#the only legacy I want this year to leave

[helen-with-an-a]

Hello, Hope you are well!! If you wouldn't mind, I wanted to request Lucy x (Slightly older) reader where Like R is like a legend and transferred and is new on the team and Lucy is fan girling over R and after a Team Bonding night R drops (Drunk)Lucy Off and sees R's Poster on Lucy's room and teases Lucy until R Confesses that she likes her too {But still teases Lucy even after they are together?!?}🙂 Also maybe the Team Teasing Lucy whenever they get the chance? If you can't that's okay too!!

Hiiiiii - I think this is a pretty cute one ngl ahahahah. I hope you enjoy.

Posters

Lucy Bronze x reader

Description: A night out with the team ends up with some pretty intense teasing for Lucy

Word Count: 4.2k

Despite being the same age as Lucy, she had looked up to you with a sense of awe and admiration since you were both teenagers. Whilst she was at home, working her way through the ranks at Sunderland, you were living your best life. Even at just 14, you had achieved a level of success that was remarkable and unprecedented for someone so young. Your name became quickly associated with greatness, and you were widely celebrated as a breakout star.

At just 16 years old, you won your first Champions League title, signalling the start of an extraordinary career. By the time you turned 18, you had already earned FIFA Player of the Year twice, showcasing your exceptional talent and consistency on the field. At 20, you became the face of Nike football, a testament to your influence and popularity that extended beyond the pitch and into the world of sports branding.

By the age of 25, you had competed in every major European league, dominating each one with apparent ease and securing championship titles across the continent. Your unparalleled success continued wherever you went. You were the first female player to win the Ballon d’Or. This accolade was not a one-time feat, as you followed it up with your second at 28, and then, at 29, you added a third to your collection. Your career was marked by a series of extraordinary achievements that solidified your legacy as one of the greatest footballers of all time.

You were the best in the world. A once-in-a-lifetime player whose talent seemed almost otherworldly. Your name became synonymous with greatness, and your performances on the field transcended mere statistics, leaving fans and critics alike in awe. Each match you played was a masterclass in skill and artistry, and you had a unique ability to elevate the game to new heights, making even the most challenging moments look effortless.

Your influence extended beyond the game itself. Young players idolised you, aspiring to emulate your style and grace. Coaches studied your techniques, hoping to understand the secret behind your extraordinary prowess. The media frequently hailed you as the embodiment of football excellence, and your presence on the field brought an electric atmosphere that captivated audiences worldwide.

Your career wasn't just about the accolades and records; it was about the way you transformed the sport, inspiring a generation and leaving an indelible mark on football history. The impact you made went far beyond the pitch, cementing your place as a true legend and ensuring that your legacy would endure for years to come.

Lucy had long since given up the hope of becoming your friend. Despite sharing fleeting moments with you, such as occasional encounters on the field or brief interactions at award shows, these instances remained largely superficial and never evolved into anything more meaningful. Over time, the distance between your high-profile world and her own aspirations seemed insurmountable.

She watched from afar as you continued to soar to even greater heights, your life a whirlwind of achievements and global acclaim. Meanwhile, her own journey, while impressive in its own right, lacked the same extraordinary sparkle. The rare occasions when her path crossed yours only served to deepen her admiration and reinforce the divide between you.

That was until you stepped through the door at training one afternoon.

You were talking to one of the coaches, your gaze flicking over to the field as you spoke. He was gesturing to something, clearly outlining the training routines and schedules for you. You stood with a level of confidence Lucy had never seen before – poised, authoritative, and completely in control of the situation. It was as if the weight of your success had seamlessly blended with your demeanour, giving you an almost magnetic presence.

Lucy watched from a distance; her eyes drawn to the way you commanded the space around you. Your interaction with the coach was more than just a conversation; it was a display of your deep understanding of the game and your role within it. The coach's animated gestures and detailed explanations seemed almost secondary to your focused attention and effortless grasp of the concepts being discussed.

The ease with which you navigated the conversation and the genuine interest you showed in refining your skills spoke volumes about your dedication and professionalism. It was clear that your confidence was not just a facade but a reflection of years of hard work, discipline, and an unwavering commitment to excellence.

“Isn’t it exciting?” Alexia asked, her voice filled with enthusiasm as she came up behind Lucy.

Lucy turned, slightly startled by the sudden appearance of Alexia. “What is?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Alexia’s eyes lit up with a mix of awe and delight. “That she’s joining Barça. Can you believe it? After all these years of watching her play from afar, she’s finally coming to our team. It’s like a dream come true!”

Lucy’s gaze followed Alexia’s, and she saw the look of genuine excitement on her friend’s face. You were joining Barça. Lucy wasn’t quite sure how to feel – she had definitely had a teenage crush on you when she was younger, one that had never truly gone away. The news of your arrival stirred up a whirlwind of emotions inside her.

On one hand, there was a surge of admiration and nostalgia. She remembered how she used to watch your games with wide-eyed wonder, marvelling at your skill and the aura of greatness you exuded. The fact that you would soon be a teammate, sharing the same training grounds and wearing the same jersey, felt like something out of a dream she had long since tucked away.

On the other hand, there was a knot of apprehension and uncertainty. The distance she had kept from the idea of being close to you now seemed to shrink, and with it came a mix of excitement and unease. Would this new chapter challenge her in ways she hadn’t anticipated? Would she be able to reconcile her past feelings with the present reality of working alongside you?

Alexia continued, her excitement palpable. “I’ve admired her for so long. To think that she’s going to be playing alongside us, wearing the same jersey, sharing the same goals – it’s surreal. Her skill, her leadership, everything she brings to the game – having her on our side is going to be incredible. It’s going to elevate the whole team.”

Lucy nodded, though her mind was still swirling with mixed emotions. She could see Alexia’s enthusiasm was infectious, and the thought of you joining the team was stirring a buzz among everyone. The players would undoubtedly be thrilled, and the energy around the club was bound to shift, infused with the excitement and anticipation of having a player of your calibre among them.

Lucy’s thoughts drifted back to the early days of her own career, when she had idolised you from afar. The sense of awe she felt then hadn’t entirely faded; it had just evolved into a deep respect. Now, facing the reality of working with you, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of nerves. The fantasy of meeting you was becoming a tangible reality, and with it came the challenge of managing her own expectations and fears.

Alexia’s voice pulled her back to the present. “You know, this is such an amazing opportunity for all of us. We’re going to learn so much from her. I just hope the transition goes smoothly, for everyone’s sake. It’s a big change, but I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

Lucy managed a small smile. “Yeah, it’s definitely a big change. I’m sure it will be an incredible experience, both on and off the field.”

As Alexia went on about the potential benefits of your arrival and how it might reshape the team dynamics, Lucy listened with half an ear, her thoughts still preoccupied over you.

“And, this is our Capitana, Alexia. And one of your defenders, Lucy.” The coach’s voice cut through Lucy’s daydreaming, and she refocused on the present moment.

You turned toward them with a warm smile. “Hi, Alexia. It’s so nice to meet you – I can’t believe we’re finally playing together. I’ve been watching you for years, and the way you play is just incredible.”

Alexia’s cheeks flushed a shade of pink, and she waved off the compliment with a modest smile. “Oh, stop it. You’re too kind.”

Turning to Lucy, you offered a friendly nod. “And Lucy, it’s great to see you again. Another player that I’m so excited to share the field with – thankfully this time we aren’t against each other,” you laughed, the genuine warmth in your voice making the compliment feel even more sincere. Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you took in the players around you, clearly thrilled by the prospect of joining the team.

The way you spoke was disarmingly genuine, and despite the whirlwind of emotions she had been feeling, your kind words helped ground her. She forced a smile, trying to project the confidence she felt was expected of her. “N-nice to see you too,” she stammered slightly.

If you picked up on her nerves, you didn’t mention it, just offering another warm smile and a wave as you were directed over to some more of the coaches. The interaction was brief, but it left Lucy with a lingering sense of awe and a slight blush of her own. She watched as you moved to the other coaches, your demeanour effortlessly blending into the environment with a natural ease.

It was the final match before the winter break, and the team had decided to go out to celebrate. The atmosphere in the locker room was electric, buzzing with the excitement of a hard-fought victory and the anticipation of the festivities to come. The victory had been decisive, and you had once again proven your worth with a standout performance, seamlessly integrating into the team both on and off the field.

As the players gathered to head out, Lucy watched you interact effortlessly with the team. It was as if you had been a part of their close-knit group for years rather than just a few months. Your ease of integration was remarkable; you laughed and joked with teammates, participated in the banter, and showed genuine interest in getting to know everyone. Your natural charisma and humility had won you the respect and affection of the entire squad.

The venue for the celebration was a lively restaurant known for its vibrant atmosphere and delicious food. The place was decked out with festive decorations, adding to the sense of occasion. As the team settled into a large, cheerful table, the mood was one of camaraderie and shared joy. You were at the centre of many conversations, easily blending with everyone while also standing out for your infectious energy.

Lucy found herself seated across from you, and as the evening progressed, she noticed how you effortlessly drew people into conversations and made everyone feel included. You shared stories and laughed heartily, making the environment warm and welcoming. The way you interacted with everyone reaffirmed the positive impression you had made since joining the team.

You looked stunning. Just a simple pair of jeans and a basic top, a light jacket thrown over your shoulders effortlessly. The understated outfit seemed to highlight your natural grace and confidence rather than overshadow it. Even in such a casual setting, you exuded a charm that drew people in, a combination of ease and sophistication that made it clear you were at home in any situation.

The restaurant was bustling with energy as the team enjoyed their night out, but you seemed to be the centrepiece of the evening’s vibrancy. Your relaxed attire only enhanced your approachable demeanour, making it easy for everyone to feel comfortable around you. You moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, engaging in conversations and making everyone feel included.

It was Patri who suggested going back to someone’s house to continue the evening. The idea of extending the celebration was met with enthusiastic agreement from the group, and you volunteered without hesitation. “My place is just around the corner,” you offered, “and I have plenty of space. If anyone doesn’t want to make the journey home so late, there are a few spare rooms where you can crash.”

The team responded with grateful cheers and excited murmurs, clearly relieved and thrilled by the prospect of keeping the good times rolling in such a comfortable setting. Your offer was met with a warm sense of appreciation, and it was clear that your generosity only added to the positive impression you had already made.

Lucy had never been to your flat before, but as she stepped inside, it was exactly as she had imagined. The space exuded a sophisticated, understated elegance, effortlessly blending clean lines, neutral tones, and subtle textures. The overall effect was a serene and inviting atmosphere that made everyone feel immediately at ease.

The open-plan living area was a testament to your keen eye for design and comfort. Soft, natural light filtered through large windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The walls were painted in calming shades of beige and grey, creating a backdrop that highlighted the minimalist décor. Tasteful artwork and decorative elements added character without overwhelming the space, each piece chosen with care to complement the room’s aesthetic.

The furniture was arranged to maximise both style and comfort. The couches were wide and inviting, their plush cushions beckoning anyone in need of relaxation. Each couch was adorned with cozy, coloured blankets that were draped artfully over the back, adding both warmth and a touch of casual elegance.

As Lucy looked around, she couldn’t help but admire how every detail seemed to reflect your personal style – sophisticated yet approachable, elegant yet functional. It was clear that you valued comfort and created a space where people could feel relaxed and welcome.

“Woah, chica, this is so fancy,” Pina whistled, her eyes wide as she took in the sophisticated design of your flat.

“Thank you, Cláudia,” you smiled bashfully, a hint of modesty in your tone. “Please, sit, sit. I’ve got a few bottles of wine if people want some?”

The room erupted into appreciative murmurs as the team began to relax into the comfortable seating. Alexia and some of the others made their way to the couches, eagerly claiming spots and settling in with the provided blankets. The initial excitement of the evening’s celebration had transitioned seamlessly into a cozy, laid-back atmosphere.

You moved towards the kitchen, where a selection of wine bottles stood neatly arranged on the counter, alongside a few glasses. “Feel free to help yourselves,” you called out to the group, opening a bottle of red wine and pouring a glass for yourself. “I’ve also got some snacks if anyone wants some.”

It took a few more bottles of wine for the drinking games to start. The initial energy of the evening had settled into a more relaxed and jovial atmosphere, and as the wine flowed, the team’s spirits were high. Mapí, always one for lively fun, suggested a game of Truths, a slightly toned-down version of her earlier proposal of Truth or Dare, which had been kindly but firmly shut down by you and some of the more sober members of the group.

The players arranged themselves in a circle, with the bottles of wine and snacks now placed within easy reach. The game was simple: each person would take turns answering a question posed by the group, revealing something personal or amusing about themselves.

“Hmmm, bueno, bueno,” Mapí mused, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leaned back, contemplating her next move. The room quieted slightly, everyone waiting in anticipation as she took her time, savouring the moment and clearly enjoying the power of choosing her next victim.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, her gaze drifting around the circle, lingering on each teammate as she weighed her options. The suspense was palpable, and a few players shifted nervously, laughing as they tried to avoid her stare.

Finally, a sly smile spread across her face as she settled on her target. “Alright,” she began, drawing out the word for dramatic effect, “let’s see... Lucy, you’re up.”

The room erupted into playful jeers and cheers, everyone eager to hear what Mapí would come up with. Lucy felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as all eyes turned toward her.

"Hmmmm, déjame pensar. Lucía, did you have any embarrassing things on your wall as a kid?"

Lucy’s eyes snapped to Keira’s, a mixture of panic and amusement flashing across her face. There were only one other person in the room who knew what Lucy’s teenage bedroom looked like. Keira, catching the look, had the decency to look a little sheepish, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks as she offered Lucy an apologetic smile.

The room buzzed with anticipation, everyone leaning in a little closer as they sensed something good was about to be revealed.

Lucy felt the heat rising to her cheeks as the room seemed to close in on her. There was no escape, no quick-witted response that could save her from the inevitable reveal. She glanced around, hoping for some miracle that would shift the attention elsewhere, but all she saw were eager faces waiting for her answer.

“Uhhhh,” she stammered, desperately trying to think of a reasonable lie, something that could divert the situation without being too obvious.

But before she could come up with anything, Cata chimed in with a playful, “No mientas, chica.” Her voice was teasing, but there was a knowing edge to it, and it was clear that the team wasn’t going to let her off the hook easily.

Lucy sighed, knowing the game was up. She glanced at Keira one last time, who gave her an encouraging nod, as if to say, "Just go for it."

“Alright, fine,” Lucy conceded, her voice tinged with resignation. “So, when I was a teenager, I went through a phase – like, a pretty intense phase – where I was really into...uh, collecting posters of my favourite players.”

The room was silent, everyone hanging on her every word. Lucy could feel the tension building, and she knew there was no turning back now.

“And,” she continued, her voice dropping to almost a whisper, “I might have had a whole wall – like, literally an entire wall – covered with posters of one particular player.”

The room buzzed with excitement, and Lucy could see the curiosity in everyone’s eyes. They wanted to know who it was, and she knew she couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy finally confessed, “It was you,” she said, looking directly at you, her face flushed with embarrassment. “I had a whole wall dedicated to you – posters, pictures, everything.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Mapí was the first to pounce, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “So, Lucy,” she started, dragging out the words, “how many hours a day did you spend staring at those posters? Were they strategically placed for optimal viewing from your bed?”

The room erupted again, and Lucy buried her face in her hands, laughing despite herself. “I’m never living this down, am I?” she groaned, peeking through her fingers.

“Not a chance,” Pina chimed in, grinning widely. “Did you, like, kiss them goodnight before you went to sleep? Or, wait – did you have one of those cardboard cutouts too?”

“That would explain why she’s always so focused during training,” Patri added, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “She’s just imagining all those hours she spent studying her idol.”

Keira, who had been trying to stay out of it, finally joined in, unable to resist. “I seem to remember there being a shrine,” she teased, giving Lucy a playful nudge. “Candles, flowers, the whole works.”

“Oh, come on!” Lucy protested, laughing as she shook her head. “It wasn’t that bad!”

“Are you sure about that?” Alexia interjected, raising an eyebrow with a mock-serious expression. “Because I’m starting to think we should all be worried about having our own little shrines in your room.”

This set everyone off again, and the teasing only grew from there. “Maybe we should ask her to rank us by who gets the biggest poster,” Cata joked, making the others chuckle.

“And don’t forget about the life-size cutout!” Jana added, winking. “We need to know who gets that honour.”

Lucy’s face was practically on fire now, the heat of embarrassment spreading from her cheeks down to her neck. Despite her best efforts to hide behind her hands, there was no escaping the relentless teasing from her teammates.

Mapí, sensing victory, leaned in even closer. “Come on, Lucy, spill the details! How many posters were there? Ten? Twenty? Did you have them laminated to preserve them forever?”

“I bet she had a whole wall dedicated to just action shots,” Ona added, mimicking a dramatic pose as if she were in mid-kick. “You know, to capture all those intense game moments.”

“Oh, and don’t forget the magazine cutouts,” Pina chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You probably had a collage, right? Like, an artistic masterpiece showcasing your favourite goals and interviews.”

Lucy groaned, burying her face in her hands even deeper. “You guys are killing me,” she mumbled, though her voice was laced with laughter. “It was just a few posters, okay? And no, there was no shrine or candles!”

Keira wasn’t about to let her off that easily. “But you did kiss them goodnight, right? Or maybe whisper some words of encouragement before a big game?” she teased, nudging Lucy playfully.

“Yeah, something like, ‘Goodnight, future teammate. One day we’ll share the field,’” Cata added with a dramatic flair, sending the room into another fit of giggles.

Lucy shook her head, her laughter mingling with the groans of embarrassment. “I swear, you’re all the worst. But fine, if it makes you feel any better, I may have...talked to them once or twice. Happy now?”

The room erupted in cheers and applause, everyone raising their glasses in a toast to Lucy’s admission.

“See, that’s what we were looking for!” Mapí declared, raising her glass higher. “To Lucy, the most dedicated fan out there!”

It wasn’t long until the evening came to an end – yawns were happening far too frequently, and the once lively conversation had started to slow. The team had moved from playful banter to quieter, more subdued chats as the effects of the long day and a few too many glasses of wine began to set in.

Mapí stretched her arms above her head, letting out a dramatic yawn. “Alright, I think that’s my cue. I’m officially too old for these late nights,” she joked, earning a few chuckles from the group.

 “Same here,” Alexia agreed, rubbing her eyes. “I’m off to Ibiza tomorrow and I’d rather not be dragging my feet.”

You, noticing the collective weariness, stood up and clapped your hands lightly to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, everyone, it looks like it’s time to call it a night. For those of you staying over, feel free to crash on the couches or take one of the spare rooms. I’ve got blankets and pillows in the closet.”

“Thanks for hosting, really,” Patri said with a warm smile, getting up from her seat. “This was fun, and we should definitely do it again sometime.”

You smiled back, feeling a sense of contentment. “Anytime. I’m glad you all came.”

One by one, the team members began to gather their things, exchanging sleepy goodnights as they prepared to head out or settle in for the night. Lucy, who had been quieter since the teasing had died down, stood up and stretched, feeling the exhaustion in her muscles.

As she moved toward the door, you caught her eye and gave her a gentle smile. “You okay, Lucy?” you asked, your tone soft and genuine.

Lucy nodded, a bit of her earlier embarrassment still lingering, but she couldn’t help but return your smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for having us over. It was...fun,” she said, a hint of shyness creeping into her voice. You chuckled softly.

“Y’know,” you began slowly, your voice soft and almost hesitant as you broke the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you. Lucy looked up, her attention caught by the unexpected seriousness in your tone. “If it makes you feel any better…” You let the words hang in the air for a moment, building a quiet suspense. Then, with a small, almost playful smile, you took a deliberate step closer, closing the gap between you.

“I had a crush on you too,” you admitted, your voice carrying a mix of sincerity and light-heartedness.

Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath catching for a split second. “You did?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

“I did,” you confirmed with a nod, your smile growing a little wider as you watched the realisation dawn on her. “Maybe not to the extent of a shrine on my wall,” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement, “but there was definitely more than a childhood crush.”

Lucy’s cheeks flushed with colour, her mind racing as she processed your words. “Really?” she asked, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her lips, the idea of you reciprocating those long-ago feelings both thrilling and a little overwhelming, a secret wish she never thought would come true.

“Really,” you replied, your voice soft and full of sincerity.

With a tenderness that contradicted the intensity of the emotions swirling inside you, you placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. The soft brush of your lips against her skin was electric, a quiet confession of everything you hadn’t said out loud. It was a moment suspended in time, where everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you and the possibilities that lay ahead.

When you pulled back, your smile was warm, laced with a mixture of affection and bittersweetness. “Bye, Lucia,” you whispered, your voice carrying the promise of something more as you took a step back, giving her one last lingering look.

[thebctman]

Rewatching the show has given me a whole new perspective 3 years later. And one fundamental moment that I have an entirely new perception of is Viktor’s run. I truly believe it is the most important moment of Viktor’s story.

Not only because it underscores Viktor’s need for the hexcore but also because it fundamentally contrast Jayce’s inability to understand Viktor’s desires until the end of season 2.

Viktor is able to walk without support, to run. He is able to not just keep up with, but outrun the boat in the background of the bridge scene. The first moment of Viktor’s childhood we see is him try to keep up with the toy boat he made and set across the river. Viktor fails because of his disability and later him being able to do what his past could not is an incredibly exhilarating feeling.

Jayce is the epitome of strength. He is a builder, a forger and a worker. He is loud, he is strong and unshaken. He is the personification of a hammer, always striking to leave an impact.

Jayce in his privilege, does not know what it’s like to be able to walk without support, to be able to live without the fear of having a countdown in your lungs due toxic fumes in your home.

And it is with this privilege Jayce does not understand how monumental it is for Viktor to want the hexcore destroyed. It is his one chance of freedom and he wanted it gone. Jayce does not understand this until it was too late.

Viktor was born waiting. He has always been waiting. Waiting for a chance to breathe, to live and to have a legacy. Viktor waits and waits to see if the Hexcore will him and it is that longing that binds his soul to the Hexcore.

Jayce does not understand this longing until Viktor is almost taken from him. He waits for him to return back to him but Viktor can wait no longer. Jayce is always a little too late when it comes to Viktor until the finale.

And it is in the finale where Jayce finally understands that makes it all more personal. That the Glorious Evolution comes from Viktor’s fear and his want.

The verbalization of his love for Viktor was incredible. That his imperfections were what he loved about him. That when he hallucinated Victor over that fire, Viktor had his cane with him. That Viktor can longer wait yes, but Jayce can go with him. He can be there and chose him.

I now understand on a personal level what that scene means and what it meant to Viktor to not just be able to walk without support but to run.

I’ve been dealing with a knee injury for over half a year that has me unable to walk properly or even climb a single step without a brace. I don’t think it’s getting any better and I hope one day I have a bridge scene as well. I would do anything to be able to run again without pain, to wake up without pain.

To see that all verbalized on Viktor’s face was incredibly bittersweet and I don’t if I could give up the Hexcore if I was able to do that. This moment underscores Viktor’s resilience, his personal strength and his want.

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

Today I thought about a lot of stories I never finished

sigh

[duusheen]

"I'm so sorry too"

[tomurakii]

I truly apologise but I've never found a character more irritating than Ruby Rocks. It is severely impacting my ability to watch a crown of candy because this bratty literally-the-embodiment-of-the-status-quo bitter bastard child won't stop sulking and being shitty to the only good surviving member of this royal bloodline (Saccharina).

The immediate Rocks family in general is so unsympathetic, I'm sorry but if you want me to feel bad over your personal growth journey you can't ALSO be a monarch who has absolute power over an entire nation-state. If you had literally the best education of everyone in your country and you're still an idiot I don't know what to tell you except that you're a resource hoarding pig who has not earned an iota of the power or luxury you have. They have SERVANTS and all they do is complain about going to class or doing their job. Hey if it sucks so bad demolish the state and redistribute your wealth <3 you won't <3

[aliceramblez]

Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

[joeloverture]

hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax. 

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing. 

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. 

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from  — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky. 

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining. 

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down. 

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…” 

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee. 

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head. 

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.” 

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel. 

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

 “Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips. 

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become. 

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel. 

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily. 

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him. 

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is. 

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!” 

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

[allurilove]

Yan!Prodigy x Rival you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: enemies to lovers?— not really he falls in love pretty quick, first time kissing, stalking, admitting his feelings, he gets excited by the tiniest sight of skin, he’s delusional, gender neutral reader.

*I played violin for a couple of years, but my knowledge is a bit dusty and it’s been awhile 😬 And sorry for not posting! I’ve been busy with studying for the SAT! He is referred to as “your enemy” and this is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s been on the top of his game for years. He’s known as the most talented violinist, and his ability to play has brought people to tears. All until you came along and threatened his legacy.

He was upset and furious that a nobody like you could win the spot of the first chair. You were now the center of attention, and not him. He wanted to break you down.

But… why did he find himself yearning for you?

He’s been practicing for years. He spent his whole life dedicating to the art of music. His fingers have been numb before, his wrist hurt, and he’s been staring at music sheets for so long— that everything looked like notes to him.

He’s been the first chair. He climbed his way to the top, he earned his reputation, and everyone admires him.

So, a little and measly talent like you shouldn’t have been in his spot. He had to audition for that seat—just like everyone else— but he knew that the directors loved him the moment he stepped on the stage.

He created masterpiece after masterpiece, and he’s a well sought out man.

He heard murmurs and whispers as he sat down behind you. He could feel everyone look at you with fascination, and admiration. He scowled and his grip on the neck of the violin was tight. He imagined ripping you out of the chair, or shoving his bow down your throat.

He had a steely gaze as you turned around to look at the person who had been glaring daggers at you. You smile at him, feeling a bit bad that you’re a newbie who took his usual position.

Why was his heart beating?

“Dont look at me.” The man scowled at you. His face slowly turning pink, and he looked away as you turned to face him again.

For the first time ever, he was distracted. As the show began he could hear his mistakes. He felt his hand shake, and he accidentally pressed down too hard on the string- causing an eerie squeaking noise. He looked up to see what you were doing and you are confident, each note of yours is perfect, and you were clearly the better choice. His eyes slowly widened as he became hypnotized by the way you moved, and the way your hand was so nimble.

“…fuck.” He was falling in love. That has never happened to him before. His body is filled with warmth, his heart fluttered, and he felt like he could float on the wave of happiness. For the first time ever— he felt alive.

The person next to him gently kicked at his chair, and he snapped out of it. He looked back at the sheet, and he realized he lost his place. His eyes and ears frantically tried to figure out where they were.

The show was a nightmare. He got chewed out for the very first time, and he hung his head low. He made multiple mistakes, made a mockery of the whole orchestra, and organization. He apologized to everyone, and he seethed at how people thought he was slipping.

You were the only one to approach him. Your enemy threw his jacket on, ready to leave, but he paused when he saw you.

“Hey… I’m sorry-“

He raised a hand to stop you. “It’s not your fault.” He said curtly, and he grabbed his instrument case. He brushed past you, and quickly made it out of the building. He had to stop and take a breather- leaning on the wall as he felt red cheeks. He always felt a rush of adrenaline and excitement when you came close to him.

That’s when the stalking began. I mean it was a total accident, and he didn’t mean to find your apartment… he just happened to know it was yours, because of the way the melodic sound came from the window. He was across the street, and he was able to see you sway, and play with such emotion. He stood there for what felt like years, and he started to film you.

He would rewatch them at night in his bed. A huge smile on his face as he was able to relive that moment. Before he knew it… he kissed the screen.

He came to practice early in the morning. Your enemy had to keep up a cool facade, and he ignored your little “hello” to him. He sat in his chair, feeling a bit bitter, but he knew it was well deserved. You’re a good violin player, and he was coming to terms with it. He sighed as he brought his instrument out of the case, he took out his tuner, and he started to tune his instrument. He fiddled with the fine tuners, and eventually adjusting the pegs when that didn’t work.

The whole entire time… he glanced at you. His heart swelled up as he saw you take off your jacket, and he gulped as he saw your shoulders.

Ohhh god.

He slightly groaned as his pants felt tighter.

He heard the peg creak, his fingers mindlessly kept turning and turning. He gasped as the string he was trying to tune snapped, he felt it hit his cheek, and out of surprise he dropped his violin.

He was so embarrassed as you helped him get an ice pack. You two were in the tiny hallway, an ice pack in your hand. Instead of handing it to him, you placed it on his cheek for him. You made him feel better, told a little joke about what happened and he let out a chuckle.

He saw you smile and step closer to him. Was this seriously happening? He immediately kissed you back as you pressed against him, one arm around your waist and the other on the back of your head. You tasted wonderful.

He started to moan out your name, your hand now down his pants, and he arched his back. His hands then gripped at the brick wall, his hips jerked with the movement, and he felt his orgasm coming pretty close.

He felt you pull down his pants and boxers, and you got down onto your knees, and your tongue stuck out to lick his length.

“God, I love you—“ He pants, his stomach tightening as his arousal grew.

“Hello?”

Hello?

His eyes came back to focus on your hand waving in his face. He gulped as he took a step back. You were confused as to what happened, you tried to speak to him, but it looked like he was lost in his thoughts. His face was flushed and he was murmuring incoherent things.

The man quickly snatched the ice pack and he panicked— his dick twitching— and he ran away from you.

Allure: It’s a pretty short fic, unedited, and i wrote this on my break 😭 yandere x zombie part three should be coming soon.

[spotlight-if]

Lights, Camera…Chaos.

[PLAY HERE] (October 23rd, 2024) Act 1, Chapter 1, 64.2k words.

For as long as you can remember, your dream has stayed the same—you want nothing more than to make it as an actor in Hollywood. After years as an overlooked, overworked talent, your big break comes from an unlikely source. And it’s one that changes everything, for better or worse.

Hollywood is its own character within this world—sometimes it loves you, sometimes it wants nothing more than to see you crash and burn. Navigating this ever changing landscape while balancing your own interpersonal relationships is only half the challenge. The other half is memorizing your lines.

Navigate the red carpet, bloodthirsty paparazzi, cut-throat tabloids and complicated relationship dynamics with A-list celebrities (who may or may not be completely insane.)

But, hey: isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?

Key Features:

- Customize your Actor: are you a classic Hollywood heartthrob? An eccentric and unconventional recluse? Are you kind and genuine despite the fame, or a cutthroat diva with undeniable talent?

- Navigate scandal, paparazzi, and stan culture: dodge or embrace the flashing lights. Interact with your fans, or distance yourself from them for your sanity. Wait—who are they shipping your character with?

-Build your legacy: choose between the stability of superhero blockbusters or turn into an indie darling. Or, maybe forgoe both to become a household name in the horror genre.

- Network and build relationships: whether they’re manufactured by your well-meaning publicist or spawned from real feelings, forge dynamic and ever changing relationships with other industry icons.

- Try to manage your mental health: the dark side of the industry lurks in every corner—the highs are high, but the lows are ever lower.

Characters:

Kendall Mays (gender selectable)—ever the loyal best friend, Kendall followed you into the throes of showbiz without hesitation. From fighting over toys on the playground to helping you run lines for a major motion picture, you can always count on them to have your back. That is, before they met Mason—their ever-present boyfriend who demands more and more of their time. You were never that great at sharing.

[Note: Kendall is not a romance option.]

Sutton Foster (he/him, she/her)—child star turned award winning powerhouse. Sutton Foster has everything an actor could want—well, minus the countless stays at rehab centers around the world. It’s undeniable that Sutton is a generational talent, but what’s even more notable is their messy personal life. You yourself have been caught in Sutton’s gravitational pull, once upon a time. The question lies in whether or not you’ll pull yourself away.

Wyn Grace (he/him, she/her)—on stage, Wyn is electric. The same cannot be said for Wyn off-stage. The lead singer of the up-and-coming Indie band is struggling with their meteoric rise to fame. As the awards pile up and the crowds get bigger, Wyn is unraveling at the seams. All they wanted to do was make music with their friends, but the fame makes them reconsider it all.

Lex Moreau (he/him)—an older, award-winning director with an…eccentric disposition. Yet despite his volatile nature and obsession with perfection, anyone who’s anyone would kill to work with him. Lex is always in search for a muse, a great beacon to pour all of his artistic vision into. And now, he thinks he’s found that in you. Lucky you?

[C is a conditional character, only appears based on choices you make.]

Carlo/Carmen Mencina (gender selectable)—C is harder to pin down than a stable acting gig in LA. When you’re together—it’s kismet. The problem lies in when you’re apart. C’s frequent disappearances abroad leave a bad taste in your mouth, and when a shocking truth comes to light, it’s not just your relationship in the spotlight—it’s your life, too.

Flings and other mini-romances will be available as well. But these I will let be revealed as the story progresses.

When writing this game, I knew what themes I wanted to focus on, and the care/detail needed to do so. Hence, this game is strictly 18+.

TW: death, substance abuse, suicide, bullying, explicit language, violence, and explicit (skippable) sexual content.

Thank you for reading my intro! Reblogs are welcome, and my ask box is open (:

And major thank you @thecutestgrotto for the gorgeous headers!

[thebluester2020]

[GI] Kinktober Day 21: "Breeding Kink"

Summary: The life of a harbinger was chaotic and the threat of death, though low, it wasn't completely impossible. Henceforth, Tartaglia decides that it's best to ensure that his legacy continues.

Warning(s): Established Relationship, Breeding kink (obv), Squirting, Some mentions of death (not too much though), Tartaglia being whipped for his wifey,

Side Note(s): If it isn't clear atp, I have a litttttleee bit of a crush on Tartaglia <333. [Also this is one of my lil' late fics since I was hit with the writer's block virus]

"C'mon baby...think about it, how good you'd look swollen with my kids~" Tartaglia whispered in your ears as he was currently balls-deep inside your weeping pussy.

The lewd sound of squelching echoed throughout the room as Tartaglia bullied his cock into you, your hands fruitlessly grabbing and pulling at the sheets beneath you as he cooed into your ear, begging for you to take his cock. Since his latest mission in Fontaine, where he fought against the All-Devouring Narwhal. You had spent the last few weeks practically babying him, not a single soul aside from another harbinger was allowed to see him.

You had patched up countless wounds, and endured too many nights where he had a dangerous fever.

You worried your husband would be taken away from you before you'd even reach your fifth year with him! Tartaglia, although he tried to hide it with confidence and jests, shared your concern and tried to make you feel as comfortable and confident in him as he possibly could. Yet...the only way he could truly make you feel alright, in his mind...was by giving you a baby.

"H-Honey...!" You keened as you began to rock your hips back onto your husband. "W-What's gotten into you?" You moaned, struggling to look back at your ginger lover.

Almost as if he were trying to suddenly hide away, Tartaglia buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. "J-Just tryin' to give you a baby..." He whined. "S-So that you'll have someone to baby over, w-while I'm gone." He continued to stutter out, his cock twitching inside of you as he started to rub his hands up and down your body, as if he were struggling to figure out where he wanted to keep them until he finally settled.

One hand fondling your breast while the other tended to your neglected clit. The sudden pleasure made you scream in pleasure, the already tight knot in the pit of your stomach growing tighter as you felt your husband somehow fuck into your slicked cunt even faster. "Gonna give you a couple of kids Y/N..." He babbled as if he were drunk off the feeling of your pussy. "Then you won't have to worry, a part of me will still be around~"

"I-I'd still miss you..." You managed to force out as you just managed to look behind you to see your husband panting over you, his sapphire blues wet with pleasure and hidden emotion, you just couldn't pinpoint right at this moment.

Perhaps later, of course. "Don't—Ahh...—wanna have babies alone." Tartaglia pressed himself closer to your backside at your words, whines falling from his lips more and more as he continued to feel his cock twitch the more he felt his orgasm creep closer up onto him. The more he felt your pussy clench and unclench around him as he practically felt himself growing more and more addicted to the feeling of your walls by the moment. "You won't have to..." He moaned in your ear.

He knew he couldn't die from any future missions of his, children aside. The idea of leaving your cunt alone to not be filled by him, stuffed and tended to...it annoyed him more than anything!

"C-Close...!" You moaned, Tartaglia's fingers circling around your clit faster and faster. The harbinger nearly choked on his breath with how impossibly tight you became all of a sudden as if you were trying to wring every drop of cum from his balls. "D-Don't stop—"

"I don't plan to." He smirked behind you before he moved his hand to press it against your back, forcing you into a mean arch and fucking even harder into your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your cunt gripped onto him and how your slick stuck onto his abdomen.

Until...he saw you squirt.

"Fuckkkk..." He groaned. "How come you haven't done this sooner?" He licked his lips as he fucked you through your orgasm, the tiny aht aht ahts that left your lips making him want to fuck you even harder than he already was. But, as you began to whine from overstimulation, he realized he'd have to save that for another time. The last thing he'd want to do is break you completely, there was plenty of time for that down the line.

Tartaglia began to grind into your cunt, leaning back over you as he felt his front press back onto your back. "I'm never leaving you Y/N..." He whispered. "Death won't take me away from you...I-I promise." He managed to get out before you moaned softly as the feeling of his warm cum pooling your insides, some escaping and dribbling down the back of your thighs much to the harbinger's dismay.

He pouted. "Why'd you waste my cum?" He grumbled, lightly biting on your ear.

You looked back through hooded eyes before a dopey smile crawled onto your face. "...T-Then fill me again..." You begged.

Oh, he definitely couldn't die too soon.

[astrotruther]

Astro Observations

misc. (ii)

🐉 Narcissists may have Mars-Uranus aspects in their chart. Mars’s energy can be either constructive or destructive; pair that with Uranus' erratic quality, and it could make one manipulative. In my opinion, Mars & Uranus having more harsh aspects to multiple other planets could further confirm this. Look out for squares, especially Moon square Mars!

🐉 Sun harsh aspects to Neptune, even conjunction can be somewhat superficial. Neptune may bless them with a mystique that attracts public attention, but they stick to a surface-level public persona. Artists with these aspects may stick to cookie-cutter projects. E.g. Colleen Hover responding to criticism by saying 'I write to entertain not to educate'. Jake Paul also has this aspect. In worst cases there's a delusional egotism to this aspect. On the other hand, easy aspects will be more willing to go within and proudly display their shadows, creating art that is meaningful and leaves a lasting legacy.

🐉 I've observed Scorpio Sun/ Moon in charts of those who backhandedly bully people over things like their appearance. Water Moons in general are capable of inflicting deep emotional wounds to others when unevolved. Having Mercury in a fire sign makes it a lot worse since the words become harsher. I've had a Scorpio Sun - Pisces Moon girl admit to me that she makes fun of people because she had the same done to her while growing up.

🐉 Libra MC are often told they should be models. Understandable because they're so photogenic!

🐉 Pluto-Ascendant easy aspects & conjunction are always reinventing themselves. It's easier for these people to let go of things that don't serve them and realign themselves with their inner true selves. They're skilled at coming to terms with their dark sides and alchemizing it to create a positive impact in the world.

🐉 On the contrary, harsh aspects may feel like they can't be themselves due to external factors or a certain image/ aesthetic that they have to uphold. Some may be child actors/ activists or made it big in early years making it hard to disrupt their public persona. It's way harder for them to branch out within their career field. Ascendant at 0° might have the same effect. E.g. Billie Eilish, Demi Lovato, Finn Wolfhard, Darsheel Safary, Malala Yousafzai, Meghan Trainor, Hilary Duff.

🐉 I've seen so many takes on the 0° & most people romanticizing it somehow. It may manifest in a divine way for those who are self-aware/ have evolved. however MOST people aren't. So it gives a somewhat negative quality to the placement, e.g. Jake Paul has his MC at 0°.

🐉 Moon-Pluto aspects not only symbolize a strained relationship with the mother but also with other women. A lot of trauma you accumulated while growing up was because of the women around you. Some of them may have made you feel bad about yourself because they were threatened by you. The signs Moon & Pluto are in could give more context, e.g. Aries Moon, Sag. Pluto = invalidating your anger, not letting you be yourself and forcing you to be someone they like, forcing religion on you from a young age etc.

🐉 Uranus square MC will have a career-ruining public scandal at least once. All I can say is avoid doing shady stuff and if it's external factors beyond your control, handle it with grace, lay low, you'll get your chance to shine again.

🐉 Moon square Lilith is an enemy placement. Moon person hates Lilith person's guts because Lilith person may have hurt them in some way. Moon could want revenge on Lilith for what they did.

🐉 Venus-Saturn aspects may have had people criticize their appearance while growing up, but they end up having insane glow-ups. Their most attractive years come somewhat later in life and they age very gracefully.

🐉 Moon in Cancer/ Moon conjunct Jupiter people possess the ability to manipulate, sometimes on a mass level. It's on them to use their emotional superpowers to influence people in a positive way and not just keep banking on their victim narratives. Nonetheless, these people can hold public interest for a long time.

🐉 Venus in 10th House synastry is often a clout/ PR couple. E.g. Glenn Powell & Sydney Sweeney.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[dksfml]

picture perfect - lhs

pairing: ex!heeseung x midnight rain!reader genre: angst, exes meeting again in a different circumstance, heeseung is getting married, the one that got away word count: 2.5k summary: what's worse than interviewing your ex-fiancé for his wedding while tormented by the life you could have had? especially when you couldn't stop glancing on the ring on his finger.

My boy was a montage A slow-motion, love potion Jumping off things in the ocean I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

“When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?”

The room was colder than you expected, or maybe it was the weight of the moment that made you shiver. Five years had passed since you left Heeseung behind, but here you were, standing across from him again. He stood in a pristine tuxedo, tailored to perfection, like the life he now led—polished, flawless, but distant. Heeseung, heir to a powerful conglomerate, and you, the broadcast journalist in a media uniform tasked with interviewing him for what was being called the "wedding of the century."

It had been an impossible love, one you knew couldn’t last. But that didn’t stop you from falling hard for him.

Back in college, it felt like the stars had aligned just for you two. You met by chance in a quiet library, studying late at night. You were flipping through notes, while he sat across from you, struggling to stay awake after hours of classes and business meetings for his family’s company. He caught your eye when he nearly fell asleep, knocking a stack of books to the floor.

“You alright there?” you had teased, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Heeseung rubbed his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, just tired. Guess business majors don’t get to sleep, huh?”

That small interaction turned into late-night study sessions and shared meals at the local café, hiding from the world that seemed to have already decided your places. The more you learned about him, the more the quiet, gentle side of him drew you in—the side that wasn’t always front and center in the media’s image of him.

“Let’s keep this just between us,” Heeseung had said once, eyes soft as the two of you sat together in a dimly lit restaurant far off campus, tucked into a corner where no one would recognize him. “The world outside… it’s too complicated.”

You agreed, understanding the stakes. His family had expectations, and you were just an ordinary student. Yet, it didn’t stop the stolen glances in class or the secret hand-holding when no one was watching.

Those were some of the happiest moments of your life. No matter how fleeting, they felt like something real, something lasting.

And then there was that night—your last trip together before everything changed. The two of you had gone to a secluded beach, the sound of waves crashing against the shore the only witness to your love. Underneath a sky full of stars, Heeseung pulled out a ring, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at you, eyes wide with hope.

“I know it’s crazy… but marry me,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “I want you to be the person I come home to. The one who knows me when the rest of the world only sees… him.”

You had said yes without hesitation. How could you not? In that moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. You had both once pictured yourselves at opposite ends of the aisle—him in a crisp, white tuxedo, and you in the wedding dress of your dreams. It was this memory of him that still kept you awake at night.

But reality didn’t wait long to rear its ugly head. Graduation came, and with it, responsibilities neither of you could ignore. You got your dream job as a news presenter, but it meant constant travel. Heeseung, meanwhile, was tied to his family’s legacy, the weight of it pressing down on him, anchoring him to a life you couldn’t share.

"I can’t leave everything behind," he had told you one night, frustration evident in his voice. "This is who I am."

"I know," you replied quietly, staring down at the engagement ring on your finger, feeling its weight more than ever. "And I’m not asking you to. But I… I need to be someone too. I can’t just be… your shadow."

Heeseung had pleaded with you to stay, to make it work somehow, but deep down, you both knew it wasn’t possible. The worlds you came from were too far apart, the demands on you both too great.

When you took off the ring that night in his car, your hands trembling, the look in his eyes broke you. Heeseung had always been composed, even under pressure, but that night, he cried. You watched as his tears fell, and the ache in your chest felt unbearable.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, voice barely holding steady as you placed the ring in his palm. "I love you, but I can’t… I can’t do this."

Heeseung had tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. All he could do was watch as you opened the car door and walked away.

Now, five years later, that past stood between you like an invisible wall.

The soft murmur of crew members adjusting lights and setting up cameras filled the studio, but all you could hear was the steady, rhythmic pounding of your heart. Heeseung sat in front of you, the gleam of his dark wedding tuxedo catching the artificial light. His hand rested on his knee, the gold band on his ring finger gleaming—a silent reminder of everything that had changed.

You cleared your throat, shuffling your notes, attempting to shake off the unease settling over you. This was supposed to be just another interview—routine, professional. But the tension in the air was palpable, an invisible thread tugging at memories you thought you’d buried.

"Mr. Lee?," you asked again, your voice steady, eyes fixed on the paper in front of you to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "A lot of people are curious about your relationship with Ms. Choi. When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?"

Heeseung shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes flickering to yours before looking down at his hands. For a moment, he hesitated, and you found yourself unconsciously glancing at his left hand again—the wedding band glinting under the lights. The sight of it made your stomach twist.

"When did I know…" Heeseung trailed off, his voice quiet, reflective. He took a deep breath before answering, his eyes still focused on his hand. "I think love can be complicated. Sometimes, it’s not about a single moment, but a series of small ones. You come to realize what's expected of you, and you grow into it, bit by bit."

It was a carefully worded response—safe, diplomatic. He wasn’t answering the question. Not really. And that tugged at something deep inside you, pulling at threads you didn’t want to unravel.

You nodded, trying to move forward, but your thoughts were slipping. "But… when did it feel like more than just expectation? When did it feel like love?"

The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. Too personal. Too revealing. Heeseung’s eyes snapped to yours, surprised at the sudden shift, the edge in your voice. For a second, the air between you thickened, the unspoken past rising to the surface.

"When did it feel like love?" Heeseung repeated slowly, his eyes lingering on your face, as if searching for something. His voice softened. "There was a time I thought I knew… what love felt like."

You blinked, the space between his words loaded with meaning. There was an implicit sadness in the way he spoke, a crack in the façade he’d been holding up for so long.

You felt yourself sinking deeper into the moment, losing grip on the professional veneer you had worked so hard to maintain. Your gaze dropped to his left hand again, to the gold ring encircling his finger. It felt suffocating, knowing it symbolized a future you once imagined would be yours.

Your own fingers absentmindedly brushed against your ring finger, where once a promise had been worn but was now bare. Heeseung’s eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but he closed them again.

The camera’s blinking red light reminded you where you were. You cleared your throat, refocusing on the script, but your mind was still spiraling.

You hesitated before asking the next question, feeling the weight of it before the words even left your mouth. It wasn’t on the script—it wasn’t the kind of thing you were supposed to ask in an interview like this. But it was the question you had to ask, the one lingering at the back of your mind since you stepped into the room.

You swallowed, feeling your pulse in your throat. "Are you happy?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you, and for the briefest moment, his polished composure cracked. His eyes softened, as if searching for something in yours.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to the ring on his finger again—gleaming and perfect, a stark contrast to your own bare hand. The ring you had taken off five years ago.

"I... I have everything I’m supposed to want," he began, voice quiet, almost too quiet for the room. His answer was measured, careful, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you. "I’ve built a life, a career... I’m where I’m supposed to be."

But then his eyes met yours again, and for a heartbeat, something vulnerable passed between you. "But happiness?" He let the question hang in the air, not answering it fully, but leaving the meaning clear. His gaze lingered a second longer, unspoken words filling the silence.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your emotions in check as the weight of what wasn’t said between you pressed down. His answer, or lack of one, told you everything.

You glanced down at your next question, but your voice betrayed you, trailing off as you asked, "Do you… ever think about the life you could have had? If things had been different?"

Heeseung’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression unreadable. The question hadn’t been on the script. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it until it was too late. A deafening silence filled the room, every crew member, every camera operator feeling the tension brewing between you both.

His jaw clenched slightly, and for a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came, soft, barely above a whisper, yet laced with emotion. "Sometimes… I think about the life I could have had. The life I almost had."

The way he said it made your breath hitch. You weren’t sure if anyone else in the room could hear it, but to you, it felt like the only thing that mattered. His words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a weight too heavy to ignore.

You tried to regain control, but you were slipping further, your thoughts clouded by the memories you had worked so hard to forget. "Do you have any regrets about the past?” you asked, the question intended more for your own sake than for the magazine.

Heeseung's expression softened, and for the first time throughout the interview, his voice wavered. ‘Regret... it's complicated. There are times when you make choices because you believe they’re what’s best for everyone. Yet there are nights when you can’t help but think… what if?’"

His words hit you like a wave, washing over you with the force of all the unspoken feelings between you. What if. Two simple words, yet they carried the weight of everything you had left behind.

Your breath hitched, and you glanced down at your notes, trying to steer the interview back to safer ground. But the damage was done. You couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.

You felt your eyes well up, memories flooding back of the days when Heeseung had been your world. The secret rendezvous, the promises whispered under moonlit skies, the proposal on the beach—the life you almost had. You swallowed hard, pushing the memories down.

"Two weeks until the wedding," you said, your voice hollow, desperate to pull the conversation back to the present. "Are you… ready?"

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing past the years, past the distance, and straight into the heart of the girl he had once loved. His lips parted, but the answer you expected didn’t come.

"Are you?" he asked quietly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline.

Your breath caught in your throat. The room felt too small, the walls too close. You blinked, shaking your head slightly as if that could shake off the weight of the moment.

The tension between you was unbearable now. You could feel every unsaid word, every lingering regret, every what-if stretching between you, filling the space with a heaviness you could no longer ignore.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Lee," you said, your voice tight, trying to wrap up the interview before you completely unraveled.

But as you stood to leave, Heeseung’s voice stopped you.

"Y/N…"

He adjusted his cufflinks, and the air between you grew heavier. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Do you ever think about… that time?”

You looked at him, surprised he had asked. The cameras aren’t rolling anymore. “All the time,” you admitted, the truth slipping out before you could stop it.

Heeseung nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah… me too.”

You paused, not daring to turn around, your heart in your throat.

"If I had another chance…" His voice was barely a whisper now, but it sliced through the room like a knife. "I would risk everything."

Your hand hovered on the door handle, but you couldn’t move. His words clung to you, wrapping themselves around your heart like a vice. You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

But you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t.

Instead, you stepped out of the studio, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you, knowing that you’d leave this room just as you had left him five years ago—heartbroken and haunted by what could have been.

About an hour after the interview, you found yourself standing at the back of the studio, watching as Heeseung and his fiancée posed for their couple shots. He looked effortlessly handsome in his pristine black tuxedo, while she glimmered in a flowing gown, radiant and picture-perfect.

“Smile a little wider, Heeseung!” the photographer urged, and your heart ached as you watched him comply, his smile lighting up the scene in a way that had once been reserved for you.

You swallowed hard, the memories flooding back—late-night laughter, whispered secrets, and the way he’d promised you the world. A crew member nudged you, breaking your reverie. “They really are the perfect couple,” he said.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears.

As you turned away, the sight of them—the life you had once envisioned—felt like a dagger to your heart. It was time to leave, to step back into your own reality, but a lingering question haunted you: What if things had been different?

[hunterrrs]

another sidnate love fest on SC ("he could be 50 and i'd still slide over" - said by man who fucked that old man) (plus he loves mitchy SO MUCH and wants to do a timmies commercial with him, sid and marchy causing Trouble)

Q: I was actually gonna ask you, now that you’re the reigning MVP, you used to have to go over to Sid’s gym all summer long. It was the older one, you spent all this money for the new upgraded one. Now that you’re the MVP does he have to come train with you? How does that work?

A: No, no, it doesn’t work like that *laughs* (You’re still getting bullied?) Oh yeah. Still going to his gym. All good. He’s 20 years in the league, so… Yeah. I train with Batheson so I make him come to my gym. He makes me feel better about myself, so… that’s what I do.

Q: What did you say to Sid when he took 8.7, did you know that was coming?

A: Yeah, I mean *laughs* I remember, like, in July I was like, man, you’re not gonna sing for 8.7. Like c’mon. He’s like, ah, I don’t know, we’ll see. It’s so cool though, the legacy he’s leaving. How much money is left on the table and his desire to still win. He’s still taking less to try and get somebody else this year and next year.

Q: As somebody who’s always looked up to him, he’s 37 now, he’s still doing it. That’s gotta not only amaze you but also kinda inspire you a little bit. Does that surprise you that he’s still doing it or not at all, knowing him?

A: Man, you should see this guy in the summer. My workouts are like a joke. The recovery summers I do, and he is just grinding. He just grinds. He loves it, I think. I think it’s also awesome, not that he wouldn’t be motivated having this Four Nations thing, and then the Olympics. So no matter what happens, he’s got two things to look forward to and be dialled in for and I think being the captain of Canada, I can’t imagine the pressure to be at your best. He’s ready. He looks amazing, All the guys on the ice, it’s amazing he’s 37. He doesn’t look 37.  (Because he doesn’t have kids!) *laughs* Must be the key.

Q: Did you actually have a cereal released in 2021 called MacKinnon Crunch?

A: I did. Frosted flakes. I picked the flavour though, I liked that. (Was that right before you got your deal with Tim Hortons, became a server at their restaurant?) That was 2015. (Do they have you do that same thing every summer?) We haven’t done that since then. We’ve always wanted to do one where we get Marchy in there just because we’re Nova Scotians, and he’s being a rat and messing up people’s orders, and we gotta like sit him down and tell him what to do. They haven’t done that yet. Marchy needs to be nicer on the ice to be more marketable.

Q: Would that be your dream line for the Four Nations? Yourself, Sid and Marchand?

A: That would be cool. (You’d play the wing?) Oh yeah. Yeah, I’m ready for the wing. Definitely. McDavid, Sid, one-two punch. And then everyone kinda figures it out. (In a room like that you’d essentially delegate to McDavid?) You’re not putting McDavid on the wing, that’s crazy! I don’t mind right wing, I’ve played wing, I’m comfortable there and I don’t know if those two have ever played wing. I’m sure they could easily figure it out. They’re two of the smartest players ever. But I think to have those two guys a one-two punch and then if I’m third line centre that’s cool, if I’m playing on McDavid’s right.

Should I tell Sid to go to the wing, do you think? (“I’ve been working at your gym all these years. I’m the Ted Lindsay winner and the MVP. I gotta get something out of this relationship.”) Yeah, I think he could be 50 and I’d still slide over. No problem. Being on a Nova Scotia line it would be really cool. I think we’d work well together too. The way Marchy plays he’s just gonna muck, forecheck, and then Sid’s Sid, and I can try to push the pace.

Q: You said you went to Europe this summer…

A: It’s just relaxing. Just get off the grid. I was definitely tempted to go to Worlds last year. Sid was bugging me and Schenner bout it. (Saying what, if you go, I’ll go?) Yeah. So we were all gonna go, but then I was just like man, I just played 105 games, just lost to Dallas. At this point I feel like I’m all in or it’s hard to go over there and like (Skate around and giggle.) It’s just tough.

Q: You skated in the summer with Marner, how’s he looking?

A: He looks awesome. You hear stuff that’s always negative, a lot of the time it’s negative and then you get on the ice with him and you’re like, how can anyone ever be negative about this? That’s why I think for me, I just admire how good he is because people chirp him a lot. Up in Vail he was sick. Him and McDavid were flying around together. It was so fun to watch.

Also, beloved health freak <3

I used to like going to Popeye’s Supplements as a kid with my dad and looking at protein powder and stuff. I don’t know. I’m just into it.

Q: We heard so much about you policing the food in the locker room. Are you still doing that? Are you still going on there, like no sugars, no sweets. Whit said you strangled Lehkonen because he ate a Snickers bar or something. Is that true?

A: Nawww, stop it. That’s not true *laughs* I’m trying to mellow a little bit for sure. I definitely see some shit and I get mad but I try to keep it to myself. I don’t know, you eat what you want but I just think when you’re at the rink, we’re the NHL, you’re a pro athlete, I think it should be healthy and good food. I just think the least you can do as a pro athlete is be in good shape.

[leah-lover]

Second chances. Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

summary : the confrontation between alexia and R.

Alexia always had a hold on you. Her stare would often captivate you and suck the air out of each room you were in. being stuck with her in the physio room, her muscular thighs on full display, was your worst nightmare. Her eyes seemed to devour every part of you and yours couldnt shy away from doing the same. There you both were 4 years after that night still looking at each other like nothing mattered in the world but the person in front of you. Your heart made it  its purpose to quickly remind you of the gaping hole she left in it. You remembered the amount of tears she drew from your eyes, and the delay she caused to your success and career. You shifted in your seat and looked away from her. You reminded yourself that the person in front of you wasn't  the love of your life anymore but the one that destroyed you. 

“ You don't know how many times I imagined us talking like this. I planned this speech many times but now that i have to do it i can't recall a word.” she says breaking the silence. Her voice was shaky which wasn't something you were used to. You hardly ever saw alexia nervous and fidgety which was interesting to witness. You didn't say a word though. You kept your composure as you always did and let her speak her mind. 

“ uhmm. I am sorry. I know that i fucked up really badly. I shouldn't have acted like that that night. I should have fought for you. Fought for us. I should have reprimanded Irene and done everything in my power to help keep us together but I was a coward. I chose the easy road. You don't know how sorry I am. I regret everything and if  I could go back I would stop you from leaving or leave with you.” 

You fantasized many times about what alexia would say if she was to apologize. What you dreamt of sounded like what she said but coming from her it didn't sound as satisfying as would have hoped. It  only made you angrier. You tried to keep your composer because it was your default setting. Your face was as emotionless as you could have it but your blood was boiling in your veins. You waited for her to add something but she didn't. . she was shaking and her eyes were glued on you. 

Realizing that she was done you got up to leave. She quickly hurried to your side. “ So you won't say anything?” she asked, nervousness clear in her voice. “ I said I would hear you out and I did.”  you respond with a monotone voice. 

“ Please say something.” she pleaded. 

“ What do you want me to say? You want me to say that you are forgiven. You are not. You destroyed me and for that I will hate you forever.” 

“ You don't mean that.” 

“ I don't mean what? The part where I said you destroyed me or the part where I said I hate you.” your voice was undermining and insulting which made her body visibly tense. 

“ I was in love with you and you chose you before me. You chose your career before me. You chose your family and friends before me. And what?  you think i am sorry and I regret everything would make me forgive you and come back to you.” you voice and body language were cruel. You laughed at her, undermined her presence and belittled her just with your tone. You saw her shrink before your eyes. You didn't mean to or maybe you did. But the image in front of you made your heart ripe.

“ I was dead without you. I couldnt breath, sleep, or eat. I thought that you would come after me and tell me that I am to you worth more than some stupid trophies or a legacy. I thought that you wanted to continue your life with me and that that night was just a mistake But you didn't. You left me alone and unemployed. You ruined me. You broke me. I had to learn how to breathe again. I had to learn how to sleep in my bed alone. I had to train my brain not to think about you  and not to try and hold out hope that you wanted me. You made me feel unloved and undeserving of everything.” you saw tears escape her eyes and stain red cheeks. 

“ I am stupid. I don't deserve you or  a second chance. But I can't help but miss you and need you. All I have is this stupid job and my memories of you. I replay them every night before I go to bed. I replay how my lips  felt on yours and how your head felt on my chest.  I should have come after you and told you that I love you more than anything but my ambition stood in the way. I thought that my career and the approval of my family  would fill the void in my heart but I was wrong. I love you. “ 

You two stood there with your hearts laid bare. You know how she felt and she knew how you felt. 

“ After all this time I love you too alexia.” you took a deep breath and you saw her eyes light up. “ But I can't trust you. I went through so much pain and anger. I don't think that I am capable of moving past it to be with you.” you swiped her tears away with your thumbs and gave her a quick peck on her lips. She didn't fight back, she wanted more but you stepped away from her and left the room. 

As soon as the door closed behind you tears streamed down your face as you ran away from the hallway. 

You were the last one to board the bus. You saw a glimpse of alexia whose head was lying on mapi's shoulder. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were red and your heart was no longer able to keep your feelings for her dormant. Two voices were screaming at you. One was reminding you of how much you love her and the other reminding you of how much she hurt you. You put on your headphones to try and drown out the noise that tortured you. 

Midnight found you awake, the image of alexia’s crying face was burned into your memory. A knock on your door stopped you from cursing yourself for thinking about going back to her. When you opened the door you found Irene in front of you. 

“ Can I come in?” she asked. You stepped aside to let her in. 

“ I am a jerk.” she stated. “ Yeah you are.” you responded. 

 “ You haven't done anything to hurt me but I have done everything to hurt you. I was young, jealous, and angry. Everything that happened was on me and it was my fault. And for that I apologize. I knew that night that it would hurt you and get you to leave so I did it. I was a child jealous that her best friend found love and she didn't. I am not excusing my behavior which was wrong. I am giving you a much needed apology.” 

“ Thank you.” you respond. 

“ alexia loves you. She is deeply in love with you.” 

“ Irene, stop.” you interrupt her. 

“ She truly loves you and she truly is sorry for everything. She would do anything to be with you again. She was a mess when you left. That's why I didn't want you to take the job. I knew how much she had gone through and how much she still loves you. And when I looked at you I saw that you too still loved her. In  an effort to save my friend I was rude to you. Hate me but please try to find the will to forgive her.” 

You didn't know what to do with what she told you. Your heart was burning for Alexia and you knew now that hers yearned for you too. 

You pick up your phone and look at her contact. Will you forgive her or shut her out again?

[jewish-microwave-laser]

And here is the most devastating fact of Frank's posthumous success, which leaves her real experience forever hidden: we know what she would have said, because other people have said it, and we don't want to hear it.

The line most often quoted from Frank's diary are her famous words, "I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart." These words are "inspiring," by which we mean that they flatter us. They make us feel forgiven for those lapses of our civilization that allow for piles of murdered girls—and if those words came from a murdered girl, well, then, we must be absolved, because they must be true. That gift of grace and absolution from a murdered Jew (exactly the gift that lies at the heart of Christianity) is what millions of people are so eager to find in Frank's hiding place, in her writings, in her "legacy." It is far more gratifying to believe that an innocent dead girl has offered us grace than to recognize the obvious: Frank wrote about people being "truly good at heart" before meeting people who weren't. Three weeks after writing those words, she met people who weren't.

Here's how much some people dislike living Jews: they murdered 6 million of them. This fact bears repeating, as it does not come up at all in Anne Frank's writings. Readers of her diary are aware that the author was murdered in a genocide, but this does not mean that her diary is a work about genocide. If it were, it is unlikely that it would have been anywhere near as universally embraced.

We know this, because there is no shortage of writings from victims and survivors who chronicled this fact in vivid detail, and none of those documents have achieved anything like Frank's diary's fame. Those that have come close have only done so by observing those same rules of hiding, the ones that insist on polite victims who don't insult their persecutors The work that came closest to achieving Frank's international fame might be Elie Wiesel's Night, a memoir that could be thought of as a continuation of Frank's diary, recounting the tortures of a fifteen-year-old imprisoned in Auschwitz. As the scholar Naomi Seidman has discussed, Wiesel first published his memoir in Yiddish, under the title And the World Was Silent. The Yiddish book told the same story told in Night, but it exploded with rage against his family's murderers and, as the title implies, the entire world whose indifference (or active hatred) made those murders possible. With the help of the French Catholic Nobel laureate François Mauriac, Wiesel later published a French version under the new title La Nuit—a work that repositioned the young survivor's rage into theological angst. After all, what reader would want to hear about how this society had failed, how he was guilty? Better to blame G[-]d. This approach earned Wiesel a Nobel Peace Prize, as well as, years later, selection for Oprah's Book Club, the American epitome of grace. It did not, however, make teenage girls read his book in Japan, the way they read Frank's. For that he would have had to hide much, much more.

from "Everyone's (Second) Favorite Dead Jew" in People Love Dead Jews by Dara Horn, pp 9–10

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Twelve - Doubts

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Your due date is fast approaching, but Jessie has one set of away matches left. Anxiety, insecurity and doubt creep in while she’s gone.

Warnings: G!P content. Slight angst. Phone sex. Mutual masturbation. Praise kink. Preg/breeding kink. Possessive language. General language. Minor gaslighting?? (Nothing nefarious)

A/N: Thank you all for responding to the poll. I’m pretty thrilled you were interested in reading more of the story. Hope you enjoy. Rest of the series is here.

“Sure you don’t need me to stay?”

Before the words were even out of her mouth, Jessie knew the look you’d give her. Sure enough, by the time she set her bag at the front door and turned around, you were frowning sternly at her.

“Jess. We talked about this. And we talked with the midwife. There’s no reason anything should happen while you’re away. We’ve still got a bit of time.”

She took in your words. She still felt uneasy, but you were right, the midwife told her it was unlikely that you’d go into labour in the next week. The baby hadn’t dropped and the time wasn’t right yet either. However, it didn’t stop her from worrying.

The national team had an important set of qualifiers taking place. She’d floated the option of not going a while back and you’d immediately shut it down. She offered again as the dates, and your due date, grew closer, but again you refused.

It’s not that she didn’t want to go - she really did. She had a strong sense of duty not only to her teammates, but to the fans and - it sounded silly maybe - but to the country even. She wanted to represent her country to the best of her abilities and to carry on the legacy that Sinc and that generation had built. But, with the arrival of her firstborn around the corner, she had doubts about leaving you. She’d never forgive herself if she wasn’t around for your labour and the birth of your baby.

Not surprisingly though, you were adamant that she go. You’d always been unwaveringly supportive of her career and understood her dedication to her teams and to the sport in general.

That said, she always wanted you to know that if you needed her - pregnancy or not - she would be there for you. In a heartbeat. She also knew you’d never take advantage of her willingness to prioritize you.

She’d reflected more than once over the years on this. If she’d ever had a doubt that you were the one, this shift in her would’ve been confirmation enough.

She was a caring and thoughtful girlfriend to all of her exes. But, they weren’t top of her list. When she was in high school and university, school always came first. Then, football - her career - always came first. Before she knew it though, she was willing to stay up late to talk to you, skip practice to spend time with you, miss matches - not that you ever let her; which was yet another reason she loved you. But the fact that she entertained the thought told her all she needed to know.

So, as per usual, you told her to go, even though you had to be at least a little bit nervous. Regardless, you didn’t need her apprehension weighing on you or influencing you. So she swallowed her worries and smiled at you instead.

“Okay, love. Call me right away if anything comes up. And call Karina or Kelli if you need something immediately. Don’t hesitate,” Jessie told you seriously.

“Yes, dear,” you said patiently as you cracked a smile. “Just picture me in the stands cheering for you. You know I’d be there if I could. And just imagine, depending on what we want to do, by the time your next tournament rolls around, your daughter may be in the stands with me cheering mommy on.”

Jessie smiled broadly at the thought. She stepped towards you and placed her hands on your rounded belly. She went to say something else but the kick under her palm distracted her, followed by another kick. She looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh gosh, she’s really kicking,” she said.

“Oh yeah. She’s been kicking up a storm all morning,” you said with a hint of a smirk. You mock whispered, “I think she may know you’re leaving.”

Jessie gave you an exaggeratedly sad look and dropped to her knees so she was level with your bump. Her hands were still on the significant swell of your stomach, pushing up slightly to lift your belly and give your back some relief. You audibly sighed and gave her a grateful look as she spoke.

“I’m not going away,” she said apologetically. “At least for long. I’ll be back in a little over a week,” she went on followed by a kiss to your stomach. Her brow furrowed and she spoke imploringly. “You have to stay in there, okay? Please, please, wait until I’m back. Can you do that for me? For good measure - you stay nice and cozy in there for another 3 weeks, alright?”

Jessie smiled up at you when you reached down to tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear. You rubbed your stomach and spoke to the baby though you kept your eyes on Jessie.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m going to miss her, too,” you said with a wink. Jessie made another sad face even if she was probably meant to laugh. She kissed your hand and then your stomach.

“Mommy will be back soon. I’m going to miss you both so much. You two take care of each other while I’m away.”

Jessie forced a smile as you cupped her cheek.

“We’ll be alright, Jess. Don’t worry about us. Focus on the matches.” She rose and you pulled her in for a kiss. “Give ‘em hell.”

———————

Seeing her national teammates was always a joy. She loved her club team, but the national team? She’d practically grown up with half of them. And the highs and lows of national tournaments, along with the pride of representing their country - never mind winning Olympic Gold together - it just bonded them in a totally different way.

She was hit with a barrage of questions, teasing, as well as gifts from them and staff around the impending arrival of the baby. So many gifts she’d probably have to buy another bag to bring them all home.

Normally, Jessie couldn’t stand attention, even from people she was as close to as the team, but when it came to the thought of her daughter, all it did was make her smile. She couldn’t wait to introduce her daughter to these great people. She could tell how they’d shower her with love and care and it filled her heart up.

Before dinner, she went up to the hotel room she was sharing with Janine to drop off an armload of gifts. She set them down in one of the chairs and posed in front of the growing pile and made a funny face as she took a selfie for you.

Selfies. Another thing she didn’t exactly like, but knew you did so she took them for you, especially when she was far away. When she was happy with the photo, she sent it - a follow up to the thumbs up selfie she’d sent you when she landed.

“Should’ve brought another bag”

“How are you doing, love? How’s our baby? I wish you were here. I miss you already.”

The team was just sitting down to dinner when her phone buzzed.

“Omg. You’re kidding lol. Looks like we’re going to need that space in the guest room after all lol. That’s so sweet of everyone. Please pass along my thanks (and ‘hellos’!)”

“Btw you’re so freakin cute. I love you 🥰 “

“I’m doing okay. She’s been restless, which you know, is driving me a bit bonkers. But all’s well. And I miss you too, baby. I hope you have a great dinner with everyone!”

Tomorrow was a bit of an adjustment day. A team walk in the morning, some sightseeing, training in the afternoon and an evening to themselves, so the night went fairly late as everyone caught up with one another.

She was getting ready for bed when she heard Janine snickering as she brushed her teeth. Jessie gave her a scrutinizing look and the girl merely held up her phone. Jessie scowled as she saw a post Julia had put up of Jessie sandwiched between her and Jordyn at the restaurant as they both pinched her cheeks.

“I love when she posts pictures of me,” Jessie said dryly with a halfhearted eye roll. Janine spit out her toothpaste and gave Jessie a teasing look.

“Vanessa, Jordyn, Cloe, Ashley, Shelina…the list goes on. Never mind me. And the admin account.”

Jessie shot her a withering glare. “We’ve been here less than a day.”

“Well if you had your notifications on you’d see all the posts you’re tagged in,” Janine said with a shrug. “And we can’t help it if you’re so photogenic. Plus come on, the fans love you, and you’re, you know, the captain. So of course the staff are going to highlight everything you do.”

Jessie rolled her eyes again but checked her phone, a fleeting disappointment running through her upon not seeing a new reply from you. You two had been texting, but your replies were getting further apart and slightly shorter. Curt even? Aloof? She couldn’t put her finger on it.

She shook her head and dismissed any burgeoning worries.

She sent another couple of texts.

“Just getting into bed. Wish it was next to you. No worries about talking tonight. You’re probably busy or maybe you fell asleep already (which is good! Get some sleep whenever you can!). Maybe we can talk tomorrow night?”

“I’m leaving my ringer on (too bad, Janine), so just text or call me if you’re up and can’t sleep. Happy to talk and keep you company. Anyway. Sweet dreams, babe. Love you.”

It took her a while to fall asleep, her apprehension about leaving you, along with your lack of reply tonight had her mind whirring despite efforts otherwise. However, eventually she dozed off.

The room was still dark when she woke next. She blinked several times as she palmed the nightstand looking for her phone. She checked the time - nearly 5:00am.

More importantly though. A notification from you. She must’ve really been tired if she slept through the notification. She felt the drowsiness leave her body as she unlocked her phone to see.

“Sorry. Got distracted. Hope you had a good night. I love you too.”

Jessie frowned. There was nothing explicitly wrong with what you sent. But it wasn’t like you. Though she was relieved to hear from you, it didn’t exactly settle her. But, she didn’t want to read into things and add stress for you.

“Hi baby. No need to apologize. I just woke up. Will probably try to get a bit more sleep though. I hope you’re having a good sleep. Sucks not waking up next to you. I can never get used to it.”

She managed to get some more sleep, but by the time the team had breakfast together and returned from their little sightseeing tour she still hadn’t heard from you. There was a time difference, so it’d be a bit early for you, but it still felt odd.

Jessie found herself ruminating and it wasn’t helpful or useful, so she made of point of being extra social to keep herself distracted.

She checked her phone again as the bus was pulling into the training facility. The last message in your convo was still the picture she sent you of the skyline and a “Hope your morning’s going well! I hope work’s not too busy today” message.

It wasn’t until a break when Jessie snuck back into the locker room to check her phone that she finally saw another message from you.

“Looks pretty, babe.”

“Morning’s been fine. Lots of meetings.”

Her features felt heavy as she read your messages. Normally, you were warm. Chatty. Inquisitive. These messages didn’t feel that way at all and she felt a pit forming in her stomach.

A few bubbles popped up and she felt herself perk up. She watched and waited.

“Hope practice is going well.”

A small smile crossed her face and she felt encouraged. She went to text you, but changed her mind and tried FaceTiming you. She scurried over to a quiet corner and waited for you to answer.

You didn’t.

A renewed wave of disappointment went through her, which she quickly dismissed. She scolded herself. You just said you had meetings. It was unlikely you were actually free to talk. She exhaled and tapped out a text instead.

“Hi babe! Yeah, it’s nice here. I’d like to take you sometime. Sorry to hear you’ve had so many meetings. Hopefully they’re not too stressful. I know things have been hectic as you’re trying to wrap things up before the baby comes.”

“Practice is going well! We’re trying out some new formations and it’s going well so far. It’s so interesting coming back together after club transfers - you can see how different playing styles have been adopted, the difference that comes from increase or decrease in minutes. All of that.”

She finished with a smirk, knowing that if you were standing across from her you’d called her a nerd and kiss her. Sadly though, that wasn’t the case.

When practice wrapped Jessie was met with a reply.

“Yep. It’s been a lot. And who knows what it’ll all be like when I come back after mat leave.”

“That’s interesting, babe. Glad practice went well. They’re lucky they have your brains.”

“You know you don’t have to text me, right? You should be focused on the team and the upcoming game.”

Jessie frowned. Okay. She had to confront things now.

“Babe, is everything okay? You seem off. And I know I don’t have to text you. I want to - of course.”

It wasn’t until everyone was showered and arriving back at the hotel that you replied again.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been busy with work. And I’m tired.”

Jessie’s face fell again. While everything you said was logical, it just didn’t feel right. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong and she just wanted to fix it.

She slowly gathered up her things and got off the bus. As everyone got ready for dinner she messaged you again.

“Okay. Well, try to get some rest this evening. The team’s going for dinner soon, but some of us will come back right after. Can I call you tonight?”

Jessie was at dinner when her phone buzzed.

“You should stay out with the others. You don’t need to come back early just to talk to me.”

“I want to talk to you. I’d much rather do that than go out.”

“You haven’t seen some of them in ages. Go spend time with them, Jess.”

She frowned at her phone. You’d been slow to reply all day and she was happy to talk with you in ‘real time’ so to speak, but she wasn’t anticipating this. She felt like you were pushing her away and she didn’t understand why.

“Babe. I can do both. Can I call you tonight? I would really like to. It doesn’t have to be long.”

You didn’t reply right away, leaving Jessie distracted and restless throughout the rest of dinner. She opted to go back to the hotel with the first batch of folks just in case you changed your mind and wanted to talk.

She was playing a board game with Quinn and a few others in their room when you finally responded.

“I don’t really feel like talking.”

The pit in her stomach twisted. Another text came through as she was rereading your last.

“I’m sorry, Jess.”

“Sorry. I’ll be right back,” she mumbled as she got up off of the floor and stepped into the hall, ignoring whether or not her teammates were eyeing her or not.

“Babe. We always find time to talk when I’m away. What’s going on? Now I know for sure something’s wrong. Please tell me.”

“Jessie. I want you to spend time with your team. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Truly. We’ll talk later. And I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Jessie wasn’t sure why, but she felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She found herself breathing deeply as she tried to steady herself. She swallowed her rising emotion.

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you go, then. Tell me when you’re up to talking and we’ll talk, okay?”

“Sounds good. Good night.”

“I love you.”

The “I love you” was the warmest you’d been all day and though it satiated her to some degree, it also made her chest constrict in a way that was more or less foreign to her in her relationship with you.

Maybe in the future, she’d have the liberty to be amused at the contrast between how she felt in this moment and how she might’ve with any ex. If an ex had been distant or cold, she honestly couldn’t have really cared less. Sure, it wasn’t enjoyable, but it wasn’t going to affect her like this. Right now? She felt terrible and uneasy, and she couldn’t even really voice why.

When Jessie woke the next day, her sleep restless at best, she felt that weight of concern throughout her body before she even picked up her phone. The feeling amplified when she didn’t see another text from you.

She opened your conversation. Sure enough, the last message was her saying good night to you - no reply. Her jaw subconsciously tightened and she wrote you again.

“Good morning, my love. I hope you had a good sleep and our little one didn’t keep you up too much. We have practice this morning, but can we talk tonight?”

She wanted to confront you more, but she didn’t know if she was being unreasonable. Plus if she got angry with you it could just cause you to pull further away.

She did silly media things for the team that day, finished training and still hadn’t heard from you. She couldn’t believe how emotional it was making her. Cloe asked something about you and Jessie had to pull herself together to give a composed answer. In truth she just had this worry and hurt and didn’t know what to do. She just wanted to be at home with you and to talk to you.

It wasn’t until around dinner that you finally replied.

“Sure. I’ll text you when I’m done dinner.”

It wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but it was something.

The evening wore on and some of the team was starting to go to bed by the time you texted.

“Hey. I got held up at work. The time difference isn’t working in our favour. You should get some sleep. Your game is tomorrow night. You need rest. We can talk tomorrow instead.”

A rush of frustration went through Jessie. She just didn’t understand. You were a pretty direct and open communicator; if anyone got quiet and withdrawn it was definitely normally her, so it was bizarre and confusing for you to be this way.

“I’d like to talk now. I’m worried about you. I’ll sleep better if we talk.”

She chewed the side of her thumb as she stared at her phone and awaited your consent.

“Okay. I’m free now.”

Jessie’s found an empty meeting room of sorts and forewent a chair to instead pace as she called you. Her heart was raced as the device rang in her ear. She didn’t recall feeling like this since you first started dating. And even then it was entirely different.

“Hello?”

Your monosyllabic greeting was impersonal and flat and her throat tightened over it.

“Hi baby,” she said softly, not wanting to meet your aloofness with her own.

You didn’t say anything and she cleared her throat, shoving a hand in her pocket.

“What’d you have for dinner?” She asked, wanting to keep things light for now.

She heard a soft sigh come through the phone and you replied, tone still disinterested. “Just some chicken, rice and veggies.”

Jessie did her best to not be discouraged by your tone. “That’s good. How’d the rice turn out?” She said, attempting to crack a joke over how you struggled to cook rice well and always deferred to her to do so.

“Fine,” you said. A beat passed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Never mind,” Jessie mumbled slightly as she cleared her throat once more and tried to not get upset.

The call was quiet for another second.

“How was your dinner? Looked like you guys had fun.”

A frown settled on Jessie’s face. “What? I mean, yeah, it was good and it was fun to hang out. But how did you know?”

“Janine and Julia posted a story,” you replied.

“Oh.” Jessie chuckled. “Of course it was them. Perpetually online.”

“Yeah,” you replied flatly before another lull formed.

Jessie scratched the side of her head and lifted herself up onto the balls of her feet as she broached the tension.

“Um. Are you alright, babe? You seem…I don’t know,” she trailed off, now falling back to her heels and kicking idly at the carpet below her. “Off I guess. Like. Quiet.”

“I told you I’m tired, Jess,” you responded with thinly veiled terseness.

“Yeah. But I know what you’re like when you’re tired. And it’s not like this,” she countered mildly.

She heard a huff of a laugh from you. “And I’ve never been 9 months pregnant before, so. Guess we’re in new territory.”

Jessie rubbed her forehead. “Is that what’s going on? I’m sorry I left. I offered to stay, you know,” she said without malice.

You huffed again. “I would never want you to skip this, Jess. You should know me better than that.”

“Well then I’m confused. I feel like I’m in trouble. My best guess is for being here. Yet I offered to stay and you wanted me to go.”

“You’re not in trouble,” you said.

Jessie gave a short laugh. “Yeah? How come you’ve barely talked to me since I landed? It’s painful trying to get more than a two word answer out of you. It’s like talking to me is a chore or an obligation all of a sudden.”

Her brow was heavy as she frowned and waited for you formulate a reply.

“I told you already, I want you to spend time with everyone and to have fun. Go enjoy yourself,” you said, a bit more quiet and subdued this time.

She gave another empty laugh. “I have. I told you I have. But I want to talk to you, too.”

“Why?”

Her face screwed up in disbelief. “Because you’re my fiancée and the mother of my child and I love you??” She asked, her voice rising.

A beat passed and Jessie could feel her heart thumping heavily in her chest.

“Well.” Another moment passed and your voice tightened. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Jessie asked, calming down some and speaking softly.

There was another pause, longer this time, and she was able to inquire when she heard a faint sniffle through the phone.

“Y/N?” She asked. “Are you okay?”

More silence until another sniffle came through.

“Babe,” she beseeched, feeling anxiety start to build in her body. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, your voice thick with emotion this time.

“Baby,” Jessie said gently. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry that instead of just having fun and enjoying everything, you have me to worry about,” you said, voice wavering.

Jessie frowned deeper than ever. “What? Babe, I don’t understand.”

“Jess,” you implored. “I see all of the posts everyone puts up. You’re all having a great time, having these new experiences, new sights. I see how much fun you’re having - and I really want that for you. Please don’t misunderstand. I just feel horrible that you’re being tied down now,” your voice broke at the end and you sniffled more fully.

“Babe-” Jessie’s confusion and surprise was cut off as you spoke further.

“I’m sitting here, big as a house, ready to pop, and I’m seeing you have the time of your life - as you should - and I’m wondering if this is actually what you want. You’re in your prime. You’re travelling the world. Surrounded by gorgeous girls at every turn. And in a few weeks you’ll have a screaming baby at home and with a partner who ties you down.

“We got pregnant - basically on a whim, and you proposed and your whole life is going to change and I can’t help but worry you didn’t think it through and you’ll feel trapped. And I’m sorry I’m the one who did it to you.”

By now, you were sobbing into the phone. Jessie’s jaw had dropped and she was just staring blankly at the ground as she processed your claims.

“Baby,” she eventually said, her voice both purposeful and gentle. “I don’t feel that way. I need you to know that.”

Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to organize her thoughts and address your worries.

“We chose to get pregnant. Emphasis on the ‘We’ and ‘chose’. Meaning I was very much,” she held back a soft laugh, “an active participant. I very consciously chose to try for a family with you. Yes - initially it was in the heat of the moment, but I haven’t had a single doubt about having a child with you. You are the one for me - through and through. Whether we were having a kid or not, but I am beyond ecstatic that we’re having a family together,” she stressed.

“All I do is talk about you and our little one,” Jessie said. “And I’m not sad or resentful of that at all - I’m thrilled. Babe, I love you more than anything. And I love our daughter just the same and I can’t wait to meet her.”

She heard your crying grow quieter and she went on softly.

“Are you perhaps having some doubts?” She asked, forcing past a new wave of apprehension. “I could understand if you did. It’s not fair to you that I’m out here - living the life, as you say - and you have the task of carrying our baby. I know you love work and your career has to be put on hold temporarily. I’m really sorry. And I’ll do everything I can to make that as painless as possible, but it doesn’t change the fact that that sacrifice still falls on you.”

You sniffled. “No,” you replied meekly. “I’m scared, I guess. But I don’t have doubts. I just feel like a burden and like I’ve cut off your freedom.”

Jessie sighed inaudibly. “You are not cutting off my ‘freedom’. I don’t feel restricted and I am going into this understanding that I also need to make adjustments and I really am happy to. I want you and a family together. I love football. Of course. It’s been my life. But it’s not my forever. That’s you. And her.”

“You’re being too nice to me,” you said, your voice hitching.

“No such thing. I love and adore you,” she said resolutely. “Now, can you tell me what’s scaring you? It’s totally valid to be scared, I just want to know more and to help if I can.”

“I don’t know. Some career stuff - the unknown there. If I’ll be a good parent. If you’ll leave me…”

“Your workplace will be counting down the days until you’re back. They’ve even said that,” Jessie chuckled. “And if, for any reason, you decide you want something different, we’ll navigate that when we get there and we’ll do it together. And you’re going to be an incredible mom. I have zero doubts. And I can’t even fathom the thought of leaving you. Not just because we’re having a kid together - in general. In fact, I’ve spent the past couple of days reflecting upon how absolutely different I am with you than I was with any of my exes. Believe me - there is no contest. Past or future.”

You sighed wearily into the phone. “God, Jess. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with my insecurities. Especially during your tournament. God.”

Jessie made a face. “Actually, as your partner that’s exactly what I’m supposed to do. And come on, this is the smallest of reassurances. You are so confident all the time - it’s intimidating, actually,” she said with a smirk. “Which you know.”

You finally laughed. “I know.”

“Mhm. You had me sweating and stammering when I first met you,” Jessie repeated for good measure.

“You did great,” you said with a laugh for which Jessie was grateful.

“I’m very, very happy to reassure you any time you need,” she reiterated.

"Thank you," you said with a small whimper. "I just got in my head. I'm anxious even though I know better." You gave a watery laugh that pulled a smile out of Jessie. "You still love me?"

Jessie laughed. "More than ever. I promise."

"I know I should've just talked to you. I'm sorry," you said.

"It's okay, baby. I'm glad we got that sorted," she told you before she rolled her eyes. "You had me worried that something had gone wrong - maybe the baby was coming early or something."

"Oh. Well she did drop."

"What!" Jessie exclaimed, head jutting forward.

"I think that's also went sent me into a spiral," you said. "It happened the day after you left. Remember she was so active - like crazy active. Then she just shifted and she's sitting so low now. I called the midwife - the timing makes sense and she has no concerns."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you need to tell me these things," Jessie said, irritation settling in her shoulders.

"I was going to tell you when we talked...," you offered weakly, surely feeling guilty.

Jessie sighed heavily, pacing once more and trying to let go of her renewed anxiety and irritation.

"I'm sorry, Jess," you went on. "Not my best moment...moments...as a partner. Thank you for being so patient with me."

She hummed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's okay, babe. I know you're dealing with a lot. It's okay."

"I miss you," you said, more like an offer or an olive branch.

She had to laugh as she shook her head. "Yeah, I miss you too."

"If it makes you feel better - I felt miserable not talking to you. Or not being open with you."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Jessie said flatly though she chuckled.

"Mm. Well. I wish I was there with you. I always hate going to sleep without you, but especially right now," you said.

"I know the feeling," Jessie sighed as she leaned against the wall. "I really do wish you were here."

"Me too," you said. "Though I'm sure Janine could live without that," you laughed and she snickered.

"Uh, yeah, she'd pack up her bags and move immediately," she said. A devilish smirk crossed her face despite the weight of your conversation just moments before. "She hasn't fully recovered from that time she caught us on the phone - or me, I suppose."

"Oh my God," you laughed. "That was a lot of fun though."

"It really was," Jessie agreed as she recalled the memory. She cleared her throat as the visuals in her mind became a little too vivid. "Embarrassing, but fun."

"Maybe...we could have some fun like that again?"

Jessie quirked an eyebrow up. It sounded great, but she wanted to be mindful of the distress you’d been in.

"When?" She clarified.

"Mmm, up to you, I suppose. You have your game tomorrow, so you should probably get some sleep tonight," you said. Something in your tone told her you weren't entirely set on that though.

"I'm not tired," she simply said.

"Where are you now, then?" You asked.

"Nowhere convenient. But I can easily head back to the room," she said, already on the move. “You’re sure about this? No pressure or anything. Seriously. I want to make sure you’re okay first and foremost.”

"I’m very sure. I’ve been missing you so much. And you know what emotional intimacy does to me,” you chuckled, drawing the same reaction out of Jessie. “Are you sure? I really don't want to affect your game or state any more than I have."

"I think it would actually really help my game," she said flirtatiously as she got into the elevator.

"Okay, let me get ready too, then," you said. She heard you moving around and then the eventual sound of you rummaging through the nightstand drawer.

"Ugh," Jessie said, mostly facetiously. "That's my job," she grumbled.

"You've been replaced by a machine," you joked. "No, come on, you know these things collect dust when you're around. Nothing compares to having your cock inside of me."

"Jesus Christ, let me at least get to the room," she said through grit teeth as she walked towards her suite.

When she stepped inside, it was empty, as expected, but Janine could be coming back at any point. She grabbed her airpods and connected them as she stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

"How fucking perfect," she whispered with a smirk as she spied the shelving above the toilet. She propped her phone up there and started video. When your face appeared on her screen she lit up. "There's my girl."

You gave a bashful smile, unlike the flirtatious or playful one you'd typically give in response; surely a lingering reaction from your earlier feelings.

"You're so beautiful. I've missed you so much," she said earnestly.

"I've missed you too, baby," you said sweetly. Jessie gave you a teasing look.

"See? Was that so hard?"

"What?" You asked with a small smile.

"Calling me 'baby'," she teased. You rolled your eyes playfully.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"Oh, baby. Sure you want to ask that?"

"Mhmm," you nodded, biting your lower lip. "I'm very sorry," you said slowly and in an entirely different way than earlier.

"Shit," Jessie said as she started to cup herself through her pants, her length starting to stiffen already. "That's my good girl." You bit your lip harder and she could see you start to fidget.

"I wish I was on my knees taking you into my mouth right now," you said.

Jessie groaned and undid her pants, dropping them to the floor, shortly followed by her boxers. She looked around quickly and spotted lotion on the counter, she stepped out of view - you whining right away - and pumped some into her palm before returning. She stroked her cock up and down, her hand moving swiftly and easily along her erection.

"What are you doing?" You asked with a flirtatious waggle of your eyebrows.

"Imagining your mouth around me," she said matter of fact.

"Well step back a bit, I wanna see," you said and Jessie obliged as she continued to stroke herself. She took off her shirt quickly, standing clad in a sports bra, her flexing bicep and abs on display.

"Oh fuck, babe," you said in want and she heard your vibrator turn on.

"You, too. If you really want to make it up to me you'll have to show me something. I know it's not easy right now, so feel free to be creative," Jessie said, tilting her chin up as she looked at you through her phone.

"Could it be the baby you planted in me," you said as you turned the phone to show your stomach as you rubbed it sensually. "Look at what you did to me, baby."

"Mm, you look gorgeous carrying my baby," Jessie said as she held herself more firmly as she stroked. She felt that primal rush inside of her and she groaned low in her chest. "You're my girl, aren't you?"

You started rubbing yourself with the vibrator and you returned the video to your face. Your cheeks were already growing flushed.

"Of course I am."

"Say it," Jessie demanded.

"I'm your girl, Jessie," you said. "Soon to be your wife. And mother of your child, of course."

"Fuck yes you are," she said through grit teeth as her pace quickened. "No one else's. Ever."

You nodded eagerly, your mouth now open as you pleasured yourself.

"No one else's. My pussy is so wet for you. You're the only one I want. God, I'm making a mess of our sheets already."

Jessie grunted as she clenched her jaw. "God, no one could ever work me up like you. Mm, I wish I buried inside of you right now. Fuck, I can feel how tight and hot you are around me. God, there's nothing and no one better."

"Oh fuck, Jess," you panted, your cheeks deep red and your head thrown back. "I need you to fuck me. Your hands on me, your cock filling me up. I need you so badly."

"You have me," Jessie breathed, her fist riding hard and fast up and down her length to the point her voice was shuddering. "I'm yours to keep. You know I'd be there taking care of you, taking care of my girl if I could."

"I know. No one can take better care of me than you."

"Remember that," she said as she started to buck into her fist. “God, you’re going to make me cum already.”

You shoulders heaved up and down, hitching as you worked your clit. “I’m close too.”

“Yeah?” Jessie asked with a crooked grin. “Picturing me thrusting into you from underneath - the sound of my hips slapping against your thighs as I stretch you out and make you mine all over again?”

“Oh God,” you panted and she could see your body rocking faster.

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” Jessie said. “Cum all over my cock and show me you’re mine. I’ll cum inside you and show you I’m yours.”

Your moans heightened as your eyes fell shut as you carried yourself over the edge. Your jaw was fully slack and you looked absolutely breathtaking as you reached your climax.

“I’m cumming for you, Jess,” you said before you began to whimper and she saw your body tense up.

“God yeah. My beautiful girl, cumming so good for me,” Jessie said as she watched you. She stepped forward and soon she grunted as ropes of cum shot into the toilet as she came. Her cock twitched in her hand as she rut into her hand. She couldn’t help but lament not being able to cum inside of you.

She stroked herself again, her motions slowing and her posture relaxing as she started to come down. She belatedly saw the wince on your face.

“Shit. The Braxton Hicks are intense right now,” you told her.

“Fuck - okay, no more. No more cumming until I’m home. I’ll be damned if you orgasm yourself into labour - especially me being here. No way,” she told you as she started to clean herself up. “Besides, you told me it was my job to fuck you into labour.”

You chuckled through a wince. “So demanding,” you joked. “Fine. As long as you’re ready to get to work as soon as you’re home.”

Jessie smirked. “You know I will be.”

—————

Jessie stood in front of the microphone post-game, shoulders still visibly rising and falling as she caught her breath and sweat still dripping down her face.

She answered the questions with quiet focus, eyes trained on the interviewer.

“…now lastly, you’re very close to expecting the arrival of your firstborn soon. Was that affecting you in any respect going into this win?”

While she wore a serious frown the minute prior, a broad smile now crossed her face and she felt her body lighten and relax.

“Oh, absolutely. My family is always on my mind and motivating me. I mean, the team and I work hard to focus and go into matches, especially ones like this, with a certain mentality no matter what and my fiancée is one of my best supporters. But,” she chuckled lightly, “if I was going to leave this close to the due date, I knew I better make it worth it and win,” she chuckled before her face settled into a soft smile. “But yeah, they’re both on my mind and I miss them like crazy. I know they both want us to rock it out here, and that’s what I intend to do, but I also can’t wait to be home.”