#then do shoot me an ask because that's like. two clicks of a button. it's already written

[batsplat]

hello!! i think you don't talk that much about tennis here, but this year i’ve been watching singles matches from roland garros and wimbledon and omg, it’s super fun!!! my grandfather used to be a big tennis fan and to be honest, i only started paying attention this year because i deeply miss him but omg!!! i've been missing in one of the best sports!!

well, my question is if you have any advice on how to start watching tennis! like, I know how the scoring system works, but for example, are there basic things you feel one should know? lore? matches that everyone absolutely should watch?

i know it’s a lot of work to answer all this, but thank you whether you respond or not! prob everyone tell you this, but wow you really are fantastic!

your brain >>>

i can’t even count how many things i’ve learned since following you!! at the risk of sounding parasocial, i really do have a lot of love for you <3

oh everything about this ask is so sweet!! I'm glad you've had fun watching the slams this year, I think it's quite easy for me to get down on the sport but it really is fantastic. and oh yeah absolutely, this is like. my speciality topic. forget all the other shit, when it comes to tennis I know my stuff

because of the disparate nature of tennis, it's hard to just give easily distilled lore, though I will be peppering a bunch of information and like, infamous matches + moments throughout the post that are quite common touchstones within the tennis fan community. this should also be quite a good time to get into the sport: we have a few smaller tournaments, then the olympics, and then it's immediately big tournaments leading up to the last slam of the year, the us open. the general aim of this post is to just provide a little bit of context for what you're seeing, some useful bits and bobs to get started, without delving too much into the actual tennis itself - but please feel free to ask about those bits too!!

I'll also give a little bit of history on the key players in both tours, starting at the inception of the open era. modern tennis as an actual professional sport has existed since 1968 (though obviously tennis has a far more extensive history we're not going to get in here) - and since then, we've had the gradual development of the formalised elements of the sport like the introduction of a rankings system in 1973, the creation of the women's tennis association also in 1973, the constant tension with the four slams, and so on and so on. which, yeah, all of this is plenty interesting, but in this post I'll mostly limit myself to providing a general lineage of the big name players of either gender from the inception of the open era onwards. the 1920s wills/lenglen one-match rivalry is a conversation for a different day

so yeah, a multi-part guide with a bunch of stuff I think should be useful. these parts can all be read independently, so really just take out whatever's useful for you - no need to read the whole thing:

how it works: the basic details of how the tours and calendar are set up

where to watch: a broad overview of where you can access tennis

how to get started: some general stuff about how to navigate the sport

women: a very, very quick who's who of women's tennis in the open era, kinda the biggest names and then a little more on the top of the game right now

men: you'll never guess

matches to watch: this is not necessary to get into the sport, but I have still provided a few picks from youtube that felt like they fit the general remit

in conclusion: got to have one of those y'know

I've also put a few other things below the cut:

some non-match tennis content and resources, a mix of more fun + casual stuff and where to go for a little more analysis of what you're watching

me going through the women's rankings and giving like, the first thing that pops to mind about the first 35 names

me doing the same with the men but trailing off after 20

just a list of players I think could be fun to look out for

I'm aware that my 'please don't feel overwhelmed' guide may feel overwhelming. again, you do not need to know or remember all of this when you are starting out. the most important thing is to watch matches and to figure out what you enjoy - none of this is mandatory. tennis is very much a buffet sport. pretty much everyone keeps up with the slams, but beyond that you will find fans who are super into challenger tennis, those who are dedicated to supporting every british scrub from rank 28 to 428 in the world, those who consider themselves specialists on two matches from the early 1980s. some are super big doubles fans, which is unfortunately something I will mostly leave out in this guide but is absolutely worth checking out! lastly, and this is really important: you do not need to keep up with tennis all the time! again, most fans generally will tune in for the slams, probably for the masters/1000s, but if you're not keeping up with every 250 it is fine. it isn't homework, the commentators are there to provide context for everything you've missed. all the information I've provided below will hopefully be useful in following the sport more closely but none of it is necessary. there is no required viewing in tennis, just find the bits you vibe with and go from there

HOW IT WORKS

right, thank god we're not starting with the scoring system, but the macro organisation of the sport is also *rubs temples*. once more with feeling, you do not need to remember most of this stuff to enjoy the sport. the rankings points per round thing? honestly, especially how often they faff about with the specific number of points for stuff, I too have to look these up a lot of the time. I usually just check the live rankings sites after certain rounds like everyone else (best site for this for both genders is an unofficial one because of course it is, if you want to find men's entry lists for various tournaments then go to 'dartsranking.com' here (don't ask) and if you want to find women's entry lists then they will come to you in a dream when you are ready to perceive them)

the tldr here is that you have the four slams, you have a bunch of tour-level events, the most important of which are the masters/1000 events and the tour finals, and then you have other stuff going on. also, the tours are thinking about completely uprooting and quite frankly vandalising this whole system so don't get too attached to it

right so, basically the main organisations in tennis are: international tennis federation (itf), association of tennis professionals (atp), and women's tennis association (wta)

the itf is basically like... it technically is responsible for the four grand slams, aka australian open, roland garros, wimbledon and the us open, but those four slams also all have a lot of individual power because they're the most important events in the sport. it's also stuff that's below tour-level tennis (aka atp/wta) but above national level competition... plus they're responsible for team events like the davis cup (men) and the billie jean king cup (formerly fed cup, women)

(atp matches are shorthand for men's matches and wta for women's, even when we're talking about slams. nobody cares that much)

slams are best of five sets for the men and best of three sets for the women. all other events these days are best of three. why is there this gender disparity in format in slams? because pretty much nobody is interested in changing it :) sucks because it's such a unique aspect of men's slam tennis but that's where we are

the atp is responsible for all the other events for the men, and the wta is responsible for all the other events for the women. so basically you have slams, which are the most prestigious things you can win the sport. below that, you have several different tiers of events that the 'top' players still play but aren't quite as important. the slams and all these other events do contribute to the same ranking system though

so the four slams give you 2000 points apiece if you win one of those bad boys (you get points for each round you win, so for instance 400 points if you get to the quarterfinal), and provide you with atp/wta points. it's seven rounds to win a slam, 128 player main draw, plus there's also a three round qualifying for lower ranked players. these are two week events and they're the ones players dream of winning when they're wee shits with delusions of grandeur

the next tier is masters events on the men's side and wta 1000 on the women (honestly often colloquially they're referred to as masters there too). the winner gets... you guessed it, a thousand points (last year we still had events called '1000' that provided '900' points and 500 events that gave you 470 and 250 that gave 280 points, because the wta does literally hate us). they used to mostly be one week but now we're getting more and more two week masters, for reasons. some of these events include both genders, some are for just one of the genders, some are in canada (they do the men in montreal and women in toronto one year and then switch the next)

then you've got 500 events, then 250 events. they're still plenty prestigious for most players, but of course it depends... for some players, winning a 250 is the best day of their life - for others, it's really just a warm up event for something more important

anything lower than that may still be handled by the tour but it's not a 'tour-level event' and top players won't play them. so on the women's side you have 125s and on the men's side you have *drum roll* challengers

if YOU are in the top eight of the year's rankings at the end of the season (referred to as 'the race') then you get to go to the year end championship technically more complicated than this in the atp but let's not!! also called the tour finals. this one's got a round robin system followed by semis and a final, you get points per match for a maximum of 1500. it's kinda a reward for consistency too, not as valuable as a slam but it's the next tier

there's also the olympics, which is like? almost all players would rather win a slam tbh - but I think for a lot of players olympic gold would be the next big thing. it depends though! it's very individual how much that means to you in tennis, and for instance this year because it's on clay between the grass and hard court swings, a lot of players are skipping it. you don't get ranking points for them either

ranking points are updated on a rolling basis, so they drop off after 52 weeks. the official rankings are released every monday (though obviously there's also the live rankings) and they determine what players can enter what event... plus seedings

the points distribution, ta da:

so the thing about tennis is that it's basically just... always on. no break! starts in january, the tour finals are october/november-y - and if you're REALLY feeling withdrawal symptoms, itf's are going on all the time. especially the top players (who expect to go deep in the events they enter) won't enter events every week, and you generally expect weeks right before or after slams to have fields with lower rankings. the 'big titles' are slams, masters/1000s and tour-level finals - and when those are on, that's the only tour-level event happening. most of the masters/1000 are 'mandatory' for players of a certain ranking, but there's a bunch of exceptions there we're not going to get into. 250s and 500s are often happening in the same weeks as other 250s and 500s. a normal amount of tournaments for top players per year is like... 17 to 25 I'd say

the other big element of the tennis calendar is the surfaces, which the tours are organised around. now, basically throughout the year, you do have hard and clay events going on at itf/challenger/125-level - but at the tour-level, it's more regimented than that. let's start with what the surfaces are:

hard - has increasingly become the 'default' surface for tour-level tennis, though it was not always thus. made out of... hard stuff... asphalt, concrete, y'know. lot of different types of hard court, in various colours too, for both indoors and outdoors tennis. you've got very slow and very fast ones and everything in between. tricky to slide on, though men do that a lot these days

clay - made out of crushed brick. generally orange, but can be grey. generally the slowest and highest bouncing surface, though again there's also variation there. in geographical terms, players from continental europe and south america generally grow up on this stuff - if you're from elsewhere, it's usually hard. you can slide on this stuff!! it gets everywhere

grass - used to be the tennis surface but now is kinda novelty value and confined to a small stretch of the calendar. the fastest surface, low bouncing. you can slide on this - but beware, players don't really grow up playing on this (even the bri ish) so is extra likely to cause injuries

and the way it maps onto the tennis calendar in like... very rough terms...

okay. okay so we start on hard court! for the australian swing, leading up to the australian open in like january-ish. there's also generally some events going on in asia in the lead-up to ao

then... right. february, you've got men's events indoors hard in europe and outdoor clay in south america. and there's women's events indoors hard in europe and outdoors hard in the middle east. look. ignore february for now

then everyone goes to the sunshine double (indian wells/miami), back to back masters in the states for four weeks starting in march. outdoor 'hard' (indian wells is infamously slow)

then it's clay season! so ignoring those like. three events at the start, almost all of this happens in europe. all of the events apart from the wta 500 stuttgart is outdoors. and then you've got roland garros in may/june!

and then we switch to grass, where there's only three weeks to lead up to wimbledon! these events are in britain, germany and the netherlands

and then. okay. so. you've got one more grass event but you ALSO have the july clay swing. this doesn't lead up to any big events, it's just sort of there. they're trying to get rid of july clay because #they hate whimsy and fun

also you have the olympics during that time when they're on, typically on hard but this time on clay

then you also start having hard events at the same time, and eventually everyone goes to two masters, first in canada then cincy. outdoor hard

and THEN you get the us open, the final slam of the year, again on hard court, in like august/september

and then. and then. everyone just goes wherever. asia, america, europe, indoor hard, outdoor hard... even a rogue wta event on clay scattered in there

and eventually there's the tour finals! so on the men's side, it's in turin, where they've got a longer term contract - the tour finals move around, but only every few years

on the women's side, they're now in saudi arabia, which... discussion for another day, at least they're polite enough to let us know where it's happening more than two days in advance

as an example, here's what wta events are going on in july:

so, generally speaking there has been a process of surface homogenisation over the last few decades, where court speeds and all that have become more similar to all the other courts... like unless you're casper ruud, if you're a top player on one surface you will be able to perform to a reasonable standard on all of them. but it does matter! every player has courts where they're better or worse, preferred conditions and places where they're relatively weak - even the greats of the sport. relatively dominant world number one iga swiatek just flopped out of wimbledon. 24 slam winner novak djokovic kinda sucks at monte carlo. this is a question of playstyle and how it interacts with the conditions, of weather, ability to move on certain surfaces... etc etc. and the tennis does look different... this is one of those things you do just get the more you watch it I reckon

it's even just very basic stuff! because grass is faster than clay, serves are more dangerous there - and also it's harder for players to make it to the ball in time, so rallies are on average shorter. it used to be super extreme that grass was the territory of servebots and super aggressive players, and clay was ultra defensive grinders. now it's more complicated than that but *wiggles hand* everybody still has their Thing

HOW TO WATCH

*sigh* yeah this is the tough one

okay. so this really depends on where you are, and unfortunately there's no getting around the fact that the rights situation is an absolute disaster in this sport. first of all, each of the slams are their own thing, and often have different deals with different networks/streaming services. so for instance in britain, you can can watch the australian open and roland garros on discovery plus and wimbledon on the bbc and the us open using vpn to a different european country's more affordable streaming service in a language you can speak on sky sports. my understanding is the situation in the states is a nightmare

with the tours, which is most of the year, regardless of location you can watch men's tennis on tennistv, their custom streaming service that also provides replays of... almost all matches in the last few years and a strong selection of matches from the years before. it's not exorbitant fees, but it's also not cheap. again, depending on location, there may be other options available like tennis channel *sigh* and skysports *stares into the middle distance*. with the women......... okay, so you can use vpn to select countries (or just live there I suppose) and then buy wta.tv, which is quite possibly the worst streaming site to have ever been created. they do also have a list of broadcasters by country

I don't really know how to sugarcoat this because like... it's a nightmare. it just is. and if you want to watch a player you like in qualifying, well then, good luck. I do have to bring up for completist's sake that you can use betting sites where you pay in a one-time fee of like ten quid to watch any match live without commentary, including the ones that are otherwise available nowhere else but apparently do have cameras on them. which is.... obviously terrible. but well, icl, I do use it. for below tour level, challengers tv on the men's side does actually exist and works great! no commentary though in almost all cases. for 125 events... I do think they're mostly on wta.tv now? which. about time. some itf events are available on the itf website. the other option we all have to go for sometimes is... alternative streams. the way to go about this for the uninitiated is googling 'reddit sports streams', go to a recent-ish post, click on one of the links they provide, and work from there. of course, you can't watch replays with this - but especially as an entry level fan, that's often the place to start unfortunately

you can also watch match highlights! men's tour-level highlights posted by the tennistv youtube channel are generally speaking quite good. the highlights that the wta compiles are. *takes deep breath* *stares into distance* well. they do exist. sometimes. with slams it's all over the place, so like the australian/us open actually provides great 'extended highlights' quite regularly (and even uploads full matches!!) whereas the roland garros youtube channel might as well be telling you 'fuck you' in french for two and a half minutes for all the viewing value you get out of their highlights. wimbledon is almost as bad an offender - and both also relentlessly copyright strike anyone who is rude enough to attempt to advertise their product for them

^one of the best slam matches in years. an instant classic. exactly three minutes of highlights. the blandest caption on this planet. let's all kill ourselves in french

another thing that's worth bringing up: start times on a tennis schedule are very much vibes. you can generally trust the first match of the day on any given court to start when it's supposed to, except if the weather has something to say about it. there's also some 'not before' times or evening sessions, where generally the schedulers hope that all the preceding matches will already have finished by then. otherwise, you are dependent on how long the players before that have decided to take. this can be frustrating, especially when you're setting an alarm for 4 am and were kinda hoping you didn't do so for nothing. match notifications aren't a bad idea!! and sometimes you just have to see if you can vibe with whatever's on. also, anon you said you were watching roland garros and wimbledon.... okay, look, this can always be an issue (except in indoor tournaments obviously), but I PROMISE you the rain situation isn't usually THAT bad

listen. the thing about tennis is that it doesn't necessarily want you to watch it. but you can beat it

HOW TO GET STARTED

okay, the obvious one, and the bit you've already done: just start watching some matches!! slams are a good gateway drug. also, the next few months are gonna be super hectic - you don't even have the relative 'lull' of july clay because it's all prep for the olympics. then you've got two masters leading directly to the us open. there's plenty of matches to watch!! most of the top players will be at the olympics, basically everyone will be at the masters and then at the us open

for one week events, you have a lot of matches at the start of the week before the field gradually thins out, and then you get just the final on sunday. for two weeks, it's a bit more complicated than that, but you still generally will end up with a final on sunday

again, you don't need to watch everything! seriously, I imagine the number of matches can feel a bit overwhelming, but there's plenty of tournaments where I watch like. one match on a thursday and nothing else that week, and if it's on the main feeds then the commentators will tell me all I need to know about what's been going on

and yeah, pick a few players. if you've got a bit of a range - especially in terms of their ranking - they're also likely to be competing in different events and give you someone to get invested in most weeks if you so choose. plus, if you're just there for one player, they may just flop for six months and go on a seventy match losing streak. can get pretty dire. give yourself a few players to orientate yourself week by week... I used to have scoring notifications turned on for a bunch of players (also to let you know when they start), now I just let their results come to me in a dream

we'll be getting into this in a moment, but with the men it's always important to remember that legally speaking, only three men are allowed to win a slam at any single point in time. which means that for your sanity it's probably a good idea to just pick one of those blokes to be a fan of so you have someone to actually provide you some joy in life. the other top ten players are kinda filler material in terms of the Big Narratives of the sport, but some of them do make it to late stages of slams quite regularly and have even been known to win some masters, so you might want to pick from that pool too. beyond that, you're getting into territory where there's a lot of fun blokes who generally have a big run in them somewhere, but it's also considerably less predictable and they are more likely to just. lose a lot. but also, the small successes there are more fun to celebrate!!

with the women... well, listen, we're in a situation where the big events on a tour level currently do feel a bit more dominated by top players than the slams do - cf how we've had two matches this year between the worlds numbers one and two and none of them have come at the majors. given the wta has more or less left its chaos era, you're quite unlikely to have 'random' players winning slams, though generally speaking they may be more likely to make the late stages of the slams than on the men's side. what this tour really has plenty of is depth! I'd still recommend getting into one of the top 3-4 players on tour, all of whomst are slam winners - but there's only two multiple slam winners you feel relatively confident about racking up at least a few more, whereas the other two still have a bit more to prove in that regard. beyond that, you do have to embrace a little more volatility to enjoy the women's game to the fullest extent. if you've watched the channel slams, you'll have been introduced to a player who would have been considered a 'scrub' a year ago (a term of endearment, at least to me) but made back to back slam finals in the midst of her strongest career season. #realtennisunderstanders will know this didn't completely come out of nowhere, but for a lot of viewers it will have!! the beautiful thing about this tour is that you can hope for something that isn't just more of the same - you too can pick a random scrub and experience the thrill of them making a round four in a slam out of nowhere

basically, with both genders, my suggested approach would be finding a realistic slam contender who might actually win shit for you, find maybe one or two lost causes you can get upset about whenever they give you false hope, and then pick up a bunch of scrubs at random because they charmed you that one time they won a three and a half hour match in the first round of a 250

there's also a bunch of non-match tennis content that you can check out! I shoved it under the 'read more' because this was getting too long, but you have a mix of youtube channels, podcasts, writers to check out, specific pieces, websites... that kinda thing. I'll say this again below but really my number one rec is daria kasatkina's tennis vlog to get the insight into what life is like for a top twenty player. plus, her and her girlfriend are lovely. so

WOMEN

right, first a brief history of the big names, starting from the open era (1968):

at this time, the big names were billie jean king (known dyke, one of the key figures in founding the wta, cf 'the original 9') and margaret court (known homophobe, statpadded her slam count total with a bunch of australian open titles when nobody bothered to make the trip to australia which still feeds into some deeply annoying modern goat debates). you've got the breakthrough of goolagong (one of the most important players in the 1970s, from an aboriginal family back in the time when the government was removing aboriginal children from their families - really would recommend reading up on her story). these players all won a bunch of slams, very successful

in the late 1970s you get the emergence of navratilova and evert, who have the most prolific rivalry in tennis history - and they are the dominant names throughout the 1980s. interesting and layered rivalry, both in terms of their interpersonal relationship (which has gotten very warm since they've retired) and in terms of the tennis - with navratilova the attack-oriented serve and volleyer taking on evert the defensive baseliner. unfortunately, they now spend much of their time being transphobic on twitter dot com

the next big name to break through is one of the contenders for the title of goat, steffi graf, miss forehand who started winning slams in the late 1980s. a bit shy, a bit introverted, a bit withdrawn with a father who can politely be described as 'a piece of work', she was dominating the sport to an insane extent - she's still the only player to have won a 'golden slam', all four slams + olympic gold in a single year, which she did in 1988. then comes monica seles, even younger, a power player with two hands on the forehand as well as the backhand and seemingly the player who could finally take on graf. seles won three out of four slams in 1992 (she lost wimbledon in the final to graf) - but then, in 1993, she was stabbed while playing a match by a fanatical graf fan. while she survived the attack and was eventually able to return to the tour, even managing to secure one more slam, the crime irrevocably altered the course of her career. it's still considered the single biggest 'what if' in tennis history. graf dominated for most of the nineties... the other big names are sanchez vicario, who won a bunch of slams but also lost a lot of slam finals vs graf + seles, as well as hingis, an extraordinarily precocious talent with a few fun controversies and plenty considerably less so, who ended up having her career marred by injuries

turn of the century is when we get the emergence of the williams sisters, venus and serena, both of whomst are all time greats - and serena has perhaps the strongest goat case of any single player in the women's game. the two made a huge impact on the sport both on-and off-court and they are in that rare categories of athletes who can be considered 'bigger than the sport'. of course, we're not going to do that history justice here - and there's all manner of talking points like the indian wells boycott as a result of how the crowd treated their family (allegations of match fixing with obvious racist under/overtones) and how instrumental venus in particular was in bringing about equal pay in slams. on the court, both separated themselves from the pack in their athleticism in all domains - venus has the all court game with the mix of aggression and craftiness, and serena is a powerful baseliner with probably the best serve of all time in the women's game. beyond their singles slam tallies, they also are one of the all time great doubles pairings, winning fourteen slams as a team (this did used to be more common, cf navrat's doubles slam count)

many wta fans consider the noughties pretty much... peak of the sport, a golden age - this is the bit people tend to get nostalgic about. it's partly the tennis itself, partly the state of the competition, the Big Characters and all their drama.... apart from the williams sisters, you had the belgian rivals: henin, who was seen as cold and ruthless and a bit of a cheat, with a lethal one handed backhand, quick feet and a great serve considering her height, and clijsters, with her big groundstrokes and her distinctive way of sliding on hard court and how she was considered cheery and kind but also flaky and too much of a choker to ever finish the job. those two had a whole history with each other, as childhood friends from opposite sides of the belgian linguistic divide who became very much not friends.... were on very different on-court and off-court trajectories. then you've got a few more americans, many of whomst were also active in the nineties... davenport who smacked the ball like crazy, capriati who was known for being a semifinal choker until she wasn't - one of those players who captivates you with how much of themselves they leave on court. then kuznetsova, with a fun if inconsistent game and some banger matches, particularly memorably vs serena, mauresmo who had a stunner of a one handed backhand, these days she's making herself unpopular as roland garros' tournament diector, sharapova, the prodigy to break through and suddenly beat serena in a wimbledon final (basically never beat her again lol) who... uh. yeah! lore! she's got plenty of that! also jelena jankovic, who was world number one but never won a slam. still known for the single most important reaction image in the sport:

you use this attached to some dumb fake quote, typically about how players today just don't cut it. an important element of sports discourse is, of course, nostalgia for some kind of mythical era vastly superior to the present - get in on the game early

the 2010s is like... a mess... serena is still super successful, sharapova is still a major factor, but you also have a bunch of other big names. muguruza! halep! azarenka! wozniacki! kerber! kvitova! in no particular order! some are still around, some have retired recent-ish, some are now back after having been suspended for doping. as a cohort, I feel like they're generally treated as kind of underachievers, but all the ones I listed DO have at least one slam to their names. also many Characters in this camp!

next big thing is naomi osaka, who is currently on four slams (first sealed at us open 2018). her first slam was sealed in a massively controversial final against serena that is hard to summarise in a pithy way - but the controversy is all about officiating and serena's disagreement with the sanctions the umpire was applying. it had nothing to do with osaka - who is a fun character with a great understated sense of humour, but also is a bit of an introvert and ended up quite overwhelmed in the situation with the vocal crowd response. since then, osaka's torn up a few more hard court slam draws, though her other results aren't like,,, really in line with those slam results? and she ended up a bit disillusioned with tour life, which is tied to another big controversy we're not getting into here about her refusal to attend press conferences at rg '21. then she got pregnant, but this year she's back! jury's out about whether she'll become a regular feature at the top of the game again, but her recent r2 at roland garros against swiatek was promising in that regard. one of those players where the sheer power of her groundstrokes can make you gasp, one hell of a serve, so so much raw talent that she's now attempting to coax out again

for a while, the most important player in the woman's game was ash barty, who ended up on three slams and a good run of weeks at the top of the rankings. an australian with obscene amounts of natural talent at all manner of sports, she was short enough to make her serve freakishly good, a powerful forehand and a nasty slice... but always with a complicated relationship to the sport. after winning the australian open in 2022, she retired out of the blue, in what has to be one of the shocking announcements we've had, like... ever. given the sport had been fairly chaotic in recent years, there was a bit of an expectation that the world number one ranking was going to be beset by similar levels of chaos. with barty gone, removed from the top of the rankings after the very next event, were we going to get another five different number ones in the year to come? was it just going to be a free-for-all? will we all be number one for 15 minutes?

well, no. off the back of her third consecutive tournament win, iga swiatek ended up inheriting the title. she'd already won a roland garros title as a teenager (the weird covid-y autumn 2020 one where she just like... terrorised the field, scary scorelines) - and after a slightly rockier 2021, she was already in the process of putting together a fearsome 2022. there was always the concern the new pressure of becoming world number one might affect her... but if anything, it spurred her on even further. she ended up accumulating a 37 match win streak, the longest in the women's game in the 21st century - which also took her to her second roland garros title. she's on five slams total now

she's been number one since then except for a brief period late last year when aryna sabalenka briefly replaced her

which brings us to the current game:

especially on the non-slam level, there are definitely a few big names right now who you'll see win a lot of titles - or at least show up in the late stages. I've already mentioned iga (igatha) and aryna (sabs, sublanko) (long story)

iga is a class apart from the field outside of slams, has by now won a shit ton of titles, often by like... brutalising the field. her biggest asset is her phenomenal movement, best in the game. the forehand is... unusual (odd grip and with very high topspin by women's standards), big big weapon but can fall apart - but on the plus side that's meant people are finally paying attention to her very lovely backhand. can be a bit tactically rigid, generally too few in-match adjustments

very intense on court! less so off it, kinda an introvert, big on reading, tiramisu, that kind of thing. her polish fanbase can be a teensy bit. insane. (honestly the non-polish ones are also a lot.) on clay she's in a class of her own - four of her five slams are at roland garros, and I fully expect her to reach the double digits at that particular slam. her slam results have been a bit disappointing outside of that, minus her one us open title in 2022, which in itself is a reflection of the expectations people have for her. she's also very good on hard, though the grass situation is currently a bit sketch. always a force to be reckoned with, though! struggles the most with big flat hitters (rybs, penko, noskova, alexandrova, kalinskaya, idk, that type. apart from those first two who are consistent Problems, generally speaking she does get the better of them more often than not)

^our current numbers two and one, sabs on the left and igatha on the right. I quite like iga's top because from the right angle it looks a bit like a piano and I like pianos - but on running doesn't believe philosophically in providing people a chance to 'buy' their 'product', so to the best of my knowledge this kit was never available to buy. tennis: a sport that is so profoundly shit at capitalism it comes around to being kinda marxist

sabs is a POWER player, but with a fair amount of spin to her strokes when compared to many of the other wta 'bashers'. smooth and elegant and easy power production is overrated as shit - sometimes you want to see a player who is visibly putting effort into smacking that ball. she puts so much of herself into every single shot, and you do NOT want to be that ball when she's on it. very expressive on court, a fun character off it, the type of player to really show her emotions. for her, the mental side of the game tends to be a massive talking point. despite her current slam tally of two (ao '23, '24), a lot of her fans would very much feel she should be on several more than now - and a big reason for that is a pattern of underperforming/choking in big matches late in slams, typically in the semis but also in last year's us open final. the tennis is there, but the ability to always deliver on it? eh. it's a cruel sport

the other massive hurdle for her was her serve. she developed such a severe case of serving yips that during the australian swing of 2022, she ended up clocking double digit numbers of double faults in single matches. she ended up working with a biomechanics specialist to fix the issue - and it's still one of the sport's loveliest fairy tale stories in recent years that she ended up winning her first slam in the place that had caused her such heartache the year before. she started the final with a double fault, and went on to win it in the best slam final (either gender) we've had this decade. she might still be fighting her demons, but at least you do know she won't stop fighting

speaking of the ao '23 final: elena rybakina (lena, ryba, rybs), the player sabs beat to win it. ryba is... I don't think it's fair to say she came out of nowhere to win wimbledon in 2022 because she had reached a slam quarter the year before, but she certainly was a bit of a surprise. a little bit of controversy surrounding that title, given ryba is a russian-born citizen of kazakhstan who switched nationalities because she was promised support by the kazakh tennis federation - and wimbledon that year had banned russians and belarusians (this was a one time thing, and in the end no other tournament went the same way). there was also a little bit of... *sigh* discourse? about how little she emoted when winning the title, which kinda led to a weird set of presser exchanges where she ended up crying when the emotion finally overcame her and she kinda went 'well you got what you wanted' and then everyone clapped? like, literally

anyways, she backed it up by reaching the ao '23 final, won a couple more big titles last year, and seems to be particularly lethal when facing iga. that being said, her other slam results have been quite poor since then - and she was seen as the clear wimbledon favourite this year in the second week but failed to convert it into another slam. she's also been hampered by various illnesses, remains to be seen if that remains a consistent problem in her career. still feels like she's got a little bit to prove in that regard. she's very tall, an icy demeanour on the court with an excellent serve and big, flat groundstrokes that are particularly effective cross court. also she has a sister who tags along sometimes and very much emotes

and then there's coco gauff, who had her main tour breakthrough very very young and is still only twenty. had her big title breakthrough last summer in the american hard court swing, won a lot of matches and ended up winning that us open. since then it's been... a bit more of a mixed picture. she's a great athlete, very very fast, and that athleticism is her single biggest strength. the backhand is a thing of beauty. the forehand is not a thing of beauty. partly due to her unorthodox grip, it's a bit of a catastrophe at times - very liable to breaking down entirely, and her slam was won working around that weakness. iga has a painful 11-1 head to head against her in large part for that reason. coco's also got a powerful serve, but it's... not in great shape right now I don't think? but the other big thing she's got going for her is how damn tough she is - like especially this year when the tennis hasn't always been there, she's managed to knuckle down and get a lot of incredibly gritty wins. she's survived a lot of 'ugly' matches, has somehow scrapped and clawed her way through plenty of them... though yeah, doesn't seem like she's particularly happy with her camp at the moment. no question about her dedication or talent, but it remains to be seen whether the forehand will end up imposing a ceiling on her ultimate potential

barbie k has earned a promotion to this bit of the post by just winning her second slam at wimbledon! you get to this section if you win two slams this decade, I reckon, and barbora krejcikova (barbie, barbs, mother krej) is now a multiple slam champion in singles as well as doubles (where she is very, very successful). she's a late-ish bloomer who really only started performing in singles in 2021, and still remains a bit of a mystery in her performance patterns. czechia is a powerhouse in the women's game that has produced a lot of top players, some crafty ones with a ton of variety and some bashers - and krej is in the former camp. she has a real fun game in part as a result of her doubles expertise: she slices! she moonballs!! a LOT!! kinda quirky way of hitting her forehand, a lot of arm extension, but the backhand is the real beauty. clever player even when she can't string it together consistently on the singles court... had a dip in results after winning a final against igatha early last year (her second time doing so in a matter of months - given iga's fearsome reputation in finals in particular, this is particularly impressive). who knows, she might disappear again after this... but well, you always know she has this kind of a run in her. she's a proper fan of the sport herself and you'll frequently spot her watching women's matches from the stands in her off time

in conclusion, the current women's game is great. I have no clue who's going to win the us open. there are about a million fun and interesting players I've left out of this narrative summary. pick up your local scrub today

MEN

again, starting with a broad historical overview:

right right around the switch to the open era, the biggest name is rod laver, who is still the only bloke to win a calendar slam (all four slams in one year). the main stadium at ao is named after him, as are a bunch of other things. they trotted him out in 2021 when it looked like djokovic would win the calendar slam, but, well, he did not. there's also rosewall who won a bunch of slams... the era also includes arthur ashe, the first black man to win a slam title (did it three times). eventually, in the mid seventies you get the emergence of jimmy connors, who ended up being around forever and ever - famously a dickhead, one of the backhands of all time and an early adopter in the two handed squad

you also get the emergence of bjorn borg, the iceman, who was like. super popular with his looks and magazine shoots and exorbitant exhibition fees, very very intense about his tennis, steely baseliner. eventually burned himself out and retired young, which also negatively affected his rival - the tempestuous young john mcenroe, known for his temper tantrums (he of "you cannot be serious") and being a magician on the court, who tended to behave himself around borg and borg alone. he believes he never quite recovered from borg deserting him so early, though he did amass quite a nice collection of slams

early eighties and we're throwing in a mats wilander into the mix, a baseline grinder in the classic mould who you may be familiar with if you've ever followed tennis through eurosport - plus boris becker, who won wimbledon ridiculously young, a highly gifted serve and volleyer, who spends his days now going to prison for tax evasion. two more eighties players while we're at it: the hardy ivan lendl, a man with a big forehand and an icy demeanour which is SUCH a cliche I hate myself for using it, and stefan edberg, the best type of serve-and-volleyer because he really was more about the volleys than the serve

and then!! the nineties!! well, a little bit before the nineties, actually, is when a new crop of american talent come through - four players who were going to define that decade of men's tennis. michael chang was the first one to break through, and did so very young - still the youngest slam winner in the men's game at seventeen years old. a short bloke who based his defensive game around his speed and consistency, he never quite managed to replicate that initial success, but was still a major factor in the game for the decade after that. also, check out chang's autobiography if you want to learn more about nineties tenn- oh, what's this I'm hearing? really? huh, that's not what I was expecting going in, but fair enough! right, okay then. let me try this again: check out chang's autobiography to learn about how to live a good christian life and why sex before marriage goes against the teachings of jesus christ our lord and saviour (and also a little bit of tennis). then you've got jim courier, an american who excitingly did not suck at clay (funnily enough three of these four did win one slam on clay, it's really just sampras who SUCKS), big fighter, one of those americans with big forehands, y'know how they are. also one of the best retired player commentators and interviewers, really knowledgeable and good at explaining shit. courier also used to be in the same training academy as agassi and was kinda the less favoured one so he loved to beat agassi in a five set final to win his first slam

the other two are wunderkind andre agassi who hated the sport most of the time, and pete sampras, a genius of the game who had a far healthier relationship with the concept of tennis. the world's best returner against the world's best server, the intrepid baseline with the fearsome running forehand versus the cool serve-and-volleyer with one of the greatest serves in the game. sampras defeated agassi when everyone thought agassi would finally win his first slam, and he became a bit of a professional bogeyman for agassi. very much the rivalry of the decade, big contrast in personality as well as style. sampras won fourteen slams (but was very much not one of those americans who could play on clay), agassi had a bit of a messier time of it but still ended on a respectable eight - and remains the only man in history to win a 'career super slam', aka all four slams, olympic gold and the year end championships (nadal was missing yec, federer and djokovic gold - these olympics are presumably djo's final chance to complete the set)

agassi and graf eventually got their happy ending with each other. when he retired from the sport, agassi focused on his true calling and became a professional wife guy

anyways, they did also need someone to win the clay slams in that era, for which you do get a bunch of different blokes - but the most successful of these is kuerten, who brought a lot of aggression to his clay court game (this would become way more common since). big heavy groundstrokes, lots of topspin, you know how it is

early noughties is a bit chaotic, sampras and agassi are still winning a bit, there's a few names who are kinda limited to being successful on clay, lleyton hewitt looks like's gonna be the next big thing but isn't (still wins two slams). eventually you get the emergence of the big three/four

the first guy to show up is roger federer, who was kinda seen as a very talented flop, lots of potential he wasn't delivering on, until he finally put it all together and started winning absolutely everything. one of the serves, especially given his height, all time great flat forehand, very good slice. got even better at the net in his later years. the one handed backhand is a shot people like for aesthetic purposes, but it could be a liability. swiss. after he got rid of the ponytail, he was eventually seen as sort of synonymous with like. elegance. gentleman's sport idk

after a few years of federer winning everything, rafa nadal emerged as an ultra good teenager. kinda became the federer kryptonite. he's especially good on clay... okay, yeah, understatement, greatest of all time on the men's side on that surface, a lot of records that are going to take a lot of beating. like it's hard to overstate how good he is at roland garros, won the thing fourteen times. lefty, seen as a big fighter, got the sleeveless shirts, big big forehand with big big spin, fast. did branch out from the whole clay thing to also win all the other slams a bunch

that was the big rivalry for a while, until two players shoved themselves into the conversation (born a week apart): novak djokovic (nole) and andy murray. djokovic wasn't quite as early a bloomer as nadal, struggled a bit more physically early on, won a slam in 2008 and was consistently at the top but it really clicked in 2011 when he just won like. basically everything that year. didn't lose a match until roland garros. from serbia, childhood affected by the war... prone to some pretty dubious nationalism. a counterpuncher with one of the all time great backhands, ridiculously flexible, also ridiculous mental strength. was unpopular as the intruder in that nadal/fed rivalry that a lot of tennis fans seem to really be into, also federer in particular used to be real bitchy about him (kinda faded over the years). but like, don't bother booing him! it makes him better!

has won some insane matches against fed - crowd against him, fed with matchpoints, all that shit... us open 2011! and of course, wimbledon 2019, that infamous final where federer had two championship points and that lady in the crowd held up one finger (one more point) and djo ended up winning. another beloved meme in the community (well, not with fed fans)

*extremely cold take voice* REAL fans know the 2019 final is overrated and 2014 fed/djo is the superior one. djo won that one too, tended to do that a lot in that rivalry

oh obviously also gotta mention that djokovic had the entire covid 'oh I don't want to get vaccinated look at me get deported from australia' thing going on. which means a lot of like, free speech anti-establishment nuts are super into him now. so beyond the vaccine scepticism, it also means that now any time he gets bitchy about crowds, you can't really enjoy it because it immediately sparks super weird discourse

anyway then there's sir andrew murray who was part of the 'big four' as an era and was always there but was losing a lot of semis and finals against these guys. far, far better than his three slams sound, one of the greats who got unlucky in the era he played in. moody scottish bloke, pepperidge farm remembers the english used to hate him. counterpuncher, lovely lovely backhand, the forehand was sometimes a bit. eh. and the second serve *stares into middle distance*. very smart and crafty and tactical player. just retired this wimbledon

wawrinka also won three slams in this period..... powerful one handed backhand, kinda peaked at exactly the right time because the rest of his record is not three slam worthy. interesting taste in shorts. used to have beef with fellow swiss bloke fed and also his wife? but unfortunately they patched things up years ago. dated teenage vekic when he was late twenties - there are rumours that relationship may have started when she was underage, but either way she was definitely very young. reaching the end of his career

basically, look, the big three won pretty much everything for so so so long. unprecedented length of domination by three blokes. all of them have deranged fanbases, though each of them is a different flavour of deranged? single slam winners who are either retired or close to it are del potro (insanely talented, very injury blighted), cilic (when he's on, he sure is on), thiem (the guy who the big three feared for a while, insane one handed backhand, won a silly slam final in 2020 and then was kinda struggling mentally before his wrist got fucked)

andddd let's get to the current state of the game, what the vibes are like right now:

we are. finally. I think. mostly done with the big three? federer's very much retired, nadal's on the brink, djokovic... *wiggles hand* he's been deeply mid most of this year until roland garros, where he got injured. then he came back very quickly and admittedly got bitch slapped in the wimbledon final but also, like, 63 players allowed him to reach that final? anyway the thing about the big three is you can't really trust them to actually stay down, but tentatively I do think it's mostly #over

first bloke to get through the big four stranglehold on the number one ranking since. uh. 2004 I believe? a long time. was daniil medvedev (meddy, med), who it's fair to say was a bit of an Unexpected contender for that spot. he's very tall, part of a new generation of very tall players who can actually move, used to have a good serve... unconventional technique, especially on the forehand side. unique return position (think very far back), commonly compared an octopus with his lanky limbs in odd places. a pusher who likes to win by outlasting his opponents in rallies to exhaustion/madness. smart bloke, head case on the court - quite marmite where either you enjoy the antics or think he's a dick who's apologised for his behaviour more than he's changed it. has reached a lot of slam finals, did win one (us open 2021) but also. the manner of some of his late stage slam losses is what his fans would consider 'a little bit painful'

he was part of the og nextgen... basically you had the golden gen, which was the big four and co, then the lost gen, dimitrov, thiem, all those fuckers who didn't replace the gold gen, then the next gen which was like a marketing campaign to finally replace the big three (med, AZ, tsitsipas, rublev)... still didn't work so now we're on the next next gen

the big name here is carlos alcaraz (carlitos, charlie, charlitos), this wunderkind who is known for his big forehand and dropshots and creative game and general air of like, joy on the court, also for not being a talentless flop (and came in at just the right time to not get a shit ton of scar tissue courtesy of the big three). alcaraz had a mini breakthrough us open 2021, and then the proper one 2022... a season Of All Time by a teenager. won a lot of stuff that year and then eventually won the us open, ended year number one. 2023 has brought another slam, 2024 two more slams and counting... very much the next big thing in the sport, loads of fans. he's got basically everything, offensive all-court game with a lot of tools that make him successful on all surfaces, a mix of power and finesse. sometimes his number of options can trip him up and he can be a bit of a slow starter, has also been criticised for his over-reliance on coach ferrero in terms of his tactical flexibility - but crucially he's very very good, has won a lot, will continue to win a lot

then you've got jannik sinner, an italian from south tyrol (y'know, the bit that's right next to austria, kinda pasty looking, his fans have this whole carrot situation going on). he's number one now, after winning his first slam start of the year... bit older than alcaraz but only became a shoo-in as a slam contender this year. bit more of a linear, straightforward game than alcaraz, big big forehand and big big backhand, high margin aggression but more emphasis on the 'aggression' than for either prime djo or nadal. like alcaraz, an elite returner, plus his serve has massively improved in the last year and it's now pretty lethal. has sometimes been quite physically frail, jury's still out whether he's completely overcome those issues looking at his losses this year. the alcaraz rivalry is a whole thing now.... for a while, sinner was still kinda mid against the field but always played alcaraz super close and got some big wins. now he's very good against the field too, still plays alcaraz close

just as a recommendation: if you want to get into men's tennis and want to have a good time for the next decade, you probably want to try to get into one of those two guys

MATCHES TO WATCH

this is kinda trickier to do than with motorsports because it really depends on what you're looking for? like I wouldn't say there's really any 'recommended viewing' and also because tennis is going on literally ALL the time, really the best way to get into it is just watch the new shit as it comes out.... also most tennis fans aren't watching that many replays lbr. now obviously there are freaks who are way too into old matches they weren't old enough to experience live and could provide you with detailed match recs from the nineties if you were interested, but they're very much in the minority in the fanbase and can safely be ignored

that being said! you asked for recs so I will provide recs, all from stuff that's available in youtube. weirdly enough this is like, the one thing that is better for women's tennis than men's tennis, so for new-ish matches the only men's matches uploaded on youtube are a few slam ones. I'm gonna give like, 3-4 older matches from each gender (all from this century don't worry) that jumped out at me when I checked what was available, then add a few newer ones. all easily searchable on youtube dot com

historical matches:

okay. look. I don't want to sound like I have some fixation with the concept of '2003' specifically. but if I can give you one match, just one older match to watch. it's the us open 2003 semifinal between capriati and henin. this is a match with literally everything... incredible tennis between two very different players, stylistic contrast, a crazy atmosphere, ridiculous momentum shifts all three sets, officiating controversy, booing, a player fighting through cramps, choking, a super dramatic finish, narrative implications... like it's so worth it I PROMISE

um... apart from that, let's go serena/clijsters australian open 2003, really cool match though a BRUTAL third set to watch on a psychological level. like oof... again the narratives around this match that emerged for one player specifically... cruel!! tennis sucks!! hm I'm aware this is also a 2003 match but kinda an iconic season in women's tennis idk what to tell u!!

gonna refrain from reccing henin/serena rg 2003 though if you want something super controversial...

venus/davenport wimbledon 2005!! one of THE all time great slam finals. this is a match that grabs you by the throat and doesn't let you go until the bitter end. real back against the wall stuff, going beyond your limits to somehow turn it around.... absolute classic

oh idk let's toss in serena/henin 2010 ao, I'm gonna stop myself there but it is a fun match-up lol

men!! men. I mean, if you want to get 'caught up' then I'd probably better give you some big three recs

well, look, if there's one classic men's match everyone will tell you to watch, it's wimbledon 2008 federer/nadal. icl I haven't watched it in years and can't really remember it particularly well, but I'm sure it's perfectly lovely

from the matches available on youtube..... hm well australian open 2012 djokovic/nadal is also a classic! partly because it's Very Very Long but yeah nah this one's definitely fun

oh oh federer/djokovic matches I'd go wimbledon 2014 and us open 2011! especially the latter one, along with wimby 2019 I think those are kinda the matches that define the rivalry in the popular consciousness? also it was the FIFTH consecutive uso in which they played each other, which is inherently narratively potent

they uploaded nadal/djokovic roland garros 2021! that one's great yeah, the... third set I believe is one of THE all time great sets of tennis. also again interesting arc there because it's only a few months after the rg '20 final where nadal like, bagelled djokovic in the first set

and more recent matches:

well first of all, they have the ao 2023 ryba/sublanko final on youtube and yes, OBVIOUSLY watch that. fantastic match! best slam final this decade thus far, what a classic. also, read up just a little bit more about sabalenka's 2022 australian swing before watching it to get a sense for just How Bad the double fault situation was (I'm sure the commentators do also discuss it). like again!! what a journey!!

the wta full matches playlist is an absolute blessing here. iga/aryna 2023 madrid final!! still... well okay madrid this year is also in the conversation, but certainly one of the best matches they've played. as an introduction to the pair of them and how much fun that rivalry can be to watch, definitely the place to start! yeah, what a match man

they have!!! iga vs krej!!! ostrava!!! 2022!!! final!!! I miss ostrava!!! such a good vibes tournament, important to note that iga was almost unbeaten in finals going in (apart from one final when she was still like, a toddler) - this one's a real journey and also really works to show how cool barbie k's game can be when she's actually playing well. lovely stylistic contrast, lots of quirky momentum shifts, again you're getting introduced to current players of relevance. also ostrava!!!

kerber/juvan strasbourg 2022 look you do not need to get into angie kerber in the year 2024 but... well I saw it on the youtube playlist and I can't NOT include it. it's a 250 final, it's right before roland garros, this isn't relevant to greater narratives or anything else, this is just two players fighting it out for hour after hour, leaving their absolute all in the dirt. I could marry the matchpoint

leylah/osorio monterrey 2022... again, I'm not saying they're big names or some shit, but I can't not. two of the all time great tusslers in the women's game like there are women who tussle and then there are women who TUSSLE. amazing amazing atmosphere, some ridiculous drama, scamming, lights fixtures failing, these two women going at it… they're both SUCH characters, such energy, such vibes, never give up… this slaps!!! my favourite matches are the ones that really take you on a journey

speaking of. any match in the leylah us open 2021 run lol like they've got her vs naomi vs svitolina vs angie vs sublanko.... still one of the most bonkers slam runs in recent times, if perhaps overshadowed by what was going on on the other side of the draw. but yeah truly one match of peak drama after the other, what joy

scrolling through the ao matches that have been uploaded and tried to refrain from reccing coco/kostyuk but in the fondest way possible if you want to see some awful tennis... there's nothing more beautiful on this planet than genuinely horrendous matches. like again when I say 'abysmal' it's meant as a term of endearment

(I feel bad for just including a terrible coco match so of the ones on youtube the one I'd rec is maybe us open 2022 vs zhang? but like her coach's catchphrase is 'winning ugly', it really isn't a bad thing or meant as a drag)

from last year's rg, muchova/sabs and muchova/igatha are both very much worth a watch, both for the drama and the tennis

moving on to the men... well look, again, it's just a few of the slam matches on youtube not the tour level, which does kinda limit the ones I can offer you. probably the one I'd go for first and foremost is alcaraz/sinner uso 2022? defo the best match those two have played, super high quality, big big big momentum shifts, the third match between the two of them in fairly short succession which really helped in terms of like. narratives and shit. and again, these two are definitely The Guys going forwards, so you kinda want to be vibing with one of them I reckon

uh.... okay sure, alcaraz/djokovic wimbledon final last year. I still think there's a little bit of gaslighting in the tennis community about how good this match actually was (not as bad as what people do with their cincy match last year, mind) but well it's long and dramatic and long! also you do have like, the generational contest and all that stuff... it's A FINAL FOR THE AGES according to wimbledon's youtube account and who am I to argue with them

man these men's matches.... there's some sentimental faves for me personally but I shall not include them. apart from that, the youtube selection is honestly quite poor. maybe alcaraz/tiafoe 2022 us open

lmao altmaier/sinner roland garros 2023, sure, that was funny. making that one of like ten matches you've uploaded... never change roland garros, never change (please do change)

anyway listen there's a lot of fantastic men's early slam rounds that clearly nobody ever bothers to upload, I'm not really feeling any of the choices they have here. if you have tennistv and access to actual tour matches, then I'm more than happy to give recs for some of my faves there

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

congratulations! you are now caught up on 'tennis'. you've done it! that's all there is to know. job done

anyways, look. like I said at the top, it's tough to give a sort of concise 'lore' intro, because the thing about tennis is that there's always going on. and the 'always' element is the good bit!! it really is all about the variety, it's going into tournaments with an open mind, it's definitely not just gravitating around a few top players. we could get into plenty of old matches and old drama and old unsung heroes... an endless litany of minor beef, both very recent and slightly less recent, that may one day be lost to time. like tears. in the rain

last point as I wrap up this worryingly long post - obviously, if you have any questions on anything technical or historical or just like. hot takes. please feel free to send an ask. talking about tennis is fast and free and easy if you've been a part of that world for way too many years. but the main thing is to just watch and forge your own hot takes! it's easier to get the hang of than it looks from the outside - and from my years of observational studies, once it hooks you, it sure does hook you. have fun!!

congratulations! you have accidentally clicked to find the 'read more' section!

this is the section of 'shit I decided would make the main post not streamlined enough, but still felt like was relevant enough to include here'. basically, what I've thrown in here is a bunch of non-match stuff you can check out in your journey getting into the sport, my quick fire 'hey here's some players you can check out' list, as well as a relatively brief take on some players I haven't already covered above. like a teensy little intro.

anyway, to the non-match content:

dasha's vlog: okay. so daria kasatkina is currently ranked top fifteen in the world and for the past year or so her and her girlfriend (retired figure skater natalia zabiiako) have been releasing a vlog of her life on tour. genuinely dasha is doing more than the troops (certainly more than the wta) to actually promote the tour... the vlogs consist of like. her travelling, her training, her and her girlfriend chatting to other players and interviewing them (mainly women but men too depending on the event), the matches... and also dasha and natalia just being incredibly cute. they're in a mix of english and russian with english subtitles. fun, gives you a sense of both how fun and how not fun life can be for professional tennis players (plenty of depressing losses), an inside look in pretty much all the major tournaments... and you do get introduced to a smattering of other players. she recently won eastbourne so happy ending to that one!!

various tennistv videos: unfortunately, the wta does not produce similar content. they have a lot of match highlights, but they also have like. compilations. 'meme' videos for a given value of the word. 'funny moment' compilations. these vary in quality, some stuff will make you cringe, but unlike Certain Organisations at least they're trying. so for instance you have a video from rome 2021 that's a mix of people falling over on clay and throwing racquets and complaining about shit and also djokovic staring out at the endless rain. or specific features like atp players reacting to videos of amateur players playing tennis, y'know, that sort of thing

gill gross: so you want to learn a little more about how tennis works, maybe some match tactics or common discourse points? gill is a good place to start I think, most of it should be relatively accessible and watchable. there's monday match analysis videos, which tend to be the finals of the week before on the men's side, individual match analysis videos especially during slams, and mailbag episodes - those are the ones I'd start with. unfortunately, most of the content is focused on men's tennis, though gill does also talk about women's tennis in the mailbag episodes. available both in youtube form and podcast version

tennis abstract: this isn't really 'content' per se, but it's the resource that I thought I might as well include here and does include a very interesting blog proponent and some very eclectic content. basically, tennis kinda sucks in providing you with stats, so some enterprising minds just do it themselves... tennis abstract might not be the friendliest website to get on with at the start, but I think it's worth checking out just to give yourself a bit of a sense of what's out there. how you measure tennis! you can compare players by a bunch of different metrics, like how many return games they're winning per match or average time per match. there's also the individual player sections, which lets you filter their results by various criteria... and then there's the individual match charts and the data based of those, which is entirely volunteer-produced match coding to give you far more in-depth stats than the general tour product (which I have done a bit of myself, it's fun!!)

tennis podcasts: right, I'm gonna be honest I'm not really a regular listener to any of these for various reasons so I can't REALLY vouch for them. you have no challenges remaining, quite well-known journalists with that; there's the tennis podcast, which... controversial, they easily annoy me too, but around slam times the media day + daily podcasts are pretty good content, quite surface level but good entry level probably? there's the body serve, which I think is quite good, it's just got an editorial slant towards certain players I'm not big on. there's backhands and compliments, which is a fan podcast by female fans... just about atp tennis though. I'm not really the target audience for this one, but if you want something quite casual and fun, think this could be good! tennis & bagels is pretty good, they're only this low down because they're not currently regularly posting. talking tennis is very much a mix of content but one I regularly check out, again more on the analysis side of things, but yeah!

I also can't really vouch for this content myself - but I should mention that morgan riddle, the girlfriend of top twenty atp player taylor fritz, is a social media influencer on both instagram and tiktok. I'm not active on either platform so I only really see what she posts second hand, but well it'll be stuff relating to her boyfriend and also fit checks for watching tennis, I suppose? I do know people who enjoy her stuff, think it's quite good!

tennis majors: I'm a little loathe to include this because the site is basically a patrick mouratoglou pr outlet that moonlights as a serious news site? and look. mouratoglou we are not getting into here, but he's a very annoying famous coach. site's got some good content though. also tennis.com which is another news website that's like. fine. I don't really check it a lot tbh, good as a starting point I reckon

players tribune has a few pieces by tennis players - iga, jpeg, foe... obviously not that many but the ones who have contributed a piece are well worth checking out!! for a bit more thoughtful content

popcorn tennis: this is a blog that updated irregularly with a mix of opinion pieces, player profiles, and match reports. another one where I easily get irritable at a lot of these pieces, but that's sort of the point with think pieces innit

some more technical analysis on thread of order, which unfortunately again is heavily biased towards men's tennis. there's match analyses, generally of big finals, but also some really interesting pieces on technique. this one on forehands is probably like... a bit much for entry level fans, but it should be quite accessible as a read! then you've got the sadly discontinued matt racquet blog, which still has an archive worth checking out - mix of match analyses and more big picture think pieces. here's a good accessible one on the early 2022 men's top ten with their strengths and weaknesses displayed in a video game-y way, obviously a bit out of date both in terms of who it includes and what it says about them, but... good as a starting point of how to think about this stuff. also, I love radar charts

on the same site, there's also this on the equal pay debate with regards to best of five versus best of three at slams, and what still remains the best analysis out there of why alcaraz's drop shots are so incredibly effective. again, less on women unfortunately, but some pieces that withstand the test of time on why iga is so damn good (x, x). also, the good old What's Wrong With Tennis piece from 2020, many of the same things are still wrong with tennis now

as long reads go, this piece on federer from the time of his retirement is pretty hard to beat in terms of what tennis writing is out there. does a good job of capturing why people go so crazy about the guy, a very engaging read. also liked this piece in the guardian about return positions from last year, and back when 538 was a thing they had a few interesting tennis articles. and yeah, again, tennis abstract is a super useful site but the blog is also fun analysis, good up to date stuff especially on players who are finding more success and like... explaining what's changed, the pieces on demon and boulter this year for instance are worth checking out. and here's an essay on talent and prodigies and losing again and again.... not too long but quite thoughtful and I vibe with a lot of it. plus giri nathan of the defector is one of the best current tennis writers

and if you're on twitter, the number one follow recommendation I'd give is @/josephwofford - when he's active, he does a lot of fantastic live analysis of matches and post-match threads. definitely not a neutral fan, but the passion and eclectic selection of faves is the best element. plus, you'll never believe this, there's actually a pretty much fifty fifty gender balance. here, giri nathan did an interview with him entitled 'an interview with the biggest tennis sicko I've encountered at the us open'. my type of guy

there's also like, fan-produced wta content on youtube, but it's a real mix between stuff that's done with love for the tour with all its quirks and stuff that feels very mean-spirited, misogyny central, so it goes. not always easy to distinguish between wta drama (fond) and wta drama (look at these bitches). anyway there is some kinda nice stuff out there.... like idk naomi osaka 'funny moments' or iga swiatek 'being a meme for 4 minutes straight' or aryna sabalenka 'funny moments', that sort of thing

not going to get into a tennis bibliography here, but if I had to recommend one tennis-related book it'd always be agassi's autobiography. will probably always be my favourite sports autobiography, and I promise you that you do not need much of a tennis background to find it a worthwhile read

^dasha and natalia... look up photos of them I promise you it's a good scrolling experience

and here's my lil list of players I'd consider giving a watch, see what you vibe with. I haven't included any top five players - you will be brute force introduced to that lot anyway - and generally not players that I consider... surefire bets to reach/remain at the top of the game. they're still mostly relatively high profile! a bunch of different playstyles, career trajectories, personal stories, and so on... again, this is just a bit of a random list and only very loosely correlates to players I myself root for, but I reckon I still stand by the names here in terms of giving you a good range of interesting players with interesting stories:

paolini, kasatkina, zheng, krecjikova, fernandez, collins, ostapenko, svitolina, m. andreeva, garcia, kenin, andreescu, osorio, haddad maia, avanesyan, bouzkova, putintseva

davidovich fokina, de minaur, musetti, tiafoe, korda, etcheverry, baez, machac, arnaldi, norrie, sonego, hanfmann, munar, berrettini

okay, some more wta players - so so many you could get into here but I've just tried to give the top 35 like. a few lines of summary (not including anyone already featured above):

this would feel like a bizarre sentence to type out a year ago, but I suppose the first player you have to mention here is jasmine paolini! how did that happen! at age 28, her game has suddenly Clicked and she's won a 1000 title, plus become one of the few players in history to have gotten to back to back slam finals at roland garros + wimbledon (the 'channel slam'). short, somehow generates some crazy power, plus she's such a scrapper and grinder, a lot of determination and spirit to her game.... she's having fun, you're having fun watching her, who knows what she does from here

jessica pegula/jpeg - billionaire's daughter, late bloomer, perpetual slam quarterfinalist, injury blighted season, plays doubles with gauff a lot, big fighter, deceptively good... like you don't always know what makes her so dangerous, she's not super powerful or super fast or super anything really. but the strokes are consistent and fairly powerful and she's incredibly tenacious

qinwen zheng - reached her first slam final at ao this year, and she's been tipped as a big star for a while now, also very much got the celebrity juice and lovely magazine shoots and all that. the results are still quite inconsistent though, we'll have to wait and see. tall with a quirky serve motion, big forehand, really likes to take the ball on and step in, still trying to kinda bring it all together

maria sakkari - the most beautiful biceps in the game, very fit (in every sense of the word), also kinda quirky technique that's like... effortful, quite tense. renowned for being a massive choker but won her second title last year. she's one of those players it's super rewarding and fun to be a hater of, less rewarding and fun to be a fan of. so don't do that

danielle 'danyell' collins - announced her retirement so she's going to be gone by end of the season, but since then she's had some very impressive results including a 1000 title. plus a lot of great matches. she's a bit of an underdog hero, no sponsor and all that, also a number of physical ailments that makes it hugely impressive what she's achieved. struggles with rheumatoid arthritis and endometriosis. known for her powerful game and her KAMANNN yells

jelena ostapenko (aljona/penko) - 2017 rg champion. don't try and predict her results, you just won't know. WHACKS at the ball, amazing angles, distinctive return position (way way too close sometimes lol), can generally be counted on to generate some drama. gets into a lot of fights with electronic line calling. very much a force of chaos in the women's game, check her head to head with world number one iga swiatek. doesn't have a sponsor and comes up with some memorable outfits

daria 'dasha' kasatkina - I Was A Fan Before I Knew She Was A Dyke. a pusher, little firepower but WILL run for every ball, loops and slices it back. very very very slow serve, great returner though. it's a very sad serve. tends to get overpowered especially by top players, and is probably a bit too defensive these days. it's definitely not a game for everyone, but idk if you're into different ball flight trajectories and a lot of running, she's a good watch. plus she does play some very long matches. when you have players who are shite at serving and great returners, you tend to get a lot of matches where they're either handing out or on the receiving end of bakery products (6-0, 6-1 sets) (because the serve becomes little more than a neutral point starter on average, so the bit that matters is who's winning off the ground)

ludmilla samsonova (samsung/samsonite) - ... she's top twelve? oh, I checked and I'd forgotten she reached two 1000 finals last year, those were great runs fairs. another player who's quite honestly a mystery, goats some stretch of the calendar and then has a series of horrific chokes. big power player, I like the shape of her groundies

madison keys (madi) - she brings a certain kind of 'approaching tennis like it's baseball' vibe to the tour, going by some of her balls' trajectories, got to rate it. boy can she smack that ball though, pretty cool when she's actually getting it between the lines. has broadly underachieved career expectations, got to one slam final that was Not a good experience for her, seems lovely as a person so a lot of people root for her. retired from the best match of the tournament this wimbledon :( (against paolini)

emma navarro - another billionaire's daughter, possibly didn't exist before last year. honestly, I haven't watched enough of her matches to have a great read on what her deal is... but now she's top twenty

ons jabeur - trailblazer as a tunisian tennis star, reached three slam finals and didn't really show up for any of them. (like, psychologically, she didn't literally skip them.) a magician on court with a game that some would call creative and others undisciplined. got nicknamed the 'minister of happiness' in tunisia and outside of it, but has been fighting a lot of demons - injuries, the slam final chokes, her desire to become a mother and so on. a lot of people are cheering for her but her window may have passed (dude, seriously, not a good fan experience, don't get invested)

anna kalinskaya - oh yeah another flat hitter who igatha has struggled with. got to a 1000 final this year... look I hate to do this but I suppose I should mention one of the main associations people have with her right now is that she started dating men's number one sinner this year

marketa vondrousova (maky) - another mystery. has some big runs in big tournaments and then disappears. won wimbledon last year, has barely won a match on grass before or since... one of those crafty czech players, y'know. fun game to watch when it's on! lovely lovely slice, just an incredible amount of tools at her disposal, some of those angles pheww.... really likes her cat

marta kostyuk - had a breakthrough very very young, things have been tougher for her since then... not made easier by the impact of the russian invasion of ukraine. outspoken on the subject. last year things increasingly clicked in her game, started winning against t10 players, deep run at ao this year. bit of a messy game at times but she's a fighter

victoria azarenka (vika) - two time ao winner, already got mentioned above. fantastic returner, spottier server, lovely lovely backhand. gotten involved in some classic wta drama over the years. still goes on some deep runs, but reaching the end of the career

donna vekic - breakthrough young, had a hard time since, now 28 and was a first time slam semifinalist this wimby. a few things you could get into here which would take more time, but really an engaging watch. some of her down the line and inside out shots... man, they can make you gasp

beatriz haddad maia - do you want to watch four hour long matches with fifty thousand momentum shifts? boy do I have a tennis player for you. pusher with a serve, definitely a fighter, makes for some epic matches... not having a great season. a Dedicated brazilian fanbase

leylah fernandez - us open 2021 runner up as a teenager... her run to the final was genuinely bonkers, one three set classic after the next. it's all been messier since then and with her height and game the worry is she'll always be underpowered. she is SUCH a vicious fighter with a charming grin after the fact... a great character and a henin fan (taste) but yeah... can be frustrating

caroline 'caro' garcia - okay so look. she has her good seasons and her off seasons and her last good season was 2022. she's very aggressive, very.... uncompromising, including in her return position, sometimes it works out and.... it may also not. had past familial coaching drama. mentally a bit up and down. when she wins she has this whole 'fly with caro' thing where she runs around like a plane. but so help me lord I resisted leading with this - quite possibly one of the hottest women on this planet and when she speaks with that french accent paired with one of history's cutest smiles... in the most feminist way possible. call me

dayana yastremska - she's top thirty...? another mystery, had a breakthrough young and then struggled, ukrainian also impacted by the war, also a character you can sometimes get some quality Drama out of

linda noskova - still very young... very powerful, beat iga at ao, one of a million good czech players. jury's out as to what her potential is

ekaterina alexandrova - madrid specialist! well, no, not really, but she's definitely a bit of a peaky player.... flat hitter, very nice stroke production

diana shnaider - still quite young, HUGE forehand (like. huge. huge), bandana!! looks cool, cool kid, left college to turn pro, still need to see where the ceiling is

yulia putintseva (poots) - again, her results.... nobody can explain them, but boy can she be a joy to watch. also, and I cannot stress this enough, A Character. beat iga at wimbledon (she did also win a warm up event so not completely random). sometimes gets involved in the messiest matches on the planet

elina svitolina - bit of an old school pusher! a counterpuncher, even! very strong record against her fellow pushers. she came back from having a kid last year, been having quite a successful comeback though she would have been hoping to win last wimbledon (got to the semis). underpowered, felt like her ceiling was slam semis but y'know... great fighter and match player. also vocal on ukraine

mirra andreeva - baby goat! younger sister to erika, who is currently still in scrub land. mirra made rg semis, she's had some big runs. very much a Tennis Fan who studies a lot of old matches, very crafty, tactical game, deeply charming but also has a temper and is not adverse to the odd tantrum. might lack the weapons to 'make it'

anastasia pavlyuchenkova (pavs) - kinda a perpetual slam quarterfinalist, but she made the rg '21 final. she really works at it, I suppose quite workman-like game (some creative descriptions here)... out with injury for most of 2022 but she was back at it last year. she's sweet!

katie boulter - bri ish. uh. kinda been having good results this past year.... hate to do this again but she's dating de minaur. very low margin game and now does hit the court a few more times? um. bri ish. beef with fellow brit harriet dart

elise mertens - round three streak slam goat!! unfortunately the streak is very much broken, and she's - uh I thought she was old but apparently she's only 28 oh god. never mind! hugely successful doubles player, kinda fun creative game

karolina muchova (karo, mucky) - dude. if only she could not be injured for more than two minutes. reached the roland garros final last year, lovely matches against sabs in the semi and then against iga in the final. this is for the connoisseurs, you can get all pretentious here, really for the lovers of slices and lovely looking strokes and nice touch and feel and unfulfilled potential and all that shit. crafty czech player y'know. plays guitar, should be playing for our team (dykes)

okay I think that's probably enough for now

I'll do a few of the men too... this one's got fewer main protagonists so I'll limit it to twenty. the problem with men's tennis is that these guys are all relevant but basically none of them are likely to win a slam like. ever. just to warn you

right. first one we haven't covered in the rankings is alexander zverev. the main thing you should know about zverev is that he has been accused of domestic violence by two different women. one of the women never went to the authorities, the other ended up settling in german courts. the atp has done nothing about this, the players haven't spoken out - and if anything, the most prominent players in the sport, the beloved big three, have either defended him or said it wasn't any of their business. quite a few of the most popular players, including rublev and thiem, are close friends with him. many have explicitly declined to speak out. as a player, he's tall, big serve, great backhand, mediocre forehand, should use his offence more but resorts to a lot of pushing. he used to be seen as a sure fire world number one and slam winner, and came within a set in the 2020 us open where he was up two sets to love (this was a while before the allegations came out). he got injured badly in 2022, last year was his comeback season, this year he's been playing well but losing slam matches from winning positions. one of the most tedious strains of tennis discourse equates his playing style/mental strength to his morality or attributes his lack of slams to karma, but I have no interest in doing so. he's a very good player who may win a slam, he might have too much mental scar tissue and might be gatekept away from them. if I had to bet on any player I've listed here to snatch one, it'd be him. he also shouldn't be allowed to play

alex de minaur (demon) - dude he's? tf do you mean he's number six? I've really not checked the rankings in a while, bloody hell. yeah, he used to be the next big australian sensation, the new lleyton hewitt... but like, he didn't quite have the game. very very fast, not necessarily much in the way of firepower, some midcourt finishing attempts that make you wince. used to have an awful record against top players, it's looking up now and he's using his forecourt game a lot better these days (still not great at being aggressive off the ground but he's always been quite handy at the net, just needs to get there)... having the best season of his career. got injured match point of his round four wimbledon, so had to withdraw next match - rough rough luck if he has to withdraw from the olympics too. dating katie boulter

hubert hurkacz (hubi, hubertus, I feel like I'm not really distinguishing between 'real' nicknames and 'things I personally call these players' but whatever): very tall. very very good serve. polish. not as good as iga, obviously. gets bullied a lot by polish fans (in a fond way) (I think), seen as a bit crap. comes across as nice and normal but has had a slightly mental exit in the last two slams where. well. some interesting behaviour there. lovely backhand, extremely non-lovely forehand. poor returner. a good mover, not med/AZ levels though. keeps playing longer matches than he should. very tragicomic vibes

andrey rublev: has a lot of fans, plus a lot of neutrals who also have a soft spot for him (including journalists one feels). one-dimensional game, mainly reliant on the big forehand... very poor second serve, which is one of the main thing other players exploit. got the record for the most slam quarters reached without winning one. uh, he's quite cheery off the court, vaguely emo-lite vibes I suppose, but also he does have... issues on the court with managing his temper. he takes this out on himself a lot of times, like bashing his knee and head with his racquet. fun quirk of the tennis rules: you're not allowed to damage your racquet or the court but apparently you're allowed to do whatever you want with your limbs. quite close friends with med, godfather to his daughter. he's had a poor year apart from winning madrid kinda out of nowhere (since then he's gone back to losing). a lot of like, the fun quirky videos the atp produces heavily feature him, he's very good at them

casper ruud: la la la la la la la casper ruud.... seen as a 250 clay merchant, but he won a 500 this year so it's all fixed. very much a hard work pays off kinda guy, had his breakthrough 2022 where he reached two slam finals... big forehand, great serve, the other bits of his game aren't always up to scratch, not fantastic defensively (though he's actually made Proper Improvements to the backhand, apparently it's possible) (and he's not like, taylor fritz slow). this year he's really committed to being aggressive and going after his shots and it's helped him get over last year's slump. comically, comically disinterested in playing on grass. gets involved some of the funniest and most random drama, like jaaaaaa gate (he was accused of shouting 'jaaaaa' in another player's face by said other player). big nadal fan. seems nice and normal and should be drama free but is also like? judgy. maybe that explains it

grigor dimitrov: ah yes, lostgen. there's one guy on twitter who always calls him a 'bisexual balding bulgarian', quite possibly the funniest slander name I have ever come across. he's had the balding issue fixed at least. bit of a style over substance player, the one hander is a nice shot though.... decent slice, at times flaky forehand, a lot of natural talent and a good watch in terms of athleticism. used to be called baby federer, bit of a cursed nickname. dated sharapova for certain, rumoured to have dated serena too. he's kinda nice I suppose, low drama, but like. don't bet your life savings on him actually delivering in a match is what I'll say

taylor fritz: oh he's the american number one again... also quite a one dimensional game, big forehand big backhand good serve... worst mover at the top of the men's game. also in the variety department he's sometimes a bit... yeah. he's got one type of ball trajectory and it's a good type, just don't expect him to switch it up too much. one of the og nextgen lot. in the most polite way possible, he's probably around where his ceiling is. tennis influencer girlfriend

stefanos tsitsipas: super og nextgen, he was really seen as one of The Guys back in the day... beat federer at a slam back in 2019, won the tour finals that year.... he's reached two slam finals and he's been within a set of winning one but. yeah. not happening. game's stagnated since his breakthrough - he's big on the forehand and serve but the one handed backhand is super exploitable. and the thing is, if you have a one hander it's a good idea to actually develop a slice as your defensive tool which he did... not do. deeply dysfunctional familial coaching situation. also too likely to be posting a misogyny on social media. dating fellow player and former world number two paula badosa

tommy paul: another american. he showed up drunk to a us open doubles match he had a wild card for years and years back, and the national federation cut his support. rockier rise to the top! there's like... a lot of nice bits to his game, like it's good shot making, but it's missing the top player x factor (that forehand in particular can be a liability). has reached a slam semi (that bit of the draw collapsed is all I'll say)

ben shelton: another american, but he's younger and he's seen as super promising, was a very successful college player. so might be worth investing in! he's very energetic, plays to the crowd a lot, big on vibes... big big serve. small warning, I personally think that's not a game that'll take you to the top of the men's game these days and I'm not convinced by the package, but who knows! a lot of people would disagree with me

ugo humbert: fifteen??? FIFTEEN in the world????? the fuck. well. um. he's got big weapons! he's also got french brain. french tennis players, especially the men, are known for.... uh. I don't want to say it's a nation of chokers, but I wouldn't say they're seen as the mentally sturdiest? well anyway I'm not sure how humbert got this ranking, good on him though, very good watch when he's on

lorenzo musetti (lore): oh thank god, finally a one handed backhand that's better than the forehand. stylish game. lovely slice. a working father. quite young, he's still kinda known for that 2021 roland garros match where he was up two sets to love against djokovic and ended up retiring in the fifth when he was... losing badly... listen, again, I wouldn't buy the musetti slam stocks and he is NOT consistent throughout the year, but absolutely a good watch

holger rune (holgah): sheesh, seventeenth? well, he was higher a while back! listen, he's super marmite. very close to alcaraz's age, also super promising junior, absolutely a brat, has had some very exciting early success like beating djokovic in the paris final in 2022... incredible drama queen, as are his mum and coaching set up. got a lot going on in his game, has no clue what to do with it. he's... yeah he's a character. at the moment he's not looking like he's part of the same category as sinner and alcaraz, but some would feel he'd be a welcome presence at the top of the game. accused casper ruud of screaming 'jaaaaaa' in his face. you'll either love him or hate him, but at least he's never boring

felix auger aliassime: still quite young, but god did people used to think he was gonna achieve great things... big serve, big forehand, great athlete, unfortunately the backhand is... yeah. he was also dealing with a bunch of injuries last year. had this whole coaching set up with nadal's uncle.... anyway, look there's been a lot of stagnation there. also some real scar tissue

sebastian baez (sebi): argentinian clay court specialist, from a country that produces quite a few of those especially on the men's side. very watchable tennis! quite short, not much in the serving department, uses his forehand a lot and grinds away from the back of the court proper clay court fashion. tends to be quite streaky, but boy can he put together some title runs (we're talking 250s and now one 500) - then sometimes he disappears for months

alejandro tabilo: omg he's top twenty, good for him!! already in his late twenties and like... this is probably the ceiling as his rankings goes, but it's so cool he's made top twenty. beat djokovic this year. his strongest surface is clay, but weirdly his two tour-level titles are on hard and grass. lefty, I do quite like his backhand motion, very compact. good underdog to root for who's having a career best season!

marija cicak world's hottest umpire

[httpsryu]

the cc; campus crush : 2

pairing: kim minjeong x fem! reader

summary: kim minjeong feels her heart rush at the sight of the cold-hearted rich girl

category: enemies-to-lovers(in minjeong's head)

genre: this part is ANGSTY

warnings: y/n is kind of mean (ITS IN HER BLOOD)

a/n: i had no clue that cc would have this much support! thank you so much guys <3

The second the professor ended the lecture, students bombards the door. Jimin turns back to her shoulder to check up on Minjeong and see if she's going to hang with her and the others. However, seeing you still next to her gives her other ideas.

Her phone lets out a small buzz, having her look at it and she smiles while typing back an 'alright, have fun! i'll inform the others'.

"Think Minjeong is going to be with someone else today." Jimin informs Aeri and Yizhou while closing up her notebooks and putting them in her extremely large and heavy black backpack.

Aeri swears that backpack can be used as a dumbbell workout at this rate.

Both Aeri and Yizhou nods, putting two-and-two together.

"I admit, I'm surprised that Minjeong is managing this far with Hong Y/N." The Japanese amusedly turns back to look at her friend and the cold-faced rich girl. "I kind of thought they would just sit next to each other and that would be it."

The Chinese besides her throws her head back in a fit of laughter. "Come on! Give some hope in our Jeongie."

On the other hand, Minjeong patiently waits for you as you finish typing out the rest of the lecture's notes. However, she can see the slight confusion resting upon your very attractive face at some of the points given in today's lecture.

She assumes it's probably because you're not here for every class so confusion would make sense.

"Hey..um..if you always need help with anything, feel free to ask me. I can always help assist you." The short-haired offers, a bit shy, of course.

This reaction of the intriguing female sparks sort of a frenzy in you. Of course; you cannot pinpoint what it is.

"I don't need your help." A blunt yet short response comes from you.

You aren't sure if what you said was offensive, as you've always are used to that tone while growing up. However, to Minjeong, it seems a bit too honest. But then again, she understands it. You are a cold person like everyone else said. She can stand it.

"Ah." She can only respond, nodding as she doesn't want to push any boundaries on you.

With a slam from closing your laptop, you shove the device into your backpack. With no care if it breaks or not because less work for you to do. You look up after zipping up the bag.

"You should close that more gently." Minjeong suggests, seeing you raise your eyebrow at her suggestion. "Just because your hand can get hurt."

If anyone can see the way your eyes soften for a glimpse second, it would be the heavens from above.

"It's whatever." You reply, getting out of your seat.

The short-haired doesn't move, still frozen at where she is sitting. Unsure of whether you'd still want to grab coffee with her or not. It seemed like she pushed your buttons, judging from how you respond.

"Are we getting coffee or not?" You ask, sounding a little bit impatient as you couldn't help but to swing your bag in a sassy manner as you also don't forget to fix your hair with a swing of a finger.

Minjeong's eyes widens, immediately getting out of where she was sitting and rushing over to your side. "Yeah we are."

"She's like a puppy. A bit cute." You can't help but to mumble under your breath, walking ahead of her, a smile kind of crept to your mouth as you hear her following swiftly behind you.

Minjeong shoots her friends a small smile before disappearing out the classroom to catch up with you.

"You know what?" Yizhou stands up, ready for a snack break before her 12 PM class starts. "I kind of ship it."

Aeri gets what Yizhou means. "Honestly, it's like a cute love-smitten nerd and her bossy mean girlfriend."

Both Minjeong and Y/N kind of clicks well, looking good to the eyes too.

"Can we stop by the vending machines so I can get some more energy drinks?" Jimin asks, pushing her glasses up on the nose bridge.

The Japanese and Chinese look at each other, sighing before shaking their heads NO.

"PLEASE!"

"NO!" Both girls say in unison, getting up from their seat.

"Hey! Where are you guys going? Wait for me!" Jimin pushes up her glasses on her nose bridge once again before hastily putting the rest of her supplies in her very heavy backpack in a frantic.

Minjeong cannot believe she is sitting right in front of THE Hong Y/N. How does one get lucky with their campus crush? Certainly Minjeong must've been a hero in her past life because what do you mean Y/N is here having coffee with her?

Feeling a pair of eyes on you, you divert your eyes from the coffee cup in your hands to the short-haired female.

Minjeong flashes her eyes to somewhere else, not wanting you to catch her staring, enamored by you.

You hate to admit it but Minjeong is pretty cute.

Your phone rings, having you span your attention somewhere else as you grab it from your bag. With a sigh, you decline the call before stuffing it in back into your bag.

"If you have places to be, we can end the day here."

Furrowing your brows at the other sitting across from you, you shake your head. You don't want to seem rude, especially after someone treated you out. "No. It's fine."

"I understand that you're a busy person." Minjeong responds back, reaching over to take a sip of the sweet-looking frappe (you try your best to not cringe at how sweet it is).

"Minjeong-shi?" You call her name and the church bells started ringing in the other girl's head at the way you said her name. "I don't leave my appointments hanging."

Oh.

Appointments.

That's all Minjeong would ever be to you.

While she's over here thinking it was a chance to know one another, you see her as an appointment. A one-time thing. Minjeong knew it was too good to be true. Why would someone like you ever be into someone like her?

You seem to take notice of the sudden dejection of the other sitting across from you. However, you did not want to ask her if everything is alright. After all, you don't have the time to do anything yet alone, try to get to know someone else. After four years of university, you'll never see anyone from campus again.

There's no point in getting to know someone.

Just even getting coffee with this girl is a lot of time taken from you.

"I think it's best if we cut it short." You look down at the watch on your wrist, already dreading at the fact that you need to be at the department. You can already hear the scolding from both your father and sister.

Time is a limitation to you, Minjeong assumes.

"Oh. Yeah, I understand!" The red haired is about to stand up from her seat to greet you out but you stop her from doing so.

"No need for that." Disliking the idea of someone walking you out, especially if it's someone that does not work for the family. You pick up your handbag, giving the other a small half-smile. "I enjoyed this."

Minjeong can only smile back in response, unsure of what else to say. It's quite evident that you don't want to waste your time with someone like her. She takes the hint, she gets it.

She feels foolish, honestly.

"Well then, I am off now." You turn, ready to walk away with your signature Valentino heels, that make quite a presence to themselves. However, you turn back around to lock eye contact with the puppy-eyed girl. "See you around."

"Yeah. See you.." The puppy-eyed girl responds quietly to your farewell.

A sad sigh escapes from her, her shoulders falling beside her as she slumps herself in the chair. Wondering why someone as pretty as you have to be such a busy person.

Was there a need to call her your appointment though?

It's quite clear that Minjeong wants to know you better, hell, you probably already knew.

And yet; you called her an appointment.

Everyone's right.

You are a cold-hearted soul.

But why does Minjeong still like the idea of you and her? Even though it's clear you're not interested in her the same way she is in you. Why does Minjeong still want to keep trying?

Tip-toeing between the many different stores in the department, you check a quick scan-looking around for any sights of a Hong Haein. You let out a sigh of relief before running fast to another store across from you.

"Why are you late?"

Startled at the sudden voice, your heart starts wanting to leap out your chest at the voice of your older sister.

"Hi..." You force a smile, turning around to be met with Haein, her brows furrowed from frustration, pout evident on her lips and her arms are crossed as she repeatedly taps her right foot as she waits for your reasoning. "I just had an appointment."

Haein lowers her gaze, meeting with your height. "You missed the meeting for an appointment?"

"Yeah...?"

The older stares straight on, not caring if it made you feel small nor vulnerable. "An appointment isn't going to be there in the future like this department store is."

"Yes, I know that." You're tired of hearing anything to do with the department and the business that comes from it.

Haein clenches her jaw, not wanting to lose her patience in front of the customers. "If you knew that, why did you miss the meeting? Do you not care about your future?"

"I do care..." Your voice suddenly becoming quiet, blinking fast while looking away from your sister's gaze to not let the tears fall.

The older Hong can only let out a sigh. "Look, someday, I'll stop being the CEO of this department store and I want you to take my place. How can I trust you for this position when you don't even show up to these important meetings we have?"

"I'll do better."

"You always say that to get out of me nagging you." Haein tsks, her patience getting less with you. "How is Soocheol more reliable than you?"

Digging your nails into the palm of your hands from withstanding the awful and horrible words you were about to say to your sister, you can only nod.

"There was no point to even show up." Your sister looks down at her watch, staring at the time which means it was pointless to even try to talk sense into you. "Just go home or wherever you came from."

Before you could respond, the older puts up her hand to answer a phone call. You can only look away in frustration at the way she doesn't care about your feelings. Why would she try to understand?

She's the most successful out of the three of you.

Of course, she doesn't understand.

She loves being in this business, that's how much she loves the company.

Why couldn't it be the same for you?

"Grandfather wants to see us tonight for a family meeting tonight." Haein puts her phone away, looking at you with a stern look but her eyes softened for a quick glimpse at how tired you looked. "Y/N, you know I love you more than Soocheol. I don't want to nag you, but it's my job to make sure you'll do well in this business. Do you understand?"

Staring down at your heels, you can only sigh.

"Aren't you going to answer me?"

"Alright."

With a final nod and a small tight lipped smile, Haein turns around and walks away on her heels.

Knowing that you're not actually allowed to head back home until everyone else leaves, you can only gather yourself together before standing up with your back straight and face held high. Letting out another deep breath before composing yourself to continue the act you've perfected for years, you walk off towards the elevators.

Making sure each step of your heels are seen with confidence, like how your family wanted to be known as. Staring straight on, ignoring the passer-by's attention that are naturally drawn to you.

You see your secretary waiting for you at the elevators ready to give you your assigned orders given to you by both your father and sister.

"Hi Secretary Park." You open out your hand, waiting for the iPad to be given.

The older lady in front bows. "Good evening, Miss Hong." Handing you the iPad which shows the stocks, shares and information regarding of each store in the department. "The CEO wants you to write an analytical summary of each store regarding their sales."

And how in the world do you do that?

"Without Director Baek's assistance." Your secretary says with worry.

Hong Haein is doing this on purpose! What the hell?

"Got it." You look down at the screen in your hands, wanting to just throw and break the device displaying the graphs in front of your face. "Inform her that I'll try to get that at the end of next week."

Noticing the uncomfortable yet concerned expression on Secretary Park's face, you tilt your head. "What?"

"She wants this all done by tomorrow."

Fucking hell.

"Oh. Ok."

Minjeong types on her laptop in the dimly-lit library on campus, of course, with her best friends by her side because who needs girls when she has three awesome people.

But, in spite of that, the short-haired ejects a small upset sigh to where she can't even focus on her assignments. This, of course earned her three friends to turn to her, pitying the other.

"There's other of plenty pretty women on this campus, you know?" Aeri softly says, tapping her pen on her notebook as she tries to think of someone's name. "What about Ryujin?"

Minjeong stops typing, looking up from the screen and at the Japanese. "No, she's too much of a flirt and besides, her and I would clash in the worst way possible."

"Plus she's in a situation-ship with Yeji..." Yizhou mumbles, trying not to let Jimin hear.

The oldest of the four picks her head up from the medical book she's buried in. "You don't have to walk on eggshells around me when you talk about Yeji, alright? She wasn't out the closet during that time and I completely gotten over it."

The short-haired can only stare at her best friend, never forgetting the night when Jimin, the most composed and mature of the group lost her chill that night when Yeji and her ended things. Perhaps, it could be the case for you. You probably weren't into women.

Minjeong glances over at Aeri, wondering when the Japanese would just confess to Jimin already.

"Hmm..what about Yunjin?" Aeri suggests the pretty red-haired music major.

Minjeong shakes her head in agony. "I'll never find someone like Y/N."

"Obviously. She's a rich woman whose family earned their way up. She knows how to hold herself well." Yizhou points out the obvious, not surprised at all for Minjeong feeling the way she feels.

Jimin sighs, looking up from the book she's burying her face into. "Minjeong, I'm saying this to you as your best friend. It's okay to have an ideal type, but it's also alright to accept potential candidates too. Why do you seem to be interested in Hong Y/N so much?"

"I-I don't know where I should start. For starters, she's a very pretty girl. One of the most pretty girls, if not-the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes on. She somehow, despite being busy with her family, she's always balancing work-school life. Like yeah, she's kind of mean but I kind of like that about her. I don't mind her being mean to me at all."

"Oh." Jimin can only react with. "You're in pretty deep."

Minjeong can only sigh, putting her head into her hands with frustration. "She made it clear that she isn't interested in anything but why do I want to keep trying?"

"Good luck." Aeri snorts, dismissively going back to studying.

The puppy-like female brings her head back up at Aeri's dismissive attitude leaving Yizhou laughing. This results in Minjeong flicking a pencil at the Chinese's teasing.

"OW!"

Minjeong can only shrug. "You all think its funny that I'm pining over someone who wants nothing to do with me, right?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe."

"Let's have some faith in our Minjeong, come on."

Minjeong wants to bury herself in a hole for even being like this over a girl. But it's not just any girl...ITS you.

"Guys, I think I'm going to keep trying." Minjeong announces with full determination in her eyes.

Jimin, Aeri and Yizhou can only sigh in response.

prev. part

august 2, 2024; publishing date

hey...how is everyone doing...?

taglist: OPEN

[tradgedyinwaves]

tw: emotional neglect, military inaccuracies, one sided relationship, sex, cursing, not necessarily unwanted sex, but not encouraged

You told him.

Over and over.

If he didn’t stop treating you like a maid and fuck buddy, you were done.

“Simon, you didn’t do the dishes like I asked and now I have to do them before I can get started on dinner,” you chastise, moving dishes around so you can get them done. His team was coming over for dinner that night, but he’d made no move to help you.

“Ah, I forgot. ‘M sorry,” he called from the couch, eyes still glued to the game flashing across the screen. You huffed and got to work, mentally creating a list of everything that would need done before the guys arrived in…four hours. Great, you had to shower too. 

Only once you’d finished the dinner and were getting into the shower, did Simon finally rise from the couch. He pushed his way in, joining you in the shower. His massive hands found your hips before sliding between your legs, searching for the little bundle of nerves.

Oh, now he wanted to pay attention to you? “Come on, luvie. Let me feel your tight cunt on my cock. I know how much you love my cock,” Simon grunted against your ear, his fingers dancing over the most intimate parts of you. And you let him.

Let him take what he wants because at least, he’s paying attention to you, right? You sigh as he slides into you, feeling the familiar burn and stretch. It’s quick and dirty. He pulls out to shoot his seed between your legs and down the drain. You don’t finish and climb out of the shower to let him finish in peace. 

You stand in front of your closet, opting for a black dress that flaunts your curves but still allows you comfort. Stepping out of the bathroom, fully nude as he uses a towel to dry his hair, he grunts when he glances at you but makes no effort to compliment or even really look at you. 

“I thought I asked you to do the laundry. You know I have that court marshal and Price will have my head if I don’t look presentable,” Simon rants from the bedroom, looking for the ONE button up he owns that he wore earlier in the week to a meeting with some big wigs that the higher ups wanted them to meet. 

The issue was that you were currently bedridden and unable to leave the bed for more than a few minutes to use the restroom or grab food. You’d been laid up with a case of pneumonia that led to bronchitis, making breathing difficult, let alone doing your boyfriend’s laundry. 

You didn’t answer him, rolling away from the closet and curling into yourself. He’d not even been taking care of you, citing that he couldn’t afford to get sick. What if he needed to be deployed, but he was stuck in bed because he was taking care of you? His reasoning was fair, but you were his girlfriend. Shouldn’t he be more worried about getting you well?

It was Simon’s last night home before being sent on a mission. You weren’t privy to where he was going or how long he’d be gone, but that was normal. Something you’d adjusted to when you started dating the man. 

Normally, he’d at least stay home with you the night before. Maybe a movie or something before he’d fuck you into the mattress for three minutes, leaving you unsatisfied. But he tried right? 

This time though, he was throwing his leather jacket on and grabbing the keys to his bike. “You’re seriously going out with the guys you’re shipping out with instead of staying home with me?” you cried, tears slipping down your cheeks as you finally broke from the quiet ways he neglected you. 

“Sorry. They wanted to have a good night of drinking before we’re forced to be sober for weeks on end,” he reasoned, barely even giving you a glance before coming over to kiss the top of your head then disappear out the door. 

The door clicked shut and you heard the key turn in the lock. 

When Simon returned two months later to an empty flat and all of your things missing, he was stunned. Finding the note and your copy of the flat key laying on the coffee table had him collapsing on the couch as he stared at the two sentence note you'd left. He’d taken you for granted for too long, neglected you when you deserved the world. 7 words to shatter his world.

“Don’t come looking for me. I’m done.” 

[lordprettyflackotara]

get him back! || sam golbach

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: revenge sex, marking, choking

You were the finest woman Sam had ever seen.

Being in the influencer space meant meeting a lot of people. Most of them forgettable. But you? Your eyes were sparkling with diamonds, full of life. Your lips were glossy and soft, always curved upwards in a big grin. Sam could remember the first time you two had met, that being a few years prior at a music festival. You both didn’t have too long to speak, both of you too busy to comprehend. You did take a picture with him though, the image sending the internet into a frenzy. Even now he’d look at it and regret not shooting his shot. You were in your own lane, your clothing line producing so much revenue that you were now starting a make up branch as well. You were everything Sam could possibly want: ambitious, enchantingly beautiful, witty, and just as goofy as he was.

Sam thought he had lost his chance. You began dating another influencer, the two of you together for years. The blonde stared over the rim of his red solo cup, admiring you from a far. But your relationship tragically crashed and burned a couple of weeks ago, igniting a spark of excitement in his chest. He watched as you danced with your friends, still maintaining your signature smile. His chance was now and he had zero intentions of fucking up this time.

Sam was thankful that Colby was off actually mingling, because Sam’s needs and wants were scrambled. Realistically he needed to be mingling with potential business partners or creators to collab with. But he convinced himself that pursuing you technically fit into that category. Even if you were just one person in a big party. He slithered through the sea of dancing bodies, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. You turned around, a red solo cup in your hand. You smiled at the sight of Sam, beginning to greet him. Just as you did so you were roughly shoved, causing you to be pushed into him. You cringed in horror at the sight of your liquor staining Sam’s white button up.

“Holy fuck i’m so sorry,” You rambled, desperately searching for a napkin. Sam chuckled as the cool liquid soaked against his chest. “It’s fine really,” He said cooly. You were failing to find any sort of napkin. “It’s going to stain if we don’t clean it, come on,” You say, grabbing his hand. Sam tried to remain as cool as a cucumber as you dragged him to the staircase. He wasn’t sure how good he was doing, pretending to be unfazed and not jittery like he was on the inside. Your heels clicked against the wooden stairs as you hauled up to the closest bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye Sam swore he thought he saw camera flashes pointing in both of your guys direction, eventually dismissing it as him being a few shots deep. You found an empty bathroom, grabbing the towel from the towel rack. It was pure white, similar to Sam’s shirt. “It’s alright you’re gonna stain the towel,” The blonde said, trying to convince you.

If he was being truthful he was so glad someone bumped into you. It gave him the perfect opportunity to be alone with you. “Fuck the towel, i’m sure it’s owner can afford many more just like it,” You grumbled. You felt guilty about tarnishing Sam’s shirt, the pigment staining the fabric. “I really am sorry,” You repeated. Sam slowly grabbed your wrist, guiding you to stop. “Seriously it’s fine. Adds character to the outfit I think,” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. Your cheeks were flushed from embarrassment and intoxication, your lips in a thin line. You were determined to fix his shirt, even if it were physically impossible. Sam propped himself up against the bathroom counter, watching you meticulously try to dab away the stain. “So, I haven’t seen you in a while. How have things been?” He asked, trying to switch the subject. Anything he could say or do to keep you around longer he would. Your eyebrows knitted as you avoided his intimidating gaze. “Oh cmon, you can ask me about it,” You say. Sam raised an eyebrow of his own, admiring your beauty.

“Ask what?”

You rolled your eyes sassily, grabbing the bathroom door and shutting it. “About my breakup? It’s all anyone can ask me about anymore. As if I didn’t exist before him,” You grumbled sourly. Sam had to make a quick decision, one that would result in you staying in that tiny bathroom with him. “I didn’t even know you were dating someone,” Sam lied. He noticed your lips curl up into a half smile. Even if it was a lie, you were happy someone wasn’t shoving you in the same box with your ex. “Believe it or not that’s the best thing i’ve heard all night. He was quite the dickhead,” You explained. You ran the washcloth under some water, before resuming your assault on the stain. Sam felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, causing him to glance at it. “Oh shit,” He mumbled. Someone had in fact taken a video of the two of you heading upstairs. Your gaze fell on his phone, the video circulating around twitter.

“It looks like we’re going to fuck,” You mumbled. You refrained from physically face palming, opting to sigh instead. “I can clear things up if you want, I don’t wanna cause trouble for you and your ex,” Sam started, beginning to craft a tweet. At the sound of his words your eyes lit up, a light bulb turning on over your head. “You’re a genius!” You gasped, causing Sam to stop typing. He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side. “My ex is a literal scumbag. If it looks like i’ve already moved on it’ll be the perfect revenge,” You explained. Sam erased his tweet, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He found his heart racing as you both stood so close to one another. “You know we could make it look more real, if you wanted to,” Sam offered. The words left his lips effortlessly, the blonde trying to refrain from blushing. The room suddenly became full of nervousness, heat rising to your own cheeks.

“How do you propose we do that?”

“Hickies are kind of a statement.”

There was a pregnant pause, one that made Sam suddenly feel uneasy. “Thats if you want to of course i’d absolutely never try to pressure you or anything-” He rambled, your giggling making him pause. You playfully hit his arm, tossing the rag aside. “Yeah yeah yeah, you modest gentleman. Now turn your head,” You giggled. Sam could feel that he was visibly flustered, the blonde tilting his head to the side. He sat on the cool marble counter, man spreading to allow you access to his skin. You stood in between his legs, your heels providing you just enough height to reach his neck. Logic told you to question giving hickies to a practical stranger in a random bathroom. Yet as you hovered over his skin you could see him swallow nervously, it made you more flustered than you would’ve liked to admit. You kissed his neck softly at first, before gently beginning to suck on the skin. Sam closed his eyes, trying his hardest to control his impending boner.

He wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go with this. He bit his bottom lip, trying his hardest to not get hard as you littered his neck with blues and purples. Sam realized it was too late once you released his skin with a pop, both of your gazes falling onto his visible boner. Your curious eyes met his.

“My turn?”

“Your turn.”

Sam wanted to make you just as flustered as you made him. He jumped off of the counter, pressing your back against the bathroom door. You gasped under his warm touch, melting under him as he tilted your head to the side. He placed soft kisses up your neck, before finally finding your sweet spot. He sucked harshly at the sensitive skin, noting the way your hands grabbed at his shirt to balance yourself. Sam could feel the way you were shaking under his touch, his teeth grazing your skin. He moved onto the next section, wedging his knee in between your legs. It was then as he reattached his mouth to your skin, he heard you whimper. Sam froze, before lifting his knee higher to see what you would do. He felt sheer delight as you whimpered again, this time his name falling off of your lips. Sam grinned into your skin, noting the way you melted as his large hands grabbed your waist.

“You seem like you haven’t been pleased properly in a long time if you’re wet from this,” Sam chuckled. You couldn’t deny how flustered you felt, but refused to cave in so easily. “I’m not wet,” You denied. Sam lifted up your dress in a swift motion, cupping your cunt. You were soaked through your panties. “If this isn’t you wet i’d love to see what that actually looks like,” Sam purred. You whined as he applied pressure over your clothed clit. “If we do this I don’t want any strings attached. No emotional bullshit,” You say, feeling breathless as Sam began to rub your slit properly. Sam grinned as he leaned back, meeting your flustered gaze. “No emotional bullshit guaranteed. Just pray you don’t fall in love with me,” He gloated. You rolled your eyes as he flipped you around, positioning you to lean over the bathroom sink. “Yeah right, I don’t do love anymore,” You countered. Sam grinded against you, causing you to whine in desperation.

“You will by the time i’m done with you,” He quipped. He pulled your panties down, grinning at the sight of your soaked folds. “Jesus baby, do you even need foreplay? You’re so wet for me and i’ve barely touched you,” Sam murmured to himself. He brought one hand around to your clit, rubbing circles around the bud as he undid his pants. He wanted to savor the moment really, but he couldn’t imagine this going more perfectly than it was. “I’m not that wet,” You argued weakly. You didn’t even know what you were really arguing for, your body tattle telling on your lies. Sam brought his cock to your aching slick, rubbing it up and down your folds. “Oh really? So I won’t be able to slide right in or anything, right?” He asked sarcastically. You gripped the sides of the sink as he pushed himself inside of you, your walls eagerly accepting him. He bit his bottom lip as he glanced up at you in the mirror. Your face was flushed, your beautiful lips parted as you struggled to maintain any form of composure.

“Something tells me you haven’t had a good fuck in a long time,” Sam concluded, bottoming out. His fingers continued to work on your clit as his cock brushed against your g spot. “Perhaps you’re right,” You admitted lowly. Sam wrapped his arm around you, grabbing your throat. His slender fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing the skin as he forced you to arch your back. “I say we change that, hmm?” He asked teasingly. It was then he began to move his hips, the sound of skin against skin and unholy moans clouding up the room. Sam watched in the mirror as your eyes glazed over with lust with each thrust. Through his fingers he was able to admire the hickies he had littered on your skin, as well as the ones on his own. His thrust were fast and deep, abusing your cunt the way he knew you needed. Strings of curses left your lips, the blonde delivering a sharp slap to your ass. You gasped at the stinging sensation, the pain colliding with pleasure. “Moan my name baby, let everyone know who’s making you feel so good,” He ordered.

Sam relished in the sound of your obedience, his name falling off of your lips like a mantra. If the video and hickies didn’t seal your revenge, your shameless moans did. Sam didn’t stop his circles around your clit or his thrust, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you both approached your highs. “So fuckin tight,” Sam grunted. He squeezed your throat, restricting your airway. You felt hopelessly light headed as he pounded into you, your knees threatening to give out. “You can take it baby, I know you can. So good for me,” Sam purred. He nibbled on your earlobe as he pinched your clit, causing your orgasm to crash down over you. His strong hands kept you upright as you touched euphoria, your senses temporarily blinded. “Where do you want me baby?” Sam asked, his voice rough as he fucked you through your orgasm. You were breathless as you tried to get your vision to settle. “My mouth, let me taste you,” You panted.

Sam was quick to force you to your knees. Your knees roughly hit the tiled floor as your tongue flattened out across your bottom lip. You stared up at Sam as he jerked his cock, your name falling off of his lips as he painted your tongue white. His salty cum was warm and tasty, Sam watching in pure awe as you swallowed it. You attached your lips to his tip, ensuring to suck him clean. “You dirty bitch,” Sam groaned, tilting his head back. He leaned against the wall for support as you overstimulated him. When you finally released him with a pop the two of you shared a loving gaze. He kneeled down to your level, tilting your head to the side. A patch of unmarked skin stuck out to him.

“Looks like I missed a spot, let me fix that for you.”

[adelheidvonschicksal]

⋆｡°✩ Do Roommates Sleep Together?

“We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but the delicate foundation you built cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt. “Do roommates sleep together too?”

Synopsis: Your relationship with Xavier is unconventional, skipping and trampling on the many proper steps society deems appropriate. It should take months to form the trust needed to sleep together, and it should take years for you to ask him to move in with you.

Yet, here you are, with more courage to ask him to live with you than to tell him you’re in love with him.

Content Warning: fluff, suggestive dialogue, pining, literal sleeping together, a lot of internal exposition, mild angst, hurt/comfort, acquaintances to friends to lovers, implied soulmate tomfoolery to justify the fast burn, small references to chapter 4 main story, Heartstring Symphony, Nighttime Stroll, Shooting Stars Myth, and Unit 602's Representative Phone Call, Xavier sucks at following the non-interference policy (he tried his best), female reader, 6.5k words, safe for work

A/N: First section before Warm Wishes/Dreams within Reach tender moments and second section after Close Feelings tender moment to give a better timeframe. This is going to be two parts with the second part NSFW.

“Do you want to hang out at my place?” 

Your smile begins to flatten as Xavier stares at you from his doorway. There’s a listless energy radiating from him. It’s intimidating even if there’s no anger behind his hooded gaze, the kind of intimidation where you’re afraid he might not be listening to you or even wants to listen to you.

“This new scary movie came out. Tara was supposed to watch with me, but she had a last-minute thing to take care of,” you explain, watching as he yawns and wipes his eyes. “So, I thought that maybe you’d like to watch with me instead. Or, we can do something else. I got games. Monopoly, Phase 10, Kitty Cards.” 

Xavier rubs at the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eye. “Are you sure you want it to be just the two of us?” 

There are many things to be said about your relationship with Xavier. You’re work partners, neighbors in the same apartment complex, and you consider him your friend. It’s also true that your friendship is young despite the many hours at the arcade together and whatever stories your co-workers like to imagine, making your offer sound more like a date invitation than hanging out. It causes you to go tongue-tied as your innocent mistake blankets you.

“Oh, not in that way! I mean not that it would be a bad thing.” You start to lose your composure when you meet his gaze again. It’s not like you wouldn’t go on a date with him if given the opportunity. He’s tall, soft-spoken, and very handsome. It’s more surprising he doesn't have a girlfriend. “I was thinking it could be a good way to foster friendship between hunters. Yeah, that’s it!”

The truth was that you were looking for something to distract yourself ever since the incident at your grandmother’s house. Tara having to cancel bummed you out more than you wanted to admit, but you didn’t want him to agree because he felt sorry for you.

“I understand,” Xavier cuts in. “I’d be happy to join you…in an hour,” he finishes with another small yawn. 

“Great!” you cheer. “See you soon.”

When you make it back to the elevator, you’re taken aback about how happy you are that he agreed. You thought you were simply happy not to have to be alone on your day off, but this was a different kind of satisfaction than when you invited Tara. It was a little strange but you ignored the thought and clicked the button to your floor. 

When Xavier arrives, everything goes as planned. You spread out an array of snacks on the table in front of the sofa, which your selection seems to be approved by how quickly he opens the package of chips and hums to himself when he takes a bite. 

“This is supposed to be super scary! I read you won’t sleep for days after,” you tell him, grabbing the remote to play the movie.��

“For days? Sounds awful,” Xavier mentions between bites, making you chuckle. 

“If you get scared, you always have me to protect you.” 

“I’m more worried about you than me,” he mouths off. “You always look like a statue when I tell you scary stories.”

“Fake movies and stories based on real places are different!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he agrees on the surface. You’re not sure how you only make friends with people who love to tease you, but you make no mention of it as the movie finally reaches its opening sequence. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize this movie’s fear factor was greatly over exaggerated. There were monsters, sure, but also one too many jump scares and dark scenes that made it hard to tell what was happening. Fighting wanderers for a living did leave you a bit desensitized as well, you guess. 

As you reach to fill in your boredom with more chips, you can’t help but notice how Xavier looks like he’s about to give out any second. His eyes are drooping and his head bobbing to the side. You lose count of how many times he forces his limp body straight and strains to watch the movie playing on the screen, one agonizingly slow blink at a time.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can bring up how tired he looks.

“It’s not a big deal, Xavier. This movie is pretty boring, so if you wanna call it a night, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.” You don’t want him to leave yet but you don't want to keep him up either. Sighing, you’re frustrated the movie isn’t as exciting as you thought it would be, and it’s difficult to fight the disappointment from showing on your face. 

And, well, Xavier…

“It’s alright. It’s honestly not bad, so—”

Xavier doesn’t even finish his sentence before his head hangs over. In hindsight, you start to realize that you must have woken him up earlier, explaining his prior passiveness.

You always wondered what he did on the days he wasn’t working. It should’ve been apparent to you that he spends most of his free time sleeping. No wonder his apartment was always so quiet during the day. You’re thankful he wasn’t actually annoyed at you earlier but guilty for interrupting his rest and decide to grab him a blanket.

You don’t notice him tilting to the side before you have the chance to get up. It’s quick after that. Without warning, he falls into you, his head brushing the side of your shoulder before he collapses on top of your lap.

The situation takes you by surprise, and the world churns to a slow stop. The sounds from the television fade into the background in favor of your heartbeat becoming the thing you’re most aware of when it registers that Xavier, a man you recently can call a friend, has fallen asleep in your lap. You have no idea what to do in a situation like this. It isn’t on purpose, so there’s no need to blow up, but you can’t allow this to continue.

So, you choose to wake him up.

“Xavier,” you call and rock his shoulder. You call his name again, a third time, and finally give up when he doesn’t budge by the fourth. “Would it be too mean to roll him off?” you wonder, grimacing as you imagine him hitting the floor. It would definitely be too mean.

Sighing, you gaze at his face nuzzled too comfortably against your thighs. Xavier looks so incredibly soft like this, bundled in an oversized Blanchi hoodie. It isn’t anything you’re not used to seeing him in. However, this is different. With his hair strewn across his temple and his face so at ease, it reminds you of a big fluffy bunny flopped over for an evening nap. Just like a cuddly bunny, you can’t resist petting him, brushing your fingers across his bangs to fix them. Your heart flutters as you confirm his hair is incredibly soft and his pale eyelashes longer than you ever noticed.

Not able to restrain yourself, you gently poke his cheek, marveling when it’s much chubbier than you imagined. It causes him to moan, his eyes twitching from the intrusion.

“Mm…what?” he groans out.

Swiftly, you pull your hand away, frightened he might have caught you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stammer out, not the best of excuses; but in your defense, he caught you off-guard by waking up from something so small. When he doesn’t respond again, you quickly realize he’s still asleep. “Oh, he sleep talks!”

A mischievous wave washes over you from the new piece of information you acquired. Teasingly, you poke his cheek again, giggling when he shifts to hide his eyes from the light.

“Xavier, I have a question to ask you.” You slide your fingertips along his bangs once more. “Be honest. Are you Lumiere?”

Patiently, you wait for a response. However, nothing comes after several seconds. Just when you’re about to give up hope, you hear him muttering. You lean your head closer, hoping to hear him better.

“Red…” he mumbles.

You repeat after him. “Red?”

“Red…extra spicy.”

You blink at him, knitting your brows. “Extra spicy?”

Oh. The hot pot restaurant.

“Dreaming about food? That tracks.” You shrug. It was worth a shot. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

Choosing to leave him be, you’re about to sit back and continue the movie except you are interrupted by him mumbling again. This time, he whispers your name quietly under his breath causing your undivided attention to fall on him.

“Yes?” you ask.

Xavier sighs softly, peacefully.

“Come home…with me…”

There must be a world record for how fast someone can heat up, and you must have broken it. It’s like someone threw you directly into boiling oil and left you to burn in it. There’s no way you heard him correctly.

Did Xavier really ask you to come home…with him? Is he dreaming about you? If so, in what kind of dream? And why?

These are the questions stumping you. Sure, you consider him your friend, but when did he start to see you as someone close to him?

The more important question is why aren’t you doing anything about it? You aren’t angry about him whispering your name in his sleep nor offended, and it didn’t feel out of place to be close to him, like this, with his head resting in your lap and your hand in his hair. The moment becomes nicer and nicer—treasured—the more times you run it through your head, familiar even, like déjà vu.

There are too many variables for your brain to piece it all together in such a short amount of time. Praying for the tempest battering your emotional insides to reside, you resign yourself to your fate, allowing him to have his peace while your mind completely focuses on the words slipping from his dreams.

When Xavier begins to stir hours later, your movie is long finished, credits rolling as some dramatic music plays in the background. His eyes tighten then relax before he finally opens them, greeting you with hazy blue. He lifts himself into a stretch then rubs his eyes with his wrist. When he finally adjusts to his surroundings, he looks at you with an apologetic sulk.

“Did I…fall asleep on you?” he asks, grogginess still riding his voice.

“Literally or figuratively?” you ask as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him. Shaking your head, you try to ease the tension—the one known by him and the tension inside of yourself—by laughing. “It was both.”

Xavier blinks a few times, turns his head to the screen to see the credits rolling, and snaps his eyes back on you questioningly. “And you let me for two hours?”

“You looked really tired,” you explain, ignoring how hot your cheeks start to get. You couldn’t tell him you got distracted by his cute face. “I didn’t want to move and wake you.”

“I don’t wake that easily,” he states, proudly even. You almost tell him how well everyone knows he can sleep through a typhoon, but it’s drowned underneath the softness of his smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

The look he gives you is so tender, like looking at a fond memory. It brings back the fluttering knots in your stomach from before as you imagine what could be the true reason behind that gaze. What could he possibly be thinking in his waking moments that would make him dream about you?

“Xavier, do you know you talk in your sleep?” The confused and panicked, deer caught in headlights expression, he gives causes you to fidget with your fingers and drop your gaze to your lap where they lay.

His face tinges slightly. “Nothing too embarrassing I hope.”

You bite your bottom lip as his face reddens. He looks so sweetly shy for once, and you’re starting to question if you’re overreacting by confronting him about something as silly as a dream, one that probably didn’t mean much.

“You tried to order food in your sleep!” you tell him with a small laugh, and his shyness melts away.

“I did? What did I get?”

“Red sauce. Extra Spicy.”

“Then, I guess that’s what I’ll get for dinner tonight,” he remarks. He doesn’t laugh but you can see the amusement reflected in blue eyes, which makes you return his happiness. Yet, the calm moment is short-lived as your mind becomes overwhelmed again by questions you were too nervous to ask; and a small piece of you, too afraid to know the answer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing you out of your rampant, clashing thoughts. “You look sick.”

“I do?”

He nods, his expression softening.

”Are you still thinking about everything?" he pauses, his worry becoming more visible as he looks at you. "It must be difficult.” Your head blanks at his words. You weren’t aware Xavier gave you enough attention to notice your mood was different. You thought you did okay coming to terms with everything at least while at work to where he wouldn’t notice. 

“It’s been a pretty rough week, weeks, actually. I haven’t been sleeping well either,” you agree, struggling to keep your mind anywhere else but there. You’re sure you must look exhausted though. Your under eyes have been darker, the days you could convince Jenna you didn’t need any more leave a bit sluggish, and even Zayne warned you not to lose yourself in grief. It’s easier said than done.

What you don’t expect is for Xavier to grab your wrist and pull you closer.

Xavier normally isn’t the one to draw you, or others for that matter, to him. You’re the one who's been taking the steps to get to know more about him. Offering to help him get his plushie, bargaining with him into becoming your partner, asking him to watch movies with you, while he always seems to keep you a little at arms length, not opening up as much as you wish when sharing stories even when sometimes he looks like he desperately wants to before deciding against it.

Your eyes widen when your nose hits the side of his chest. It's strange to have him be the one pulling, failing to keep his boundaries and also testing them. You don’t want to push him away though. You liked this. Maybe because he was handsome. You hear pretty people can get away with anything, but it feels like more than that. Tara might have been right. Maybe you do have a crush on him but you didn’t care the reason right now when it’s so comforting. You can feel his muscles underneath the thick, warm fabric of his hoodie, and the clothing smells so nice. You can’t help thinking he definitely feels like a bunny too.

“Sleeping is much better with someone.” 

“How do you know?” you mumble against him.

“Well, I just had the best sleep I’ve had in days thanks to you. So, allow me to return the favor. I’ll be your pillow this time,” he offers; and surprisingly, your eyes do feel oddly heavy when his soothing voice reaches you. “Relax. I promise not to move for at least two hours, but you can take more if you like.”

”How kind,” you say with a smile, and it feels genuine.

Once again, you get the same familiar sensation from before, that same odd suspicion this has happened once before—or rather it’s supposed to happen? You’re too tired to think about it. You close your eyes to the most blissful dreams you’ve had in weeks.

When you wake up again, it’s not by choice. Xavier is looking down at you, his arm gently wrapped around your shoulders as your head lays on his chest. Your mind is still trapped halfway between being awake and asleep when he begins to talk.

“Welcome back. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “Real well actually."

Xavier says something else but your tired mind misses the majority of it aside from the fact it’s getting late.

“You can spend the night if you want,” you tell him, allowing sleep to win back over as you try to close your eyes again, but he lifts you away from him, your head swaying with the motion until you find a place to prop your forehead on his shoulder. Your mind echoes with the thought of how soft his hoodie is and how you need one like it as you try to drift back off. Xavier is right. Sleeping with someone else is better, and this closeness you’ve been missing since you lost your family makes you needy. 

“It probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”

For some reason, it hurts to think he's back to pushing you away. Even though, it shouldn't.

“But you didn’t get a chance to watch the movie,” you reply, looking for an excuse for him not to leave. “It’s a 48-hour rental, so we can try again.”

Xavier shakes his head, gently poking at your forehead to force your head back. “I’m sure it’ll be twice as boring for you the second time.”

“If we watch it together…”

He meets your foggy gaze apologetically. “I don’t think we’d get very far.” 

“We won’t know until we try,” you argue drowsily. 

“You don’t look like you’d make it another ten minutes. You belong in bed.”

“I can,” you whimper as the too-bright lights of the overhead fan hit you. 

“Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result,” he murmurs softly, almost teasingly until his tone takes on a seriousness you’re too lethargic to grasp, “Isn’t that insanity?”

“I like to call it determination. Who knows? Maybe this will be the time it works,” you joke. Instead of the smile you expected the look on his face is pensive and a little sad, like you touched a delicate spot. The sudden remorse wakes you up almost immediately. “Xavier?”

When he realizes you’re watching him, the longing in his gaze melts into something you can’t describe, other than the fact it makes your heart climb in your throat. 

“Alright,” he agrees, much to your surprise and relief. “Let’s try again…but tomorrow.”

Frowning, you avert your gaze, which makes him pet your head. 

“Don’t pout. Tonight, I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

Maybe your grandma wouldn’t have liked you getting so close to a man you didn’t know much about so quickly. Caleb would at least have a few questions, but your intuition tells you that you’re making the right choice when his arm goes back around you. As you start to drift off, you can swear you hear Xavier laughing at you under his breath. “You’re as impossible to say no to as always.”

You’re not entirely sure what time Xavier went back to his apartment that night, but the next morning you wake in your bed, looking forward to seeing him again. You only hope the sweet and confusing fact that you’re in love with him, of the parts he shows you when you’re alone, stays in your dreams the next night and the many nights following that you share with him.

Over the months, as your relationship with Xavier grows stronger, you find it common to share many things with each other. You play online games, house sit for one another, grow strawberries, and usually go home together after your deepspace trials. Most interestingly, you two take naps together on your days off sometimes, nothing sexual about it despite what Tara and her Tarot cards believe. Sure, there might have been questionable situations, but it was all innocent in the end. It's often a short nap in the afternoon after running errands or having lunch together. It's one of those days that you finally build the courage to bring up what's been on your mind for a while now. 

It's late when it happens.

The skyscraper lights begin to glow through your balcony door, blinking out the gentle shimmering of distant stars that managed to cut through the trickling rain earlier in the evening. It’s a little disappointing to lose sight of the stars. They’d become a comfort for you in the time you’ve spent with your friend. You'd never given them much thought before then.

The downpour of rain splattering against the glass panels of the balcony makes the city lights milkier to your sight and the steady dripping of water returns some form of calmness when paired with your neighbor’s breathing next to you.

It’s deep and warm, ushering you towards the world of dreams. Everything about Xavier is like a white noise or a desperately needed hug, which is why you’re curled up at his side in this bed that’s too small for the both of you. You didn’t care, and you suspected Xavier didn’t either.

He didn’t mention the smallness of the bed when you offered to take a nap together nor when your head found the bulge of his bicep to use as your pillow. You didn’t give him time to respond when one of your hands slid across his lean chest, reaching for his always subtle pulse. You find the lazy pattering easy to count while the heat in the sheets become much more apparent when you feel the weight of his touch cradle that very same hand to his chest as if promising every beat to you.

Everything about the situation causes your eyes to flutter with tiredness, but you want to savor this moment a little longer. In case this is all an elaborate dream. You hope to death it’s not. So, you force your eyes to remain open, releasing a soft sigh instead as you cuddle into his arm.

Too soon, you feel Xavier slipping further away from you.

You don’t want him to go yet. More than ever, a force inside you needs him to stay tonight, and you lock your grip on the white knit shirt he wears. You tug him back over to you to close this unbearable distance he made. The few little inches he moved were more than enough to cause your heart to yearn.

“Not yet,” you want to plead but make it a soft demand. “I just found the perfect spot.” You muffle the neediness of your requests into his skin, though your head is afraid that somehow he’ll feel it.

“You always use that excuse.”

“And it’s always true. So, no moving,” you order.

Xavier gives in so wonderfully quickly. Your heart is rapidly firing when the corners of his lips turn into his usual waif-like smile. You fail at hiding your satisfaction at his surrender, pressing more of your weight against him, in a sure sign to him that you have no intention of letting him escape any time soon.

“I take this to mean you’re finally admitting it’s your fault we didn’t do our errands today?”

“I never said that,” you disagree half-heartedly. “And don't pretend like you weren't the one who kept saying he didn't feel like getting up earlier.”

“And now that I do, you won’t let me up. Am I right? Why’s that?”

There’s a beat skipping in your chest when he asks. His tone is light and open, easy to treat as a teasing joke but also firm enough to be taken seriously. That was always your trouble with him. You could never quite tell what he was thinking and when he was serious. Xavier is hard to understand sometimes, sometimes vague and sometimes very straightforward in his words; and lately, you think he’s consistently more hot than cold towards you ever since the first time you've slept together.

You like to think this development is a good thing. People who knew you always said you worked a little too hard, a little too observant, overly energetic despite your fragile heart; but with Xavier, you could relax. Moments like these: when his arm was around you and when his breath was at the side of your neck, the soft words he speaks in his sleep dancing in your mind, were the moments when patrolling for wanderers and every loss in your life from your family to your problematic heart dissipated into the back of your mind for a few hours.

It isn’t an exaggeration to believe his influence must have been the cause, at least when it comes to this. But your influence is seeping into him as well. Given his loner habits when you first met and his frequent disappearing acts, you never pictured him as one to be so sweet and considerate and adorably charming in a way.

However, you can’t tell him that you enjoy…sleeping with him. You have a strong feeling he already knows how much you like him. Or, you’d like to think he does with the way he constantly seems to hint at it. He can make you flustered with a few words and easily leave you guessing if you’re reading too much into his actions or if he’s really that good at baiting you. It could also be a little of column A and a little of column B, which somehow makes you more antsy around him. Like how you feel now when his eyes meet yours.

“It’s supposed to be cold tonight,” you whisper. It’s a poor excuse but the only one you can use to defend yourself. “They say the best way to fend off the chill is body heat. Who better for that task than you, dear partner?”

“Many things, I assume, a portable heater comes to mind,” he says, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s slyly teasing you behind that naive tone.

“Right, right, those things,” you grumble causing him to laugh as you hide your bashful face against him. “So loud, you know?”

“Are they? Alright, then five more minutes should be doable,” he says in the same low voice that makes your insides boil before his arm lowers to curl around your back. “Although, you’re too comfortable.”

His ears tinge in a lovely rose-colored blush, and you shudder when he finally fails to maintain eye contact and quickly scans your body. It’s slow enough for you to catch though. It makes your chest tight as you watch his quiet inhale and the murky flash of want dye his eyes shades darker before they fade back into clear pools of blue, big and pleading as he studies your face. 

“I might end up falling asleep here.”

It’s a warning, to make you think about the meaning of your actions, you think. However, this isn’t the first time this has happened nor the first time you spent a rainy day inside with each other; the kitchen counter lined with empty take-out trays, with his body heat radiating into you while a long-forgotten movie plays in the background.

It’ll continue like that until one of you is finally coherent enough after drowsy naps to try to piece together who fell asleep on whom first or who is making the other too hot. Neither of you wants to accept the fault without a lot of bickering; that’s if Xavier doesn’t fall back asleep mid-debate.

Even this time, you’re not sure who managed to drift off to sleep first earlier but neither of you tried to get up, let alone leave the house, until now. Ah, but it was your idea to use the bed this time, wasn’t it?

But it was his choice to agree.

Even now, he looks very peaceful nestled with you, and he still whispers your name in his sleep sometimes, which reminds you of the first time you slept together and he dreamt about wanting you to come home with him.

When you’re like this, you want the same thing. You want him to come home…with you.

“Xavier?” you ask quietly. You wonder if he’s fallen asleep already like he said. Carefully, you free your hand from his hold, slide it up his chest, and begin to draw smooth circles with your pointer finger once you reach his cheek. There’s a soft response from him, barely a moan but it’s enough to know he’s not out of it yet, at least not completely. “I’ve been thinking.”

The air is suddenly stifling when he engulfs the top of your hand with his own, holding it tighter as if he’s upset that you moved it out of his grasp in the first place, but it’s not the case as he affectionately seals your palm against his cheek.

“About what?”

The look he gives you makes it hard not to stumble over your thoughts like a schoolgirl despite being very much an adult.

“Wouldn’t…” You pause to steady your voice; you have to force yourself to not avoid his gaze, but each small movement makes your throat tighten. There’s no doubt you have his full attention now, at least what little remains of it. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we…move in together?”

You’re not sure where the courage to ask him a question like that comes from when you’re too unsure to even confess or to ask what the two of you even are but you didn’t have this fear of rejection until now.

“How would it be easier?”

“Well,” you start, unsure why you’re surprised that he’d want a reason. “We’re always visiting one another, and you made me your representative at the tenant meetings, so everyone already treats us like we’re a combined unit. It would also save me trips on watering your plants when you’re away or when you want to come over to eat. We could save money. Money that could be spent at the arcade or on more hot pot.”

There’s a quiet atmosphere that makes you too uneasy. The thrumming of rain grows louder in it along with the beating in your chest that’s telling you that this was stupid. Is it possible to be drunk on endorphins? Perhaps that’s what gave you the idea to ask something so foolish; you’d have to get Zayne to examine your empty head and tell you.

But then, Xavier smiles.

“Those are good reasons especially more hot pot, and I’m sure all the plushies would feel better if they shared a home again.”

Your anxiety lessens and you share in his smile. Luckily, you managed not to ruin everything it looks like.

“But.” Slowly, the inklings of self-doubt begin to return. A but. There’s always one of those. You should’ve expected as much. “If we move in together then we wouldn’t really be “neighbors” anymore.”

“Oh, um—” You become staggered by his observation, even more so when he interlocks your fingers. It’s another time when you’re not entirely sure if he’s being serious or not. His innocent puppy-eyed expression doesn’t help you differentiate either. It always makes your mind wander to more inappropriate topics—like the fact Xavier told you he didn’t believe that other neighbors acted like you two. The memory nearly makes you squirm. In this position, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but that delicate foundation cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt.

“Do roommates sleep together too?”

There’s a shine of amusement that makes his face glow and heat claw higher up your neck. You know the question should be taken literally but when he words it like that…with that warm implicative inflection to his voice, you’re unable to think properly, and you realize that maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt this time.

“I’m sure some do,” you answer with some courage, “I’d imagine at least once a week.”

“I believe we’re up to twice a week now. So, if we become roommates, I think we have to do it at least that many times, otherwise I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer.”

“Two times?” you repeat, silently begging the flapping of butterflies in your stomach to calm down at the suggestion, at the implication that he enjoys sleeping with you just as much as you do with him. It makes this strong emotion in your chest blossom even further. “I can manage that.”

“Additional proposal,” he interrupts suddenly. “Perhaps, three times? I can even throw in a pair of those fuzzy socks that I can never manage to find after you visit,” he adds coyly.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re around your apartment somewhere,” you quickly respond before releasing the buildup of nervous air in your lungs. You smile. “Proposal accepted. Shared naps three times a week minimum.”

“In that case,” he breathes in softly, and he slips his hand down releasing all your fingers except for your pinky that he wraps into his own. “I think I would like to be your roommate.”

Inside, there’s unadulterated joy beginning to flood you. You know that this agreement will require a more in-depth discussion that Xavier will probably try to gloss over but this is enough for you right now.

“We should take tonight to practice for our move.”

Confused, you raise your eyebrows. “Practice?”

He nods.

“Sleeping together overnight. We did a few times before, well, only twice in the same bed, once in yours and once in mine,” he explains. You definitely have the clearest memory of that time, of bandaging his wounds, of cluelessly pinning him down shirtless on his bed before he turned the tables on you, and then—you remind yourself to resist going over the details, not with him this close to you. Somehow, Xavier is the one who looks the most insecure between the two of you. Finally, he whispers, “I haven’t forgotten even if it was a long time ago.”

His eyes are half-lidded, cloudy with thought. Something about him looks restrained and longing but it disappears when you finally swallow your swelling emotions and call out his name. There’s a twinkle of adoration that blows away whatever doubt there as he focuses on you again.

“I think about it when I have a hard time sleeping on overnight missions.” Xavier turns and slides his arm from under your head, choosing to lay on his side to face you. “It makes it a lot easier to rest in the hunting zones when you have good memories like that. So, it's nice to have a chance to make more."

“I don’t think I could fall asleep at all if I thought of something like that,” you admit, as close to an admission of your love for him as you could muster without mountains of alcohol. “I’d just think about how much I’d rather be home with them.”

“And now? Are you having trouble sleeping?” he asks huskily, and you have to fight not to keep staring at his lips and the dire need to kiss them as you breathe each other in. You reach out, touching his bare collar then instinctively searching for his slow pulse, counting it to calm yourself from the rush of adrenaline building in you.

You’re not even sure when you breathed out the “yes” that echoes softly from your mouth. His lips are so close to yours that you’re sure he could catch it in his breath if he wanted.

“How about I tell you a story to help you fall asleep?” He sees your hesitation and laughs under his breath. “I promise it’ll be much better than the last one.”

Accepting his offer, you agree to listen to him.

Xavier nods and gently swoops the back of his hand against your forehead and then your cheek before cupping it. There’s a gentle squeeze, and you think you understand why he likes it so much when you do it.

“Once, there was a beautiful queen and a knight,” he begins. “They lived together in a palace far away.”

“And they fall in love and live happily ever after?” you question, too busy in the full and fuzzy sensations filling your being to hold back.

“No, they were separated from each other for a long time,” Xavier corrects but his expression softens at the trickling concern building on your face. “Don’t worry. They meet again and become neighbors.”

“And then?”

“They become roommates,” he states matter-of-factly, which causes you to chuckle at him. You can’t even be bothered to care that he’s poking fun at you.

“Then, happily ever after?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answers, causing you to frown and your face to wrinkle with a sullen expression. His head tilts further into the plush of the pillow. “But you can help me figure out the ending.”

Feeling exhausted from the cathartic flow of emotions from him to you, you wiggle into him and throw your arm across his waist. “There’d probably be a lot of naps and stargazing involved,” you mumble before a tiny yawn.

“Sounds like a happy ending to me. It's good to finally see it,” he agrees, and you sigh when you feel a strong squeeze around your waist. “Although, you forgot to mention the part where the queen promises to not get out of bed without waking him this time.”

You giggle. “She promises not to get up without her knight.”

Content, he hums. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"I think so after a story like that," you confess, reaching out to brush his hair back so you can see his eyes more clearly. "Then again, I always sleep good with you."

"You’ll sleep best when we're close, right?"

You gasp when he shifts on top of you. His lips briefly brush your forehead, by accident or not, you can’t tell as he pins you between himself and the bed. With a stutter, you call out his name yet he pays no heed as he nuzzles his head into your hair.

“Good night, roommate.”

“Xav-!” You pout when he instantly slumps against you. There’s no point trying to wake him up now that his five minutes of alertness have long expired.

Settling your chin against the top of his shoulder, you hook your arms under his to hug him against your chest. Your forearms settle at his mid-back as you hold him close so you can gently brush the ends of his hair.

When you ultimately decide to give in minutes after him, it’s to the warmth of his weight on top of you, the tickle of his hair against your forehead, and the increased pulsing of his heart. Xavier was right, this is too comfortable. Letting your eyes fall close, you wonder if three times a week would really be enough to satisfy this strangely familiar craving. You only wish that the two of you could meet in your dreams like he says, but it's enough knowing you'll have each other in the morning and then on.

“…Good night, Xavier. Sweet dreams,” you whisper before you too give into sleep’s spell.

[katelynnwrites]

Still Worship This Love (Even If It’s A False God) | Laura Freigang

warnings: some serious smut so read at your own discretion

word count: 4004

summary: your girlfriend gets her turn to take an intimate set of photos

a/n: requested, the long awaited part two to Got Lovestruck (Went Straight To My Head), it can also be read as a standalone :)

Your girlfriend’s possessive.

You’ve known that from the very beginning of your relationship.

The extent of which you’re only just starting to find out.

‘My girlfriend.’ She introduces every chance she gets.

She holds your hand everywhere you both go and if her hand is not in yours, it’s in your back pocket. The blonde makes it known to your mutual friends, teammates and fans that you are hers.

The hickies she marks you up with makes it known to everyone else.

None of that is new.

What is new is the way Laura’s got you in her national team jersey and nothing else.

Freigang is the name prominently displayed on the back. Her number is printed there too.

‘Look at the camera.’ She instructs.

You do as she asks and she presses the shutter button down.

The Polaroid camera spits the film out and the striker hums in satisfaction. She sets it aside, fixing her gray blue eyes on you again.

‘Spread your knees for me.’

You’re helpless to resist her, parting your legs and giving her exactly what she wants.

The striker snaps another photo, the click of the camera making a rush of arousal shoot through your body.

‘Lau.’ You moan and she smirks.

‘You’re so wet. Is it because of me?’

Your cheeks flush red and the blonde laughs, settling her camera down for a moment.

She tilts your chin upwards, pressing her lips onto yours for a moment.

‘Don’t tease Laura. It’s not very nice.’ You pant when she pulls away.

The blonde looks even cockier than before, if at all possible.

You think you fall even harder for her when she says, ‘I love you like this. So beautiful and just for me.’

She gives you one more heated kiss before returning to her Polaroid camera and snapping a close up of your soaking cunt.

‘Laura.’ You moan.

Under her watchful gaze, you squirm on the bed.

Back in her usual position as the one in charge, she is content to make you wait.

Until you physically can’t anymore, begging, ‘Lau please.’

Your girlfriend quirks her eyebrow upwards, ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Touch me please. Please Laura please.’

You fight the urge to play with your own clit, having been explicitly told by your girlfriend not to. She had wanted to take photos of how wet you are first.

Laura snaps another photo, relishing in how desperate you look.

‘But why? You’re practically dripping already and I haven’t even touched you yet.’

‘Please.’ You whimper and it is the way your voice fractionally breaks that has the German woman giving in.

Carefully putting her camera aside, she swings her leg over your body and grinds down.

You groan immediately, at the feel of her hips pressing against yours.

The blonde grins and palms your breast through the material of her jersey, causing you to whimper.

Your nipples are sensitive and they rub up against the fabric. Laura seems to sense how pleasurable it feels for you because she repeats the action, getting you to whimper her name before deciding to switch things up.

Her fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and pulling them slightly so that you gasp sharply.

‘Laura.’ You moan.

Your girlfriend leans up to kiss you, murmuring, ‘You drive me crazy you know? The way you say my name. The noises you make when I fuck you.’

As she speaks, the blonde slips two of her fingers into you.

‘Laura!’ You cry out.

The blonde sounds entirely satisfied as she coos, ‘Just like that.’

She thrusts her fingers a few times, her thumb finding your clit as she sets up a good rhythm.

Your knees tremble and she keeps kissing you.

When she brushes up against that special spot inside you, you have to break the kiss in favour of gasping.

The forward is very capable of stealing the air right out of your lungs and she delights in proving that over and over again.

Laura pushes another finger into you, letting you feel the stretch. Her thumb presses down on your swollen clit and she swallows your ensuing moan by capturing your lips with hers.

‘I want to try something. Can I try something new with you?’ She asks against your lips.

Your girlfriend sits back, giving you time to think.

It’s not unusual for the Eintracht Frankfurt player to bring kinks or toys into your relationship. She always makes sure you are comfortable beforehand and so far, you have been okay with everything she has wanted to try. You have loved it even, especially when it gives Laura pleasure.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath and when you do, you softly ask, ‘What do you have in mind?’

The blonde hesitantly bites her lip before going into the bathroom and returning with a small bag.

She hands it to you and you glance at her with some confusion, ‘Schatz?’

‘Look inside.’

So you do, a small surprised exhale leaving you.

To check if they really are what you think they are, you tip the contents of the bag out onto your palm.

Coloured glass butt plugs. In a variety of sizes and all with two initials embossed on them. The letters L and F, Laura’s initials.

‘Want to fill you up. To make you so full for me.’

You shiver at your girlfriend’s words. There is no denying how appealing that idea is to you.

It’s clear as day in how you practically beg, ‘Yes. Please Lau fill me up. Make me yours.’

The blonde moans, ‘Fuck you’re so good to me. So good for me.’

She can’t resist picking up her Polaroid camera and taking a photo of you, catching precisely how needy you look.

‘We’ll start small okay?

Laura selects the littlest of the plugs, a little pink one.

As she coats it liberally in lube, she gently says, ‘Remember to use your safe word if it becomes too much. The second it becomes too much, you let me know and we’ll stop.’

You nod quickly, completely focused on the delicate motions of your girlfriend’s fingers.

It’s almost mesmerising and the heat between your legs pool.

The German woman finishes what she’s doing and then easily slips back into her role of being in charge.

‘Get on your stomach for me.’

You obey immediately, the muscles in your ass tensing involuntarily.

Laura hands you a pillow to prop your head up against.

Despite her dominance, your girlfriend can’t help showing how deeply she cares.

She presses a kiss onto your back and then carefully runs her index finger up from your clit and through your crack.

The striker feels your gathered wetness coat her skin and it’s a lot but not enough for what she wants to do to you.

So she squeeze a generous portion out of lube onto her palm, letting the substance warm for a few seconds before she spreads it between your ass cheeks.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes, already so sensitive to the blonde’s touch.

She massages it in and you whine.

You need her in you and you need it now.

‘Schatz.’ You plead.

Laura grins and takes pity on you, pressing the plug against your ass.

You still immediately, the penetration overwhelming your senses for a minute.

Clenching around the glass plug experimentally, you find that you don’t mind the intrusion. In fact, as you squeeze around it again and again, you realise that you rather like it.

Your girlfriend gives you a minute to adapt, occupying herself by pushing her jersey upwards and scattering kisses onto your now exposed back.

‘I’m good Lau.’ You breathe, giving her the go ahead to do whatever she has planned next.

Experimentally, the Eintracht Frankfurt player presses down on the plug.

You groan out loud, tightening around the toy.

The plug has a flared base and Laura tugs on it lightly, fucking you with it.

Your fingers grip onto the pillow and your thighs quiver at the pleasure.

‘You look so perfect like this.’ Laura praises, her own cunt beginning to flood with arousal.

There’s the familiar click of her camera and you moan again as you hear it.

‘Can you take a bigger one? Can you let me stretch your gorgeous ass out more?’

‘Yes!’ You eagerly answer.

With some difficulty, you relax enough for your girlfriend to pull the toy out. It comes free with a wet noise that has you blushing a bright red.

Laura resists the urge to chuckle, instead opting for, ‘Don’t move.’

She looks over her plugs and her hand hovers over them before she picks out a blue one. This one is two sizes bigger and you give a quiet whimper as you see the one she’s chosen.

‘I said stay still. Or I won’t let you come.’

Right away, you turn back around.

Trembling with anticipation, you bite your lip as you wait for her to spread lube over the glass butt plug.

Laura takes her time, noting that the suspense seems to be making you more aroused.

She snaps a quick photo before putting her camera and the developing film aside.

With both hands free, she spreads your ass cheeks apart, placing the blunt head of the toy against your hole.

It’s much thicker than the one before but with the copious amounts of lube and steady pressure, it begins to slip inside you.

Your tight ring of muscle has to stretch to accomodate the plug and the burn has you groaning Laura’s name.

‘Full. So full.’ You pant when it’s halfway in.

The blonde pauses. The plug is certainly bigger than the previous one but she had thought you could take it, given how easily you had taken the earlier one.

Realising why your girlfriend is stalling, you assure her, ‘Don’t stop Lau. Feels nice too, I promise.’

Your pussy is aching when Laura resumes applying a firm pressure to the plug.

She’s slow about it but eventually, it slips in.

You cry out as it does and the striker heaps praise onto you.

‘You look so beautiful. In my jersey and made so full by me. I love my initials in you.’

The last part has you moaning, ‘Am yours. Always will be.’

Laura moans herself, ‘You don’t know what you’re doing to me.’

Her fingers play with the plug in you, each nudge eliciting a whimper or whine from your lips.

It builds up and the blonde smiles knowingly. She relishes in it, knowing that you are coming close to your climax.

She is proven right shortly, when you choke out, ‘Please may I come?’

The movement of the plug in you has you on the edge and you intentionally clench around it.

Instead of deigning to reply to you, Laura presses her palm harshly against the base of the plug.

It forces it deeper into you and you sob, entirely taken by surprise.

There is no describing the sort of sensory input that rushes through your body. Your clit pulses and the muscles in your ass flutter around the toy involuntarily.

Tears form in your eyes and your fingers grip onto the pillow desperately.

‘Laura. Laura. Laura.’ You mumble hazily, lost in the influx of sexual gratification.

Vaguely, you register the clicking of a camera.

It continues for a few minutes until your girlfriend’s attention returns to you and she gives the butt plug a brief wiggle, eliciting a wrecked moan from you.

Your moaning grows in volume when the German woman moves her fingers to your clit, drawing firm circles on it.

‘Stunning. You’re so stunning.’

Laura slips her two of her fingers into you and your ensuing cry is so loud that your girlfriend is glad that the neighbours are away.

She stops playing with your butt plug just to briefly pinch her own clit. It’s beyond swollen and Laura thinks she could come just from hearing you moan her name.

The striker scissors her fingers in you, the double stretch causing you to arch your back.

Laura groans at the feel of you around her fingers. She can feel your walls trembling around them and from experience knows that you’re close to coming a second time.

She pushes both the butt plug and her fingers in deeper, timing her thrusts perfectly so that they form an almost punishing rhythm for you.

You’re unconsciously rocking your hips back and forth, trying to meet your girlfriend’s thrusts to gain the most pleasure out of her actions.

The blonde can’t help adding a third finger, your cunt practically dripping for her.

‘Lau!’ You choke out.

‘Fuck you look so beautiful.’ The striker breathes.

She’s sure you are a work of art. The light sheen of sweat on your body has got her jersey sticking to your skin, both your pussy and ass a mess because of your copious arousal and Laura’s generous use of lube.

Your girlfriend knows heaven’s a thing. She goes there when she touches you.

The specific noises you make, the facial expressions you have when you orgasm…she is confident that only she can draw them from you.

She is in love with worshipping you. Your hips, your lips, everything about you.

The Eintracht Frankfurt player is drawn out of her reverie by the strained moan of her name, accompanied by your uncontrolled clenching around her fingers and toy.

‘Going to come. Please schatz.’ You beg.

Laura smirks. You’re right where she wants you.

‘No.’

You still in a desperate effort to obey her.

But you can’t stop her from teasingly stroking your puffy bud with her thumb. It’s almost too much, pushing you to the brink of your control.

‘Laura please.’ You beg, knowing better than coming without her permission.

Especially when she is in such a dominant mood.

‘No. You won’t come until I am finished with my photos.’

She slips her fingers out of you, eliciting a pitiful whimper.

The German woman is abundantly aware of the way your cunt pulses around nothing, having been stretched open by her.

‘Be good.’ She warns as she picks up her camera once again.

You focus on your breathing, on the pillow beneath your chin. On anything but Laura’s fingers skimming over your skin.

There’s the tell tale click of her Polaroid camera, followed by a whirring sound as it spits out the film.

Your girlfriend takes a particularly close one, wanting to focus on her initials embossed on the plug inside you.

To her, it is a worthy investment and it crosses her mind that she might have to make more similar ones.

The thought of using a new dildo or vibrator on you, with her name on it is an enticing one.

‘Get on your hands and knees.’ She instructs suddenly.

Gingerly, you do as she asks. Not because you’re unwilling too but rather because you’re hyper focused on the movement of the plug within you.

You are so sensitive and as you move, it sends little jolts of pleasure up your spine.

The base of the toy fits snugly against the rim of your hole and Laura can’t help twisting it sharply, just so she can capture the look on your face as she does so.

With a simple press of the shutter button, it’s done and the forward gets to savour your ruined expression as it develops.

‘Please Lau. Please.’ You beg shamelessly.

Your girlfriend hums, ‘Help get me off first.’

Her blue gray eyes meet yours and you nod rapidly.

‘Sit up. I want to come on your thigh.’

You let out a moan, changing positions so that you’re seated on the edge of the bed.

‘Fuck.’ You gasp, as the plug drives into you.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to push the sensations away. Laura said not to come so you can’t.

The cocky look on your girlfriend’s face lets you know that she had planned for it.

She kisses you, her hands cradling your face before she sits herself down on your thigh.

You both moan, the blonde immediately beginning to rub her clit up and down.

‘You’re so good to me.’ She mumbles, when you brace your hands against her hips and tense your muscles so that she has a firmer surface to stimulate herself against.

Laura’s swollen clit is exquisitely compressed by your thigh and she holds onto your shoulders, panting, ‘Feel so good against me too.’

Her motions grow more frantic and you leave little love bites on her chest, nipping and kissing her delicate skin.

Your fingers dig into her hips as you hold her steady and the striker cries out when you suck one of her nipples into your mouth.

You swirl your tongue around it till it stiffens. Then you repeat the process on her other nipple.

Your girlfriend groans as you do so, her arousal coating your thigh.

There is so much of it and Laura’s breathing begins to grow shaky. Her grip on your shoulders tighten and she lets out a soft grunt as she works to reach her climax.

‘Are you close?’

‘Almost!’ She pants.

You smile, pushing the blonde’s sweaty hair aside to gain access to her neck.

There, you place lingering kisses and whisper about how much you love her, how much you love her riding your thigh until she sucks in a harsh breath.

Your striker trembles through her orgasm and drops her head down on your shoulder.

She’s clearly tired so you help her out, nudging your thigh upwards so that her swollen clit gets extra friction.

It works, the forward moaning your name as she keeps rolling her hips onto your thigh.

Laura lets out a quiet whimper as the last of her high crashes down on her and you lean in to kiss her.

She initiates a second kiss by grabbing the collar of her jersey and pulling you even closer.

When the German woman breaks the kiss, her pretty eyes meet yours for a second before smiles and gets up.

‘Schatz?’

With the distraction of the Eintracht Frankfurt player's soaking pussy off your thigh, you’re now very much conscious of your own arousal.

Laura’s smile turns almost arrogant.

‘On your hands and knees for me.’

The plug within you shifts as you move and you fight the urge to play with it yourself.

‘Lau.’ You exhale shakily once you are in the position she asked of you.

‘My good girl.’ She praises, taking in the way your pink bud is still swollen.

Her gaze never leaves you as she states, ‘You know, I think my last name suits you very well.’

The former Penn State player allows herself another long moment to truly admire you in her jersey before she slips her finger between your folds.

You react beautifully and it’s to both your surprise when your build up comes much faster than usual.

Laura chalks it up to the long time you have spent suppressing your orgasm while you don’t even think about it, far too occupied with how your girlfriend’s attention has drifted to the butt plug.

She runs her fingers over her initials and then firmly tugs on it.

‘Laura!’ You moan and she continues manipulating it with one hand, the other slipping into your other hole.

She has two fingers knuckle deep inside you and she pushes them into you, over and over again.

‘You’re doing so well for me. Letting me stretch you open, letting me use you.’

The thoroughly sinful noise that escapes you at her words, has the forward savouring it and the rush of wetness that promptly coats her fingers.

She thinks you’ve come for a second but the way you begin to beg proves otherwise.

‘So close Lau. I gotta come, please can I come?’

Then she realises that you must really like being told how both your holes are being fucked by her.

She can’t help slipping a third finger into you as a reward.

‘Laura…’ You choke out.

You barely manage to stay on your hands and knees, your arms nearly giving out beneath you.

‘I need to come Lau. Please I-I can’t hold it.’

It’s so much, the constant waves of pleasure that your girlfriend delights in giving you.

As if to prove your point, the blonde curls her fingers inside you and you make a distressed whimper, your walls squeezing around her fingers uncontrollably.

Laura presses down hard on your butt plug and your clit.

‘Come then.’

You sob, unable to keep yourself on your knees this time.

Crying messily, you collapse onto the bed.

The striker keeps pumping her fingers in and out of you, intrinsically drawing out your climax for as long as she can until you reach behind and tap on her wrist frantically.

‘Too sensitive.’ You pant.

Laura gently withdraws her fingers immediately, placing delicate little kisses all over your back.

While your breathing settles, your girlfriend gets her camera out and uses the last of her film to capture the fucked out bliss on your face.

‘Absolutely beautiful.’ She murmurs as she looks through the viewfinder.

Then she keeps the Polaroid camera away properly and turns her full attention to you.

‘Are you okay baby?’

You’re still panting but you turn onto your side, smiling tiredly up at Laura.

‘Completely perfect.’

The blonde presses an affectionate kiss onto your forehead.

‘Roll over and tuck your knees up.’ She gently instructs.

It’s not easy because your body is sore but you manage.

Your girlfriend lightly taps on your ass, ‘Bear down for me.’

Groaning quietly, you try to get your muscles to cooperate.

Laura sees you struggling and grasps the plug carefully, pulling on it.

You gasp at the oversensitivity and strain harder, forcing the butt plug to finally slip out of you.

‘Good job.’ She praises, taking it and setting all the used toys aside to be cleaned.

Truly exhausted now, you flop down and starfish yourself out on the bed.

The striker grins, leaning over you and kissing you.

‘Ich liebe dich.’ She murmurs against your lips.

‘I love you too.’ You promise.

Full of adoration, your girlfriend brushes sweaty strands of hair out of your face.

‘Do you want me to run you a bath? Or just clean you up with a warm washcloth?’

‘Washcloth please schatz. I think I’d fall asleep in the bath.’ You laugh.

Laura giggles, sneaking in another kiss.

‘Washcloth it is then.’

******

The German woman knows she can be silly and possessive. Even after the night you've shared, she can’t help the immense self-satisfaction that swells within her as she watches you.

You’re wearing her hoodie, eating breakfast that she made, in her bed, with hickeys she has generously marked you up with.

‘Lau.’ You amusedly tease, eyeing her knowingly.

‘I can’t help it.’ She shrugs with pink tinted cheeks.

Chuckling, you get her to settle down next to you.

‘Eat schatz.’

‘No. No. I made it for you.’ She protests.

The smile on your face grows bigger, the kind of smile that you reserve just for Laura.

‘We can share. Come on, you know I can’t finish all these eggs and fruit.’

With a fond roll of her eyes, your girlfriend gives in.

She lets out a contented sigh as she chews on the mouthful of eggs that you feed her.

Thoughtfully, she says, ‘I’m a brilliant cook.’

‘A brilliant photographer too.’ You add, suddenly growing shy at the thought of the photos the blonde had taken of you.

They’re kept safely by her now, just like your set of hers are by you.

Completely sure of what’s on your mind, your girlfriend uses a finger to delicately tilt your face towards her.

‘Only when I have the most beautiful of subjects.’ She whispers.

There’s no hiding how intense your blush is after that and Laura giggles brightly, planting small kisses all over your face. Just to convey how incredibly much she loves you.

German Translations:

schatz - sweetheart

ich liebe dich - i love you

[charmercharm3r]

Tender Tendencies

OT8

Masterlist

Synopsis: Stray Kids' softer moments.

-

BANG CHAN

He has little to no free time. But that's okay, you knew what you were getting into when you met him. Spending time in the studio with him for hours on end and calling it date night was a regular routine. You'd bring something to do, work, a video game, maybe a new hobby. One time, you even managed to crochet him a beanie during the many hours he was working and you were there keeping him company.

Sometimes, though, Chan gets so engrossed in his work that he forgets you're there. With his big, expensive headphones on, fingers tapping away at his sound board or clicking his computer, it's too easy to lose himself in the music.

But when he comes back to earth after hours of not speaking a word to each other, Chan turns around in his chair to see you laying on your stomach, feet swaying in the air and focused on the game on your phone. A relieved smile spreads across his lips when you don't even seem to notice where his attention was.

Not that he tries to gain it, he just likes to watch you quietly curse to yourself when you lose or giggle coming across a funny video. He watches over your shoulder as you tap the share button and type his name to send. Chan doesn't interrupt you, but you eventually feel his soft gaze and give him a pretty smile that extends into your eyes. "I sent you something! Watch it later when you're done with work."

Chan pretends he didn't watch you replay it a few times, pretends he didn't intentionally not say anything because he loves how relaxed and carefree you seem when no one's around but him, pretends not to feel the blush on his cheeks and ears because he's so enamored.

With a warm heart, "I will," and leans over to place a gentle kiss to your forehead.

LEE MINHO

Minho is a get up early, go to bed early kind of guy. He feels rather productive in the mornings, maybe too productive for his own good. He does his little work outs, freshens up, cooks breakfast and sets up the ingredients for a two-person meal for when he returns home. It was an unspoken rule between the two of you that he does the cooking and you'll do the cleaning up.

He never asked you to, though, fully meaning to wash the pots and pans as soon as he was done so that it was one less thing for you. But this time, he forgot. Minho was too excited to let you try this new recipe he'd been dying to test. One of his favorite things was the full bodily reaction he'd get when you ate his cooking, jumping in your seat slightly and shooting him a look of pleasureful surprise as you savored the bite.

So full and content, after the both of you were done Minho had let out a long sigh and excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, the table was cleared and the sound of the sink was running in the kitchen.

Your hair was pulled back messily, ear phones hiding what music was making you do a cute little wiggle as you scrubbed the dishes. Just seeing you so domestic and happy, it made Minho's heart ache in the best way possible.

To give you a gentle warning he was there, he put his hand on the small of your back. Acknowledging him with a smile and small, "hi."

Wordlessly, Minho takes one of your headphones and puts it to his ear. "Show me your moves," he encourages, stealing the drying rag and helping you finish the chore.

SEO CHANGBIN

The self proclaimed gym expert he is, Changbin has always had the desire to work out with you. Your job was just very time consuming, almost as much as his. However, Changbin was active for a living so working out didn't require him to use as much of his reserved energy as it did you. It felt more mentally draining than anything to even think about going to the gym.

When he did finally convince you, he was so excited. You warned him that normal exercises would be hard for you since your body wasn't used to it the way his was, but he assured you that he'd help with the pace and wouldn't push too hard too fast.

Of course it was going to hurt the next day, you just didn't anticipate how much. The night of, Changbin instructed you to take a cold shower to soothe your muscles. It helped a little, definitely making the feeling of getting into your pajamas and snuggling next to him in bed just a little bit better and warmer than usual.

The next morning, you almost didn't want to get up to even use the bathroom because your legs were so sore. Being the gentleman he is, Changbin woke up so he could carry you to the toilet. He was going to retrieve you when the bathroom door swung open to reveal you holding onto it for dear life. Legs shaking to carry your body weight, Changbin helped guide you back to bed with a sympathetic smile.

As you fell face first into the sheets, he grabbed some icy-hot soothing gel from his gym bag, kindly maneuvering you onto your back. "You did so good yesterday, baby." His voice was so soft, gentle as he poured some into his hands and rubbed them together.

His big hands spread the gel over the expanse of your legs, massaging and rolling the knots out as best as he could without hurting you too badly. "No pain no gain, right?" You sighed through your gritted teeth.

It was almost as if you were convincing yourself that it was worth it, the exhaustion and soreness was worth the time you got to spend together. Hearts in his eyes, "that's right. Tomorrow... leg day."

HWANG HYUNJIN

He wouldn't call himself a tortured artist, no. By no means was he tortured, but moreso unsatisfied with his work. The pieces he liked, he barely liked. The ones he didn't, he despised. Hyunjin felt that way with all of his art, except when it was ones that were because of you.

The watercolor blue roses? You told him your favorite movie is The Corpse Bride. That landscape? That was the view of the walk you went on together when he asked if you'd take him as your boyfriend. There were the randomest sketches littering his desk because you'd say something or make a certain face and it'd inspire him, he had to get it out of his system some how.

A particularly difficult rough patch in his creative process convinced Hyunjin that his current medium of water color and acrylic paint wasn't meant for him. He had a habit of holding in his feelings until they burst, but he opened up to you eventually. You asked him if he wanted advice or just someone to listen, to which he answered, "both."

You suggested taking a break, looking away before it was all he could see, maybe even trying a new medium. Hyunjin took all your advice to heart, voicing his only problem was that starting a new medium can get pricey. There wasn't much either of you could do.

Or so he thought.

He was locked away in his mini art studio again, staring much too intently at the blank canvas. You knocked and let yourself in. Hyunjin only looked up when you put a hand on his shoulder and sat yourself in his lap. A few chaste kisses to his cheek, you suggested your thoughts. "White sand? That works?" You explained the research you found about the subject. Amidst your little ramble, Hyunjin couldn't help but look at you in awe.

"Think I went a little overboard when I was searching it up. I also looked for other things you could use, but this was the most convenient. I stopped by the art supply store on my way over here if you wanted to try. If not, I can just return it-"

"No!" He said a little to loudly, making you jump in his lap. "I mean, no. I'll use it. I want to." The little smile on your face was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. The only thing that could've rivaled it was the pure happiness when he gave you a painting of the shore and white wash. It was the first one he'd finished in a long time and couldn't have been prouder, "thank you for always thinking of me."

HAN JISUNG

There was very little that this man couldn't do. The workaholic homebody he is, Jisung brings his music with him everywhere. That means even in the house, he has his headphones on or his phone is up to his ear listening to whatever it is he was working on.

It also means he has trouble taking care of himself. But who doesn't sometimes? You didn't find any trouble in doing some chores here and there to help him out, Jisung always found something to do to give back for your kindness.

The one thing Jisung wasn't, was a mechanic. Lyricist? Check. Producer? Check. Musical genius? Check. Knows how to fix a washing machine? Pass...

Your place was in desperate need of renovating. It was a lot of little things that wasn't really a big deal, just an inconvenience. The washing machine specifically was getting on your nerves.

With laundry building up and your busy boyfriend finally having time to spend with you, it was a matter of what could've possibly been the best way to manage your time. The issue was that the lid of your washing machine refused to close. The only solution you could find was to sit your entire body weight on it while the cycle continued. It's been an uncomfortable past few laundry days, to say the least.

Killing two birds with one stone, you suggested Jisung bring his laundry to your place to clean, that way you help him out a little while also helping yourself. He did so without thinking about it.

Jisung started to get concerned when you didn't come back from saying you were going to wash the clothes. That was forty five minutes ago. Upon searching for you, Jisung found you with your legs criss-crossed on top of the washer, scrolling through your phone. He tilted his head at you and asked what you were doing. When you explained to him your dilemma, he was confused. Why hadn't you told him? Why were you bearing this burden by yourself? How were you still kind enough to offer to do his laundry knowing this was what you had to do?

Putting his phone away, Jisung joined you in the laundry room, standing in front of you and leaning into your lap. "What are we watching?"

"There's still fifteen minutes left on the cycle, you don't have to wait with me," you protested but still took him into your arms.

"Fifteen minutes more I get to spend with my favorite person."

LEE FELIX

Hugs are basically a second language to him, going in for one every chance he gets. When Felix hugs you, he doesn't let go. It wasn't obvious at first why he never did. You just assumed that it was because he liked skinship.

Yes, that was true. But it was also because he loved the way you smelled. Fresh out of the shower, just got back from work, sweaty from a run, it didn't matter, you always smelt good to him. He held on long enough to get a good whiff of your scent no matter the occasion.

For that reason, he hated laundry day. The smell of the detergent always washed away the smell of you, meaning Felix was all over you until his hoodies and shirts could've been mistaken for yours by anyone else.

Also for the same reason, Felix goes out of his way to buy bottles of your favorite perfume specifically for when you can't be together. He keeps a travel sized version of it in his bag for long days at the company, when he has to go overseas, or when he just misses you. Felix sprays it on his own clothes and pillows, holding it tightly to his body and pretending you're there with him.

He came back to your place after a week without seeing you, the travel bottle almost half empty now. The initial embrace lasted so long that you were almost dreaming he was in your arms. Then you got a whiff of what definitely wasn't his usual cologne.

When you asked him about it, Felix just laughed and pulled out the mini perfume from his bag. "You don't recognize it? It's yours."

"You say it like it was supposed to be obvious," you grin, fully blushing.

"It's so obvious I should be embarrassed. I'm not, how could I when you smell so good?"

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin isn't necessarily averse to fashion, he knows what he likes. It just so happens that he favors the oversized look. There's also specific brands that he buys from more than others. His closet consists of so many basics that no matter what he pulls out, he can make an outfit in minutes.

That's why he loves getting ready with you in the morning. You get up before him since you typically take longer. When you're done and picking out your clothes, Seungmin always asks if you could choose his outfit as well, always reassuring that he'll love no matter what you pick.

He wears the outfit proudly every day. When one of the members compliments something he's wearing, he tells them that you chose it for him. It's his way of showing you off, even if you aren't there.

When you are with him, Seungmin's usually asking you to wear his clothes, too. Showering at his place, he makes sure to give you one of his shirts even if you brought your own pajamas. Another way to show you off. If you happen to run into one of the members in the hallway wearing his shirt, they make a point to tell you that they liked the outfit you picked out for him. Though, it's usually something more like, "you dress him better than he dresses himself."

"And they're right," Seungmin says, kissing your forehead. "Except you wear my clothes better than anyone."

YANG JEONGIN

His job doesn't end, even when he goes home. Jeongin feels this way just about all the time. Having to take off his stage outfits, his makeup, wash his face, the time it takes to shower, seems like it drags on all night long.

By the time he gets to having to apply his skin care, Jeongin's eyes are closing and is on the verge of falling asleep. Coming back into his room, you're waiting to greet him. As much as he wants to match your cheerfulness, he just can't. So he falls onto his back without so much as putting on moisturizer.

"I brushed my teeth, at least," he tiredly jokes, forcing his eyes open to watch you pace around his room. You were grabbing his usual night time essentials, putting them on the bed beside him and climbing onto his lap. You sat on his torso, preparing his step by step routine. "What're you doing?"

"Finishing up for bed," you reply, telling him to get comfortable.

Slowly and gently, you apply the essences to his skin. Jeongin hums as you massage his face, hands resting on the tops of your thighs and not letting go. He doesn't even as you finish and set the bottles aside. "Just need chapstick," you whisper, moving to get up.

Jeongin pulls you back down, peaking his eyes open to bring you down for a kiss. It's soft and sensual, unrushed and purely just feeling you. He sleepily hums again against your lips, reluctant to pull away no matter how close to drifting off he is.

By the time you do, he's rubbing his lips together, "mmm, cherry flavored."

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter. 

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different. 

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows. 

You care. 

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.” 

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you. 

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol. 

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around. 

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles. 

You’ll take it. 

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart. 

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart. 

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same. 

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood. 

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away. 

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse. 

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible. 

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation. 

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it. 

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat. 

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part. 

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave. 

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air. 

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.  

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You. 

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea. 

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do. 

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul. 

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know. 

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

[velvet-paradox]

Pornstar!König preview

"Hullo?" Your tired voice asked, flinging your other hand over your eyes. There was some shuffling and ruffling sounds, someone was shouting in the background and Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac could be faintly heard through the chaos.

"This better be fucking important."

"Y/N! Oh thank fuck, I need a favor." It was Tammy, your agent sounding frantic as she cursed at someone nearby.

"Now?"

"Yes now! The new girl must've been nervous as shit to film because she showed up fucking trashed, we can't use her." Tammy huffed into the phone. "We're losing time and money!"

"What's that got to do with me, Tam?"

"An I.O.U. I swear I'll make it up to you if you can get your ass up and ready to film. I can get you a car in ten minutes." Tammy was good people, always put you first even if her brash tone and stony glare had others hightailing it out of her office. Sometimes they were crying; men and women.

"Who's shoot is it?" You asked with a huff as you sadly came to the conclusion that you were not going back to bed at 2:45AM. It was a Wednesday night for fucks sake!

"The Colonel." Tammy's voice flinched.

"Seriously?"

"Come on please Y/N, be sweet for me ok? I'll do your laundry for a week… no a month! Dry cleaning too, you name it you got it. Plus," you could hear the click of a lighter followed by a deep inhale, no doubt another cigarette burning between her chapped but painted lips. "I'll even give you a "$300 advance."

"You do know we're not on speaking terms, right?"

Tammy snorted. "What? Since when?"

"Since Going Down in the Valley! He really gave me an earful on how I should've done better and stretched my jaw before coming to set. So I told him in not so many words that I'm not one of his little soldiers that he can boss around. He didn't like that too much."

You said with a sigh, remembering the stern look he gave down his nose, over his entire head covering. His crossed over massive arms and tilted his head with a click of his teeth. He really didn't like it when you mirrored his posture.

"We'll figure it out when you get here, yeah? For me please, Y/N? You know your my best girl and honestly you're really the only one who can thoroughly handle him." Tammy swindled her way into your veins and answer.

It was tempting. A little too tempting as you weighed your options.

Rent was due, the fridge was a little lacking, you needed gas… She practically squealed with delight as you agreed to the offer, hanging up the phone to take a quick shower and grab your to-go bag before the car arrived.

….

Once on the set, or what was today's mansion and master bedroom of choice, Tammy had rushed up to you with a make-up bag and a flash-in-the-pan hug. She thrusted the two page script to your chest. After curling your lashes and sweeping on some gloss, you slipped into the slinky dress as you went over the obscure dialogue. It was something different.

Something soft and sweet. A couples anniversary, some heavy petting on the ride home, taunts of playfulness. Intrigue. Lust.

Not the rough stuff you were used to when it came to shooting with the Colonel.

Your strappy heels clicked along the freshly polished floors, boom mics and camera men moved around you like puffs of smoke, Tammy who was indeed smoking was frustrated with the lighting.

You paused when you saw him.

König was dressed in a nice and well tailored suit, the jacket held his bulky arms tightly, the button down was checkered and stretched to the very last thread. He looked good. Even though you were giving him the silent treatment as of late, you could appreciate fine art when you saw it.

Your body thrummed when König adjusted his signature face covering hood, messing with the hem before he turned around and saw you for the first time.

You opened your mouth to say something when the bigger, much bigger man spoke.

"Oh no. No no. Nein nein nein!" The Colonel threw up his hands and headed for the master bedroom door.

"Colonel, wait." Tammy shouted, tossing her cigarette into the sink with sizzle, chasing after him and touching his forearm.

"I am not doing a scene with her again." He stated and pointed down at the feather haired agent, he did give you another look though before tearing his arm out of her grip. "Not until she apologizes."

"Well nice to see you too, sir." You snorted and leaned against the built in vanity, fluffing your hair a bit more, fixing your necklace.

"Watch it!"

Tammy put her hands up between the pair of you, the frames of her glasses slipping down the slope of her button nose. You looked up at your co-star, with a head tilt of your own.

"Come on you two, what happened to your chemistry? You guys made us all fucking rich when we shot Tits For That! Can't you put whatever the hell you've got goin' on on the back burner to make some dough?" Tammy made the money gesture with her two fingers in your face. "Who doesn't like money? Think of how much fun we had shooting Bunker Bunny 7!"

"I refuse to work with such a petulant little brat like Velveteen." He huffed, the mask billowing slightly. "You're mature enough to get railed on film but not apologize? Make sense, bitte!"

"Oh, here we go." You sighed and rolled your eyes, truly one of the only things König couldn't stomach unless he was fucking the brat or sass out of someone.

"Can't you two please be adults?"

"So I gagged a little too hard, big deal?! You have women choking on that thing twice a week but oh no, I do it once and make it sloppy and suddenly I'm the only one being scolded." You snarked, a few of the crew members made a noise and moved out of view. König scoffed and Tammy put her head in her hands, thumbs going to ease the headache you two were throwing at her.

"I did not scold you. I tried to help you and you then spat on my boots remember? Real mature."

"Too bad."

"Children! Please, we're not getting any younger and we're losing time here. Can you both please just try and get along so we can get this done and go home."

"I was at home, remember?" You made a face and then apologized to Tam, it wasn't her fault.

No taglist as of yet; lemme know! :)

[barcaracing]

you’re wearing his kit | pg8

summary: pedri and y/n go public with their relationship and it doesn't take long before the media digs up her past with another barcelona player whose name happens to be on the back of her kit in one photo

pairing: pedri x reader ft. platonic!gavi

warnings: angst, a bit of fluff first

a/n: what's uppppp!! i'm back from the dead to say that i've been obsessed with pedri lately, so here's me contributing to a better society. enjoy! and to anyone who's also in the middle of exams, good luck soldier <3

*******

"This is scary." Pedri shoots you a sideways glance. You nod, not daring to take your eyes off the phone in front of you even though the screen is still black. You sit in silence for another five minutes before footsteps come banging down the stairs. They halt abruptly at the doorway, then shuffle into the living room.

"Guys?" Fer stops behind the couch.

You hum at the same time that Pedri grunts. Like a caveman. You shoot him a funny look that goes unnoticed as his eyes remain glued to the coffee table.

Fer's head pops in between the two of you. "Not to interrupt...whatever you're doing, but why are you staring at my phone? It's not even turned on."

Pedri's head snaps to his brother. "What?"

You sit up and look at him as well. "What do you mean it's not turned on?"

Fer reaches over to grab his phone, clicking the side button several times. "It's dead. I need to charge it."

Feeling like someone just poked a hole into your chest, you deflate against the back of the couch, your head falling onto Pedri's shoulder with a breathy laughter. "So we've been staring at nothing the last 20 minutes?" You ask and Fer snorts, flinging himself into the single armchair on your left to look for a charger.

"Yes," he says, plucking the cable into his phone. "You weirdos."

Pedri's shoulder shakes with laughter. He runs a hand through his hair and lets his arm fall behind your back to pull you further into his side. "This is already getting over our heads."

"You think so?" You deadpan and let out a giggle when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

"Maybe we should just cut off all electronics for the next couple of days," Pedri mumbles into your skin and you have a feeling he's just thinking out loud. "It's only been half an hour and I'm so stressed, I thought I was going to lose all my hair."

Mortified, you look up and give his hair an experimental tug. You tug once more, but Pedri quickly wraps his hand your wrist and kisses your pulse, making you narrow your eyes at him. "Don't you dare go bald on me right after we announced to the world that we're dating. It'd look bad on me if I left you because of your shiny scalp."

Pedri moves back and raises his brows at you. "You would break up with me if I lost my hair?"

"Yes," you say without an ounce of shame. Fer lets out a snort.

"Why?" Pedri sputters. "I'd still look the same. My face wouldn't change. Honestly, I could look great bald."

You scoff although the corners of your mouth tug up. "Are you telling me you want to go bald?"

Pedri falters for a split second, but he nods. "To prove a point? Of course."

You regard him for a moment, searching his eyes for any signs that he will back down. You're not surprised to find none. He never backs down. Finally, you shrug. "Fine."

Fer perks up. "Wait, what?"

Pedri is still looking at you with absolute confidence, his gaze flickering between your eyes. A sly smirk slowly sweeps over his lips. "You sure about that, princesa?" He moves closer until you can feel his breath on your face and his voice drops. "I know how much you love holding onto it when you're—"

A pillow hits the side of his head.

"Okay!" says Fer loudly, flinging his arms around as if to swat away the rising tension. Pedri has the audacity to laugh after taking one glance at your flustered face. You smack his face with the pillow before tossing it back at his brother. He only laughs harder.

"Gross. Actually vile," Fer mumbles, glaring at the two of you before resuming to his phone. He freezes and his thumb hovers over his screen, mid-scroll.

"What's wrong?" Pedri asks, concern pushing off the laughter in his voice. "Fer?"

"I—" His brother looks up, gaze flickering to you before his fingers rapidly fly across the keyboard of his phone. Your spine straightens.

"Fer?" You can't help but sound alarmed as well. He keeps muttering to himself and the only thing you can make out are 'can't be' and 'she wouldn't.' You really need to know what's going on.

Pedri slides forward, hand settling on your knee before he kicks Fer lightly in the leg. "Hermano, what's wrong?"

You watch in high anticipation as his eyes scan the screen and it takes everything in you not to urge him to just say it. Are people saying horrible stuff online? Was it a bad idea to go public? If this is a mistake, there's no going back. You feel your heart pounding against your ribcage and Pedri notices because, of course, he does. He squeezes your leg and you send him a small smile.

His warm gaze calms you but there's wariness pulling at his eyes, so you press a gentle kiss to his shoulder. His smile grows and he pecks your cheek before looking back over to his brother, about to speak only to be cut off by the familiar ringtone slicing through the thick tension of the room. The volume makes you jump and you move to stand up, but Pedri swiftly kisses to the top of your head, telling you that he'll get it before hauling himself over the back of the couch to answer the call.

You know that both of you turned off all notifications before you made the post on Instagram, only allowing calls from close friends and family to come through.

"Gavi?" Pedri's voice drifts from the kitchen and Fer inhales sharply. You furrow your brows. His eyes find yours and you want to ask him what’s wrong, but his face is carefully devoid of emotions. His gaze feels accusatory and it honestly freaks you out.

"Fer?" You say cautiously, fingers fiddling in your lap. "What happened?"

Before he could reply, Pedri reenters the room. His voice rises as he responds to the person on the other end. He ignores your questioning look and stops in front of his brother, jabbing out his hand impatiently. Fer immediately drops his phone into his palm and your confusion multiplies as you watch your boyfriend's eyebrows draw together, chest rising. Gavi's voice can be heard faintly through the phone that is still pressed to his ear and you only realise now that it's yours. You forgot you have the same ringtone.

"Mhm," says Pedri absently while scrolling through Fer's phone, "okay, yeah." You get the impression that he's not paying attention to whatever Pablo is saying and now you're pissed because you're pretty sure you're going to die of curiosity or old age before anyone even bothers to tell you what's going on.

"I can see it—" Pedri snaps and instantly stops himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip, his knuckles loosening around Fer's phone. "I know it's not…can you just—" He lets out a shaky breath and you can see him forcing the tension out of his shoulders.

"Look, I really don't want to hear your voice right now. So just- It's fine. No, it's fine. I know…yeah, bye," Pedri mumbles halfheartedly before tossing your phone onto your lap without sparing you much of a glance. You look down at your lock screen of Pedri and you sharing a cone of ice cream at the beach before the screen fades into black and your reflection stares back at you.

You look up at your boyfriend whose eyes are fixed on a spot on the armchair Fer is sitting on. Slowly, you stand up and step forward, hand reaching out to find Pedri's. Your fingertips grace his and that seems to shake him out of his thoughts. He moves his hand back and finally looks at you.

"Pedri?" Your voice is soft, mostly because you're afraid that speaking any louder might push him away. He looks so fragile right now. "Please tell me what's going on."

Without a word, he hands you Fer's phone. Letting your eyes linger on him a moment longer, you shift your gaze to the bold headline taking up half of the screen.

Scandal rocks FC Barcelona as New Girlfriend of Star Player Caught in Love Triangle! Shocking Photos Show Her Wearing Another Player's Kit at Games Before Going Public with Pedri!

"What?" Your eyes widen. The phone nearly slips out of your hands as you hastily scroll through the rest of the article, searching for the photos. You didn't, you thought. You would never! The photos are at the very bottom of the page and every second is absolute torture, but once the images load, your breath stutters. "What the hell?"

"Yeah," Fer scoffs and your head snaps up so fast, your neck twinges. "What the hell, Y/N?"

You make to speak but your gaze sweeps over your boyfriend who is simmering with resentment and sadness. You want to reach out, touch him, but you can tell it's gradually bleeding into anger. He's never been mad with you before. The only times you've seen him lose his temper was on the pitch. It doesn't take much to see that he's trying his absolute best to compose himself. You take a deep breath and muster a levelled gaze at his brother. "Fer, can you please give us a moment?"

"What?” He frowns. "No. Y/N, what were you thinking—"

"Out."

Fer’s mouth snaps shut as Pedri's voice cuts through the room.

"What?"

"Get out," Pedri grits through his teeth. Fer looks between you two before shaking his head with a sigh. He plucks his phone out of your hands and casts one last look at you. Once the door on the floor above clicks shut, you step in front of Pedri.

"I can explain."

He scoffs, eyes burning into yours for a brief second. Then, he's across the room as if he can't bear the thought of you near him. It stings. He keeps shaking his head and if you were in any other situation, you would've found it amusing how similar he was to his brother.

"Can you—" You watch him pace around, your patience dwindling. He keeps moving, looking anywhere but you, and it's driving you insane. Your chest tightens as you feel him work himself up, the situation slipping further and further from your fingers. "Pedro, can you just stop for one goddamn moment and let me explain."

Huffing, he finally comes to a halt on the other side of the coffee table and meets your eye. For an odd second, you feel thankful that the flimsy piece of furniture is separating you. As if it could do anything while the predator is flashing his bloody fangs. "Fine. Go on. What's the great explanation to this? Were you two dating and you just never thought to tell me?" Pedri bites out, speaking over you like you never even opened your mouth. "It's all too well then. I've found out with the rest of the world, didn't I? You know how much I love surprises. I'm flattered, really."

The sarcasm dripping off his words burn like acid and no matter how much you're shaking your head and trying to cut him off, he's not stopping until he draws blood. You know it's to match his own wound, but it doesn't make it any less painful.

"Gavi called you. Not me, his team mate and best friend. You. That's enough of an explanation, so I guess it's just all about the details now. Were you fucking Gavi before you got bored and decided I would have to do? Enlighten me, please."

Your mind is collapsing, failing to register the blunt ends of Pedri's words piercing through your skin. Tears burn in your eyes, but you are not going to cry. You won't. Not because of this.

"Where is this coming from?" You hate how hollow your voice sounds.

Pedri blinks at you. "You're not really asking me that. Do you think I don't know about the rumours? You and Gavi? How you liked him before we got together. Why it didn't work out between you, I have no idea because Gavi liked you too, you know. We used to listen to him talk about you in the dressing room before he finally introduced you to us as just his friend. And I made sure you were nothing else to him before I asked you out because he's my best friend and I didn't want to ruin anything."

"You didn't," you say, frowning. "We were never together. I've told you this before. Pablo was never my boyfriend. Nothing ever happened.”

Pedri shakes his head. "That doesn't change the fact that you had feelings for him and probably still do. You wanted to keep us a secret for months and now I see you having no problems wearing his name on your back, showing it off to the entire world before I even got to see you in my kit. My own girlfriend. Do you know how stupid I feel?"

You're not sure how it happened but Pedri is standing before you now, eyes shining bright with so much hurt. You know he won't back down. He never does. Struggling to breath, you take a step back. Your voice is thick when you speak. "This isn't fair."

"No," Pedri says, bitterly, stepping back as well. "It isn't." He exhales and looks to the side, eyebrows still drawn together. "I think you should go."

You stare at him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly nod. Fine. Sure. Whatever he wants. Who cares what you want. You feel so tired. Without a word, you grab your phone and head out the front door, letting it slam behind you.

Three days later, a girl slips Pedri her phone number and he tucks it into his pocket. The video goes viral and your phone doesn’t stop going off, so you turn it off completely. After all, the only person you actually wanted to talk to still hasn’t called.

A week later, Pedri is flying to Madrid to train with the national team and the only reason you know about it is the red circle glaring at you on your kitchen calendar. How did it all fall apart so fast?

************

i have no idea what happens next or if anyone’s interested in reading a second part but if u are, let me know how you’d want this to be resolved and end bc pedri said some mean stuff here and we don’t know what the reader did or didn’t do and i honestly just never plan these things lmao stay hydrated x

[pythonees]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ATTENTION — xavier thorpe

REQUESTED: @noneofyabuisnessmatey

WARNINGS: 18+, cock warming, chubby/soft bodied reader, teasing, my lack of knowledge in shooter games

A/N: y'all in my asks 'bout to me make me act up, short fic

You don't know how long it's been since you climbed onto your boyfriends lap, bored out of your mind and looking for attention. He's been playing some shooter game he doesn't even like for the last hour, buttons of his controller clicking loudly as he runs around the map shooting people. You've got your head tucked into his neck, half asleep as you take in his warmth.

Every couple of minutes he's pressing kisses to the side of your head, checking in to see if you've fallen asleep. Whenever he's dead and waiting to respawn he's got his arms wrapped tight around you, or has his hands rubbing up and down your back.

Xavier has always been touchy, a hand on you at all times. His favourite place is your plush thighs, long fingers gripping and kneading the flesh like his own personal stress ball. Whenever he can he has you sitting in his lap like you are now, you soft body in easy reach for his eager hands.

It's a blessing and a curse that he likes your body as much as he does. You don't have to worry about his attention straying when he's got page after page of you drawn, when he's wrapped around you and smothering you with his love. But all the attention he gives you always gets you in the mood, and the asshole doesn't even notice he's doing it.

You can tell he's died again when both his hands settle on your hips, sliding down over your thighs before gliding back up again, fingers pressing into the skin so that it dimples around his fingers. Sitting across his lap has made your already short shorts ride up into the crease of your thighs, digging into your flesh and giving Xavier more skin to run his hands over.

Every time he's swipes his hand over your legs his hands would roam into your inner thigh, giving the plush flesh a squeeze before smoothing his hand over the area to soothe the skin. It was driving you crazy, panties slowly dampening with your arousal with his accidental teasing.

His hands move off of you to pick his controller back up, pressing a quick kiss to the side of you head before he's back in the game, playing as if his girlfriend isn't plastered to him. You hold back your sigh of disappointment, knowing this is partly your fault considering you said you were fine with him trying to beat Ajax's high score. And now here you sit, horny and frustrated in his lap because you didn't think it would take this long.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you shuffle around on his lap, trying to get more comfortable so that you can pass the time with a quick nap. As you move around you can feel Xavier start to tense up below you, the very familiar dying sound playing out from the tv behind you. Before you can ask what happened Xavier is pulling you into his chest, your hips sliding foreword and landing on the erection he's been trying to ignore.

"Oh," you gasp, looking down between the two of you to see his erection pressed up into you. Shifting back a little, you get a better look at the tent he's making in his pants. You drop your hand between your bodies, palming his erection through his sweats. He moans long and low, head turning to suck and kiss at your neck.

"Shit, don't know what I was thinking letting you crawl into my lap, been hard the second you wrapped yourself around me," Xavier confesses, hips rutting up into your hand to get more pressure against your hand, "gotta finish this though, if I don't beat him by tonight I have to do his homework for a month."

You laugh at his expense, cock still in hand as you give it an experimental squeeze, sliding your hand as much as you can over it. Xavier's hips twitch, head falling back to rest on the bed behind him. You quickly dive into his neck, sucking and biting at fading bruises while your hand works to push his waistband down so you can get your hand on him.

"Fuck, babe, I'm serious. I won't ever see you if I don't beat him in this shit game," he says around a moan, but makes no move to stop you. So you keep going, pushing his sweats to reveal he's got no boxers on, hard cock springing out from his pants.

"Don't worry, as long as your a good boy and sit still, I'll give you a reward for beating Ajax," you whisper into his ear, lifting up in his lap to give yourself enough room to take off your shorts and underwear, throwing them off to the side.

Quickly getting your hand back on him, you pump him a few more times, mouth watering as you watch pre leak from his tip. Ignoring the urge to get him into your mouth, you shuffle foreword until your right over him, rubbing his cock through your folds one, two times before your sinking down on him, pussy clenching desperately around him as you take him to the hilt in one go.

You give an experimental roll of your hips, both out you moaning loud in the empty dorm room as you both get what you've desperately wanted for the hour you've been there. It feels too good to stop, hips continuing their slow rolls against him that Xavier eagerly meets thrust for thrust. It's as the sounds of the respawn menu come back to you do you remember what your plan was, slowing your already slow movements as you ignore your arousal.

"Now hurry up and respawn," you say, rolling your hips one last time before stilling, your walls fluttering around him with the desperate need to move that you dutifully ignore, "you've got a Gorgon to beat. Then I'll ride you till you can't even feel your legs."

Xavier nods desperately, pressing a searing kiss to you lips before hooking his chin over your shoulder, hands fumbling with the controller before he's able to press the right button to respawn. Settling down against him, you give your pussy an experimental squeeze around him, smirking at the choked off whine he lets out.

The shooting kicks back up behind you, and you wonder how fast he'll beat Ajax with his new... motivation wrapped around him.

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

[vienssunshine]

Obviously It's Cold in the Wintertime

pairing: Josh Washington x gn reader sfw word count: 2.3k alternate universe: no Josh prank author’s comment: Until Dawn is the ideal choice for one of my favorite tropes: needing to be close for warmth/body heat.

The lodge is freezing.

You hold the quilt tight to your shivering body, trying to pull it closer than it already is, but the winter air is uncaring. It slips under your quilt and settles over you like an additional blanket, not one of comfort, but ice.

The only clothes you packed to face the harsh winter up on the mountain were ones you’d wear outside, like your puffer jacket or beanie. You didn’t think you’d need to prepare for the weather inside as well, and your choice of sleepwear—athletic shorts and a baggy t-shirt—reflects that.

You wish Josh had reminded you that despite his family’s profuse wealth, their lodge has no central heating. But, you can’t blame him for your mistake, and he's had a lot going on anyway. Regardless, you’ll still have to bother him about your situation because, despite your best efforts, it's impossible to fall asleep like this.  

Sitting up in your bed, you pull the quilt off your legs, removing the little warmth it provided. There’s a relief, though fleeting, from the pervasive cold when a tingle of excitement shoots down your spine from knowing you’re about to go see Josh, alone, and at night.  

Your hand reaches out into the dark to search the top of the nightstand for your phone, finding and turning it on after a few seconds of fumbling around. You click on the phone's flashlight—there’s no electricity in this place, either—and use it to find your slippers and the guest room door. 

The glow from your phone does little to demystify the dark, empty void staring back at you when you pull the door open. It’s an intimidating task, to navigate the endless twists, turns, and, according to Josh, secret passages of the lodge. Thankfully, the dusty glass of the windows allows the deep blue of the night sky to seep into the cabin and illuminate the general silhouette of things like the main staircase and the circular chandelier hanging above you. 

You make your way through the living room, using your phone to avoid obstacles like couches and tables, and head up the tall staircase. Your footsteps echo through the open air as you climb, but aren’t loud enough to wake anybody up. 

Keeping close to the handrail lining the hallway, you walk down to the last door, Josh’s door, and place a few soft knocks on it.

You hear his voice through the wood. “Yeah?” 

He's awake, perfect. You creak the door open and slip into the room. “Hey, it’s me.” 

“Oh, what a nice surprise,” Josh says, grinning. You return the smile.

You turn off your phone flashlight and walk into his room, having to squint to see where you’re going in the dim light. Josh is sitting on his bed, his back relaxed on a large pillow pressed against the headboard. He’s in pajamas too, a black sweatshirt and flannel pants. The only source of light in the room is a movie projected onto the wall by an old-timey camera set up by his side of the bed. He flicks a button on the top of the camera, pausing the movie, and turns to you. 

“So, what can I do for you?” he asks. 

“Hmm?”

Josh tilts his head, “There must be some reason you’re in my room at,” he glances at his phone, “two in the morning.” 

“Oh, right. I came to see if you had any extra blankets or something? It’s, uh, really cold in my room.”

A mischievous smile. “Y’know, I bet I could help warm you up. No blankets necessary.” 

“I’m serious, Josh,” you respond, rolling your eyes. Though you don’t betray it, his comment, cliché as it may be, sends a tingle similar to earlier up your back. 

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, throwing his hands up, “I’ll be serious.” 

“Thank you,” you respond. It’s not that you would mind if he kept flirting with you, it’s just that you need to warm up, you're barely able to feel your fingers.

Josh runs his eyes over you. “Well, no matter what I do, you’re still gonna be cold in that,” he says, giving your PJs a disapproving look. 

You shift your weight under his gaze. “Yeah, well, I forgot there’s no heat up here,” you say.

“Rookie mistake,” Josh laughs, standing up from his bed and walking around it to reach the dresser made of dark wood on the other side. He pulls the middle drawer open by its antique handles and takes one of his sweatshirts out, bringing it over to you. “This should help.”

As he hands it to you, your fingers brush his. “Wow, you do feel cold,” he remarks. 

“What, did you think I was lying?” you tease, giving him a light push. “Thanks for the sweatshirt.” 

“Yeah, of course,” he says, watching you pull it over your head.

The extra layer was a good call, you aren’t shaking anymore. You note another benefit of the sweatshirt: it smells just like him.

“That’s so much better,” you say, and a pleased smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And the extra blankets? Are there any?” you ask. 

He rubs his neck, “Right, about that…”

“Oh, are there none in the lodge?” you say, holding the edges of the hoodie to your face, trying to warm your ears. 

“Well, no…see…” Josh says, “I already gave the extra blankets to Mike.”

You frown. Mike. Your friend group isn’t full of angels, but you have a particular dislike for Mr. Class President.

With a huff, you say, “I don’t see why you did that, I’m sure he and Jess can keep plenty warm together.”

“Mike said he needed all the blankets to make his room a cozy, romantic love den. His words, not mine. My hands were tied, I had to help a bro out.”

Your brows furrow, still baffled by how Mike managed to convince Josh to give him every single blanket there was to spare. That conniving, silver-tongued little-

“But hey,” Josh says, “You can just take some of mine.” He steps back and gestures to the bed with his hand. 

“I’m not taking your blankets, Josh,” you answer, despite how persuasive the chilled air is being.

“C’mon, you’re freezing,” he insists, picking your hand up from your side, “Your fingers are as cold as ice.” 

Unlike yours, his hand is warm. You press your lips together, your heart in your throat from a simple touch that feels nicer than it should.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, pulling your hand away. “Really. I don’t want to take your blankets from you.” 

He looks at the bed, then you, the bed, and then back at you. “Okay, we can share instead,” he says with a shrug, as if his suggestion were no big deal.

Your eyes widen. “Um…are you serious?” you ask. 

“Didn’t I promise I was going to be serious from now on?” he says. When you don’t move, he continues, “Really, I don’t mind. I’d actually love to have someone to watch this movie with.” He smirks before finishing with, “If it’s not too scary for you.”

You scoff, self-consciousness forgotten. “I’m not scared of some movie.” 

“I don’t believe you,” he teases, sitting down on the bed and moving over to make space.

“Really,” you insist, “I’m not.” 

“Then come join me,” he says, patting the spot next to him.

Your eyes run over the soft bedding with the same caution you’d have for a battlefield. Then, a step forward takes you to the edge of the bed, and you lower yourself down onto the mattress. Josh waits until you kick off your slippers and slide under his comforter before unpausing the movie, a small, victorious smile on his lips. You’d usually be more annoyed, hating to lose, but gratitude takes over as the gentle warmth of the blankets begins to ease the edge of the cold off you.

Josh’s bed is huge, so you’re able to sit a reasonable distance away from him. You doubt a similar thought crosses his mind because, unlike you, he doesn’t seem to think sharing a bed is anything to be worked up about: he’s spread out on his side of the mattress, back against the pillows, hands behind his head.

You steal glances at him, noticing how his broad chest rises and falls with his gentle breaths. He looks so comfortable; it makes you want to close the distance, to have your body pressed to his side and your head resting on his warm chest. Sudden heat singes your ears and you look away from him. As far as you know, this is platonic, just a friend helping a friend keep warm. 

A gargled roar emits from the speaker. Though the volume is down, it’s still enough to draw your eyes to the blob monster displayed on the flickering projection. It’s closing in, bubbling and gurgling towards a damsel whose dress is caught on a tree branch. Even with all that action, the movie does little to distract you from the fact that the guy you have a thing for is tucked under the same sheets as you, only an arm’s reach away. 

“I’m surprised you’re up this late,” you comment, launching yourself out of your thoughts. “And watching a movie that’s not scary at all.”

“Just wait, the worst part hasn’t even happened yet,” he says, leaning over to give you a playful nudge. His eyes remain fixed on the flickering screen as he finishes responding. “And yeah, I couldn’t really fall asleep, so I put something on.” 

“Too cold for you, too?” you ask.

“Nah, temperature’s fine. It’s just, y’know, being up here again…”

Of course. You should have known. 

You look down to your hands in your lap. “It’s probably a lot. I’m sorry, Josh. Really.” 

“I appreciate it,” he says, letting out a deep breath as if he’s trying to exhale the weight on his chest. “I’m glad you’re all with me, it’s easier dealing with what happened.”

“We’re here for you.” You move a hand from your lap to his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’m here for you. Anything, Josh.” 

“Thank you,” he says, his hand covering yours. “It means a lot to me that you’re saying that. I hope you know I’d do the same for you.” You nod, his kind words making your heart melt like candle wax. “Speaking of, are you feeling any warmer? Your hand, it still feels-” 

You drop your hand back down to the blanket, noticing that, though you haven’t shivered since you put on the sweatshirt, your fingertips still feel dull, unable to fully sense the softness of the cloth. “It’s a little better, but I’m still pretty cold,” you admit.

“Well, I can’t have you freezing to death,” he tells you. 

“That might ruin the trip,” you say with a small laugh.

“You’re right. I would get in so much trouble.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble because of me.” You tilt your head, a bashful smile spreading across your face. 

He takes a second to drink in everything the faint light of the movie reveals of your expression. “Good thing I have a solution to our problem.”

“Yeah?”

His response is one that diverges from his typical flirty comments as it comes out softer, a little hesitant, even. “You could come closer.”

You eye him, waiting for him to reveal his bluff. But his gaze remains steady, so you repeat his words back to him slowly as if you were trying to figure out which part he isn’t sincere about. “You want me to come closer?”

He chuckles. “Somebody’s nervous.” Josh lets his arms spread atop the row of pillows behind him, opening himself up to you. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he grins, “hard.” 

“Alright, pack it up, cornball,” you say, lifting up the comforter and scooting closer to him, stopping just an inch or two before your thigh touches his.

“You know you love it,” he says.

“Shut it, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you shoot back, reclining until your back meets his arm and the pillows it lies atop of. The hard muscle of his bicep contrasts with the plushness of the pillows, but it doesn’t make you any less comfortable, in fact, you like this position more than how you were earlier.

Being close to him, nearly in his arms, feels better than you expected. The warmth of his body and the steadiness of his breath conjure up a calm haze that settles over you like a spell. You work hard to stay focused and upright, wanting to finish the movie and talk to him some more. But you're exhausted, so as he's explaining the foreshadowing from the first act of the movie, you end up leaning into him, your head falling onto his shoulder and your hand onto his chest. He doesn’t say anything, but his arm shifts behind your back, and then his hand is on your head, petting your hair. Your eyes flutter shut, everything around you fading out aside from the soothing feeling of his touch. 

“Sleepy?” he whispers down to you.

“Mhmm,” you mumble back. 

“Do you want to sleep in here tonight? It’s much warmer.”

“Can I?” you ask, nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder. He’s just so comfortable, it would be so terrible if you couldn’t stay. 

“Of course you can,” he responds. You can hear the smile in his voice and it sends a small wave of warmth through your body.

You move your head so it rests on his chest, your fingers sprawled out just a bit lower, mindlessly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Staying awake is getting harder and harder as the gentle strokes on your head coax you to sleep, and eventually, you give in.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still curled up next to Josh, and he is still asleep. He has been going through a lot this past year, but as the light of dawn trickles through the window and onto his face, he looks the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

Part 8: Warm Hands, Frozen Hearts

vampire!eddie x supernatural!reader

masterlist playlist

18+Only, werewolf!steve, allusions to smut, allusions to devious deeds, mention of addiction, mention of drinking blood, angst, waitress!erica, Bob Newby lives, Chief Hopper sighting, as well as another glimpse of vampire!max.

summary: you go on your "just friends" date with werewolf!steve, but meanwhile, Eddie makes a bold decision and things heat up between the two of you. Jareth's interest in you grows stronger, as does his determination to find out exactly who/what you are as everything begins to come to a head.

word count: 4.8k

author's note: for the sake of this story, Jareth is meant to be a cross between Jamie Campbell Bower and Eric Northman from True Blood. As a little reminder, The Upside Down exists in this story, but not the same way it does in ST. All of the ST characters in this do not know each other in the same way they do in the show. But, Steve and Robin are friends, because, well, always.

Fanger: derogatory slang for Vampire

Previous Chapter here

One week earlier

Steve was summoned to visit Sacrament in the Upside Down, and he should have gone with a few of his brothers in the pack but decided he didn't want company.  He snuck out there through the portal in the woods in his hulking wolf form at first, to sniff the place out, noting the high number of vampires and demobats circling overhead.  

He came back the next night in his truck, through the bridge, and was told to ask for Craven at the bar.

Craven sniffed the air and snarled when Steve walked up, and Steve returned the gesture, curling his top lip to show that he had sharp teeth too.  Werewolves were very strong—supernaturally so—but they were not immortal like vampires, and so it was always wise to operate around bloodsuckers with a measure of caution.

“I’m here to see Jareth,” Steve shouted over the synth music, squeezing in between two scantily clad human women.  

Steve was dressed like he’d just come from chopping wood in the mountains in a plaid button-down and jeans, and a wholesome curl of dark hair that bounced over his forehead.  Craven, on the other hand, was tattooed from neck to hands, wearing a wife beater that fit tight around his muscles and slicked back hair that was a bit greasy, but in a sexual way.  

“No one sees Jareth without an invitation,” Craven said smugly, throwing a rag over his shoulder to brace his hands in front of him.

Steve gave a wry smile.  “You think I’d come here just to shoot the breeze with you Fangers? He knows I’m coming.”

Craven clicked his tongue disapprovingly and went to grab the phone on the wall above the cash register, but in the blink of an eye, Jareth was already standing there, right next to Steve. He must have watched him come in on one of the cameras mounted on the ceiling. Steve moved back, out of surprise, but then he stepped forward again, meeting blonde, vampire Jareth eye to eye, letting him know he wasn’t afraid.

Steve really wasn’t afraid; his alpha ego was too big for that. Sure, he knew there was a chance that an older vampire might best him in the end, but he’d get the fight of his life.  

“Whatever he wants, it’s on the house,” Jareth told Craven, all while never taking his eyes off his guest.  

Steve declined a beverage and followed in Jareth’s wake through the sea of people moving to the music under the blue lighting.

Back in the simple black and cream decor of his office, Jareth found his firey assistant Maxine sitting behind his desk and he waved her out.  

“Oh? You didn’t tell me we were adopting a pound puppy,” she teased with a deadpan delivery, keeping a bored expression on her face.  

Steve knew they’d be taking cheap shots at him, he’d prepared himself for it.

“Get out, Maxine,” Jareth said impatiently.  “I need to have a word with our lycanthrope friend here.”

She obeyed, slinking out the door in her skin tight latex dress and platform heels, smacking her glossy lips in Steve’s face as she went.  

Jareth was in all black with a slim leather jacket on that looked like it had been tailored just for him.  He perched at the front of the desk, crossing his booted feet at the ankles, and folded his arms over his chest.

“Take a seat,” he told Steve.

Steve glanced down at the chair in front of Jareth.  “I’ll stand, thanks. What is this about?”

“You really don’t know why I’ve asked you here?” Jareth’s face looked like it was carved out of stone. “Do you need a hint?” 

For the first time, Steve broke eye contact.  “I don’t have any news about the girl.”

Jareth tilted his head back, so that he was looking down his nose at the visitor.  “You’ve been keeping an eye on her, like I asked?”

Steve gave a tight nod. 

The truth was that Steve hadn’t accidentally bumped into you at the bookstore that day two months ago; he knew where you would be and he’d sought you out.  His pack were in league with what some would consider “vampire royalty” and they made a lot of money doing jobs for them. 

At first, he started looking out for you because Jareth told him too.  But after around the third week, he realized he was protecting you because he cared about you.  He didn’t trust anyone from the pack to watch your trailer after dark, so he did it himself.  There were a few nights when he swore you’d looked out from your kitchen window and saw him: two red eyes glowing in his honey brown fur.  

“What’s your interest in her?” Steve chanced, knowing full well that Jareth would not answer it if he didn’t want to.  

“She says she’s human, but I don’t believe her,” Jareth raised an eyebrow.  “There’s something else going on with that one, and until I find out, I don’t want any harm to come to her.”

You weren’t human, Steve knew that from the first smell.  You were part human, part something else, as if your blood were filled with static from a television.  

“I asked you here because I need you to get closer to her, to see if you can find out anything more about her…condition.”

Steve didn’t like this anymore, he felt like he was being dishonest to you, and that one day you’d find out he was hired to watch you instead of being the avid science fiction lover he’d claimed to be.  Every time he interacted with you lately, he wanted to mention it, but he couldn’t figure a casual way to say, “hey, I’m being paid to watch you, I sleep in the woods outside your trailer a few nights a week, but I’m starting to have feelings, and was wondering if you were free for dinner?”

Steve pulled his shoulder’s back, puffing his chest out a bit.  “If you want to know more about what she is, why don’t you just ask her, man? What’s with all the cloak and dagger?”

Jareth pushed off the desk and walked over to look at a piece of abstract splatter art on the wall while he spoke, clasping his hands behind his back.  “My presence at her trailer park would certainly ring some alarms, I’m sure you are not so dense,” his tone was condescending but proper.  “I don’t want anyone, especially Munson, to know that I have any interest in her. Not yet, anyway.”

Since Steve had been watching you, he was also well aware of Eddie’s comings and goings. “Eddie hasn’t interacted with her in weeks, not that I’ve seen,” Steve told him.  “Appears like the two are avoiding each other.”

Jareth scoffed.  “I’m not particularly a fan of his, but when Edward has a job to do, he does it well,” he turned from the painting and went around the desk.  “My gut tells me that he has something up his sleeve, and my gut is never wrong.”

Steve let the information sink in.  “You don��t think Eddie would hurt her? He’s a car thief and a drug dealer, but not a killer.”

Jareth bent down to pretend to look at some paperwork, but then his eyes lifted to Steve and he smirked. “Is that what he told you?”

“We’ve never really talked but—”

“I’ve been doing my own investigating, but until I get some answers, just get close to her however you can, I want to accelerate this end game.”

“And what endgame is that?” Steve’s voice was low and commanding as he pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to reveal the generous muscles in his forearms.  He rested his back against the wall, not sure he wanted to know the answer. 

“The official endgame, Sir Harrington,” Jareth’s striking, ancient blue eyes gleamed.  “Is none of your business.”

—---

“Sorry about that,” you told Steve as you climbed into the cab of his truck. “I had no idea he was coming over.”  

You were apologizing for Eddie, of course, and the way he’d been giving Steve the death stare when he’d come to pick you up.  The snow was coming down harder now, in huge wet flakes the size of quarters, plopping like dissolving puffs of cotton onto the windshield of the truck.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked protectively, glaring at the door to Eddie’s trailer while you fumbled with your seatbelt.  

“No, he’s…he’s just a friend,” you said, trying to blink away the flashes of all of the sex dreams you had of him that were ricocheting through your head. 

After Eddie had stepped out of your trailer and shut the door, he’d stood on your porch for a minute, taking his time to light a cigarette before slowly making his way over to his place.  He made eye contact with Steve a few times through the windsheild, wondering if he should kill him.

The inside of Steve’s big old truck was warm, it smelled like winter wool and the yellow vanilla car freshener he had hanging from the radio knob.  The song Working Man by Rush played low from the speakers.  

You’d heard about the Werewolves of Hawkins from Bob and Argyle when a few of them came into the bar one night.  Apparently, they were very reclusive and only ventured to town in human form every so often.  

“Have you never seen a werewolf before?” Bob Newby, the owner of the bar you worked at, asked you with a tilt of his head and a curious smile.  “They’re all over the woods.  Beautiful creatures.”

He’d said it so casually, as if a man turning into a wolf and roaming around at night was the most normal thing in the world.  

“Are there no werewolves where you come from?” Argyle asked while he wiped down a bottle of tequila.  

You moved your eyes as if to think.  “Uh, nope, not that I know of anyway.  Hawkins is the only place I’ve ever heard of them ever existing before.  What’s next? Are you going to tell me that Faeries and Shapeshifters are real too?”

Bob and Argyle exchanged a knowing look.  Bob gave you a consolation pat on the back, “one day at a time there, missy.  Let’s give you a chance to get used to werewolves first, and then we can move on to the next.”

That night in the darkness of the movie theater with Steve, you turned to whisper in his ear.  “Can you change into a werewolf whenever you want, or only during a full moon?”

He chuckled, leaning in so that his cheek was on your head. He was so warm, you wondered if he had a fever.  “When you’re a pup, in the early days, the transformation happens at the most awkward times.  Once we get older and learn how to control our emotions, we can go through the change whenever we need to.”

“Like right now?” Your lips were close to his neck, breath tickling his skin, giving him goosebumps.  

The side of his mouth moved against your forehead. “Just say the word, darlin’.”

Your hands fumbled together a few times while reaching for popcorn at the same time, and a voice in your head said:

This is nice

Steve is nice

Steve was a good guy who probably thought you were a normal woman who’d led a fairly typical life, and you worried you were misleading him.  

There were a few times though, after the movie and on the ride back, when you felt like he wanted to tell you something, but then he would stop short.  He’d rub the back of his neck and start out with, “yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” but then he’d shake his head and jump to another topic.  

Steve cursed to himself at how bad he was fumbling the night, he felt like he was a goddamn teenager again. 

The only thing he knew for sure after that night was that he liked you a lot, and more than ever he needed to cut ties with Jareth. He’d been meaning to break free from the politics of the pack to become a Lone Wolf, and this felt like the perfect opportunity.  He was next in line to be Alpha, but it was a role that he had no interest in playing.  

Parked next to the hearse in front of your trailer again, the snow had stopped, but it was up to your ankles now, and you couldn’t help but notice the light in Eddie’s living room was on.  

“Here, wait, let me walk you,” Steve insisted.

“No, I’m good,” you were already on the ground, looking up at him across the seat.  “If Bela hears your voice too close to the house, she’ll just go nuts again.”

You'd told him about your new companion earlier, and he looked at you like you'd decided to take in a pet dragon.

“I’ll wait here until I know you got in okay.” Steve said softly, giving you a nod.  “Hey, are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

“I’m, well, I think–” you stammered.  Was Steve about to ask you on an actual date? “I might pick up a shift at Main Vein tomorrow night.”

“There’s going to be a reading at the bookstore, and I promised Robin I’d help string some lights and set up some chairs.  So, I’ll be in the neighborhood if you want to get something to eat or, whatever.  I’d really like to see you again.”

He said the last part in a rush, partially hoping you wouldn’t catch it.

The admission made your cheeks hot under his steady gaze.

You told him you’d stop by if you weren’t waitressing, and at your front door with the key in the lock, you turned to wave at him one more time over your shoulder before slipping inside to flip the deadlock behind you.  You closed your eyes and leaned against the door until you heard the rumble of his truck growl onto the main road, and then you flipped the lights on.  

“Mr. Wonderful couldn’t walk you to the door?” 

The voice made you jump and a scream caught in your throat.

Eddie was sitting on your couch, arms stretched out over the back of it, as if it were his trailer and he’d been expecting you.  

You let the shock of it subside, taking a long breath to slow your heart rate. 

You hung your bag on the hook by the door and started to shrug out of your coat.  “You know, when I invited you in, I didn’t mean break in whenever you felt like it.”

“I didn’t break in,” he lowered one arm and rested that hand between his legs. “I know where you hide your spare key.”

“It’s not funny, Eddie,” you threw your jacket on the recliner.  “I’d like you to leave now, please.”

“How was your date?” He bit out the last part.

“I’m not answering any of your questions,” you stopped in your tracks and looked around, suddenly alert.  “Where is Bela? I don’t hear her.  Eddie, if you did anything to her, I will —-”

“I would never hurt her,” he moved to stand up, and under his breath he added, “or you.”

“So?” You flapped your arms out, impatiently, blood pressure spiking.  “Where is she?”

Eddie came forward and put a finger to his lips, motioning for you to lower your voice.  He guided you down the hallway, ignoring your protests, until he arrived at your bedroom door and turned the knob, opening it slowly.

Bela was curled up on your bed in a blanket, breathing heavy like she’d just been dosed with a tranquilizer.  

“She broke out again while you were gone,” he whispered.  “Blew the bathroom door right off its hinges and came scratching at my door like maybe I had you.”

Your eyes went to the window across the room, seeing that there were boards hammered over it now, which was more of Eddie’s handiwork.

Feeling you softening at his side, Eddie pulled the door closed with a click.  You were having a hard time meeting his eyes.  You’d been so mad at him, so ready to scream and kick him out into the snow.

“She let you hold her?” You asked, noticing that you no longer had a bathroom door, Eddie must’ve taken it out to fix it.

“I'm charming, what can I say?” he shrugged.  “And I gave her some of my blood from a little eyedropper.”

“You what?” You spun on him, appalled.

“Don’t sound so horrified,” He put his hands on his hips once you reached the kitchen.  “They need vampire blood to calm their nervous system.  She’ll sleep like a baby now.”

In the book you were reading, the author did say that demobats who drank regular doses of vampire blood seemed to fare better than the others, but you’d decided to disregard that information as speculation.  

“In that case, I guess I should say thank you,” you opened the fridge and took out the Brita water filter and a glass from the cupboard.  

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his thigh against the counter.  “Did that Steve guy try to make a move on you or what?”

You frowned at him.  “Listen, you don’t get to invade my space and bombard me with personal questions.  Why does it matter so much to you what we did?”

“I don’t trust him,” Eddie had his eyes trained on one spot in front of him, studying a patch of air while he worked his jaw.  

“If it’s any comfort, I don’t think he cares much for you, either.”

Eddie’s head spun to look at you.  “What did he say about me?”

“Nothing!” You clarified, raising the tone of your voice to match his. “He didn’t mention you at all, actually.  It’s just a feeling I got.”

You took a drink, and when you put the glass back down, Eddie moved in, bracketing your hips with his hands on the countertop, caging you there while he searched your eyes.  “Did he kiss you?”

You didn’t answer right away, and so he asked it again.

“Did he kiss you?”

The way his lips hovered there so close to yours made you swallow hard. The air between the    two of you crackled with electricity.  You waited for his eyes to go black, for his fangs to eject, for him to take your blood into his mouth like he had that night in the alley.  

“Would it bother you if he had?” There was an air of pleading in your tone that you had not intended to be there.

Please let it bother you.

Eddie slid his bottom lip through his teeth and leaned back, stepping away from you.  “I just think you should keep your distance from him, that’s all.  Werewolves are notoriously…” he trailed off as if searching for the right word. “...undisciplined.”

You wondered about Eddie’s discipline, how hard it was for him not to go the rest of the way and claim you just then.  To sink his teeth in and suck on that nectar of yours that he craved so deeply.  You could see the desire in his eyes, the way the brown irises melted into umber and his pupils expanded.  

You would not have stopped him, that was the final truth of it.

In that moment, you knew that if Eddie Munson wanted to kiss you, you would not put up a fight. 

You would not pull back and ask, “what are you doing?”

You would just know. 

“I changed the bulb in your porch light, by the way,” he added on his way to the door.  “Noticed it was out.”

You did not turn to watch him go, you kept your back to him.  “Thank you again for Bela and for boarding up the window.”

He mumbled something under his breath that made you look over your shoulder.  “What was that?”

He stopped in his tracks with his hand on the doorknob, hair long around the shoulder of his leather jacket.  “I said, you know where I am, if you ever need anything.”

Eddie stepped out onto your front porch and exhaled a shuddering, long-held breath.  He shut his eyes and rubbed the heels of his palms into them.  “Holy shit, Munson, you are such an idiot,” he scolded himself, feeling a sprinkle of snow again on his flesh.  

He took a step down and then paused, thinking he should go back in.

Thinking he should tell you…everything.

Maybe you would understand.

Maybe you’d lean into his kiss and pull him closer.

Maybe…

But then the shadow of uncertainty shrouded him and he kept going.

—-------

You ended up covering for Argyle behind the bar the next night while he went to California for a week, and thankfully it was a slow shift because you were still figuring out what alcohol went in which drink.  But then a crowd of people on their way to the poetry reading at Robin’s came through, and two of them were vampires, so you had to get out the manual to remember which synthetic blood type to use in the various mixtures.

“Another whiskey with a beer back for the Chief,” Erica scooted up next to you and tapped your arm to get you to lean in closer to her.  “Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

Jim Hopper was in a booth by himself in the dimly lit room, facing the door, and you had noticed that he seemed very interested in getting a good look at everyone who came in that evening. He still had his uniform on, since he was only recently off the clock, and he was tapping his knee and chewing on the side of his fingernail with some type of anticipation.

You knew that if you got closer, you’d be able to get a better read on his emotional state.

“I’ll take it to him,” you said to Erica, and then the two of you talked about the movie you went to with Steve because she hated it and said she was angry those were two hours of her life she could never get back.  “I can’t believe you let a werewolf take you on a date,” she squinted.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking for trouble.”

You moved around her with both of Jim’s drinks and winked.  “I’m the one who’s trouble.  They come looking for me.”

“Oh I believe that,” she quipped in your wake.

The closer you got to Jim, the more you could sense the yearning inside of him.  There was desperation with sadness around the edges, and the hint of a familiar sinister urge, much like you’d felt with the Klemps all those weeks ago.  

His eyes met yours only briefly when you set his drinks down, and then you asked if he wanted one menu or two.  

“Not tonight, thanks.  I’m waiting for someone, and then I need to split,” he nodded as he warmed the whiskey in his big hands and wiped a sheen of perspiration from his forehead.

Well, there was your answer.

You and Hopper both looked up when the door opened that time, and you were pleasantly surprised to see Steve standing there.  Shoulders broad in his plaid shirt and his luscious head of hair looking wild from the wind outside.  His face lit up when he saw you. 

“Hey stranger,” you walked over to him, beaming.  

Steve had been pacing out on the sidewalk between the bookstore and the bar for the past 15 minutes trying to decide if he should go in or not.  By the way you were smiling at him, he could tell he'd made the right decision.  

“Hey, you,” he gave a smirk and raked his big hand through his unruly hair a few times.  He glanced around at the 8 or 9 customers.  “Do you have a break soon?  Or can I bring you anything?”

“My shift is over in an hour,” you talked as you returned to your station, waving at Bob through the serving hatch.  Steve rested his elbow on the bar.  “I was thinking I’d make my way over to the bookstore if you’re still around.”

“Oh I think I’ll be around,” he assured, tapping his knuckles on the wood, not wanting to sound too eager.  Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Erica glaring at him.  She was not much of a fan of the supernatural.  

Right behind Steve, a strikingly beautiful woman with short black hair and red lips strolled in. She had a long leather coat that she pulled tightly around her as she walked, and she appeared to know exactly where she was going, strolling over with ancient grace  to Jim’s table.  He stood up to greet her, and then they hunched across the table toward each other as if they were telling secrets.  

You realized you were staring as you spotted a tiny vial of dark liquid in her palm just before she slid it across the way to him under a cupped hand.  

“I’ll come back when you’re finished,” Steve said a few other things, but your mind had not retained them.  “We can walk over together.”

“Sure,” you said absently.  The mysterious woman with Jim got up and left after only a minute or two. Jim downed the rest of his drink, left a tip, and exited out the back, putting his hat on as he went.  

A bit later, as you were changing out of your apron in the back room and counting your bills, you wondered where Eddie was and what he was doing.

It made you curse out loud, the persistent way your mind clung to him.

It was irrational and wholly unfair.  

You wanted him to pull up in the GTO and tell you to get in without any explanation of why or where you were going. 

The customers continued to wane, and Bob told you to skedaddle 20 minutes earlier than you’d expected, so you figured you’d get a head start and meet Steve half way. Erica flipped you off, playfully mocking the fact that you could go home before her.  You snuggled down into your winter coat and pushed through the employee door that led to the parking lot at the greeting of a gust of bitingly cold wind.  You stopped to pull your gloves out of your pockets and the door that could only be opened from the inside locked shut behind you.  

When you looked up, Jareth stepped out of the shadows and loomed there, blocking your path.  

“I’m afraid you'll have to come with me, love.”  

----

hugs and kisses, thank you so much for reading! Your comments, asks, and reblogs mean the world xoxo

----

Taglist: @trixyvixx @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @sidthedollface2 @atomickaratel8dy @probablyin-bed @kiyastrf94@briamunson92 @joannamuns9n @jasminelafleur @@bellalillyrose @dashingdeb16 @alba8688 @corrodeddeadlydoll @brassreign @likedovesinthewnd @ilovetaquitosmmm @skrzydlak @onegirlmanytales @angietherose @probablyin-bed @reidsbtch @moonbeamsandmayhem @eddiesxangel @hideoutside @secretdryrose @nailbatanddungeon @thorfemmes @corkadymu @kellsck @mrsjellymunson @poofyloofy

[iinterstellaarr]

cupid, send help!

spencer reid x GN!reader

Summary: Ahh, young love! Is what everyone in the BAU would say if either of you realized the other also had feelings.

an: IDIOTS IN LOVE YES YES YES if yall have any ideas send them my way im in a writing mood also there is a slight mention of y/ns eye color my bad gang

Garcia thought she was going to rip out her hair.

It had been a month since I had spilled the beans to Penelope about my small, tiny crush on Reid.

Ok maybe it wasn’t so small.

“Ask him out!” She leaned back in her chair as I nearly choke on my tea

“Absolutely not! He doesn’t even like me like that! Also do you realize how unprofessional that is! Not to mention the amount of paperwork and explaining there’d be. Plus, no one in-“ I’m suddenly cut off when Penelopes warm hands are planted on my cheeks with a firm squeeze

“Hun, I love you dearly but cupid needs to shoot you square in between the eyes.” She pats me on the back as I dejectedly head back to my desk. I notice Spencer leaning over Morgan and the sudden quick smacks to Spencer’s shoulder when I made eye contact with him.

“Yep! Thanks for the help Reid!” Morgan’s eyes snap back to his computer as he clicks around a few times and pulls up some bullshit article

“Anytime!” Spencer quickly stalks back to his desk and tucks his head behind his computer as I sit down at my desk across from Spencer, observing the exchange between the two

“What’d you help with?” I look over his computer to a hunched down Spencer with a tint of red across his face

“Oh, you know! Just some… work… stuff.” He coughed slightly and the blush only got worse as he spoke, a loud slap could be heard through the bullpen as Morgan face palmed at Spencer’s weak excuse

“…Right.” My eyes darted back to Morgan who shrugged slightly and went back to his work

———

I groaned slightly and rubbed my hands over my eyes. This is the 5th time this week my favorite mug has been placed on the highest shelf in the kitchen that I can’t reach. I reach up again and strain to reach but before I could reach it I notice a hand grab it and place it in my reach at last

I smile and spin around to be met with Spencers brown eyes, suddenly very aware of the lack of distance between us.

“Thanks!” A blush blossoms on my face as he takes the biggest step back from me and plays with a button on his shirt. He stutters a bit before saying something along the lines of “Your welcome” and quickly walks away

“You have to be kidding me.” I watch Penelope walk over to me and dramatically fall in my arms, nearly knocking my mug out of my hands “All my hard work to make it romantic, ruined! All because Reids IQ drops when he’s around pretty girl!”

———

I can feel eyes on me.

Spencer had been staring at me for the last 20 minutes, at least.

“Take a photo it’ll last longer” I smile slyly as I look up and make eye contact with him directly, but instead of him shyly looking away his eyebrows knot slightly

“Your eyes have a little green in them.” His head tilts slightly “And your mouth parts when you’re focused, just slightly.”

“Dr. Reid, are you flirting with me?” He doesn’t look away. His gaze looks even more focused while he studies my face like it’s the last time he’d look at it

“I’ve been trying too for a while.” He mutters before quickly realizing just exactly what he admitted

“Really? Wanna elaborate on that?” I giggle as his face bursts into a red haze

“I mean.. well, you’re very attractive and your personality only adds to that! There’s no reason why I wouldn’t like you..”

“Spencer.”

“You let me ramble and never made me feel bad for doing so.”

“Spencer..”

“Your incredibly sweet, and not to mention funny too-“

“Spencer!” He looks up from the spot on his desk he was staring at “Do you wanna get dinner after work?”

“Yes. Please.. I’d like that a lot.” His dopey smile takes over his face as you giggle

“Yes!” Penelope slaps a hand over her mouth as she watches your interaction from the balcony “You owe me $10 Morgan!” She points to Derek who groans

[lelengerine]

because of ur new gamer!hyuck post my brain has once again been infiltrated with him and i thought of a request if ur able to do it!

so do yk the whole perilla leaf debate that was going on in korea like a while ago? i was thinking maybe hyuck sees reader peel a perilla leaf for someone else (or reader sees hyuck do it) and then later when they’re streaming together, one of them asks chat who was in the wrong and to back them up/choose sides (jokingly ofc)

you had me thinking as soon as i read this TT i think it's so fun so i just had to write it asap! thank you for the req and i hope you enjoy reading :>

up for debate

pairing | gamer!hyuck x reader

genre | established relationship au, just a lot of fluff, mentions of food, nicknames are used for haechan (lovie) and reader (baby, cutie, lovie), gaming term mentioned (fps - first person shooting game), do lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 1.0k

m.list

haechan’s been more clingy ever since the two of you parted ways with his friends, leaving the korean bbq restaurant you just ate at with weighted steps. it wasn’t like he didn’t act in this manner on a daily basis, because he often did, and it’s become something you’ve grown to adore over time—yet on this occasion, the gut feeling of him being off was getting to you.

honestly, you don’t even know the cause for the doubt you have on your boyfriend’s behavior. though, every time you try to pull it out of him by nudging his shoulder, he only rejects your advances of questioning by clinging onto you closer than he originally was. that surely wasn’t normal.

“hyuck, did i do something today?” you state softly as you take a step in the passenger seat of haechan’s car. 

“the perilla leaves.” his reply is simple, and you note of the pout in his voice. was he referring to the side dish you were eating earlier in the restaurant? just how does that have anything to do with his mood? 

you were utterly clueless.

“the perilla leaves?” you repeat, making sure you heard him right the first time. he nods his head, taking a quick glance at you before starting the car. “lovie, i don’t understand how a side dish-”

“shhh, you’ll understand soon enough, cutie. i think it’s a good topic to bring up on stream later when we get home.” he gives you a grin that does nothing to ease your confusion, in fact, it leaves you even with even more questions, but you decide to sit it out for the meanwhile till you both get home. 

and just like that, the ride back home feels longer than it should be, mainly because you're anticipating the stream you and haechan had planned in advance. you shift in your seat from the eagerness and haechan can’t help but chuckle as he watches you from his peripheral view. 

he rounds a familiar street corner, and you immediately know you’re both 5 minutes away from your house at most. you pass by a couple of houses before yours comes into view. “i better be hearing a good explanation of today, hyuckie.”

“so eager, baby. we’re literally here.” he points out, the car coming to a stop as he parks in the driveway. once you hear the doors unlock, you step out of the vehicle, urging your boyfriend to do the same so the two of you can start the stream already—a request he gives into easily.

entering haechan’s stream room without a moment to spare, you take a seat on the gaming chair beside his, one that’s usually reserved for you. he takes his place in the comfort of his own seat, turning his monitor on.

the streaming software immediately pops up as soon as the screen loads, haechan clicking a couple of buttons before his face cam signals that it had begun recording with a small red light flashing from it.

“hello everyone! me and y/n promised a stream for you guys today, right?” he flashes a wide smile towards the camera, and you send a small wave the audience’s way.

user_01: i’ve been anticipating this all day!!

user_02: if it isn’t our favorite couple <3

“hyuck said he had something to discuss and wanted you guys to be included in it.” you bring up without missing a beat.

“i was getting to that, baby!” haechan whines now that you’ve cut through his momentum, and you bring your hands to cup his soft cheeks while laughing. “sorry, lovie. continue?”

user_03: you guys are so cute TT

user_04: every time i come here, i feel even more single than i am…

“what do you guys think about your lover helping one of your best friends take a perilla leaf to eat?” he starts, and your eyes go wide, quickly recalling your actions from earlier in the restaurant.

user_05: no way!! nope nope nope!!

user_06: wait, what’s the problem from helping? idgi… i’m with y/n on this one

“hyuck, is this really what you’ve been thinking about?” you turn to face your boyfriend. “you know it means nothing-” 

“you used your chopsticks to help jisung a while ago!” oops, there goes the name drop. the younger was now probably going to receive a few messages from your audience about this conversation when he goes live later on. “that’s like… indirectly kissing him!”

user_07: I AGREE!! 100% hyuck’s right

user_08: idt it should mean anything. peeling shrimp for someone else tho… now that’s something

you both glance at the messages, noting your audience was split fifty-fifty regarding this issue. “the poor boy was struggling!” you try to reason out.

“you didn’t have to help him though! that’s a grown man!” he huffs in return.

“… he’s jaemin’s baby though?” you smile st him sheepishly after saying that, hoping it was a big enough of a loophole for him to drop his claims against you.

“not the same, babe.” your boyfriend deadpans with a look of disbelief, finally giving up on the debate, making you giggle from his expression.

“okaay, i’m sorry. i won’t do it again.” you bring up a pinky, and haechan instinctively wraps his own around yours.

“you see this, right guys?” he raises your intertwined pinkies, making sure the viewers are witnesses to your promise.

user_09: caught in 4k!!! 

“good.” hyuck beams as he sees the comment, lowering your hand down with his. “i think we got a bit pumped from that, don’t you think? now’s the perfect time to play games and keep the adrenaline up!”

user_10: omg play fnaf together ><

user_11: kinda want to see y/n play a fps

“y/n playing fps? what do you say, baby?” haechan asks, courtesy of the viewer’s suggestion, and you hesitantly nod along, knowing full-well it isn’t your forte by any means.

“i still don’t get how you move on from things so quickly.” you mumble mindlessly, resting your head on his shoulder as he opens up the first fps game he sees on his monitor, that being valorant.

“that doesn’t apply to you though! you’re forever stuck with this non-perilla leaf sharer.” he muses happily. “now come on! i’ll teach you how to play, lovie.”

“okay.” you lift your head back up with a smile peeking through the corners of your lips, leaving the perilla leaf situation up for someone else to debate on.

[starlightsuffered]

Sub timmy fic where female reader is just ruining his ass lovingly (because I'm not in the mood for mean!reader) and just lots of coos :)

Coo

Info - sub Timmy, collared sub, pegging, soft dom, slight somno, sleepy sex, begging, praise kink

“Pretty boy,” I crooned softly. I pet the insides of Timothée’s thighs. He had been sleeping, but I’d woken up with a need. I’d quietly padded around and put on my strap.

“Timmy,” I said, cupping his cheek.

“Hmm?” He asked groggily.

“Can mommy put your collar on?” I asked him.

“Pwease,” he responded in a gentle mumble.

I smiled at his immediate consent. He was just such a sweetheart. I picked out a pink collar with a silver heart dangling off of it. I kissed both his cheeks. He looked at me through half closed eyelids. I latched the collar around his neck. When it clicked into place, a satisfied smile unfurled over Timothée’s face.

“You’re such an adorable puppy,” I complimented. I peppered kisses on his lips.

“Mommy, you gonna take my hole?” He asked in a small voice.

“Yes baby, just couldn’t get over how cute and innocent you looked sleeping there,” I told him. I pushed strands of hair away from his eyes. He was still sleepy, but he looked excited.

“Come on honey, that’s it little prince,” I coaxed him as I pushed his thighs apart. I massaged his balls and kissed his chest. He was heaving, his breath shaky.

“Hand me the lube angel,” I instructed sweetly. He reached his long arm into the bedside drawer. He handed me the bottle. I began to pour some on my fingers. I gently pressed two digits against his opening.

“Mmmmhmmmm!” He let out a high pitched noise. His cheeks squeezed as I curled my fingers.

“B-button,” he nearly squealed. I smirked and kissed his clavicle.

“Yeah, is mommy touching that subby button inside you? Mommy is gonna milk all the cummies out of you,” I promised him.

He was squirming and arching as I pumped my fingers in and out of his hole. He could barely catch his breath as he writhed.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah,” he called out.

“You ready handsome?” I asked.

“Mhm,” he nodded with wide, wet eyes.

I pressed my mouth to his. As our lips moved together, I fingered his collar. He was whimpering as I slowly, slid my strap inside his prepped ass.

“M-Mommy,” he gulped.

“It feels good doesn’t it puppy?” I asked.

“Uh huh, uh huh,” he nodded vigorously.

“Mmmmmffffuck,” he whined as I began to thrust.

“You’re so handsome, such a good boy,” I said as I railed him. He looked so cute and pink and flustered. He was making submissive little grunts. He clung to me like I was a life raft in a storm.

I nibbled at the skin around his collar. I felt pleasure building in my core with every thrust I gave. I was snapping my hips with abandon, just groaning down his throat.

“Ohhh, oh, oh, it feels so good,” he said in a weak voice.

“That’s it, atta boy,” I praised as he wrapped his long legs around me. I tightened his collar so he was gasping. His eyes widened at me in desperation.

“Please, please, please, I needa cum, mommy gonna cum,” he begged me.

“Do you think deserve to cum pretty boy?” I asked.

“I-I hope,” he whimpered.

“Have you been a good boy?” I asked him softly. I began to drag my tongue along his jaw line.

“I-I try to be mommy. I really do,” he exclaimed.

“You gonna make stickies all over yourself but mommy ruining your nice ass?” I asked teasingly.

“If I’m, fuck, ah, fffff, if m’allowed,” he said as he squirmed and gesticulated.

“Go ahead princess,” I told him, petting his face.

He let out a heavenly moan, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He arched upwards. I felt the gooey mess begin to shoot from his cock. His grip on me became even tighter. I ground down hard, shoving my strap deeper and further.

“Fuck!” I let the shout ring out as I ground in just the perfect way against my toy. I was panting as I shook. I was beaming ear to ear, pleasure was throbbing through me.

I nearly collapsed on him as I came down. He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. My strap was still buried to the hilt, and his cum was cooling between us.

“Love you,” he murmured sleepily.

“I love you too baby boy.”

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming