as he focused more on practicing, after all you had seen firsthand how hard he had been working towards his dreams.

Yet your unwavering support began to falter when you realized that your time together would become nonexistent. You had hoped that limited time would at least mean you got to talk before bed or kiss each other goodbye in the morning. Instead limited time had become no time at all, the last time you had seen and had a conversation longer than three words with Atsumu was almost three weeks ago. Your heart sank at the thought as you gently wrapped your arms around yourself, almost letting yourself succumb to a lonely sleep before you heard the front door unlock and creak open gently.

Atsumu walked through the door with a heavy sigh while setting down his duffel bag and some takeout garbage. He rubbed at his own tired eyes as his shoulders slumped before he finally noticed your presence on the couch, a tight smile forming on his lips as he made his way over to you.

“Why are you still awake?” He asked tiredly as he tried to hold back a yawn.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You said gently as you adjusted yourself on the couch to give him a space to sit, he remained standing though with an unreadable expression as you suddenly felt nervous under his tired gaze.

“Sorry but can’t we do this tomorrow or something? I’m really tired and I have early morning practice so,” Atsumu said expectantly as he began making his way towards your shared bedroom without even giving you a chance respond.

“‘Atsumu are you serious? It’s not like that will even happen with how busy you are, so busy apparently you can’t even give me a minute to talk.” You snapped, feeling irritated that his immediate response was to shut you down.

“Oh my god yer not starting this I told you I was gonna be busy why are you treating me like the bad guy now, I warned ya didn’t I?” He snapped back as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“I haven’t seen you in literal weeks Atsumu, you come home when I’m asleep and leave before I wake up. The only thing we’ve done as a couple is sleep next to each other.” You say as you start to get angrier, the glare Atsumu sends your way pissing you off even more. It had started to feel like you were his roommate more than his lover and it only added on to your growing insecurities.

“I don’t know how you think I can remain one of Japan’s best setters without practicing every single day sweetheart.” Atsumu said, the usually tender nickname now laced with a mean bite to it as he tried to his best to keep his temper in check, which was becoming harder by the second as he wondered why you couldn’t let go of what he thought was such a stupid conversation. He didn’t feel like he needed to justify his devotion, you already knew how much this meant to him. Why couldn’t you just continue to support him even if it meant not seeing him that much?

“Obviously I know you have to practice Atsumu,” You said with an annoyed tone as you tried your best to calm down and be civil despite the anger coursing through every part of you. As much as you wanted to be openly upset and clingy and cry about how much you missed him you still had your pride and he should be willing to spend a bit more time with you, you were his lover after all.

“I love that you can pour everything you have into volleyball but I also miss my boyfriend. I’m not asking you to choose one or the other I just want to spend a fraction of the time you spend on volleyball together.” You finished calmly, gaze softening as your hopeful eyes met Atsumu’s irritated glare.

“Is that it? Yer just feeling needy? You know how important this is to me and you still are always asking me for such annoying things. Volleyball has always and will always come first, okay? I don’t get what you’re thinking but the most important thing to me right now isn’t spending time with you it’s-“ Before Atsumu could finish he met your gaze as the angry tears you had been trying so hard to hold back finally began to fall.

“Volleyball! I know god I know. Volleyball is your job, volleyball is your passion, volleyball is your life I fucking know Atsumu. God I know that I come second every time too- god don’t you think I know that?” You asked, voice going embarrassingly high pitched towards the end as the sobs you had tried to so desperately keep in finally tumbled out of you.

“I thought maybe if I was second to someone like you it would feel like first but it doesn’t, you don’t even care about me- god I’m sorry that me loving you is so,” You stopped trying to fight against your shaky voice to speak and instead let yourself succumb to your loud hiccups and cries.

“Annoying.” You managed to finish in a hoarse voice, repeating his earlier words as you looked up to meet eyes glazed over with obvious anxiousness and regret. Atsumu had never been the best at words like he was at volleyball, it had been fun to joke around about it before but right now, when you needed his reassurance more than ever, you found it the be the least funny thing in the world.

At his silence after your words you scoffed as you got up from the couch and walked past him silently to your shared bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you as tears continued to stream down your face. The bubbling anger that once tormented your stomach had turned into a pitiful ache of insecurity, one that had you sobbing into your pillow while Atsumu remained outside listening to your cries.

He stayed glued to his spot in the kitchen, eyes staring at the door you had closed behind you while his mind raced endlessly.

The truth was Atsumu had no idea how he was going to fix this, therefore he had said nothing to you. He had never seen in you in such a state during an argument, his brain kept replaying the look of pure devastation that flashed in your pretty eyes the moment he decided to be an asshole and bring up his commitment to volleyball. He knew you understood his love for the sport, god-you were the one who was always in the stands, staying up late after practice hours to tell him good night and waking up early to wish him good luck for matches, and trying your hardest to synch up your lives together. He had been so stuck in his own selfish ways that he failed to notice how much you needed him.

You had been giving him your all and more and he had not even spared you a moment’s time. He had felt lonely too but when he would get notifications with your sweet messages, sleepy kisses in the morning, and gentle good lucks before every game no matter what were enough for him to be reminded of your support. Yet he had offered none of the same in return, his heart ached at the thought of just how lonely you must have been. He had rarely replied to your messages or even provided you with a fraction of the love you gave him.

That’s why he felt like such shit, because you had been putting in so much effort to make things work and he had been afraid. Afraid of how much he started to care about you, afraid of how much he started to depend on you, afraid that you meant as much to him as volleyball because no one had ever meant that much to him. He was especially afraid of the day where he would have to choose, that was until he was reminded that he would never have to, you would never make him. He knows that and he feels his heart tighten as he continues to reflect while desperately gnawing on his bottom lip.

He feels like he’s going crazy thinking about how’s he going to fix it, wanting nothing more than to barge into your shared bedroom begging for forgiveness on his hands and knees but deciding it was better to give you some space. He had been an asshole after all, the least he could do was not force you to listen to any more of his bullshit. Right before he started to get ready for a night on the couch he heard your door unlocking and whipped his head to see your tear-stained face poke through as you shuffled out.

Atsumu immediately straightened up as he met your gaze, still feeling unsure of what to say but knowing he has to say something, anything. You deserve it and he knows that but he’s suffocated by the guilt that overcomes him as he remembers just how much you love him, and that if he truly did love you more you wouldn’t have been crying over him a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry,” Atsumu begins, words unsure and timid as he looks up at you for permission to continue. He feels himself perk up at your slight nod.

“I didn’t mean what I said and, and,” Atsumu continues as he struggles for the right words to find. This was one of the things that pained Atsumu about being madly in love was that there was no way for him to the word the important things. A part of him really wishes he could go back in time and beat himself up so he could just hug you right now, avoiding using words entirely.

“And you know that I’m really bad at apologies just like how you know everything about me and I think I love you just as much, no- more than what I do because I get to do it with you. So, I’m sorry for being so difficult. You aren’t ever second, yer my everything.” Atsumu finished as he felt himself flush hot at the confession. Another thing that pained Atsumu about being madly in love was that he had never been this vulnerable with anyone before, you brought out even the most hidden parts of him it seemed.

It was quiet for a moment as Atsumu stared you down for a response after having poured his heart out. He receives it in the form of a hug, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist as you look up at him with those dazzling eyes, albeit a bit ringed with red from crying, your chin digging into his stomach as you smile gently.

“I missed you ‘Tsumu.” You said softly into the fabric of his shirt as he brought his hands down to smooth down your hair, arms eventually wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

“I’ll be here now.” He said softly as he melted in you.

[tillichan]

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ Your life in Blue Lock for @xo-adeline ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

Being the manager of the best football team in Europe, Bastard Munchen, is not an easy task. But somehow you immediately fit into this team, becoming an inalienable part of Bastard Munchen. Even though, players may seem like they don't care about you, but that's no true! Conversely, they've a soft spot for you and value your contribution to the team. Your intimidating look is actually a secret weapon of your team you don't know about it though which helped them to make their rivals give up without a fight more than once.

Rival A: Hey, bro, look at this manager. She's planning on murdering or something like this? Rival B: She looks like she's going to kill us if we score even one goal. Bastard Munchen: What are you saying about our manager? Rivals — crap their pants, your team — pleased with themselves, meanwhile you just have no clue about all this stuff.

Usually you do the ordinary manager stuff like paperwork, maintaining the team schedule, taking care of players. But your ability to see a little things and your knowledge of psychology help Bastard Munchen to analyze their matches or their rivals. Sometimes you speak your mind without always thinking about it first during meetings. Your seniors are dissatisfied with it, but your team love your sarcastic and witty personality. And when you subtly mock seniors or team's rivals? Your team adore you! But your routine was interrupted by invitation to Blue Lock, your team as players, you as their manager assistant, because Blue Lock project needs more workers. And if you think that being a manager of Bastard Munchen is chaos, no, being a manager of Blue Lock is real chaos! Where should I start?.. Well, let's start from this part. Now you've not a team of professional football players, you've a team of professional simps-guardians, who literally growl at poor Blue Lock boys, who want to ask you for help, for example. Bastard Munchen are very proud of their manager and brag about you every. single. minute.

Kaiser: Wanna ask manager for help, Yoichi? What a pity, she is my manager! Anri in the background: But she is not only your manager...

Even Noel Noa brags about you in his composed manner! Ego didn't understand his behavior at first. But when you started speaking your mind during meetings and teasing Anri with him... Well, you're really not bad, so Ego thinks now. I'm sorry, Ego-san, this manager is already taken. Bastard Munchen are very chaotic team, you still love them. Despite their attempts to protect you from Blue Lock boys, you've a lot of friends here and carry out the duties of a manager great.

Color of your ego — Dark Blue

Falling in love with a new manager of Bastard Munchen is the last thing Michael Kaiser expected out of his life. But here you are, beautiful, smart and full of love for him. You broke the walls Michael had built around his heart over the years and showered him with love. Even though Michael hate being loved because it makes him weak, he also wants to be loved by someone, strange as it may sound.

♥ You two look so cool together! Your couple aesthetic and aura is something else! Tattoos, blue roses, similar hair colors and intimidating smug look. I bet, you're the hottest topic of discussion in the community! ♥ Michael loves that you're a sarcastic person and tend to speak your mind without always thinking about it. Your personalities suits each other, you both are witty, independent and have your own time of self-doubt. It helps you to understand each other and work on your weaknesses together. ♥ Especially Kaiser loves teasing you whenever you're falling and tripping all over the place. After he caught you, of course. ♥ Since Michael is interested in psychology, as you do, you two have a lot of deep conversations and discussions about it. He'd probably be interested in true crime too because of you. ♥ Please, take care of him in the morning. Michael wakes up in a really bad mood, but mornings are actually not that bad if you're with him~ ♥ Michael hates receiving gifts, he doesn't know how he's supposed to react. Well, if it's not your gifts. Even though, he is still bad at showing good reactions, but he is happy that you think about him.

Alexis Ness acts towards you as your older brother. You and Kaiser are the most important people in his life. Honestly, Alexis loves and protects you even more than he admires Kaiser. He thinks about you as a little sister, because he never received love and understanding from his real siblings. And as your older brother he protects you a lot! If you and Alexis come in, while Kaiser's doing his morning routine consists of standing before the mirror naked, gazing at himself while having a conversation with himself, Alexis will cover your eyes with his hands. It doesn't matter that Michael is your boyfriend. Don't worry, dear, your brother protect your heart from all jerks around you!

Noel Noa is your proud father figure. He always acts cool, but he loves you from the bottom of his heart. Your smart tactics and ideas helped Bastard Munchen more than once, not to mention that he loves that you can keep in line the behavior of the team. Every time Noa has meeting with coaches in Blue Lock, your name keeps coming up. And if Ego or another coach ask him to give you his team? No. That's impossible.

Itsuki Wakatsuki has a fattest crush on you since you first appeared in Blue Lock. The way you tease your, and not only your, team, your sarcastic and witty behavior, your strange but cute habit to do something and then just totally stop and move on, he was smitten with you! Even though your team is kinda aggressive when someone tries to approach you, Itsuki talks to you whenever he has a chance. He enjoys talking to you about football, mocking others players or sleeping on your lap, because he's always tired. The last one happened only once, because your team raised a riot.

Karasu Tabito is your best friend in Blue Lock. You're cool and smart girl, who is also witty and loves analyzing people, consider you're Tabito's favorite person in the whole Blue Lock. Karasu doesn't like receiving a present because he hates to be forced to feel happy. But somehow you've the ability to make him always feel happy not only because of little gifts but also because of little gestures which always get to the point. You two spend your time together analyzing games or players or just talking about your life. Karasu built walls around his heart. And you're the only one person who are able to tear it down.

Nagi Seishiro is one more your Blue Lock friend. You two have a lot in common! Sleeping, playing video games, reading manga, for example. You and Nagi bond over similar hobbies and got along well. You two can be found together reading manga Nagi has a lot of manga apps, so you two always can find something interesting or playing video game. Nagi would like to rest on you lap after a rough training session, but unfortunately this place is already taken. As you do, Nagi loves teasing people around in his own way. So you two have a lot of fun together, imagining Barou Maid Cafe or football players as animals.

[sevikaswifefr]

penalty shot

request linked here

pairing: jenna ortega x female reader

warnings: none

a/n: i think i’m also gonna start writing for arcane characters (mostly sevika) , lemme know what u guys want :)

Stress doesn’t even begin to cover the amount of anxiety I feel as I stand under the stadium lights readying myself to kick a penalty goal. My team may be up by one but missing this kick could ruin my chances at moving up the league ladder. Plus it doesn’t help that football fans are never lenient when it comes to penalty goals, miss it and your basically the worst player to ever walk the field.

Taking a deep breathe I glance toward the goalie who stands crouched in the middle of the goal side stepping from side to side ready to dive. With a clench of my jaw and a last glance at my team behind me I manage to calm myself as each member nods their head in encouragement. Finally I begin to run towards the ball, grass kicking up in my wake as I lift my right leg and make contact with the ball.

The stadium is silent, watching as the ball flies through the air looking as if it’s going for top bins. My hopes are quickly squashed however as the goalie manages to get a finger to the ball causing it to fly up and over the goal and straight into first row of the crowd.

An ooh echoes around the stadium as my ball smacks a brown haired woman dead in the middle of her face. Her hands immediately flying up to her nose as she winces in pain. “Shit.” I mumble under my breath seeing the woman on the big screen, my cheeks blushing red as I notice how beautiful she happens to be.

“Dude, you just hit Jenna Ortega in the face.” My teammate Sam whispers, her eyes not leaving the big screen either. “Of course I did. I’ll be right back.” I pat her on the back before heading over towards Jenna who dabs at her nose which runs red blood all down her chin.

“Hey, no you can’t leave the field.” The ref sprints in front of me, an arm extended out before me to prevent me from getting any further. “I just need to see if she’s ok.” I plead gently pushing the refs arm.

“Only time your leaving this field before time is up will be for a red card and if u keep behaving how you are it won’t be far away.” The refs eyes narrow before he picks up his whistle and blows it loudly in my ear.

“Get back on the field.” He seethes, a vein popping on his neck. Holding my hands up in surrender I head back to the field glancing over my shoulder to find Jenna already staring at me. I send her an apologetic smile to which she raises her eyebrows with a tiny smile she tried so hard to hide.

Throughout the rest of the match I can’t help but glance over at the brown haired woman who holds a cloth to her nose yet still cheers loudly. Even with the blood running down her chin and the large cloth covering half her face, her beauty still managed to force the blood to rush to my cheeks.

Finally only two minutes remain with the score now tied. The crowd fades into background noise as I slide across the ground successfully tackling a girl from the opposite team causing her to trip over my foot as it hits the ball from between her legs. Her arms extend as she gasps, glaring at the ref as if trying to force him to give me a yellow card.

Luckily the call never comes allowing me to take the ball that rolls down the field and dribble it towards the goals. Defenders come my way pausing my play as I somehow manage to manoeuvre the ball between their legs until it is just me and the goalie once again.

Kicking hard silence falls over the stadium as my ball flies through the air. Only this time the goalie dives the opposite way allowing the back of the net to catch my ball.

The stadium erupts into cheers and applause, my name echoing across the stadium as the buzzer finally sounds ending the match. I find myself surrounded by my team mates, each one wrapping their arms around me and slapping my back in celebration of our victory but I only have eyes for one person at this time.

“Guys, guys hang on I have to do something. One minute.” I force my way out the group and head towards the crowd once again, only this time no ref stops me as I lean against the barricade where Jenna sits.

“I’m so sorry for hitting you.” I apologise instantly, gently biting my lip as she sticks her tongue out to wet her lips. “You made up for it with that last goal.” She shrugs with a small smile. “Plus it’s not broken so.” Jenna pulls the cloth away from her nose for a second as if to show me her button nose is far from damaged. “Yeah still looks perfect to me.” I flirt holding eye contact with the girl who raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” She fakes a pout and I let out a laugh before stepping backwards.

“Well then let me make it up to you.” I pull my jersey over my head leaving me in just a sports bra and shorts. “Got a pen? I can sign it for you too.” I chuckle as Jenna not so subtly eyes my stomach before reaching into her back pocket. “How do you even know I go for your team?” She teases watching me with a grin as I roll my eyes.

“Well the cheering and screaming of my name was a large sign.” I retort leaning my jersey against the barricade so I can write on it.

Signing my name and my number onto the jersey I place it in her hand, ignoring the tingling sensation as her finger graze mine. “Don’t sell it or I’ll have to change my number for the third time.” I playfully threaten. “Ooh I might just have to. Call it revenge.” Jenna chuckles before glancing over my shoulder.

“Looks like people are waiting on you. I’ll text you. Maybe.” She grins. I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll be waiting Miss Ortega. And I promise next time I see you there will be no blood noses involved.” I send her a wink before turning around and heading back to the field.

[celestialgallaghers]

Bruised Ego [18+]

Oasis brain rot has consumed me so badly i’m sorry.

Summary: Tagging along on tour with Oasis should’ve been amazing. And it was except for one major problem: Liam. You two don’t get on well and being stuck around him for days on end makes it worse. After a particularly ruthless offense on your end, Liam plots his revenge. 

Word count: 7.1k

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Your ears were ringing, the vibrations of the music still thrumming through your body. Being on tour with Oasis was fun. Ecstatic, even. The energy in the venues was unbelievable. Thousands and thousands of fans screamed, shouted, and practically worshipped the band. And somehow, they all seemed to remain relatively level-headed. I.e. they weren't divas. 

Well, most of them weren't. 

Liam was often brash and unpredictable. It was amazing that he and Noel were even related. 

You’d met Noel way back in his roadie days and the two of you had shared some good fuckin’ laughs. He was fun to be around, never taking shit too seriously. Sure he could be a cocky bastard too, but it was in a loveable way. Liam, on the other hand, was anything but. 

Over the years, you’d become part of Noel’s inner circle. You knew his friends, his girlfriends, his dealer, everything. It was inevitable that Liam would have to be part of that picture too. 

Your first impression of him was that he was a bit standoffish. He stood about, not saying much. Mostly lingered in the background, drink in hand, tossing out the occasional quip. In the beginning you didn’t mind him. However when the band really started to take off and you began hanging around more, he changed. Became more self assured and loud-mouthed. Suddenly, avoiding him wasn’t so easy. Before, you only had to put up with him at the pub or a gig, and even then, he was tolerable. Running his mouth? You walked away. Being more annoying than usual? Another pint solved that. You had ways of drowning him out.

That all changed when you found yourself stuck on a tour bus for endless hours with him. 

You’d been a fan of Oasis since their genesis. Well, since Noel joined anyway. So when they exploded all over the world, you didn’t think twice when he asked if you wanted to join for a leg of the tour. In hindsight, maybe you should've thought it through more. 

You and Liam had never exactly seen eye to eye, but the tour had amplified every little irritation. It had started small. Accusing you of stealing his lighter (you didn’t), calling your taste in music “shite”, or nicking your sunglasses. You gave as good as you got, though. A well-placed jab about his ego or a quip about how Noel carried the band usually did the trick.

Then there were the more vicious moments. Like the time you’d shared a hotel wall and he refused to turn down his music, no matter how many times you banged on the wall. Or when he told a reporter you were just some groupie who wouldn’t leave, which led to a shouting match so loud that even Noel had to step in. And of course the night he’d implied that your friendship with Noel was something more, which was completely untrue.

It was exhausting, infuriating, and completely unavoidable. No matter how much you tried to ignore him, Liam had a way of pulling you into his orbit whether you liked it or not.

Tonight’s show had been another insanely loud and energetic one, but something was clearly pissing Liam off. You’d taken on the simple job of handing them towels after the gig, and the scowl on his face almost made you laugh. And right now, as he sulked in the post-show haze, you had a feeling he was about to throw a fit over something ridiculous. By now you’d learned how to interpret Liam-isms. After being in eachothers pockets for so long, it was practically second nature. But that meant you also knew how to push his buttons, almost as well as Noel did. 

You handed off the last towel and followed everyone back into the dressing room. Another thing you loved about Oasis? Every single show ended with everyone getting completely pissed and going a bit mad. Absolute mayhem. And you loved every second of it. As you made your way through the door, you noticed Liam was already sulking in the corner. Everyone else ignored him, too busy cracking open bottles and flicking lighters. The air was thick with smoke and sweat. 

Someone handed you a beer, and you perched on the edge of a rickety couch. You’d learned the hard way not to trust the surfaces of dressing room couches. Some things were better left unknown. 

Noel found you, and the two of you clinked bottles. 

“Great show tonight,” you said, taking a swig. “They were screamin’ proper loud. I think my ears will be ringing for a week.” Noel chuckled but before he could even open his mouth, Liam mumbled something from the corner.

You turned your head toward him. “What?”

“Said if you don’t like it, you can leave” Liam repeated, his expression growing more and more agitated. “No one’s askin’ you to hang round”

You scoffed. The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. “Don’t be an arsehole, Liam,” you said, disdain dripping from every syllable.

Noel just stood there, vaguely amused. He had always appreciated your ability to handle Liam’s antics, no matter how insufferable they could be. Liam, on the other hand, just glowered. 

“No, really,” he said, shoving himself to his feet and shuffling over. “What exactly is it that you’re doin’ here? You’re just in it for the free ride.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned toward Noel, speaking as if Liam weren’t even there. “What crawled up his arse?” Noel smirked and took a slow sip of his beer. “Dunno. But whatever it is, it’s been there a while.”

Ignoring Liam was probably a mistake. “No, I’m seriously askin’ you,” voice sharpening. “What’s the real reason you hang around?”

You blinked, caught off guard for just a second. Was he serious? Now you were starting to get properly pissed off.

“You know damn well why I’m here so don’t act thick,” you snapped, trying to keep your voice level. “Noel asked me to come, and I said yes. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with him.” 

Noel, ever the instigator, simply shrugged. “Yeah, Liam. Thought you liked when people actually wanna be around us.”

Liam ignored him, eyes still locked on you. “You don’t even do anything,” he shot back, sneering. “All you do is hand us the towels and take up space.” 

Your fingers tightened around the bottle in your hand. 

“Fuck you, Liam.” 

His expression twisted into something smug as he watched you rise to leave. And then, like the complete tosser he was, he moved to the door, blocking your exit.

“Oh, so you’re gonna run away now? Like you always do?” His voice dripped with condescension.

You glared up at him. Unfortunately, he was taller than you. Significantly taller. You tried to push past him, but he shifted, making it even harder.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, that insufferable smirk creeping onto his face.

“Let me through, Liam.” Your voice was quiet, but laced with pure rage. You were not in the mood to get into a screaming match tonight. He stood his ground, so you put all of your body weight into shoving him out of my way. He barely budged. 

This only seemed to amuse him. “And what if I don’t?” he challenged, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his lips. 

You clenched your jaw. You knew you shouldn’t do it. You really shouldn’t do it. But he was leaving you no choice.

Before you could overthink it, you brought your knee up. Hard.

A strangled gasp escaped him as he doubled over, finally allowing you to move past. The sound of laughter and jeers echoed behind you as you stormed off, gripping your beer tight. You needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere to stew. And maybe have a cigarette of two. 

You found a quiet, secluded corner and let out a deep sigh, still fuming. You were mad. Not just at Liam, but at yourself for letting him get under your skin so easily. His words replayed in your mind. “Free ride.” Bastard. Sure, you supposed tagging along with the band might look like freeloading to him, but to accuse you of just taking up space? That stung. Noel was your friend. He was the one that asked you to come, not Liam. If Liam had a problem with that he should’ve said something sooner, not as we were nearing the end of the tour. 

You leaned back against a cool concrete ledge, letting the chill seep into your skin. The air here was quiet, calm. Something you desperately needed after the chaos of the dressing room.

You fished a cigarette out of your pocket and placed it between your lips, willing the nicotine to ease the knot of irritation in your chest. Halfway through your second one, you heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.

They slowed as they neared, hesitating. Your gaze remained firmly fixed ahead. You knew exactly who it was. His stupid cologne gave him away. Liam. Of course. Something told you Noel had forced him to come find you. 

He cleared his throat loudly, as if demanding your attention.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

“Brilliant. Nice to see you too,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you think, genius? I want to talk to you. You’re the one who kneed me in the bollocks, remember?”

You scoffed, flicking ash off your cigarette. “Yeah and you deserved it.” 

Liam’s scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. He knew he deserved it a bit, but would never admit it. He gritted his teeth before replying. 

“You didn’t have to be so violent about it.” 

“Yeah well you didn’t have to be such a dick either” you shot back, finally turning your head to look at him. 

Liam felt a surge of frustration and annoyance. He didn’t like being scolded and less being told he was wrong. 

“I wasn’t even being that bad,” he retorted with a scoff. “You’re the one who overreacted.”

“Yeah sure ok Liam” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like you were deliberately trying to wind me up or anything.”

Liam folded his arms, clearly annoyed but unsure how to counter that. Instead, he moved to sit on the ledge you’d claimed. A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again, his tone carrying just a hint of mockery.

“You could at least apologize for almost castrating me,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been a grin if he weren’t so irritated.

You sat up, looking at him with a deadpan expression. “Fine. I’m sorry for kneeing you in the balls.” It wasn’t sincere and he knew it. But you really didn’t want to waste your night fighting with him yet again.

“Drinks to make it better?” you offered, gesturing toward the dressing room.

He narrowed his eyes at you, still skeptical, but eventually relented with a small huff. “Fine. You owe me for that one.”

“Atta boy,” you said, patting his leg as you slid off the ledge.

“Don’t mock me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” you teased, noting how he was still wincing. “I didn’t get you that bad.”

“You definitely did!” he retorted, irritation mounting. “I’ll be sterile for the rest of my life now, thanks to you”

“Maybe that's for the best,” you said under your breath.

“What was that?” His head whipped toward you, eye’s narrowing.

“Nothing” you huffed. “Let’s all just hope and pray that the mighty Liam Gallagher's dick still works.”

“Oh piss off,” he grumbled. 

You snorted at that. Men were so touchy when it came to their dick. It honestly amused you. 

“Fine, fine,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “I’ll find you some ice for that, yeah?” 

“Don’t bother,” he grumbled. “I’m fine.”

But your eyes flicked down, catching the way he subtly adjusted himself, clearly still nursing the ache.

“Sure you are,” you replied, biting back a grin. “How bout that drink, then?”

Without waiting for a reply, you headed back toward the dressing room, hearing his footsteps reluctantly follow behind. True to your word, you fixed him a drink. By the time you handed it to him, his scowl had softened slightly, though you knew it’d be a while before he dropped the whole thing.

❦ ❦ ❦

The night stretched on, the room a blur of laughter, music, and the occasional drunken shout. People drifted in and out, and you, now properly drunk, had completely pushed the earlier incident to the back of your mind. 

What you didn’t notice, however, was the way Liam had been watching you from across the room, his gaze sharp, unreadable. There was still a flicker of irritation in his eyes, though now it was laced with something else. He’d slowly been plotting a way to get a bit of payback throughout the night.

You stood up suddenly, stretching. “Right, I’m going for a piss,” you announced, making your way toward the bathroom.

Liam’s eyes tracked you, and as soon as you disappeared behind the door, he quickly drained the rest of his drink and pushed himself off the couch. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he strolled after you, slipping through the bathroom door quietly.

He saw you, but you hadn’t noticed him. A small thrill of satisfaction ran through him. He leaned against the door, making sure it was securely shut. A quick scan of the bathroom confirmed that you were all alone.

You’d just finished washing your hands when the sound of someone clearing their throat made you freeze. Your head snapped up, and through the mirror, you locked eyes with him.

“What the fuck, Liam?”

His smirk widened at your obvious surprise. He leaned lazily against the door, arms folded across his chest, exuding a sort of casual arrogance that set your nerves on edge.

“Just checking in on you, mate,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “Would hate for something to happen to you.” 

“You didn’t need to follow me in here, you creep.”

Liam just chuckled, completely unfazed. “Just making sure you weren’t up to anything. You know, plotting which band member to incapacitate next.”

You rolled your eyes, but something about the way he was watching you, like he was waiting for a reaction, made you uneasy. You suddenly felt vulnerable with your back to him.

“What are you getting at?” you asked, turning around slowly to face him.

Liam tilted his head slightly, considering you. He could see the flicker of suspicion in your eyes, and that only fueled his amusement. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

A strange tension settled in the air. The bathroom suddenly felt much smaller. You still had no idea what he was up to, but didn’t want to stick around and find out. You eyed the door, trying to plan an escape, but it seemed like you were really truly trapped in here with him. 

Liam caught the way your gaze flickered toward the door. “You’re not actually thinking of running out on me after I’ve been so considerate, are you?” His tone was mockingly hurt. “That’d be a bit rude.”

You sighed, tilting your head. “Just trying to figure out what it is you want.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, feigning innocence. “What? Can’t a guy just have a friendly chat?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Is this about earlier? I thought we’d moved past that.”

Liam scoffed. “Just returning the favor, me. You know, since you nearly ended my bloodline earlier.” 

You snorted. “What, you gonna punch me in the vagina or something?”

Liam let out a short, amused chuckle and shook his head. “Nah, that’s a bit daft, don’t you think? There are… much more creative ways to get back at someone.” 

Your gaze sharpened, suspicion flaring. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took his time, pretending to consider his options, drawing out the moment just to see the flicker of impatience cross your face. 

Then, he leaned forward slightly, dropping his tone low, almost whisper-like.

“What if I just lock the door?” His voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “Keep you right here with me for a while.”

The air in the bathroom shifted.

You could still hear muffled sounds from the dressing room outside, but inside this tiny, enclosed space, it was just the two of you. The weight of his words lingered, heavy between you.

You held his gaze, refusing to waver. “Oh yeah?” Your voice was steady, but there was a challenge in it. “And why would you wanna do that?”

Liam’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. He could hear the defiance in your voice, but he could also see the way your fingers twitched slightly, the way you shifted just the tiniest bit where you stood. He pushed himself off the door, taking a slow step towards you. 

“Oh, you know, just to enjoy your company a little longer. It’s been a while since we had some… alone time.”

Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to scoff. But Liam caught it. You turned away slightly, arms crossing over your chest in a weak attempt at indifference. But it was too late. He’d seen the heat creeping up the back of your neck, the way your shoulders tensed just slightly. Because you knew exactly what he was referring to.

That night.

Months ago, in a dimly lit pub, Liam had sworn up and down he could outdrink everyone. It had started with an innocent enough bet: who could drink the most pints before tapping out. Classic, stupid, testosterone-fueled entertainment. But as the night went on, it became less about the booze and more about Liam’s ego.

“I could drink you under the fuckin’ table, mate,” he’d slurred, pointing a lazy finger at you across the sticky wooden bar top.

“You’re already halfway there, Liam,” you’d shot back, smirking as he swayed slightly on his stool.

Noel had been pissing himself laughing in the corner, watching as his brother made a fool of himself.

Somehow, you and Liam had been the last ones standing. That’s when things got messy. The two of you had spent hours running wild through the streets, fueled by booze, drugs, and reckless abandon, only to end up in his bed the next morning. 

Neither of you had spoken about it since. You hadn’t been sure he even remembered. He never let on or made a jest about it, so you pretended that it didn’t even happen. It was easier that way. Easier to hate him than to… well you didn’t really know. It was a feeling you were too scared to explore and something told that going down that road would be detrimental.  

But now, standing here, Liam watching you with that smug, knowing look, the memory felt a little too close.

His eyes flicked over your expression, smirk widening. “You remember that night, don’t you?” His voice was slow, deliberate. “It’s a bit blurry for me, but some moments I remember quite vividly.” 

He took a step closer, and you willed yourself not to react.  You met his gaze evenly, forcing an unimpressed scoff. “We’re not doing that again,” you said flatly. Then, for good measure, you added, “And from what I recall, you were quite unremarkable.”

It was a blatant lie. 

“Hm,” he hummed, tilting his head as if in thought. “Funny, that’s not what I remember.” He took another step forward. Slow. Measured. “The sounds you made were pretty unforgettable, I must say.”

Your stomach flipped. You’d been caught. There was no escaping this. Memories that you’d forbidden yourself to think about were now rushing to the surface at an alarming rate, making you flush all over.

He was only a few feet away now, closing in. You were running out of space, out of room to breathe.

“Not. Happening.” 

The words came out strong, firm, but your heart was hammering against your ribs, betraying you. He could see right through it.

His gaze locked onto yours, eyes dark and unreadable. The tension was thick, pressing in from all sides. When you instinctively moved back, your lower back met the cool edge of the sink, stopping you in your tracks.

Shit.

Liam let out a low chuckle, stepping even closer until he was nearly flush against you. The heat rolling off him was overwhelming.

“Are you sure?” His voice was lower now, teasing. “Not even a little bit interested?”

He brought his hands to either side of the sink, caging you in. You swallowed hard.

“Liam.”

It was supposed to be a warning, a firm line in the sand. But it came out softer, almost pleading. You winced at yourself.

His smirk grew. He’d caught it.

Your eyes flickered down to his mouth, slightly parted, lips plush and so damn close. He licked them absently, and the tip of his tongue just barely grazed you. A small, sharp inhale escaped before you could stop it.

Your breath mingled with his, the gap between you shrinking, pulling you into some inevitable gravitational force. He smelled like beer, sweat, and something distinctly Liam. Something intoxicating.

Your brain was screaming at you to walk away. To push him off. To regain control of the situation. But the alcohol and sudden lust in your bloodstream were drowning out those voices, leaving behind only heat, impulse, and the undeniable truth that this was a losing battle.

One second you're standing there, locked in a tug of war, and the next, your mouth was crashing into his with bruising force. A sigh of relief escaped your throat, unbidden, as if your body had been waiting for this moment all along.

Liam, the bastard, smirked into the kiss, because of course he would. He presses back with equal if not more force. His hands move from the sink to your waist, pinning you against the cool porcelain. Your hands fly up, grasping the back of his neck, desperate for balance, for something to ground you. 

Then he does it. His tongue flicking over your bottom lip, teasing, coaxing. You let out a small, needy sound before you can stop it, and his grip on your waist tightens in response. Alarm bells ring in your head, but they’re no use.

Liam, ever the smug prick, takes his time, dragging his teeth over your lip, biting just hard enough to make you shiver. But it's not enough. Not nearly enough.

You tug him closer, pressing against him. You take control, tongue sliding into his mouth, swallowing the low groan that rumbles in his throat.

For a moment you’re lost in the taste of him. The heat of him. The way his hands grip you like he doesn’t want to let go. Then he pushes into you, his hips pressing heavy against yours, pinning you so firmly into the sink that you feel every inch of him. The realization sends a thrill through you, heat beginning to sink low into your stomach and down between your thighs. 

This is dangerous territory. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Then he’s grinding against you, slow and deliberate, and the pressure makes you gasp into his mouth. Your fingers tighten around the back of his neck, nails digging in as your body arches instinctively into his. Liam groans, low and rough. His hand moves from your waist, trailing down your thighs. Suddenly he’s hooking your leg around his hip, giving himself more space. 

He presses impossibly closer, and you feel him, hard and insistent against your heated core. A strangled sound escapes your throat, something needy and desperate. 

His mouth moves, leaving your lips to trail down your jaw, hot and unrelenting, and when he reaches the pulse point on your neck, he bites down just enough to make you whimper.

Your eyes flutter shut, body shaking slightly as Liam drags his teeth over that one spot that makes you shiver. He feels it, feels you, react beneath him, and the bastard smiles against your skin.

Then he sucks, lips warm and wet as he marks you, punctuating it with a sharp thrust of his hips that sends sparks up your spine. A strangled whine spills from your lips as your fingers tighten in his hair, gripping him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. A steady, aching pulse throbs low in your core, demanding more. Demanding him.

You roll your hips, grinding against him, chasing that friction, and Liam groans. A deep, guttural sound that makes your skin burn. His grip tightens, one hand splaying across your ass, dragging you harder against him.

The feeling of him hot, hard, grinding against you sends another sharp thrill through your body, but it’s still not enough.

You need more. You need all of him.

“Liam,” you manage to gasp, voice wrecked and wanting.

“Fuck,” Liam mutters, voice rough against your skin. “You really are desperate for me, aren’t you?”

His words send a fresh wave of heat straight through you, and you should fight back, should snap at him for his cocky arrogance, but then he rolls his hips again, perfectly, and all that leaves your lips is a broken moan.

He pulls away from your neck, lifting his gaze to meet yours. His lips are flushed, swollen, glistening with spit. His eyes—dark, heavy-lidded, filled with something dangerous—leave you momentarily breathless, completely losing your train of thought at how devastatingly gorgeous he looks like this.

You’re broken from your trance as you feel him twitch rather noticeably against you. Your breath catches, heat flooding through you all over again.

Liam notices. Of course, he does. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he presses forward just a little more, just enough to make you feel it.

“Feel that?” His voice is rough, teasing, laced with something darker.

You swallow hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He chuckles, breath hot against your cheek. “C’mon, love. Don’t go shy on me now.”

You purse your lips, fighting the way your body reacts to him, to his cocky arrogance, to the way he’s so sure of himself. “I don’t know,” you murmur breathlessly, tilting your head and pretending to consider. “Feels… underwhelming.”

Liam lets out a sharp breath, half amusement, half disbelief, before his hands tighten on your hips. In one swift movement, he ruts against you, slow but deep, the pressure enough to knock the air from your lungs.

You gasp. His smirk returns.

“Still underwhelmed?” he murmurs against your jaw, his lips brushing skin.

You hate him. You hate how good he is at this. But mostly, you hate how much you want more.

“Liam,” your voice wavering, thick with frustration.

He chuckled, dark and low, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient,” he murmured, fingers tracing lazy patterns just above where you ached for him. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, hips jerking involuntarily as his hand slipped under your shirt and began toying with the waistband of your jeans, the ghost of a touch setting every nerve alight. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

You feel his fingers skimming along your zipper and nod. He wastes no time in unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, pushing them down to give himself just enough room. 

He slips his hand inside, exploring the newly exposed skin of your inner thigh. His touch was feather light, slowly dragging his fingers, deliberately teasing everywhere except where you needed him most. Your body was tensing with every drag. Every time he would get close he would skirt around at the last moment

It was torture. You tried to grind against his hand, desperate for even the smallest bit of friction, anything, but the moment you did, he pulled back completely.

You gasped, eyes snapping open in disbelief. 

Liam smirked, watching you with a cruel sort of amusement, chest rising and falling just as heavily as yours. He was enjoying this. Holding you on the edge, dragging it out.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice challenging.

Your pride flared for half a second because fuck him, he knew exactly what you wanted. But another, bigger part of you, the one that was throbbing and needy and desperate, didn’t care about pride anymore.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, eyes burning into his.

“Please,” you gasped, not caring how desperate you sounded. This was beginning to border on agony. You needed him to touch you. 

His fingers skimmed the waistband of your underwear, maddingley slow. “Please what?” he murmured, voice thick.

You swallowed hard. Frustration and want coiled tight in your stomach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, that damn smirk playing on his face as he dragged his gaze over you. He was enjoying this too much. You knew he wouldn’t give in easily.

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. You wouldn’t beg. Not yet.

Liam arched a brow, clearly amused by your silence. “C’mon, love,” he taunted, fingers tracing lower but still not there. “I know you can be polite.”

Your pride waged a brief, losing battle. “Touch me,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Then, gritting your teeth, you forced out, “Please.”

Liam’s smirk deepened, victory flashing in his eyes.

“See? All you had to do was ask” he said, voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Liam’s hand slid down again, this time with purpose, and he pressed his thumb roughly over your clit. The jolt of pleasure shot through you like a live wire, making your hips jerk involuntarily. His low, knowing chuckle sent another shiver down your spine.

He started circling you slowly though your underwear, teasing, barely giving you what you needed. A strangled moan escaped your lips. You were soaked. There was no way he couldn’t feel it.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, voice thick with something akin to reverence. 

Two fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, then lower, parting you as he gathered the slickness between them. The rough pads of his fingers dragged torturously along your heat before teasing at your entrance.

Your head fell back against the mirror as he finally dipped into you, stretching you in a way that was both excruciatingly slow and devastatingly perfect.

His fingers curled, expertly finding the spot that had you gasping, clutching at him. A high-pitched whine slipped from your throat. Liam sighed shakily in response, his free hand gripping your hip as he leaned in to capture your lips again. He swallowed every sound you made, lips moving hungrily against yours, matching the urgent rhythm of his fingers.

And then he curled them again, deeper this time. More deliberate.

Stars burst behind your eyelids. Your hips rocked into him, desperately chasing the pleasure, and he let you. Let you fall into the pace he was setting, let you lose yourself in it. His thumb returned to your clit, circling with devastating precision.

You were close. So close it almost hurt.

“Mm—Liam—” you gasped, body shuddering, the coil in your stomach ready to snap.

But then his fingers were gone.

Your eyes snapped open in disbelief, your body trembling from the abrupt loss. You barely had time to catch your breath before you met his gaze, smug, victorious, infuriating.

“What the fuck?” you panted.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “That’s for earlier. You deserved it.”

Irritation bubbled up as you felt your own words echoed back at you. He was enjoying this, playing with you like a cat with a mouse. 

He was pulling away from you, but before he could get too far, you grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked. Hard. “Don't you dare walk away from me.”

He let out a surprised whine, head tilting back slightly at the force. When his eyes flicked back to yours, they were darker, hungrier.

“You really need to stop pulling my hair,” he rasped, though the way his body reacted said otherwise.

You smirked. “Yeah? Or what?”

His grin turned downright predatory. He leaned in close, lips ghosting over yours as he murmured, “Or I’ll make you remember who’s in charge next time,” voice thick with dangerous promise.

A thrill ran down your spine, but defiance still burned hot in your veins. You yanked his hair even harder. 

He threw his head back, eyes briefly fluttering shut as he let out a deep, guttural groan. The sound went straight to your stomach. 

When he looked at you again, there was something new in his gaze, something dangerously close to snapping.

“You’re really asking for it,” he muttered, his voice rough.

You tilted your chin up, challenging him. “Yeah? You’re all talk. I’d like to see you even tr—”

Before you could finish, Liam spun you around in one swift, effortless motion, pressing you against the sink.

Your breath caught as he caged you in from behind, his body flush against yours, his grip firm. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver.

He made eye contact with you through the mirror, wanting to see your every reaction when he spoke. 

“You want to play rough, do you?” Liam’s voice was low, edged with something dark and tantalizing. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered “Is that what you want?”

His fingers trailed slowly down your back, tracing each curve like he was mapping every inch of you. The teasing touch sent shivers racing down your spine, anticipation tightening in your stomach. Your breathing was ragged, uneven. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded.

Liam tsked softly, his lips barely grazing your ear as he murmured, “Use your words.”

His hand dipped lower, grazing right where you needed him most. The lightest touch, barely there but enough to have your knees buckling.

You choked out a whimper, torn between pride and raw, undeniable need. But there was no fighting it anymore.

“Please,” you gasped, voice unsteady.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His fingers kept teasing, playing just on the edge of where you needed him, drawing out your desperation.

“Please what?” he asked yet again, tone mockingly sweet, fingers dancing ever so slightly closer.

You clenched your jaw, stubbornness warring with your need. “Don’t make me say it,” you whispered, still clinging to the last thread of your dignity.

Liam hummed as if considering, then pulled back slightly. “Fine, I’ll just leave you here then.” His tone was maddeningly casual, like this was nothing to him. “I’ll walk right out that door.”

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist, gripping it like a lifeline. “Please,” you exhaled shakily, voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck me.”

Liam went still for a beat. Then, his smirk curled wickedly against your skin. “What was that?” he taunted, fingers skimming along your inner thigh, feather-light and infuriating. “Couldn’t quite hear you, love.”

A shiver wracked through you, and you shot him a glare through the mirror. “Bastard, yes you did,” you managed, your voice trembling despite the bite in your words.

His smirk widened. He must have had enough too because the next thing you heard was the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone. A wave of relief crashed over you, body humming with anticipation. The mirror didn’t give you a view of him, but then you felt him. He pressed himself against you, the hard, burning length of him making you gasp. You’d nearly forgotten how well endowed he was, insides clenching in remembrance.

Liam groaned low in his throat as he felt your bare skin against his. The sensation sent a shudder through him, his restraint hanging by a thread. He pressed against you further, every inch of his body aligning with yours. His chin dropped to rest on your shoulder as his breath came out ragged and wanting.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

His eyes locked onto yours through the mirror and for a moment, you barely recognized yourself. Your face was flushed, lips parted as you struggled for breath, hair an absolute mess. Liam didn’t look much different except he carried that insufferable smugness. His pupils were blown wide, the sharp blue of his eyes almost lost in the haze of lust.

He reached up, brushing your hair aside before pressing a searing kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. The heat of it sent shivers down your spine. And then, with one smooth movement, he aligned himself against you, teasing your entrance.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed forward for you to feel him. Only the tip. Just enough to drive you insane.

“Liam, God, ple—”

Your plea was cut off by a sharp thrust, his hips snapping forward with force. He went in much deeper than either of you had anticipated, if his choked-off groan was anything to go by. Another strangled groan ripped from his throat as he sank in, fully stretching you open. The sensation stole the air from your lungs.

For a moment he stilled, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. The way you clenched around him had him hanging onto the last threads of his restraint. You could feel the tension in his body, the effort it took not to completely lose himself in you. Then he pulled back, slow and deliberate, before plunging in again.

A choked-off noise tore from your throat, almost embarrassing if not for the deep, wrecked sound Liam let out at the same time. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping tight enough to leave bruises as he built a rhythm, driving into you with increasing intensity. He cursed under his breath, clearly loving how eagerly you moved with him. His pace grew rougher, more urgent.

Your head dropped forward, letting him take what he wanted. You were already on edge from earlier, your body eager and desperate. You pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with as much force as you could muster.

Then one of his hands left your hip, sliding up your body. Before you could even process it, he fisted a handful of your hair and yanked your head back up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. He wanted to see every single one of your expressions as he hit deep inside you, wanted to see the way your face changed as he hit that spot that made your breath catch. 

This sight was filthy. The two of you, tangled together, bodies slick with sweat, moving in sync. The way his jaw clenched, lips parted slightly as he watched every expression that flickered across your face, sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your whole body was on fire. You struggled to keep your head up, feeling it droop again. He firmly yanked it back up again, a quiet hiss of pain and pleasure spilling from your lips. You trembled beneath him, and he groaned at the sight of it, at the way you responded to him so beautifully. His pace became relentless, his hips snapping into yours with forceful precision. Every thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge.

You were shaking now, the coil inside you wound impossibly tight. Liam wasn’t far behind. You could feel it in the way he throbbed inside you, how his movements became just a little rougher, more erratic. With a gasp, one hand slipped down between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with frantic desperation.

“Just like that, love,” Liam murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t stop.”

His words sent fire racing over your skin and a sharp thrust sent you toppling over the edge. A cry tore from your throat as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body clenching tight around him. Your legs shook, entire body trembling as you rode it out, moans spilling from your lips, unrestrained and raw.

Liam cursed, his grip tightening as he pounded into you through your release. The way you clenched around him had his own control shattering in an instant.

“Fuck” His voice broke as he buried himself deep one last time, warmth flooding inside you as his body tensed, the most heavenly sound leaving his lips. You managed to open your eyes and were met with his beautiful face screwed up in sheer pleasure as he rode out his orgasm, a face you knew you’d never forget. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the lingering aftershocks. Then, slowly, he slumped forward, his sweat-damp forehead resting against your shoulder, breath hot and heavy against your skin. He stayed there for a few moments, catching his breath before pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your shoulder.

Your eyes meet in the mirror again. Liam was still breathing hard, hair disheveled, his skin glistening with sweat. But there was a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips, his blue eyes dark and hazy. 

After catching his breath, he slowly pulled out of you, groaning softly at the feeling. You immediately miss the warmth and weight of him deep within you. 

Liam stepped back slightly, regaining his balance, his gaze dragging over you through the mirror. You looked thoroughly wrecked and judging by the glint in his eyes, he was damn proud of that. You straightened, stretching and feeling the soreness in your limbs from being bent over a bathroom sink for so long.

“Looks like your dick still works,” you teased. 

Liam let out a deep, amused laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, it certainly does.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he tucked himself back into his pants.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Am I forgiven then?” you question, batting your eyelashes for good measure.

Liam hummed, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I suppose you are,” he said, amusement lacing his tone.

Then, before you could respond, he stepped in closer and dipped his head, placing a light kiss against your jaw. His lips barely ghosted over your skin before he murmured, voice low and promising.

“But you’re not getting off easy next time.”

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

This was just for fun but I'll probably write about Noel next :)

[todofics]

Off The Market | 1/6 | Todoroki Shoto x Reader

♡ Summary: The Todoroki name had always borne a heavyweight amongst even society’s finest. When the family’s youngest son, and heir to the title, is forced into the marriage market, it’s no surprise that he quickly becomes the season’s most eligible bachelor—hoping to avoid marriage for at least one more season, who better than to circumvent the ton other than his long-time friend, you? 

♡ Content: regency au, fake-dating trope, aged-up characters, age gap (4 years), mutual pining, fem reader, fem pronouns, mature content in future chapters

♡  Author notes: I recently watched Bridgerton and fell in LOVE with it. Who can blame me though? Nicola Coughlan, you have my heart. Anyway, this is my little love letter to that obsession! 

♡ 1.6k words/est. 15k words (chapter ⅙)ˋ°•*⁀➷ Main Masterlist ♡  MHA Masterlist ♡ Story Masterlist ♡ Next

Crystal chandeliers hung like constellations in the night sky, their scattering prisms causing the ballroom to glitter softly in its wake. As the rhythmic thuds of dance and orchestra filled the air, chatter flitted in the background. 

“Did you hear?” the Viscountess Ashido asked in a hushed tone, cheeks flushed a brilliant pink as she swirled her glass of wine. Despite it only being the first ball of the season, gossip spread like wildfire. The attention of the small group turned towards her as she continued to speak, “I hear Lord Todoroki is finally seeking to make a match.”

As you sipped on your lemonade, your ears perked at the sound of your best friend’s name. Shoto? Married? The thought made you snort internally. He never mentioned the prospect of marriage in their years of friendship - let alone in the last few months. If they truly knew the man, they’d understand that Shoto had always disdained society and its many traditions - offering himself out on the marriage market was simply… out of character. Then again, these rumors had been circulating every season since the man turned 22 (the year of your debut). It was a piece of gossip that was always best to ignore lest the man announce it himself. 

Still, even though most knew that rumors spread amongst the ton were often baseless (especially at an event this early into the season), those words always held particular weight. Even at a young age, Lord Todoroki always possessed an alluring sort of charm. From his dual-toned hair to his mysterious demeanor, Shoto’s presence commanded attention far before he stepped into society. Now, at 26, he had long lost all of his boyish features, his physique sharp and gaze undeniably melting. Somehow, with time, the already attractive boy only grew impossibly more magnetic. This, paired with his future inheritance of the Duke title, seemed to establish Shoto as the most eligible bachelor of each season - even if he was never officially on the market. 

“The Lord’s been ‘searching’ for a wife for four seasons now,” Lady Uraraka mentioned, not so swayed by the conversation. Her intentions had already long been set on the green-haired baron anyway. 

“I’ve heard nothing on the matter either,” you added, causing a few of your fellow debutantes to groan. If anyone were to know if Shoto was searching for a wife, surely it’d be you. 

The two of you had always been a rather interesting pair in the tons’ eyes. Having been friends since your younger years, they had assumed the year of your debut would lead to a proper courting from the male. However, each passing season made it evident that such a thing was far from reality. You and Shoto simply possessed a strong bond of friendship - something that both confused and delighted the debutantes as you settled on the outskirts of their group.

“No! This time, I hear it from the Duchess herself. The Duke intends to make arrangements unless Lord Todoroki makes his match this season,” Mina defended, adding more fuel to the fire. Duchess Todoroki herself had been speaking about it? 

After many social seasons spent in the countryside due to a proclaimed illness, the Duchess had only recently reappeared in court last year. This, of course, reignited old gossip surrounding her disappearance. After all, her first year gone coincided with the mysterious appearance of Lord Shoto’s now-defining mark. Thus, it was well-known by now that the Duchess kept to herself, her demeanor proving itself too delicate to get involved in spreading falsehoods. 

A frown etched across your face as you listened to the cheery pink-skinned debutante. Duchess Todoroki would never speak about such a thing unless it were true. While you knew Shoto was probably against the idea himself, a feeling of hurt still sank in your stomach as you wondered why the boy hadn’t told you. You considered him your best friend - and honestly, you thought he considered you his. Secrets like this ought to be shared.

Like wolves smelling fresh meat, mothers encouraged their daughters to accentuate their best features, readjusting their clothes and hair to make a good impression. Some of the more eager debutantes forewent this step, keen to catch the eye of the young Lord. They would stop at nothing to gain the upper hand, longing to become the center of his prospects. 

Suddenly, the room felt much too small, the heat sweltering as you excused yourself from the desperate group. You’d speak to Shoto later about his soon-to-be marriage.  Gliding across the room briskly, you quickly found the balcony door, stepping out and admiring the fleeting beauty of the garden below. The fresh air felt nice against your skin, the cooling sensation calming down the warmth in your cheeks. For now, all you needed to do was gather your senses - relax. Fanning yourself with fervor, your thoughts settled under the pale gleam of moonlight; eyes glazed over with careful consideration.

The sentiments that swirled within you made for great confusion. Irritation and… envy? Sure, the feelings of irritation were a given, but not once had you ever felt actual jealousy towards the man. Although you had always known Shoto to be an attractive man who would eventually marry, the thought of that happening so soon bothered you. You had grown used to the man’s constant presence in your life for years. With marriage on the horizon, that familiarity would simply have to die off - no bride-to-be would allow the future Duke to have such a close friendship with another woman.

Honestly, the situation was quite unfair. At your debut, speculations surrounding your relationship with the man had just about killed off any potential interest. Now, four seasons into your venture into the marriage market, your prospects had only grown slimmer. It rattled you that Shoto was seemingly leaving you behind. You clicked your tongue, attempting to snap out of the annoyed daze you were in. Unfortunately, this was just the reality of society. You’d simply have to succumb to your fate of loneliness. Maybe being a spinster won’t be so bad. 

Your thoughts were soon interrupted as the balcony door swung open, your gaze shooting back to see who it could be. “Found you,” Shoto flashed you a soft smile, his posture slightly hunched as he approached. It was clear that the advances of the debutantes had worn him out. He let the door shut behind him, opting to stand directly next to you despite the plethora of room the spacious balcony offered. 

“Lord Todoroki,” you replied, turning your attention to the glittering night sky. It was strange - that name felt so foreign coming from your lips. 

He frowned, “you know better than to call me that.” Shoto had always insisted on you calling him by his first name, and for the last few years,  you had relented (something you regretted now as his expression conveyed one of hurt). Still, you powered on, steeling your resolve. It would be best to distance yourself from the man now. 

With a soft laugh, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I should get used to it - your future bride might not take so kindly to another woman calling your name.” His eyes widened briefly, hands clenched as he cleared his throat. Despite being outside, the air grew stiff, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife. 

 “That,” he paused, attempting to gather his thoughts, “is what I came out here to discuss.” Shoto’s social skills were mediocre at best, his awkward demeanor shining through the seriousness of his tone. You raised a brow, curious of what the man could possibly say.

“To discuss? You came out here to discuss your marriage prospects?” you asked with an incredulous tone, waiting for the man to get straight to the point. He shifted awkwardly, not used to receiving any sentiments of bitterness from your end. “You should have warned me.” 

Shoto shot you an apologetic look, “I… I was not aware myself until a fortnight ago,” he murmured. The situation pained him as well - despite his rapid approach to the average age of marriage, he still didn’t feel quite ready. “A fortnight? You should have written. That isn’t information you keep from your friends.” 

“I know,” Shoto acknowledged, taking a deep breath as he prepared himself for the spades of anger you were sure to cast. Instead, however, you surprised him. He should’ve known by now that he could never predict your actions.

“It’s fine.”

You had always been quite the firecracker -  your passion and zeal for life unmistakable. It was something Shoto had always admired about you; your enthusiasm balanced out his serious demeanor, allowing for a sort of yin-and-yang relationship. This relaxed response was unlike the you he had grown to know. 

“I am sorry,” Shoto said, mustering up every ounce of sincerity in his body. You sighed, unable to stay mad at the man for long, the years of friendship preparing you for his aloofness regarding social situations. “Really, I promise you it’s fine, let us move on from this topic,” you reassured. The thought of Shoto’s marriage prospects made you uncomfortable enough - it wasn’t something you particularly cared to converse about. 

Before he could let the topic change, Shoto turned to face you, his hands gently grasping your smaller ones as your jaw dropped in surprise. “Just… one more thing,” he started, voice wavering with nerves. 

“Allow me to court you.”

[harmonic-intervention]

No way it was our last night

In Buck's defense, the first time it happened, it had been an accident.

Somehow, calling Tommy in this situation was the least embarrassing option.

And another fix-it for you. Got a couple more coming your way.

Word Count: 18,586 - getting back together, BDSM, aftercare, Buck looks for shitty doms so Tommy will come and take care of him

Excerpt:

In Buck’s defense, the first time it happened, it had been an accident.

He’d done what Tommy had told him to and looked around. Only Tommy had, with a firm and gentle hand, brought him into the world of BDSM, and Buck needed to get out of his head. Normal sex, regular sex wouldn’t be enough. He’d slip up, call his partner Tommy whether they were male or female, he knew it.

So, instead, he looked for people he could call sir and mistress. Who would get him out of his head, out of his body, and make him stop thinking.

It’s how he ended up here – in his own bed, which he already had mixed feelings about. It would end up being a blessing and a curse.

The woman he had met gave him the name Mistress Heidi, and she was a couple of years older than buck, worked as an accountant, and had straight blonde hair, light blue eyes, and long, bright pink fingernails. Buck wasn’t sure whether he wanted them anywhere near his nether regions, but she’s also been recommended as a strict and disciplinary domme.

Buck had decided to go the route over the service of the BDSM club he and Tommy used to go to together. He was still a member, and he didn’t want to cut ties with that club just because he and Tommy had broken up. They offered a sort of screening, where subs and doms without permanent partners could match up for a temporary partnership or just for a single scene.

He had met Mistress Heidi at the club, not as a sub and domme, but as two people who were trying to figure out whether they were compatible. They went over their nos and yeses, and boundaries for a first scene together – not in public, in someone’s own home, nothing too heavy. They were getting to know each other.

Mistress Heidi was adamant that she preferred going to the sub’s home, said she believed that a sub would always feel better when they were in a familiar environment. Buck couldn’t really argue against that, so he met her at the door of his own loft.

She was truly beautiful. Confident in her stride alone. Her voice was a bit smoky, and Buck didn’t feel as weird taking her orders as he thought he would after he’d only been with one dom before.

She tied him to the bed with two pairs of handcuffs, and left her phone on the bed next to Buck. Saying that everything should be okay, but maybe her kid might call, and in that case, they would have to cut this encounter short. Buck didn’t mind.

She was still dressed by the time he was fully naked, and his hands were itching for something to do. As it was, all he could do was curl his fingers into his palm. His order had been to lie still and let her look, let her understand her new plaything.

Everything was fine and dandy. Buck was starting to feel light and floaty, he was turned on, ready to see what Mistress Heidi would do next, but that changed by the soft vibration of her phone. It was right next to Buck’s ribcage, of course he felt it. And he couldn’t help it, had to raise his head to look down.

A text message flashed on the screen. The screen that had a background picture of Mistress Heidi in a white dress with a complicated looking hairdo adorned with white flowers. She was held in the arms of a handsome man in a black suit.

Buck didn’t really question it, but he couldn’t stop, “Oh, you have a husband?” from tumbling out of his mouth. He assumed it must have been an open relationship kind of situation.

Only Mistress Heidi froze where she was seated on top of Buck’s thighs, her hands stilling on his abdomen. In an inelegant maneuver, she scrambled for her phone and shut it off. He looked at her, taken aback, and then she moved off of him, grabbed her high heels from the ground, and her purse, and ran down the stairs.

“Uh, what?” Buck called out, followed by the slam of his front door. What!?

He blinked. Needed a couple of seconds to process what had just happened. Heidi was gone. She was fucking gone, and had left Buck there, cuffed to the bed. Where the hell had she put the keys? Oh God, what if she had taken them with her?

[continue on ao3]

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream and rainy days with them.

Mark Lee

Rainy days reminds you of the last time you saw Mark. He's off to pursue his dreams. It was pouring hard when you joined in sending him off to the airport. He wasn't holding any umbrella, only wearing a hoodie to prevent him from getting wet. You stood there, at the outside of the airport, watching him say goodbye to his friends and family, and for the last time, he approaches you, hugging you tightly. The wet droplets of his hoodie staining you as you couldn't do anything but cherish the moment. 

Huang Renjun

You're afraid of thunderstorms. Often times, you couldn't sleep and you tried your best to not be startled by its sound. This is one of the nights where it's not working. The continuous sound of thunder just keeps you awake, agitated. You sat in front of your bed, cold sweat running through your forehead. "Babe?" you didn't even noticed that you woke Renjun up. He asked you what's wrong, but before you could answer, you were startled by the thunder. "Come here," Renjun said. He lets you rest onto his arms, wrapping you close to him, and as he taps your back lightly, he hums a song to distract you from the thunder. 

Lee Jeno

Somehow, you two didn't check the weather today and woke up with the heavy pour slapping the bedroom window. You felt more sleepy, clinging more to your boyfriend who's still asleep. In silence, both of you agreed to just indoors for the rest of the day instead of going out for a date. A few minutes later and you two agreed to get out of bed for breakfast, opting for a warm cup of coffee that matches the weather. Both of you sat at the dining table quietly, enjoying the cold morning with the rain as a background sound. 

Lee Donghyuck

You feel like an idiot, but it's for the sake of your pride. You sat at the bench of the bus stop, eyes staring at the heavy rain. It just happened a few minutes ago and it seems like it's not going to stop anytime. You only let out a sigh, thinking that it was a bad idea that you stormed out after arguing with your boyfriend. You only leaned against the board, waiting for the rain to stop so that you can return back to your place. "You idiot!" you turned to your left and saw Haechan running towards you, holding an umbrella. "Look at you! you're all wet!" he nagged, but you only stared at him, surprised to see that he went after you. 

Na Jaemin

When you first met Jaemin, it was something straight out of a movie. It was summer, and you thought that the weather is going to be fine, but it rained all of the sudden. You decided to seek shelter just outside a small convenience store. Coincidentally, Jaemin stepped out from the store, a plastic bag on his left hand and an umbrella on his right. You two stared at each other, surprised. You were familiar with his face, since he's a popular student at your uni. But to your shock, he hands you his umbrella, you stared at it for a second before he grabs your hands and placed it there, "Give it back to me next time." he said and before you could say anything, you saw him ran towards the rain. 

Zhong Chenle

"I think we should break up," you will always remember how that day went. It was in a small coffee shop. A busy afternoon that it was bustling with lots of noise; the busy baristas, gossips from friend groups, and the continuous rain from the outside. It was noisy and yet you heard loud and clear what Chenle said to you. You only stared at him, and he felt sorry about his words. "Okay, if that's what you want." you didn't fought back, didn't asked why. The noise was too overwhelming and the weather was too solemn, why add more to it?

Park Jisung

You know how your boyfriend love the stars and the universe, so you decided to have a night picnic with him. You two set out a small picnic just around the Han river, at a field where you two can lay down and stare at the stars. But it seems like tonight's not the night. You two lay there confused, the sky was pitch black and there are no gleaming stars. Then suddenly it rained, making you two stand up and pack your things immediately. Both are almost drenched when you seek shelter. And as you two look at each other, both could only laugh, thinking that this is one of the best dates you two ever had. 

[magicfootballstuff]

Finalist (alessia russo x reader)

Summary: World Cup fluff. Alessia has no idea you're on your way to Australia to surprise her before the final.

———

“Did you watch the game?” Alessia asks, calling you at the earliest opportunity after the semi final ends. You know she must still be at the stadium and you can hear the sounds of her teammates celebrating in the background.

“As if I’d miss a match as important as this one,” you reply. “Your goal, baby - that was something special.”

“Really?” Alessia asks, the giddiness apparent in her voice, even over the phone.

“Yeah, it was. It was incredible. You’re incredible.”

“I wish you could be here,” Alessia says.

You glance up at the departure board and read the words “Sydney - gate opens in 20 minutes” before you sigh and reply, “Yeah, so do I. I’m sorry.”

Because what Alessia doesn’t know is that you watched her semi final match from an airport lounge in Singapore, where you have a layover between flights on your way out to Sydney.

“Don’t apologise,” Alessia reassures you. “I know how hard it is for you to get time off work.”

It has been hard, you’ve been so busy at work recently that you were forced to stay in England while Alessia competes on the other side of the world. But after the Lionesses won their quarter final, you knew you had to fly out to Australia for Alessia’s final match, whether it was the final or the third place match, just to get the chance to see your girl play in a World Cup. And now that you know it’ll be a World Cup final that she’s playing in, you’re extremely glad that you managed to persuade your boss to let you have the time off.

“Anyway, it means a lot to know you’re supporting me, even from so far away,” Alessia continues.

It takes all the effort you can muster not to confess everything and tell her that you’re not as far away as she might think, but you’re determined to keep this a surprise.

“Always supporting you,” you promise her. “All the way to the World Cup final.”

You can practically hear her beaming down the phone, and you can picture the way her face scrunches up in delight as she replies, “It doesn’t feel real yet. I don’t think it’ll feel real until we actually step out on the pitch.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you tell Alessia.

You hear the opening bars of ABBA’s Mamma Mia followed by a shriek down the phone, then the distinctive sound of your girlfriend’s laughter.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Alessia apologises. “Ella wants me to dance. I’m gonna have to go. But I love you and miss you so much!”

“Love you too! See you soon!”

You only realise the slip of your tongue when Alessia has already hung up, by which time you can only hope that she’s too distracted by the dressing room celebrations to notice and ruin the surprise of your impending arrival in Australia.

———

For reasons you can’t explain, you’re nervous as you wait by the Sydney harbour, against the backdrop of the opera house and the famous bridge. You only landed in Australia this morning, and though it’s now early afternoon, it feels like the middle of the night to you. 

You’re about to see your girlfriend for the first time in six weeks and Alessia has no idea. Maybe that’s why you’re nervous, afraid that your sudden appearance on the other side of the world to where Alessia currently thinks you are will somehow distract her from her preparations for the biggest football game of her career. 

You check your phone for the millionth time in the last twenty minutes. Your most recent message is one from Luca, who is in on the surprise, telling you that Alessia insisted on stopping for coffee and that they’ll be with you in ten minutes. 

That was fourteen minutes ago.

You turn around, leaning back against the harbour railing, and glance down at the bouquet of flowers in your hand. What if this was a silly idea? What if your arrival in Australia two days before such an important game is a distraction for Alessia? What if she has other plans for her last day off before the tournament ends and you’re taking that away?

But then you glance up and you see her in the distance, walking towards you with her brothers on either side of her, laughing at something that one of them has just said, and your heart stops in your chest. She’s changed out of the England tracksuits you’ve become so accustomed to seeing pictures of her wearing and into a pair of dark trousers and a white crop top, a pair of sunglasses perched on the top of her head that pushes her blonde hair out of her face. Maybe it’s the sun kissed glow from spending more than a month in Australia, maybe it’s the fact that she looks so relaxed and happy, maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t seen her in person for so long, but she looks like a goddess as she strides obliviously towards you.

You push yourself off the railing and try to straighten up your own appearance, fully aware that spending thirty hours on planes and in airports and your current state of jetlag probably means you resemble a zombie more than your normal human self, certainly not somebody worthy of Alessia, but you can only hope that doesn’t matter.

She continues to come closer, still unaware that she’s walking towards you, until she’s close enough that you can hear the familiar laughter as she jokes around with her brothers. 

And then her blue eyes find yours and being the clumsy girl that she is, she actually stumbles slightly when she sees you, doing a double take as she recognises you.

“Oh my god,” Alessia says, and then she’s running towards you.

You hold your arms out wide as Alessia launches herself at you, knocking you slightly off balance as she wraps her arms tightly around you and buries her face into your neck. It feels so strange, yet so familiar to have Alessia in your arms after so long apart, and you’re never going to take spending time with her for granted again.

“But … but you’re in England?” she says, her voice muffled by your hair.

“I’m pretty sure this is Australia,” you reply lightheartedly, squeezing her tighter.

“What are you doing here?” Alessia asks, pulling back and cupping your head with a hand on each side of your jaw, staring at you in disbelief, as if she still isn’t completely sure that you’re not a figment of her own imagination.

“Sightseeing,” you tease her. “No, I’m here to see you, silly. My girl’s playing in a World Cup final on Sunday - do you really think I’d miss the chance to see that live?”

“But we talked yesterday,” Alessia says, her face scrunching up in a cute frown. “You were at home.”

“I lied, I was in an airport in Singapore,” you confess.

Alessia’s eyes widen in surprise, then she says, “You sneaky little… I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“These are for you, by the way,” you say, untangling your arms from around Alessia so you can present her with the bouquet of flowers you bought - red and white for England, obviously - before they get too squashed.

“They’re beautiful,” Alessia says, as she accepts the gift and admires the flowers.

“Beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl,” you say cheesily. “I’ve got something else for you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, as you place your hands on Alessia’s hips and pull her closer, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes to close the height difference and press your lips against hers.

Alessia’s lips are exactly as soft as you remember them and she gasps at the contact, before pulling you in even closer with her free hand. You try to savour the moment, enjoying the way that Alessia’s aura surrounds every part of you, her lips pliant beneath yours as you fit together like it hasn’t been over a month since you last got to kiss her.

It’s a special kiss, one that you wish could last forever, but a kiss that is ultimately ruined by a raucous wolf whistle followed by fake retching noises from Alessia’s brothers nearby.

Alessia pulls back with a groan, then turns to her brothers to scold them.

“Okay, you two can get lost now. I want to spend my day off with my girlfriend.”

You turn to Luca and Giorgio and give them an apologetic shrug.

“Sorry guys, Lessi makes the rules.”

You endure a bit more teasing, Luca continuing to gag while Giorgio makes a comment about you being whipped, but that’s quickly forgotten as Alessia pulls you in for another kiss, and by the time you break apart again, the Russo brothers have got the message and left you alone with your girlfriend.

“This is the best day ever,” Alessia says, reaching for your hand and threading her fingers through yours as you start to walk side by side towards the Sydney Opera House. 

“Are you sure about that?” you tease her. “I mean, you scored a goal that helped your team get through to their first ever World Cup final yesterday. That sounds like a pretty hard day to beat.”

“That was good but this is better,” Alessia answers without hesitating. “I might have to reconsider on Sunday though. You know, if we…”

Alessia trails off without saying the word win, and you know probably still can’t quite get her head around the fact that winning the World Cup is a possibility.

“Whatever the result, I’m so glad I can be here to support you,” you tell her, bringing your joined hands to your lips and pressing a kiss to the back of her fingers. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You’ve travelled halfway around the world for Alessia, and you’d do the same journey a hundred times over, just to see the smile that spreads across her face at your words.

[iz-star]

Snowy Serenity Zayne is Dr Zayne, not Dawnbreaker.

So I've finally read the "No morning" anecdote, I hadn't been able to read it before because my phone glitched in the last cutescene of the last chapter, which made me unable to finish it and unlock the new World Underneath Anecdotes and that's why I wasn't able to offer my two cents about this topic before but now that I have all the info, my conclusion is: No, Snowy Serenity Zayne is NOT DB. Here's why:

For those who don't know, it seems there was this theory that Dawnbreaker somehow took over Dr Zayne during what happens in Snowy Serenity. This theory was brought up first in CN servers and later on was mentioned over twitter.

I admit that the first time I read about this theory of Snowy Serenity Zayne being Dawnbreaker, something didn't sit right with me, it felt as if we were shamelessly disregarding Dr Zayne's feelings he's been struggling with for so long. To read some people saying that "Dr Zayne hasn't changed" was kinda cruel, but I hadn't read the new anecdote so I didn't know where ppl was getting this theory from and if it made sense.

It seems the most obvious thing that made people think of this theory was the black ice that grew in Zayne's flowers (which are not Jasmine, but a flower called "Velvet Snow"):

And as a Zayne stan, I feel like It's my duty to remind you that black ice is not an exclusive thing of Dawnbreaker. It might be easy to see black ice and think of him because he uses black ice in his attacks when we have him as companion during battle and his anecdotes state that his ice is black. It also matches his whole aesthetic. However, he's not been the only case where black ice has been mentioned.

Black ice is mentioned in Foreseer's Myth too, whenever Astra punished Zayne:

I think some ppl often forget how ridiculously invasive was Astra's control over Zayne. He would punish Zayne if he ever thought of leaving the Tower. Heck, he even used to force Zayne to move his body against his will to inflict injures to himself.

Snowy Serenity Dr Zayne accidentally injuring MC and later on being so scared to lose control of his evol to the point of not even offering to tend her wounds reminded me more of Foreseer than DB, tbh.

Of course, this doesn't mean that Snowy Serenity Zayne is Foreseer neither, but given the info of the new anecdote, it could be related somehow. In Snowy Serenity, Dr Zayne finally bares his heart to MC and allows himself to fully feel and express his desires. He's the most sincere he's ever been, not only to MC but probably to himself too. This is the closest he's allowed himself to be to her. So, black ice growing on his flowers might as well be a showcase of Astra's curse, a signal of how bad things are going to be for him and MC from now on. After all, Dawnbreaker lives in a world where MC doesn't exist, so his black evol could also be a showcase of Astra's cuse finally fulfilled.

Of course, these are theories too, but black ice not being only a DB thing is a fact. To see black ice mentioned in the new anecdote and immediately jump to the conclusion that it was DB the one who kissed MC in SS is a bit of a stretch. However, I will give you this: I do think that the new anecdote references DB.

Another "proof" I saw about this whole theory was the name of the anecdote "No morning" that seems to be related to Zayne's title "Dawnbreaker". I think this is true and I'll even bargain with this, saying that the background they used for this anecdote is a crop of the one they used for DB anecdote's as well:

Again, does this means that DB was the one who kissed MC? No.

The reference to DB becomes clear at the end of the anecdote, when Greyson asks Zayne if patients see them as "Guardian Angels or Grim Reapers"

Of course, when Greyson mentions "Grim Reaper" Zayne can't help but look at the flowers and the black ice around them because to him, Dawnbreaker is the Grim Reaper.

One of the reasons that made me think that maybe there was a possibility that DB was present during SS before I read the anecdote, was that during his medical mission on Mt Eternal where Zayne had to kill William, he dreamed of DB a lot. Mt Eternal also seems to be a connection with his other selves: The Tower or Thorns and The God of the Mountain seem to be related to Mt Eternal. (Again, these are only theories so don't rely on them too much).

However, after reading the anecdote I just confirmed that there was no reason to believe it. I do think that they reference DB, but not the way this theory wants to make it to be. Dr Zayne is scared of becoming DB, we don't know at what extend Dr Zayne knows DB, but as far as we are aware, his impression of him is not good. The black ice seems like a bad omen of his cursed fate, of what's next to come for him. We know that DB lives in a future semi apocalyptic world from the main story, where we just know that things got fucked up at some point and we haven't reached that point in the story yet. We also know that Dr Zayne knows that things will be bad, probably bc he still retains some of his powers as Foreseer or Master of Fate so he can glimpse the future.

In Dawnbreaker's anecdotes, it is clear that humans can become Wanderers, in Dr Zayne's timeline, this information is not as clear yet. He saw William turning into a Wanderer and his medical research about using Protocores in the human heart showed a human heart covered in black crystals. Dr Zayne is involved in all of this probably to understand it and to stop it from happening. If you notice, the whole anecdote also reveals some info about ppl with Protocore Syndrome and also, that they use something called "Cryozina" to control the Metaflux that invades the human body from affecting the heart:

There's something important here:

-Protocores are obtained from Wanderers.

-In Dawnbreaker's anecdotes, humans can turn into Wanderers after exposing themselves to big quantities of Protocore Energy.

-Metaflux is basically Protocore energy.

I'm mentioning this because I think the truly purpose of this anecdote is to give us hints of how the apocalyptic world of Dawnbreaker came to be, what were the events that leaded us to it. Greyson has a crush on a hunter and she says that it was cool when she was revived. Let's not forget that Carter pestered Zayne about using Protocores in the human heart to defy death and let's not forget that MC is a rare case of immortality, so don't forget that these topics aren't brought up randomly. They have a purpose and they will make sense once more pieces of the puzzle are revealed.

Of course, if you've read this and you're still not convinced that it was Dr Zayne the one who kissed MC instead of Dawnbreaker, that's up to you. We all have an opinion and is as respectable as anyone's. However, I'd like to kindly ask that if you choose to believe it was DB, always make sure to clarify that this is just a theory and not a matter-of-fact thing.

Personally, it wasn't strange to me to see Dr Zayne's vulnerability in Snowy Serenity, he's shown vulnerability in other cards (Fragmented Dreams, Starry Nocturne, to name a few). The only difference here is that he exposes his feelings, his desires and fragility to a whole new level, which is totally understable considering the circumstances he's in. He exposed to a dangerous situation the person he wants to protect the most, he's been trapped in that Mountain for 4 days, not knowing if he would see her again. Even since his travel started, he seemed unsure about if he was going to return. Heck, I even think that the fact he asked MC to drop his car at the car wash was only a excuse to leave her his car in case he didn't come back.

He'd been opening up to her little by little and has worked hard to show his feelings more through the pass of time. He went from "I got used to being alone" (Bussiness Trip) to "Recently, a certain someone ocuppies my mind. Whether I'm walking, eating or sleeping, I keep picturing myself with her" (Heartstring healer) to "I need you, I have never denied that" (Snowy Serenity) If you notice, all those cards are cards where he and MC have to stay away bc of work related situations and their need for each other shows. The development of how things changed in their relationship is there. Dr Zayne needs MC just as much as DB and he's able to show it on his own. Please, don't disregard his efforts. Dr Zayne is just as precious as Dawnbreaker, Foreseer and Master of Fate.

[kirammankisser]

how would adam in eden treat his first wife reader

Was he an asshole before eve and lilith left him?

HOOOOLY CRAP GUYS. i went down the BIGGEST rabbit hole for this (perks of being sick and having free time)… first request!!!! (AND FEEL FREE TO LEAVE MORE :)) tysm!!! and with all the background research, i cooked !!! (proofread + i tried my best to make this accurate)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

how would adam in eden treat his first wife reader?

was he an asshole before eve and lilith left him?

(no warnings, no pronouns used, but suggested you are his wife ^_^)

— in my opinion, lucifer pretty much messed with his whole love life. i think he would be much more chill than he is now. but to try and match his character, he will be a little egoistic.

you were adam’s first wife, and to him, you meant a lot.

seriously, being the first man on earth he grew to be a bit egotistical. but, you helped tone that down from him. 

you knew he thought higher of himself, but you tried to remind him that humans should all be equal.

life was wonderful in eden. after spending time in eden with him, you both realized you were falling deeply in love with each other.

“hey, i think i’m in love with you.”

adam says with a grin, and you can’t help but reply,

“me too.”

and your relationship bloomed from there. he thought you were the most wonderful woman he would ever meet.

and as a few years passed, you became adam’s wife. 

he could hardly believe it, considering how dumb he was. you were like a goddess to him. beautiful in every way, even if you didn’t think so. he would always tell you how important you are to him.

you spent days upon days with him, and you would plan various things to do.

one of your favorite activities was spending a day in the warm sun, prancing in meadows and playing in creeks.

adam just adored you, sometimes he got a little embarrassed to participate because of his somewhat  ‘manly’ ego, but if you asked him to do anything, no questions, he’d do it right away.

“babe, there’s a bunch of flowers in your hair.”

he says, gently leaning forward to pick some of the succulents out of your hair. you two sat in the meadow, as adam hummed while doing so.

“what happens when we die?”

you say curiously, and adam looks at you wide eyed.

“oh, sweetness, don’t worry ‘bout that, ‘kay?”

you silently nodded, curling close to him. the sun was starting to set.

you two shifted on your backs to look at the stars, and he listened intently as you mumbled about the different constellations.

and soon, he knew when your speech got slower, and your hands stopped pointing up at the sky, you had fallen to slumber. and he follows quickly.

͙͘͡★

and you remained close, in love for years to come.

when it came time for death, you both succumbed.

when you made it to heaven, you were there together.

he was so happy, happy he is able to spend the rest of eternity with you.

extra / if he left you for eve + lillith (angstyyy kinda?)

when you and adam got married, you knew this wouldn’t last forever. you love him, so so much, but you knew he didn’t love you fully.

and that’s just who he was, perhaps. he was always eyeing other women, thinking he was superior to you, and seemed to become a bit short tempered around you.

and that’s when you couldn’t take it anymore. you confronted him, tears in your eyes.

and he left.

left you for eve, left her for lillith.

you knew there was no end to it, but when you became an angel, you saw just how fucked up he was.

he was even worse now, somehow, and you knew it was all his wives fault.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

research/long blabber about adam’s backstory i looked up to understand him further even after rewatching hazbin 4 times…  adam’s first wife lilith married lucifer,, lilith and adam fought (as of religious text) demons =sinners and freedom with a life in heaven =exterminations lilith = left and kinda evil? adam =first man earliest of man and kinda worst of man? (according to lol more religious text blah blah blah) uprise because lilliths singing which adam took advantage of? alastor’s master = lillith..(theory i think) OH GOD IM SO CONFUSED anyways. lilith hates subservience (willingness to obey others unquestionably) that’s why she left adam?? adam =toxic masculinity. eve left to eat the apple from lucifer ADAMS EX-wife set lillith up? or what. first human. after his wife’s? he’s EXTRENELY cocky and arrogant in charge of annual extermination of sinners (because of overpopulation) is mean because he thinks it’s hilarious, who’s gonna stop him? adam thinks no one can change, and thinks heaven and hell is a great system. basically abuses his power..  lucifer had a baby with adam’s ex-wife and is indirectly responsible for adam losing out on paradise. adam didn’t eat the fordbifden fruit which is why he acts the way he does? god complex cuz he’s firsy man. lillith was the first woman in hazbin, lilith left because adam thought higher of himself. EVE ATE THE FRUIT of knowledge! i tried to use my brain to the max to make this so I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

[laswells-ashtray]

I'm so sorry if I'm clogging your inbox but I'm nothing but a hyperactive gal with chronic brain rot

Domestic Kate Laswell?

Domestic Kate Laswell who gets into not-so-quiet arguments with household appliances.

Domestic Kate Laswell who sits at the kitchen table and doomscrolls while her wife makes a recipe she saw on Instagram reels.

Domestic Kate Laswell in ratty lounge clothes with her hair pulled in a tangled ponytail, somehow holding a cat, book, and a bag of Lays.

I saw Kate Laswell and immediately knew what I had to do. Not apologising for this, I like Laswell posting so it's gonna be long. Also, when it comes to Station Chief Kate "I love my wife" Laswell, there is no clogging my inbox.

Kate Laswell, the esteemed woman she is routinely argues with their toaster because it's broken but she refuses to get a new one because it was the first ever appliance she bought herself. She and her wife have the money to purchase hundreds of new toasters but she refuses because this one is her toaster. Sarah Laswell has walked into their kitchen on multiple occasions to find Kate talking to this fucking toaster. "You under-toast the bread and then you over-toast the bread. Just toast my fucking bread correctly." "Let's get a new-" "No."

Kate, who has a Pinterest board full of recipes that she thinks Sarah might like to try and she'll send them to her wife only to find that it's the same recipe from the Instagram reel that Sarah had bookmarked last night. So, now she sits and watches videos about behind-the-scenes facts from movies while Sarah argues with herself about how much garlic is too much garlic.

Kate, who spends her day off on the couch with Minnie, their Maine Coon, on her lap with a book resting on Minnie's back and a bag of chips held between her chest and the cat. She's wearing sweatpants that are so old she can't identify what logo used to be on the leg. Her shirt is definitely Sarah's because there's green paint around the collar and it matches the green in the painting above their mantel.

Kate Laswell, who can routinely be heard threatening to put one of her cats in the soup. What soup, you ask? The soup.

Kate, who very `begrudgingly` agrees to let Sarah buy the cat Halloween costumes. And then days later sends John a series of photos. Minnie, their big, glorious, sophisticated girl, is dressed like a hotdog. Borris, her favourite grumpy old man, has a stupid Dracula cape. Dolly, has on a costume that makes her look like Yoda. And John's favourite of their cats, Dot, the little mold spore has tiny ladybug wings because they were the only thing small enough to fit her. Kate makes a photo of the four cats and Sarah her laptop wallpaper. John makes a photo of Dot in her tiny wings his phone wallpaper.

Kate Laswell, the professional woman who after having spent 26 hours awake sits and scrolls through Facebook one night on Sarah's phone. Except she doesn't actually look at any of the posts, she just sits scrolling with her thumb for ten minutes before she realises what she's been doing. Sarah waits until after she's tucked her wife in to lose it laughing in the other room.

Kate and her wife who parallel play on their phone. They'll sit on the couch with a movie they've seen countless times in the background while Kate plays solitaire and Sarah does her daily word search on her favourite app.

Kate, who does that thing I've noticed literally every woman do when they're on the phone at home and they start doodling in the corner of the nearest bit of paper. It starts as squiggles, then they draw black circles and eventually there are various little flowers scattered across the page.

Kate, who absolutely adores the movie 9 to 5 and will throw it on whenever everything in her job starts to become a bit too suffocating. Sarah recognises the action and immediately orders dinner from their local Thai place. The man who owns it knows the two by name, she doesn't have to order, she just has to call up and she hears "it'll be about half an hour" over the phone. More often than not on those days they'll fall asleep on the couch together like they did at the start of their relationship.

Kate and her wife, who like to make gingerbread cookies at Christmas and decorate them. Sarah is amazing at it when she's not giving the gingerbread ladies gumdrop titties. And then there's Kate, she tries, she genuinely does but every year a photo of her gingerbread folks gets sent to a group chat with her, Sarah, John and Nikolai where they are subsequently body-shamed beyond belief. She saves some for Nik anyway and he accepts them gratefully.

Kate and her beloved blue shirt that she wears to work and owns three of because the first one mysteriously disappeared. Coincidentally, Sarah started baking in the kitchen in nothing but a pale blue shirt and Batman underwear around the same time. Her second has a blood stain on the cuff from where John had grabbed her, not knowing his palm was sliced open and he'd stained the light material with blood. He had felt horrible, Kate brought up the time she'd drunkenly thrown up on a pair of his nice shoes years ago when they were younger and more reckless. They moved on. That shirt is now her "Sarah has roped me into helping paint" shirt. If anyone fucks up her last shirt then she's asking Nikolai, John and Sarah separately all to get her a new one for her birthday so she'll have a decent stock of them.

Sarah, who has to keep a stock of Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew in the fridge because Dr Pepper is her favourite and Mountain Dew is Kate's but the other woman would never admit it or buy it for herself because she's weirdly embarrassed by it. But amongst a very small group of people, it is common knowledge, Station Chief Kate Laswell's favourite drink is Mountain Dew.

And lastly:

Kate Laswell, the woman who once snapped a man's neck with his own gun, is also the woman who loves her wife's family. When they get asked to babysit baby Katie [named after Laswell], the two women agree before the question is even half out of the relative's mouth. In fact, you're right, they should keep baby Katie for the night just to give her parents a night off because they're kind like that. No other reason. And this little girl adores her aunts, if Kate is near then the toddler is by her side clinging to her pant leg.

So, they go shopping and get snacks. They also get baby Katie a new stuffed elephant because she really needed one and who were they to deprive her. Then they go home and change into their respective comfy clothes. Katie's is a little shark onesie and the two women take no less than 19 photos. They spend the day drawing pictures with little Katie, and eventually, it results in the toddler colouring in Sarah's tattoos and drawing Kate some of her own. Eventually, they order some takeout from their local Chinese place and watch Zootopia with their favourite niece. Hours later Sarah takes a photo of big Kate fast asleep on the couch with little Kate asleep on her chest. Kate has an arm around the little girl and the toddler has a fistful of her t-shirt. The next day they very reluctantly take their niece home but not without managing to persuade her parents to let them take her in two weeks time again.

[literallymercy]

Happy Birthday Mercy!

The sun shone through the crack in the curtain, the beams hitting the soft white bedsheets as Mercy woke from her slumber. She groggily rolled over, rubbing her eyes clear of any sleep as she blinked  and checked the time.

11:17 AM

Well, now she's awake. Her eyes widened as she threw off the duvet and slid out of bed, her feet barely making contact with the floor before she headed to the wardrobe in search of clothing. She rummaged blindly before producing a pair of flared leggings and a band shirt, which definitely was not hers, but she was too busy to care. She grabbed her vest before sprinting down the stairs, her footsteps echoing throughout the house.

"Jesus Christ-, sorry Cleon, I overslept I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise." She rambled out before processing the fact that Cleon wasn't even downstairs.

In fact, nobody was. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked around the dark, empty room. She squinted to try and see where the light switch was, but her hand was beaten by another. The lights flashed on, and a chorus of shouts came from all around.

"Happy Birthday, Mercy!!" The group yelled, party horns and kazoo accompanying while confetti was flying all around. Before she could react, she was drawn into a big group hug, a tangle of arms round her before one by one, the laughing women pulled away. Swan remained, her hands lingering around Mercy as she rested her chin on her shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, Love," Swan whispered, her voice low and grounding in the chaos of it all. Mercy turned her head, flashing Swan a big grin before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the dining table, where the rest of the group were getting themselves situated, putting their gifts in the centre.

Swan pulled out Mercy's chair and jokingly bowed.

"Your highness," She laughed, winking in her direction and waiting for Mercy to sit down before she took her seat next to her.

"Right," Cleon announced, "Let's get started with the birthday festivities!" She laughed. "First order of business : Presents."

Everyone's gaze was redirected to the pile in the middle of the table as Mercy glanced at Swan for reassurance before beginning to open them.

Each gift was unique and thought out : an engraved switchblade from Ajax, a new notepad from Cleon, some vodka and shotglasses from Cowgirl (which didn't last very long..), a freshly painted vest from Rembrandt, a black hoodie with the WonderWheel on the back and two pairs of leggings from Cochise, some of her favourite sweets from Fox, and a charm necklace from Swan, consisting of an 'S', and 'M', and a little swan between the two initials.

After all the excitement of gifts was over, they decided to play some classic party games. Sure, it was cringe and clique, but they found it fun regardless! Instead of pin the tail on the donkey, they had pin the bat on the Baseball Fury, which ended up with Ajax physically using her bat on said Baseball Fury. The bat isn’t even hers. She nicked it from the sports group after the night in the Bronx. She managed to sand off the sharpie, which identified it as Thurman's.

However, it wasn't long before the sun was setting and people's eyelids were become heavy. The Nathan's boxes lay empty on the table, wrapping paper was everywhere, and the faint hum of the tv in the background was still going. Cleon stood in the kitchen, having a fight with a box of matches before giving up and going upstairs to grab Cochise's lighter. After successfully lighting the candles, she carried the cake through, and the group gathered around Mercy, whose head lay in her hands, and she smiled in embarrassment. They all sung Happy Birthday with grins on their faces, and the candles were blown out at the end. Soon after, people began to retire to their rooms, wishing Mercy a final happy birthday and the rest a goodnight.

Mercy leaned back on the sofa, her head resting against Swan's chest as her eyes  drooped lower, her mind and body relaxing. She felt a strong pair of arms lift her up, carrying her to bed and tucking her in safely. Turning over to the side, she made eye contact with Swan.

"Do you want to know what I wished for?" She asked, her voice a low whisper, her heart filled with warmth, eyes glistening in the moonlight that seeped in through the curtains.

"If you tell me it's not going to come true." Swan teased in response, her lips curling slightly into a smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's coming true." Mercy assured, her eyebrows slightly raised as she nodded her head.

"Go on then, what did you wish for?"

"I wished for us to be together forever. Not just us two. The whole group. All of us. This little family that we have created."

----------

BACK IN BUSINESS BABY ‼️‼️

boy do I have some idea lined up ready 😈😈

still taking requests tho!!

[tillichan]

𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Your life in Blue Lock for @checkoutmyflow 𓏸𓈒 𓂃

You joined Blue Lock project as a maintenance staff member. One of your relatives was invited, so they asked you if you'd like to join this project too and help. You surprisingly agreed, because you decided that this's a good chance to become more confident and motivated. Your duties in Blue Lock are simple, but still very important. It consist in cleaning, helping with meal prep and running some errands of Ego and Anri. At first, Blue Lock boys had no clue about you, but as soon as they started preparing for the match against U-20, you were introduced to each other. Then you slowly got to know each other better, becoming friends. And not only friends with some of them.

Romantic Matchup: Baro Shoei

The first time you and Baro met was when you were introduced Blue Lock players as their manager. While Anri was explaining that you were the one who helped with cleaning and cooking, Shoei finally realized why his room was extra clean every time he returned from the practice and why his towels were disinfected. It was you, you were the one who took care of him, treating every player individually. Shoei started admiring you and your contribution to his comfort. And against this background, Shoei started developing feelings for you. Not that he actually showed his appreciation or crush, but it was still obvious for his teammates. How could they not? After all, this Baro who gets annoyed and angry often, became calm and polite every time you're around.

Isagi: Nagi, we have a big problem! Our business is failing before it even began. You need to get here now! Nagi: Huh? What happened, Isagi? It's such a hassle... Isagi: Looks like Baro has a crush on our manager. Chigiri: Wait... Baro has what? Kunigami will be upset. Isagi: Kunigami? Why would you bring him up? Chigiri: Forget it! But more importantly, it seems like you're right, Isagi. This's the first time I've seen Baro like that. He even looks... shy? Nagi: I wanna take a picture of this. Shy maid Baro is amazing fan-service! Baro: You three, come with me.

It was a really slow burning relationship. Even though Baro is very confident and straightforward, he didn't want to confess you for a long time. Just because romantic feelings are new to him, he didn't know what to do with his big crush on you. So he behaved with you normal, helping you with your stuff and talking to you without irritation in his voice. Just being nice with you like all the other Blue Lock boys. But this was a great move for Shoei! Snuffy was the one who pulled you two to each other. Being very observant, Marc noticed your mutual feelings. He was very subtle, suggesting to Baro that he must confess his feelings. Aiku and Lorenzo joined this conversation immediately, making this subtle talk not so subtle. After hearing a lecture by Oliver Aiku entitled "One thousand and one way to seduce a girl" with very important comments made by Lorenzo, poor Snuffy, they forgot about him. Baro was ready to explode. The last Aryu's comment: "Pinning over the girl without doing anything isn't glam", was the last straw. Rest in peace, dear Ubers. Strangely enough, this conversation actually helped Shoei to confess you. He blurted out the confession, when you shared your self doubt with him, saying that you feel like you can't find anything good in yourself. Shoei just can't understand why such a sweet and caring person thinks of yourself in such a bad way. "Don't doubt yourself, you're doing an amazing job. That's why I fell for you"

• Shoei your number one hype man, though he doesn't look so. He's very self-confident and somehow this confidence carries over to you. Every time you talk something bad about yourself, Shoei interrupted you. Yes, sometimes it's not in gentle way, but he's so honest with you, talking that you're amazing, that your self doubt melts. Shoei doesn't baby you, he protects you, he pushes you to be better, he assures you that you're THE QUEEN, his queen. • Baro is very protective, especially knowing that you can't stick up for yourself. He always makes sure that Blue Lock boys are gentle with you. He protects you whenever Oliver or Otoya decide to make Shoei jealous, flirting with you. And, oh, he dislikes Kunigami. Oh, how Shoei hates his moon eyes fixed on you. Every time you're talking to Kunigami, Shoei does his best to hid you far from him. Yes, he's jealous, not that he really tries to hide it. • Blue Lock boys were shocked when they found out that you and Baro are dating. Of course, they knew about his feelings for you, but they didn't expect that you actually like him back. Even though they enjoy teasing him, they find it very cute how Baro treats you. Seeing King Baro so smitten with someone, this's their favorite show.

Relationships

Isagi Yoichi is your best friend in Blue Lock. He's more confident than you, besides he is good at meeting new people, so it wasn't hard to get along well with Yoichi. Your first interactions were small and didn't last long, he helped you with your duties, whenever he had time. He is one of the most responsible Blue Lock boys, who tries to keep his personal space as clean as possible. Slowly you two became close, bonding over anime, manga and your drawings. Yoichi adores your drawings a lot! He's your personal hype man, when it comes to... almost everything. But especially drawings, because he adores manga, he even encourages you to become a professional mangaka or artist in the future. He absolutely can't understand, how such a cute and adorable person like you fell in love with Barou and became his significant other. Feeling yourself your protective older brother, Yoichi is ready to confront Shoei if he hurt you one day. But, of course, it won't happen.

Kunigami Rensuke has been in love with since you met. You're sweet and cute, an embodiment of his ideal type. Even though Rensuke tries to hide his little crush, his friends already know about it. And of course they truly enjoy teasing poor Kunigami, whistling every time Rensuke talks to you. How did they know? It's actually not so hard to understand. Kunigami turns shy and awkward with a slight blush on his cheeks, whenever you're around. His signs are very subtle, but these ones who know Kunigami a little can catch his feelings for you. Because he behaves this way only with you. Rensuke would like to be your hero, protecting you and sticking up for you, but unfortunately your heart is already taken, which is really frustrating for him.

Marc Snuffy in your mentor. The two of you bonded over Baro, because you often visited him at the Ubers training ground. Snuffy is gentle and understanding, but also very confident. He can give you a lot of advices about personal growth, if you'd like to talk to him about it one day. Knowing about your low self-esteem, Mark helps you to become more confident in a subtle and gently way. Snuffy adores your relationship with Baro. The way this stubborn player switches to lovey-dovey mode whenever you're around seems kinda surrealistic to Marc. But he's happy to find leverage to him.

[ladywisteriatarot]

dear lady wisteria, can we get a reading on jk's fs' parents reaction to jk and their first meeting?

sure :)

i got six cards! her parents got quite the bit to say, this post includes channeling (hence why i only answer this question two days after you asked me this)

long reading ahead!

the emperor. wheel of fortune. the empress. five of cups. death. the star.

with the emperor, they look at him as a very masculine man. it seems that her parents are the traditional type, hence why the religious background came up in a previous reading. they've always looked at their daughter like a princess the moment she was born and they believe that she deserves someone to treat her like one. jk is wealthy, successful, influential, well-known, and in the upper class. this reassures them that he can support her in everything as she needs and won't have to worry about the bills. a strong man who's the breadwinner of the household and takes care of his wife is what they desire for her and he fits the standard.

with the empress, they connect him with the idea of "venus." literally heard her dad saying "he's a pretty boy" but still acknowledges that jk is extremely handsome and good looking while her mom acknowledges that too and looks at him like "a gentleman" after they had a full conversation. her mom could see the love in his eyes for their daughter as it is extremely obvious. its that whole theory where a person is so good looking, you'd assume they're a good person (this is the halo effect, not an opinion or fact, just a theory).

however, with death and the wheel of fortune, they aren't too sure. they are delighted that she found someone that matches her energy and suits her. this is also think of jungkook as a lucky and almost "god-given" gift for their daughter, where they will also have bragging rights at cocktail parties but...they don't think they will last (on first impression, later on they know they will commit). they think he may not have enough time for her because he is an extremely busy man and that he might just be "another lesson" in her life.

they know that she needs someone to be there for her even though she acts like she doesn't. his tattoos and his handsome face throws them off a little too, there was a vision of when he first enters their home, her dad says something like "he looks like a player/an f-boy" in their ethnic language (which doesn't sound like korean) and her mom hits his shoulder and is like "be nice, you know she likes him a lot."

short answer for the five of cups, just like their daughter, her parents are really good at reading people. give them one conversation with you and they will most likely know what you ate on tuesday (exaggerating but you know what i mean). they could see that he looks like "a loner" (I DID NOT SAY THIS, they did, not me lol). very smiley and happy but looks like he's very lonely and been through a lot.

they think of him as the type to regret a lot of things and push people away when they are upset but they just hope that he doesn't do the same with their daughter so they're unsure of his mental capability of being in a relationship with their daughter. they don't think he's ready even though he's a grown ass man.

despite all of these things, with the star, they can't help but feel hopeful. this is the first time that she's been this open with them when it comes to bringing them someone to meet and they acknowledge that she's serious about jk and wants to be with him.

although it seems likely in their eyes that the outcome may not be the best, they see how they match each other extremely well and made for each other as if "they were adam and eve." they think that if they somehow work it out, they'd be so happy and have a long and forever-lasting relationship, they have nothing against him. they're all for him.

reminder: none of my readings are ever 100% accurate, including everyone else's.

[moonpedri]

honey.

summary: you knew pedri was no good for you, but you couldn't help yourself and give in when all he wanted was a little luck before his match.

pairing: pedri x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive (readers best friend is dating pedris brother)

warnings: none, except some making out

word count: 2.8k

a/n: my first ever request!! this was supposed to be a short imagine, but turned out a little longer than attended. let me know what you think and have fun reading!🤍🤍 (not proof-read)!

────────────

You do a little spin, considering yourself in the mirror. You honestly can't remember the last time you wore the red-blue jersey. It's been a while since you attended one of their games - not that you watched that many anyways. But today's the club's second to last league game, two more an they win LaLiga. And since Sofía, your best friend, is dating the older brother of Barcas youngest star player, she insisted on you wearing the infamous #8 jersey as well. "It's a special occasion, we're all wearing it.", she said, leaving no room for argument.

You were currently at her apartment, getting ready on the floor of her bedroom. Sitting in front of the big body-mirror you watch as Sofía plugs in the hair-curler; all while listening to DESPECHÁ by Rosalía in the background.

Sofía and you met at "Dulces", a small café in the big metropolitan city. In desperate need for a part-time job to somehow finance both university and rent, you stumbled across the shop you now almost dare to call your second home. Sofía's parents own the café. It's humble compared to the rest of the city, located in the very heart of it, but it outshines each and everyone of them.

The outside was decorated in pastels and different flowers. The big window gives a nice view into the inside of the shop. Its interior was just as cute, a few small tables taking up most of the space. And just like the outside, the inside gleamed in pastels and flowers.

Sofía helped you get adjusted quickly, making work a lot more comfortable and the adjustment to your new home a lot less overwhelming.

At one point in your friendship she introduced her boyfriend Fernando to you. Which honestly came to a big surprise to you, because all she ever said was that she was just "talking to some guy" and that it was "nothing serious". Turns out he's the love of her life and she hid the entire relationship for a whole week from you.

"We didn't know it was that serious either. We decided to keep it a secret to be completely sure about us. No one knew, not even his brother, trust me.", she tried explaining to you in panic, when she saw your upset and hurt expression. Yada yada yada. It didn't make any sense to you until you found out that he is actually the brother of FC Barcelona's notorious midfielder Pedri. Though it was not the footballer himself, anything concerning the Gonzalez family they preferred to keep private. And you respected that.

You wouldn't be able to be mad at her for longer than a few hours anyways, and never over something as trivial as this. You loved her too much for that.

The moment you knew though, your entire routine changed. Suddenly you were swapped into this whole new lifestyle of spontaneous trips and football matches; something uncommon to you prior. You've gone to maybe one football game before meeting Sofía.

Her phone suddenly vibrates on the vanity table and you watch as she picks up the phone with a smile on her face. You sigh. At least Fernando treats her right. For the short time you've known him, he has been nothing but a sweetheart to not only his girlfriend, but you as well.

He invited you over to dinner often and even acted as a chauffeur when you and Sofía got particularly drunk one night.

The same can't be said about his little brother though.

Considering how often you have been over at their place and attended his games, you've seen pretty little of him. Not that you complained, he's an attractive guy, no question. But whenever you two were around each other the air suddenly got weirdly thicker in a way. And it gradually got stronger and stronger the more you met.

You're not dumb, you got the hints. Your days as a naive teenager have been over for a long time now. His touches started lingering longer than what's deemed appropriate, his eyes went places they shouldn't.

And Pedri's not stupid either. He wouldn't directly approach you; not if he was 100% sure you wanted the same.

You would lie if you said it didn't affect you. Of course, it did. It was irritating at first, however irritation turned to anticipation really quick and each time you wondered how far he would go this time; If he would ever go further than the heated kiss you shared on the beach two weeks ago.

It was in a moment of weakness admittedly, it didn't mean anything. But what were you supposed to do, when he looked like sex-on-legs in those red swim shorts, when his large hands covered your back and shoulders with suncream, when he glistened so beautiful under the harsh sun and when he finally dragged and hid you behind your sunshade. You just had to taste him once. Just once.

But that's the furthest you would ever let "this" go - harmless teasing.

You heard what people said, what the articles reported. Hell, even his own brother dropped some hints sometimes. The love life of that of a footballer often went hand-in-hand with infidelity. Not always of course, but you shouldn't expect from a young superstar to commit to a monogamous relationship so early into his rising career. That would be naive.

And you definitely didn't expect this from Pedri.

You knew all he wanted was to fuck you probably, have his fun with you and then discard you like the rest. That's not what you wanted though. You were not some plaything, especially not to some athlete. You had neither time nor the nerves for that. And you didn't have feelings for him anyways, so this whole thing was absolutely pointless to think about.

With a sigh you stand up. The jersey was tucked into a crop, showing off your little belly button piercing perfectly.

"You look really pretty.", Sofía says from behind you. You can't lie, the jeans hugged your ass in all the right ways and for once you managed to not have a bad make-up day.

"Just in time as well, the driver texted. Let's go.", she informs you. You grab your bag and head out.

Pedri (or Fernando, you honestly don't know) was nice enough to arrange a chaffeur for the two of you. The brothers and their parents already went ahead hours ago, like they almost always did in support of their son and brother. Seeing no point in waiting inside the stadium for hours, both you and Sofía decided to tag along later, being able to sleep in.

You arrive at the Camp Nou pretty quickly, considering the traffic and masses of people surrounding the place.

Once inside, you're welcomed with loud cheers and chants of the Culers, cheering passionately pre-match for their favorite club.

It was a bit difficult getting through, but you find Fernando eventually.

"You've made it!", Fer greets the two of you with a loud cheer. He sweeps up Sofía in a tight hug, "You look beautiful.", he whispers to her and presses a kiss to her forehead. It takes everything in you to suppress a gag. They were disgusting.

"Can you guys hurry up?", you interrupt the love birds, wanting to take seat.

Fer makes a face at you, "You're just jealous."

"Absolutely not."

He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. I would have said the same if I was boyfriend-less. It's okay, __. He will come eventually, bless his poor soul."

Both you and Sofía punch Fer on the shoulder at the same time. "Don't be rude!", your best friend defends you. He rubs his shoulder sulkingly, "She started."

Sofía gives him another stern look before kissing him on the lips and rubbing his shoulder affectionately. What a traitor.

You surpress another eye roll." Where are your parents?", you ask. It's been some time since you've seen them too. You've met them even less than their youngest son, but the few times you have, they have been nothing but sweethearts.

"Getting food.", he says, "By the way, my brother wanted something from you.", Fer informs you.

You furrow your brows, "Right now?"

He nods, "Don't know what though. He said he'll wait somewhere downstairs." And with that he turns his attention back to his girlfriend, leaving you on your own.

Knowing that he won't be of much help anymore, you stand up and make your ways through the stands.

Lucky for you, you've been at the Camp Nou often enough to roughly know where to go. Otherwise you would have long gone lost.

When you find the door for the private area, you take a deep breath. Dealing with Pedri requires a calm mind, or else he wringgles his way into your head fast enough to make you go completely mad.

You step inside and shouldn't be suprised to see him already waiting for you. Yet you are.

He looks good in his sports uniform, the shorts doing nothing but only highlighting his lean but muscular legs.

Before you could take another step forward though, a security man yanks you back by your arm. "Wrong way, ma'am.", he says in a deep voice. He was huge, hovering over you with ease. It was a menacing sight.

"I'm-"

"She's with me.", Pedri tells him. He signs something to him with his hand, indicating him to leave.

The security guard contemplates to argue that it's technically against the rules, but apparently his last minutes of peace seem more precious to him in that moment and he gives you one final look, before leaving. He still has long and tiresome hours ahead of him.

Pedri walks towards you while saying something, yet you were still stuck on the words that left Pedri's mouth a moment ago. It was a simple sentence, nothing special really. Nonetheless your brain couldn't help but think about what if it was taken out of context for a split second. "She's with me. She belongs to me. She's mine."

You immediately shake the thoughts out of your head and instead focus on the boy in front of you. Calm mind, you think to yourself. "What do you want, González?"

Pedri actingly clutches his heart in a hurt manner, "I thought we're on first name basis __, you're breaking my heart."

You roll your eyes, "I'm serious, isn't your march starting, like, any minute? What do you want?"

Suddenly he pushes himself off the wall and positions himself right in front of you. His demeanor changes immediately. He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows cockily, "I summoned you here, my lovely __, to receive my good luck kiss."

What.

You stare at Pedri with big eyes. If you were to be eating something, you surely would have choked on it. You must have misheard him. "Your what?"

He grins, "My good luck kiss. I couldn't possibly go without it today."

You think that he may be confusing your intentions somehow. There was no other explanation for it. "Look, what happened at the beach was a one-time-thing. Nothing serious.", you try to explain to him. You cannot deal with this right now.

"Never said it was, princess. Didn't say this one is either. Except for my match, of course."

You scoff at him. He's unbelievable.

He's always like this; acting nonchalant whenever you two talked, treating you like it was obvious and natural for you to give him whatever he wants. A mundane and ordinary thing for you to do.

Pedri takes a look at his wrist, pretending to read his watch (he isn't wearing one), "Which is starting very soon, so you might want to hurry up, sugar."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Never. Do you want us to lose, princess?"

You stare at him in shock. Is he trying to guilt-trip you right now? "Your inability to score has nothing to do with me."

"I'm serious.", he adds, ignoring your jab at him altogether. You can see the way his expression changes to a more genuine one now.

When you say nothing, he takes another step forward. Your eyes widen, when he touches your waist. You don't stop him. You don't stop him either when his other hand settles under your chin.

"Did you change your lip balm?", he asks suddenly, his thumb brushing your bottom-lip down gently. You did, however you didn't think he, or anyone else for the matter, would notice. Who even chatches something so unnoticable, unless you stare at their lips all the time?

Pedri was truly out of his mind, yet you somehow love the attention he pays you. You feel pretty under his gaze, you feel seen.

And it annoys you so much, because it goes against everything you hold against him. You shouldn't feel the way you feel right now, your legs shouldn't feel weak and your skin should not be burning.

But he looks so unbelievably good up close, you begin to lose yourself in his eyes. You never wanted someone so much.

The air around you is thick enough to cut through, oxygen dreads to disappear out of your lungs.

You nod, "Yes.", not able to say any more.

Pedri takes one last look at your mouth, "Can I guess the flavor?", he whispers almost. His face is only inches apart from yours.

And so you give in to him.

You don't know who leans in first, all you know is that his lips feel like heaven on earth. They move firm, but gentle, against yours.

His right hand grabs your neck, pulling your face even closer to his. You shudder, when you feel his tongue lick against your bottom-lip, and you grab his shoulders for support.

Pedri was like a drug; toxic and bad for you, but irresistible. The more you have a taste of it, the more you want it. And right now, he's the worst drug you've ever had. You're addicted.

Your tongues move in synch and Pedri pushes you harshly against the wall behind you. He slips his thigh between your legs and you gasp. "Wait."

With a plop you seperate from each other. Your entire body feels like its on fire, Pedri's swollen lips only an indicator on how you must look like right now. "We can't.", you say out of breath. You sound extremely unconvincing; even to your own ears.

Pedri notes that too. He licks his lips and winks, "You're right, I should head back. Next time, I'll make more time in advance."

He presses a final soft kiss to your lips before hurrying back to the cabine, not giving you a chance to oppose. You inwardly curse yourself for giving in so easily again.

When you head back to Sofía and the others, no one asks or says anything. You decide to ignore the mischievous gaze Fernando sends you.

The match starts with a whistle moments later. The entire first half of the match goes by in a blur. After the incident earlier you cannot focus on anything. For all it's worth though, they have not scored any goals yet. You're suddenly worried that it may be your fault somehow, even if you don't know how exactly it could have been your fault.

Nevertheless, they come back stronger in the second half. Lewandowski scores a goal in the 63th minute, assisted by Pedri and everyone cheers loudly.

That happiness doesn't hold on for long though, when only 7 minutes later Mallorca gets a penalty. Fernando yells at the referee, calling him names and you find yourself nodding along, not understanding his ridiculous decision. "You fucker, that was clearly not a foul!"

They make the goal and by the 90th minute everyone around you began loosing hope. But what did the German proverb say? Hope dies last.

It manifests itself in the form of Pedri, when the ball suddenly gets to his feet - a pass from Gavi. You watch as the ball is seemingly glued to his feet. Pedri dribbles past his opponents inside the box and shoots...!

A roar errupts inside the Camp Nou. Everyone jumps up, screaming and crying. His name booms loudly through the stadium speakers. Sofía engulfes you in a tight hug and you can't help but cheer as well.

Pedri scored the winning goal.

He runs to the stands shouting, his teammates clapping him on the shoulder or hugging him. Gavi is hot on his trail and they do their handshake. You anticipate him to do his signature celebration next, but he doesn't.

Instead he pulls his arms close to his torso and flutters his hands up and down. Then he points to your general direction. Your eyes widen in recognition. Ferran and Ansu imitate him with a laugh.

"A new celebration?", you hear his father ask from behind you.

To everyone it looks like some silly celebration he made up with his teammates before the game; dedicating his final goal to his loving family by pointing there.

To you, it looks like exactly for what it is.

Pedri was imitating a bee. A bee producing honey - the flavor of your new lip balm.

He's just absolutely shameless. And somehow, you like it.

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© moonpedri - DO NOT copy, translate or post my work anywhere without my permission!