#even my team did that for me and my coach did NOTHING to encourage it because i wasn't good enough for him and he didn't take me seriously | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wileys-russo · 7 months

Note

Mearps with a reader who plays on like a local Sunday league football team so literally nothing close to professional, it’s just for fun. But Mary makes every game she can stood with her hood up on the sideline cheering when you so much as touch the ball or like shows off the fact that she’s yours by rolling up to get you from training or something? And you come home and dinners made “because she’s proud of you for training hard”

sunday league II m.earps

"-so are we all just expected to ignore the fact that there's an actual lioness watching us play right now." your teammate breathed out with a shake of her head making you smile.

"yes you are! heads back in the game." you ordered sternly, everyone huddled up for half time taking a water break. "she's like the least judgmental person ever guys we go through this issue every single week, relax." you chuckled as their eyes continued to flicker to your girlfriend on the sidelines.

you'd warned her over and over how intimidating her presence was at your grassroot level sunday league games however forever the proud girlfriend her solution to the problem was to just show up in a hoodie and cover her face as if that helped at all.

the ref calling for everyone to return to the pitch you turned to put your water bottle back, catching her eye as she gave you a toothy grin and a wink. "come on captain you can kiss your girlfriend later." your team mate teased as she grabbed you, dragging you back to the pitch.

though it was hardly the wsl that didn't mean none of you took your games seriously, so up by one you were determined to keep that lead if unable to widen it, shot after shot being blocked as the opposition resorted to a 5 man defensive line.

"lets go 14!" you heard mary call out your number proudly with an encouraging clap as you took another shot but it bounced off the post, kicking the ground in frustration and just waiting for the whistle to blow.

unfortunately for you luck seemed to be on their side. you watched with a defeated sigh as the ball swooshed into the back of your net, not even a minute later reprised by the whistle.

you did your best to build your team back up in a post game huddle, highlighing the positives of the game rather than the negatives and telling them you'd see them all at training on tuesday night. after a bried debrief with your coach he clapped you on the back and you grabbed your bag making your way over to mary.

"hi gorgeous." the older girl smiled sympathetically, opening her arms as you melted into her with a tired sigh. "oi, none of that. you played wonderfully love!" she assured softly as you reached up and tugged at the hood which covered your head.

"your disguise didn't work very well baby, you freaked them all out again." you smiled in amusement. "well i'm not staying away so they better get used to it." mary grinned and nudged your chin up, sweetly kissing your lips before taking your bag off you and pulling you into her side walking the two of you to her car.

"i had to fight off tooney and maya from coming with me you know? imagine if three lionesses came to watch, your team might faint on the pitch." mary teased as you rolled your eyes and she threw your bag in the back, opening your door for you.

"you know i still could-"

"no! i love you so very dearly but we do not need a mary earps masterclass at training." you shook your head but kissed her cheek in thanks anyway, knowing she meant no harm. "you look good as a wag. you know i could get you a spare jersey to wear next time?" you smirked wiggling your eyebrows as she started the car.

"oh my god and if you could sign it for me? i'd simply die i'm just your biggest fan!" mary gushed sarcastically, fanning her face with a sigh as you playfully shoved her head and she started to drive the two of you home.

"dinner's already done, go have a shower and i'll dish up." your girlfriend smiled softly, pecking your lips and nodding upstairs. "you're the best." you melted at the thoughtful act of domesticity.

"i know, you're so lucky." mary sighed dramatically as you shoved her. "i'm really proud of you though. my pretty hard working captain." the taller girl smiled much more sincerely as you craned your neck up to press your lips to hers.

"mm if this continues we'll both need a shower. go on love!" she pushed you away, smacking your bum with a wink. "doesn't sound like the worst idea?" you hinted, holding your hand out hopefully as she shook her head.

"later, if you play your cards right." mary smiled suggestively as she returned to the kitchen. "bold of you to hold that over me when its you who has the self control problem earps." you teased her as she flipped you off and you disappeared upstairs.

"you know baby it's just such a shame you're a...striker." mary gagged later on, forcing out the word as you punched her in the arm and continued drying the dishes she handed you.

"some of us like participating in games, not just sitting back in the net being bossy and yelling at everyone." you smirked as your girlfriend dropped the dish she was washing and fixed you with a glare.

within seconds you'd dropped the tea towel, racing off as she charged after you, your laughters filling your space before inevitably she caught you, the keeper taking you down to the floor with a grin.

"i'll show you bossy."

#mary earps x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #mary earps #woso #woso fanfics #engwnt

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haikyu-mp4 · 10 days

Text

Crooked bangs

word count; 1053 – f!reader

Not usually favouring sports, you’re in the journalism club to make use of your great eye for design and writing. After watching one of your school’s volleyball team’s official games last season, you took notice of the boring brochures they handed out with the players’ information. You hadn’t yet chosen what to do for your project this semester and decided to lend your talents to making a better representation of the team’s charms and talents. What you didn’t expect to get out of the project was a date.

You received permission from their coach and captain and set up some equipment to take your photos in a room adjacent to the gym during practice. Hopefully, you can encourage them all to pose confidently. In order to not disturb their whole practice, you ask one grade to join you at a time, starting with the first-years and ending with the third-years. Good luck!

You were nothing short of nervous as you got ready to photograph the tall volleyball players. The volleyball team was one of Shiratorizawa’s many great prides, and you had taken it upon yourself to create something that would represent them and their talents. However, you didn’t expect that some of the players would be even more nervous than you. While working with the first years, Goshiki was proving difficult as he kept turning away from the camera. The coach gave you limited time with his players so you started getting anxious, begging him to tell you what made him so camera shy.

“My bangs are a little crooked and I look stupid,” he mumbled. You hadn’t noticed before, but your eyes darted up to the hair on his forehead and you noticed it wasn’t quite as straight as usual.

“I can’t even see it! Don’t worry, Goshiki,” you tried to assure him, ignoring the other first-years giggling at their future ace acting like that. He didn’t seem convinced by your encouragement and the rest of the members you had at hand were no help, so you browsed your brain for an idea and left for where the rest of the team were training. Muttering encouragement for yourself this time under your breath, you walked over to the coach and asked him to borrow a specific player. He considered for a moment, but your respectful demeanour convinced him.

“Tendo! You’re excused. Follow her and make it quick,” the coach yelled, and the redhead was surprised, to say the least. Still, he strolled over to you and gestured for you to lead the way.

“I thought you were starting with the first-years?” he asked and you put a hand on his upper arm before leaning closer so you didn’t have to speak too loudly. Tendo took the hint and leaned down.

“Goshiki is refusing to take his pictures because of his hair. I’ve seen how you encourage him between games, please help me,” you explained, hoping he could hear how desperate you felt. Tendo stood back up to his full height and looked at your eyes for a second. It felt good to hear someone notice his efforts and talk to him so casually. Like he wasn’t scary. He hadn’t even talked to you before, but you seemed to have a good impression of him. He liked this feeling.

“I’ll try my best, boss,” he said simply with a wink. The two of you went back to the first-years and Tendo did his best to boost Goshiki’s confidence. Telling him how people would be looking at the awesome flyer after seeing his amazing line shots to find information about him, the next ace. His eyes found yours and you nodded.

“I can even write that on your profile if you want! The future ace sounds pretty impressive.”

And so the two of you got Goshiki to pose more confidently, cheering him on until Tendo had to go back and you could start with the second years.

When it was finally the third-years’ turn, you smiled a little brighter at the tall redhead. “Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it,” you said. The two of you seemed to be looking at each other like the others weren’t even there.

“No worries, are you happy with all the pictures so far?” he asked, not noticing the way Reon and Semi glanced at each other.

“Very, it’s fun showing off such a great team.” Your cheeks almost matched his hair with the way you felt when his eyes were on you.

“That’s good, saved the best for last of course. How do you want us?” he said as he finally broke out of the trance, rubbing his hands together.

“Give me a look that says undefeated champions, even though it’ll probably say it on the paper as well,” you giggled, trying not to be shy about your excitement.

The third-years had you laughing nonstop, energy high as you went from static Ushijima who really just had two poses to dynamic Tendo who made some funny faces for you. You got Reon to give you a handsome smirk and Semi had more than enough confidence and it showed. Overall, you couldn’t be happier.

“You guys better get back to practice, thank you so much,” you said, starting to pack up your stuff. As they were about to leave, Tendo doing so a bit hesitantly, you stopped them. “Wait! Ushijima, did you find someone?”

When explaining the concept to him and asking for his approval, you informed him that you would love it if someone spent some of their own time to make sure you had all the right information. The captain seemed to understand what you meant after a moment of thought. He pointed to Tendo, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Satori will meet you for lunch tomorrow,” he said before bowing and leaving. The others followed him, except for Tendo who gulped and stuck around. Is his best friend, the Ushiwaka, playing wingman?

“I’ll meet you by your classroom at lunch then,” you said cheerily. You could feel your little crush blossoming, charmed by how he made you laugh.

“TENDO SATORI!” the coach yelled, done with waiting for the lanky boy.

“I’ll see you then, Grandpa’s calling,” he joked and left you with a soft chuckle.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.

the Flyer Series ║ masterlist

/taglist: @cottonlemonade @dira333 @cosmiicdust @nagi-core

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff #shiratorizawa #tendou x you #tendou satori #tendo x reader #tendou x reader #haikyuu tendou #tendo satori

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daydreamgoddess14 · 10 months

Text

Saturday Mornings

MASTERLIST

🤸‍♀️ Well , well, well, didn't take long to get me back on my bullshit, did it? 🤣 I bring you a Roy Kent smutty one shot. Enjoy the gorgeousness of this man 🥵

Roy doesn't have a thing for Phoebe's dance teacher. Until he does. 👀

For @littleesilvia 😘

Saturday Mornings

Saturday morning had always been for Phoebe. From the day she was born, Roy had dedicated every Saturday morning to her. In the first weeks of her birth, he'd let himself into his sister's house and picked up a squawking Phoebe from the moses basket and taken care of her from 6-10 am so his sister could get more sleep. In those early days, he'd spoken to her in his deep, gruff voice while she drifted in and out of sleep. Then they'd go for a walk to the shop, the neighbours peeping into the buggy until Roy had growled at them to "Fuck off and stop gawping at her, she's trying to fucking sleep." As she got a little older, it became cartoons and cereal - devoured together on the sofa, and then a trip to the park. He'd arranged everything for 9 years around his Saturday mornings with Phoebe. Even away matches with a midday kick off didn't stop him, it didn't matter if it was an hour, or five hours - match day or no match day, rain or shine, if he was single or not, Uncle Roy would be there. Their time alone together moved through her swimming lessons phase, gymnastics phase, and morphed into his coaching her kids team. He wanted to be on board with this next phase - really, he did.

After 8 weeks of lessons, he'd finally put his finger on what the problem was. The dancing was nothing new, Phoebe had tried ballet, tap, some weird toddler baby dance shit. 16 weeks ago, she'd switched to some kind of pop/tween dance class with a lovely older woman who mostly sat to one side and pointed to each move, each music transition. It had been great, 8.30-9.30am every Saturday, fucking wonderful. Then 8 weeks ago, that woman had switched classes and you had taken over. You, with your tight Tik Tok leggings and your cropped t-shirt. You who showed the kids each move over and over again. The number of dad's attending the class had suddenly gone up. It had been 6 months since he thought that he and Keeley could try again, but she'd made it clear that that was not the case. He'd been single for longer than 6 months before, sure, but not for a long time. Back then in his younger days, he'd thought nothing of a mutually convenient resolution with a friend until he met his next significant other. He’d come to the conclusion now that he was too fucking old for a friends with benefits situation.

If it was just Saturday mornings that were the problem, he could live with that. He started out by taking a book and ignoring the class completely, but Phoebe did not like that at all. So he switched to audiobooks, brought a pair of fucking ear buds so he could drown out the sound of your voice, your gentle encouragement and the giggles. If it wasn’t the leggings going to tip him over the edge, it was going to be the giggles. Or the praise. Weird, he didn’t realise he had a bit of a praise kink before. Then he heard you in a breathy voice saying something that definitely could apply to situations other than a 9 year olds dance class and nearly had to leave the room. No, it wasn’t just Saturday mornings anymore. You came to mind now at the most inconvenient times. Sitting on the bike while Jamie pulled him along at 5am when shouting at Jamie in the street would have been frowned upon and they instead trained quietly, whenever one of the kids dance routine songs came on the radio and he was forced to relive watching you teach them, at night in the dark when he was alone, in the shower… He absolutely had to stop thinking about you like this. Like you’d see it in his eyes when you waved good morning, or when he held his bank card over your little hand held machine to pay for the classes. He also couldn’t stand the very much married men who flirted so openly with you. Clearly telling their wives at home, no love, I’ll take little… Mabel to dance class, you stay here and have a lie in and a cup of tea.

It was funny how they’d migrated from the later morning class which was run by a woman who had the body shape of a fucking pencil. Beautiful, yeah she wasn’t bad. But she didn’t have the strong thighs you did, the sweeping curve of your hip into a cute little waist. He couldn’t go another week like this. Had to stop now, stop being so pervy. He was no better than the other blokes who came to watch their kids' class. Except he was slightly better, because he was actually single.

“Uncle Roy, we’re here, come on!” Phoebe was already half out of the car. He braced himself for another week of torture.

“Good morning guys! Come in, I’m just getting set up.” You called out from across the room. He was a bit too early really. Not intentionally, of course not. You were still in your hoodie, still setting up the portable speaker and drinking a Costa coffee. You put a song on in the background and he had to hold his breath while you pulled off the warm grey sweater. As it came off, it pulled the baggy cropped t-shirt up as well, exposing your sports bra underneath, the soft skin of your stomach. It was definitely soft whenever he thought about it anyway. You straightened yourself out and sat on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you and reaching forward to your toes. Phoebe lept out of her seat, threw her coat at Roy and plonked herself down in front of you, mirroring your pose. “Joining me for a warm up Phoebs?”

“It’s important to warm up. My Uncle Roy is a football coach and he says it’s the most important part.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled, moving through some other poses and stretches. He was a dead man. This was it. The end, this was how it was going to go. You stretch your arms up as far as you can reach them, stretching out your back with a little pop. He tried to ignore the fucking Grecian vase shape your body made, truly. Until you’d made a noise a little too close to a moan for his liking, followed by, “Holy shit that feels good.”

Fucking hell. Fucking hell .

“Sorry Phebs, didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s ok. I’ll let you off the first time, but you owe me a pound next time.”

“Aww thanks.” The class soon filled up, he wished he’d taken a seat way at the back, out of the way so he could either look at you without it being so noticeable, or ignore you completely. He totally respected your classes, he really did. It was a tricky thing, conducting an age appropriate class for 9 year olds which avoided sexualising dance moves but also made them feel like they were able to move their bodies how they wanted to. Of course, it’s not always the dance moves themselves which could be seen as sexual, more often it’s the person watching who makes that connotation. And he tried so, so hard not to do that. Tried desperately to not think about how your body would move underneath his, on top of his, the beautiful sounds he could draw from you. He needed to get out, feigned a phone call, holding up his phone as he got to the door so you knew he’d be right outside if Phoebe needed anything. He didn’t think you’d even seen him until you gave him a little thumbs up.

At the end of the class, you encourage the kids to just sit for a minute. You all usually end up sprawled on your backs, not having to make eye contact makes it easier for some of the kids to talk openly if they wanted help or an opinion on something. It was somewhat of an eye opener for the parents as well. This week, you had the kids sit up so they could see you,

“I thought I might take you on a little trip, if you guys fancy it? I was going to go and see the new Barbie film after class next week. If any of you want to come with me, with your grown up - of course - then we could have a really exciting morning! I’m not allowed to take any of you without another grown up though, ok? So you’ll have to check with them first.” You handed each of them a little pink party invite. He already knew before Phoebe asked. Their match next week was on Sunday so he was free all of Saturday morning. He had no excuse to not take her, he also didn’t think he wanted one.

He hoped you were a little bit dumb. It was a horrible thought, he knew that, to wish stupidity on someone. But if there was any chance of him making a full recovery and banishing you to the depths of his mind, never to turn up again - especially not when he was in the shower with his hand around himself, he really fucking hoped that you were dumber than a box of rocks. You weren’t. He already had an inkling of that, but he could still live in hope.

“Fancy the Barbie movie next week?” You’d asked brightly as he’d held out his card to pay, he wasn’t sure if it was the physical and mental turmoil of having to watch you for the last hour, but he thought he could detect a sliver of hope in your voice.

“Fucking probably, she won’t let me say no.” Phoebe held out a hand for her pound. “Add it to my tab.”

And of course, that’s how he found himself in a dark cinema the following week with a gaggle of kids around him. He was still trying to work out if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d ended up sitting next to you - it had certainly earned him glares from one or two of the other grown ups. As you laughed again at another joke aimed to sail just over pre-teen heads, he knew it was a curse. It had to be. Forced to listen to that laugh for two hours? Fucking torture. When you cried, he knew he was done for. He reached over, just a little and patted the back of your hand in comfort. Just a little there, there gesture. You’d only fucking gripped his hand and squeezed it, he stole a glance at you and you’d given him a watery smile and a little lopsided shrug. Then you’d let go of his hand, and turned back to the movie. He had to spend the remaining 45 minutes of the film trying not to think about your warm hands carefully exploring his body.

The following week, he did it.

“Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?” He asked quietly as his card payment went through. He didn’t think you’d heard him until you looked up sharply.

"Aren't you like way out of my league?"

"What league is that then?”

“Well, you're in the ridiculously fit footballer league? Y’know for people who date supermodels and influencers?”

“I wouldn't fucking know about that.”

“I'm sure you would, I'm sure they don’t kick you out once you retire. Once a fit footballer, always a fit footballer? Is that the name of it? The… F. I. T? Or is it just the R.F.F.L?”

“What's that stand for?”

“No idea, it's your league, you tell me. Footballers Into Tits?”

“That’s a shit acronym”

“I know. I can do better, promise. Give me a minute.”

“I'm sure you'd be alright in that league” He said quietly,

“Excuse me? That was very cheeky. Ohh, maybe it could stand for ‘Filthy rich but Impossibly Tedious’?”

“That’s pretty good, definitely suits some footballers I know. Alright, fine. What fucking league are you in, then?”

“Whatever the Conference equivalent of the F.I.T is.”

“Now that can’t be true.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just fucking do. Is it a yes to coffee?”

“I mean, I still think you’re way too high up the F.I.T for me, but sure.”

“It’s the R.F.F.L actually.” He smirks as you hand him a flyer for the class.

“My number is on there.” You tell him, then you’d walked away without taking his number, which meant he was going to have to be the one to contact you first. No, you definitely weren’t dumb. Shit .

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a combination of factors really, a busy week at work meant though he’d messaged you quickly, he wasn’t actually able to meet for coffee until the end of the week. So you’d spent all week in a message exchange which had ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

“Would you rather fight 100 tiny Jamie Tartt’s or 1 giant one?”

“100 tiny ones. I’d fucking stamp on them all.”

“Figured out what league you’re in.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Champions League.”

“Fuck off am I. I’ve wikipedia’d your dating history mate. Gina Gershon? I think I should cancel coffee now…”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Do you always try so hard to look like you’re not looking at dance class?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uhuh. Ok.”

“Yes, I do. Every week is torture.”

“Jamie says I’m too old for the R.F.F.L.”

“Maybe that works in my favour. If I’m up against Gina fucking Gershon, I’d have no chance.”

“You’re not up against anyone.”

“I've been thinking about you all morning.”

“Was that flirting? Were you just flirting with me?”

“Shut up. See you later.”

And now… well. Coffee at 3pm on a Friday turned into dinner at 6pm, dessert at 8pm and a nightcap at 10pm in his kitchen. You tapped the edge of your empty tumbler,

“Another?” He asked, leaning against the counter just across from you.

“No, thank you. I should… go.” The lift at the end meant it could have been a statement, could have been a question. He nodded,

“Early class.”

“Yep. I think we lost track of time.”

“Or not,” he offered,

“Or not,” you bit your lip and he felt indecision fluttering in his chest. He pushed off the counter and closed the gap between you both in only one step.

“If I kissed you now, would you be mad?” He asked softly, he could see your body tremble with the breath you took.

“Think I’d be more mad if you didn’t.” He watched you hold his gaze for as long as you could before looking at his mouth. He took the tumbler from you and put it on the counter before placing a careful hand on your hip and leaning down to kiss you. The warm whisky taste of vanilla and honey mingled with the chocolate from your dessert and Roy realised that no, he hadn’t been tortured before, watching you teach a bunch of kids how to dance wasn’t the way he was going to go. This was. Right here in his kitchen with your arms winding around his neck and bringing him as close as you could possibly get him. Your fingers scratching through his hair. He pressed you into the counter,

“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, making you gasp. He pulled away quickly, worried that it was too much too soon, “Shit, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He went to move further back to give you space but your hands gripped his shirt to pull him back in,

“Please, I don’t want to stop,” you breathed heavily, “I don’t want you to stop.” You said, more firmly. He was against you again in an instant,

“Sure?” He asked, “You’re sure?” You stepped up to kiss him, making your feelings very clear,

“I’m sure.” Your fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first couple. He pulled you away from the counter, strong arms wrapped around your back and lifted you enough to move you both to the sofa. You stumbled against the cushions, falling backwards and pulling him with you so that he landed heavily on top of you.

"Oof."

“Fuck, sorry. You ok?” He sits back up on his knees, allowing you to automatically move your legs to either side of his and sit up,

“Never better,” his smile catches you off guard, “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You mumble, reaching for him. The feeling is more than mutual. He needs to feel your kiss again, desperate to feel your skin on his. It’s better than anything he’d spent the last 8 weeks dreaming of. And the sounds you made as his hands and kisses explored your body were enough to drive him insane. He moves further down your body, pulling your skirt down with him and immediately turns to trail kisses and little bites along your inner thigh while his hand reaches up to link fingers with yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his breath hot against your hip. The simple request alone made your body turn to liquid against him. He’d spent so long thinking about (denying, debating, ignoring) the effect you had on him, he hadn’t actually considered that you would be just as affected by him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he looked y’know, alright , for an older bloke. But still, seeing it first hand… seeing it first hand, hearing it first hand, from you was really something else entirely. You tugged his hand to bring up back up to you but he shook his head, his beard catching the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “busy,” he said, his voice muffled. He focused on nothing but you, losing himself in each gasp, moan and clutch of your hand still holding his. He worked you through one bone-shaking orgasm without stopping, leaving you a shuddering mess as he went straight for another. Looking up at you, he could see the hand that wasn’t clinging onto him had covered your eyes. This time when you squeezed his hand, he made his way back up your body and settled between your legs. “You ok?” he asked, leaving soft kisses on your jaw before finally capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss. You didn’t speak, just shook your head. “You taste fucking incredible.” He kissed you again and you whimpered, finally moving your hand away from your eyes.

“I’ve got a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, moving back to your neck, a hand slipping behind you to unclip your bra.

“Yeah I thought you’d only want a one night thing but that’s impossible now.”

“It was fucking impossible anyway. One night is definitely not enough time.”

“Oh,” you whispered weakly. “Good. Please-, oh fuck,” he caught a nipple lightly between his teeth, “please don’t stop.” So he didn’t, and he never would again if it was up to him. When he’d been (much) younger, he fully grasped the importance and concept of consent. He was a professional footballer - it wasn’t just important, it was crucial. But as he’d gotten older, he finally realised just how much better saying, and hearing, the words made everything. Being able to ask, “may I?” and “I need to hear you say it” and waiting, waiting, waiting, for the breathy response had never left him so wrecked before. He pushed into you in long, slow strokes while you met him with each roll of your hips. When you hold his jaw tightly to bring his gaze to yours, he nearly falls apart but he's determined to get you there first and he knows you're so close. "You feel so good-," you whisper, "So good."

"Fuck, I need-"

"I know, I'm right with you." His name is on you lips as you come and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. When he joins you, he kisses you with such depth it's like you were made for him. You lay still together for a while as you catch your breath. He keeps his nose in the crook of your neck while his hand softly smooths across your ribs and the side of your breasts. Your legs no longer lock around him, you stretch out and enjoy the weight of his body covering you.

"'M crushing you," he mumbles. His voice so low in your ear makes you shiver and despite you not being ready for another round quite so soon, your hips buck, "Fucking hell, give me a minute," he laughs.

"You're not crushing me, and I'm not ready yet either," you grin into his hairline and kiss his temple.

"Hmm if you say so." He rocks against you, half hard again already, needing to hear the broken little moan that ghosts over his head. "Come on, I want you in a bed this time."

He wasn't happy when you had to tear yourself from his bed at 7am to go home. He wasn't happy when he picked Phoebe up at 8am. He wasn't happy in the drive thru Costa queue at 8.10am. He was happy at 8.20am when he finally got to hand you your coffee and see your smile as you stretched out on the floor of the dance studio. He was perfectly happy knowing that you'd be torturing his Saturday mornings for a while longer.

FIN

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent smut #roy kent x you #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 9 months

Text

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 6)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

4.9k words

Warnings: Language, mean & jealous Roy (in a good way), evil ex-boyfriend, rough sex, Roy feeling angsty, fingering, some cum play, hickies, Roy being kind of a dom

@agentstarkid brain rot, brain rot, brain rot

A/N: Y'all this has to be THE horniest writing I have ever done 😭

Series Masterlist

“Hey Roy, you going to Belgium?”

Roy furrowed his brows at Isaac as the captain, Jamie, and Sam all looked at him expectantly “Belgium?” he repeated.

Sam nodded. “For the race,” he added, as if Roy should know exactly what he was talking about.

The manager’s deepening frown told the boys that he did not.

Jamie sighed impatiently. “Your girlfriend, Grandad. We’re going to go watch her. She was telling us all about it in Leeds, and then when she was in Richmond, she gave Keeley the tickets and stuff to give Isaac. You’re going, aren’t ya?”

Belgium. Roy’s stomach sank a little as the guys began chattering about their plans, how excited they were to watch the race, the parties they’d been promised. He knew you had another race coming up, but you hadn’t mentioned a word of it to him. Of course, if you’d asked, he’d have gone. The Greyhounds had a bye that weekend, meaning he was completely free to go, to root for you, to share another bottle of scotch in some extravagant hotel suite. It would make sense for you to ask him to go; after all, he was clearly interested in racing, and, more importantly, he was clearly more interested in you. He’d tried not to read too much into the lack of invitation; but fuck, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for a simple hey, come meet me in Belgium during one of the many texts you’d sent him.

And now, hearing that you’d explicitly excited his team… well fuck.

“Come with us, Roy,” Isaac insisted.

He cleared his throat, desperately trying to play it off. “Dunno. Probably got Phoebe, need to catch up on shit at home-”

Another sigh from Jamie. “Come on, Coach. Just admit you want to see your girlfriend and fuckin’ come with us!”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Roy hadn’t meant for it to come off as a harsh growl, but that’s definitely what came out of his mouth. “Once again, we barely fucking know each other.”

The smirk on Jamie’s face was nothing short of punchable. “Then why d’you text her all the damn time?”

“Do not,” Roy lied.

Of all the players, Sam was one of the last Roy would’ve expected to tease him. “You’re blushing, Roy.”

He rolled his eyes, dying to get out of this conversation. “If I agree to come,” he mumbled. “Will you all shut the fuck up?

The three players looked at each other before breaking into a trio of mischievous grins.

Finally, Isaac opened his mouth. “No promises.”

Roy Kent looked good.

Who were you kidding? Roy Kent always looked good. Your mouth was practically watering as you watched him chat with the Greyhounds he stood with in the garage, rolling his eyes at something one of them said.

So, you hadn’t actually invited Roy to come to your race, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he’d be there. After all, when you’d sent Keeley the tickets for the boys, you’d included an extra one, encouraging Isaac to invite “whoever”. Knowing Jamie had been teasing Roy about you, you knew exactly who they’d be bringing.

Watching his eyes dart around, obviously looking for you, you couldn’t resist the urge to go over and say hi. The two of you had fallen asleep on the phone a couple more times since that phone call, there’d been lots of texts sent back and forth, and Roy was even figuring out how to send selfies. And now he was here, in Belgium, surprising you. Tearing down that wall you’d built around your heart, brick by brick.

Feeling a bit like a teenage girl approaching the most popular boy in school, you turned around, so Roy wouldn’t see the way you tightened the knot of your half-down racing suit and lifted your shirt a smidge to give that little peek of skin. After giving your hair a quick touch, you turned around, ready to put on that confident smirk and go say-

“Hey there.”

Your face completely fell at the sight of that horribly gorgeous smile. “Ian,” you murmured, taking a step back, away from your ex-boyfriend, who you were sure hadn’t been in a paddock in about a year, let alone less than a foot away from you like he was now. “What’re you doing here?”

His smile widened, planting a knot in your stomach. “Here to see you, of course.”

“Oh.” Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, where you could see Roy beginning to turn his head a bit more obviously, growing anxious to see you already. “Well, thanks.”

Thankfully, one of your engineers, familiar with the panicked look that Ian Novak’s beautiful face often inspired, hustled over with some excuse to get you away from the model. As you let yourself be led away, you turned your gaze, finally locking eyes with Roy Kent. The corner of his perfect mouth ticked upwards as he offered a small nod in greeting, eyebrows raised playfully. Normally, the sight would have you pressing your thighs together and thinking of all the sinful things you wanted to do with him. Instead, you looked away from those brown eyes as quickly as you could.

Fuck. Roy Kent could hurt you, couldn’t he? If Ian Novak, devilish man he was, could manage to make you feel adored and comfortable enough that the heartbreak he gifted you was the most devastating pain you could imagine, what was Roy Kent, with his soft brown eyes and half smiles and hands that both excited and cherished you, capable of? How shattered would you be if he decided he was done with you?

Maybe you didn’t want to find out.

For the millionth time that weekend, Roy wondered what he’d done wrong. All he’d received from you was a quick hello when the guys insisted on going to say hey to you. No flirting. No bedroom eyes. No electric touches. And definitely no teasing implications about ending up in bed together.

Not exactly what he’d expected.

He kept trying to catch your eye when the two of you were in the same room, but you kept looking away every time he succeeded. This wasn’t the behavior of someone excited to see him, and especially not the behavior of someone looking forward to sleeping with him.

As he lost track of his beers and contemplated leaving the party being held to celebrate your win, he saw Jamie perk up, his eyes flickering between Roy and somewhere behind him. Before Jamie could give him a warning, Roy turned around.

It was like someone’d punched him and knocked the fucking wind out of him. There you were, stunning in a Ferrari-red dress and matching lipstick, looking up at some disgustingly pretty man, who gazed at you like, well, like how Roy looked at you. He turned back to Jamie, immediately hating the pitiful look on the striker’s face.

“That’s her ex-boyfriend,” Jamie murmured, taking a sip of his own beer. “Model.”

“The one that fucking cheated on her?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “For ‘barely know each other’ you sure know a good bit about her, Roy. Maybe-”

Roy scowled. “Keeley talks too much,” he mumbled before taking a long swig of his beer. He looked over his shoulder again; that man’s hand was on your lower back, where Roy’s hand should have been. “Looks like a prick,” he huffed.

“Oh, he definitely is,” Jamie agreed. “And that’s me saying that. Not sure why she’d give him the time of day.” He punched Roy’s arm playfully. “Especially with Roy Kent in the room.”

After rolling his eyes at Jamie’s compliment, Roy nodded towards the door that led to the hallway connecting the venue to the rest of the hotel. “Going to get some air,” he muttered, ignoring the protests of his players.

Because he was so busy skulking off, Roy missed watching you with your ex.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, shoving Ian’s hand off of your waist. “In case you’ve forgotten, we broke up, remember?”

His lopsided smile was too familiar. “Just congratulating you on a job well done. You were great today, babe.”

Babe. When Roy Kent called you that, it’d made your heart- and something else- flutter. But when Ian Novak called you that, it made your blood run cold. You reached out and pushed him further away.

“I’m not your babe.”

Slipping away from the embrace he tried, you briskly left the party venue, eyes stinging as you made your way to the deserted hallway. Who cared if you’d won and were the guest of honor? All you wanted was to get up to your room, get out of this dress, put on-

Roy’s eyes locked onto yours. He was in that same hallway, leaning against a wall and looking like the dictionary definition of melancholy. His stupid old heart nearly stopped at the sight of you, then twisted when he saw all the hurt your eyes carried. He pushed himself up off the wall as you got closer, your hands fidgeting; he wasn’t used to seeing you so… gloomy.

“’s wrong with you?” he muttered once you were standing in front of him. “Boyfriend problems?”

Your frown deepened. “Boyfriend…?” It dawned on you. “Oh, fuck. Ian.”

Roy nodded, his eyes practically made of steel. “Yeah. Ian,” he spat. “What, you get sick of him already?” He knew he sounded jealous and resentful, two things he wasn’t sure he had the right to be. But he didn’t care; not when he’d come all this way just to see you with some other prick.

“Listen,” you sighed. “Roy-”

He shook his head, not caring if you saw the hurt and anger in his eyes. “No. It’s fine. I fucking get it.” He gulped. “He’s a model. His knees probably fucking work. Probably even knows how to smile.” He cleared his throat. “Stupid, coming to fucking Belgium,” he mumbled. “You didn’t even fucking want me here.”

“I did,” you yelped, probably quicker and louder than you should have. “I mean, I do. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Funny way of showing it,” he grunted, not letting you see the way your words had his heart hammering. No, Roy was still pissed. “Ignoring me all fucking weekend.”

You nodded, face aflame. “Yeah. No, that’s true.” You took a tentative step towards Roy. “But I’m glad you’re here. Really glad,” you insisted as you pressed your body to his, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

“Yeah. Well.” He averted his gaze, knowing that the familiar look in your eye would have him dropping this little resentment.

“Roy,” you cooed, letting your hands wander up his chest, not caring if someone walked by and saw you embracing the brooding manager. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Oof. Apparently that was not the thing to say based on the fiery look in his eye. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you, especially when he reached up to grab your jaw.

“Jealous?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You think I’m jealous?”

You gulped. Actually fucking gulped. And that little movement had Roy’s scowl replaced with the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen. His grip was firm; not painful, but definitely strong. For the number of times you’d hooked up, you’d never seen his eyes so dark, filled with a mixture of irritation and lust. It had you rubbing your thighs together, not caring if Roy noticed.

And Roy definitely noticed.

His eyes flickered over your shoulder for a brief moment before settling on your parted lips.

“Let’s go.”

Keeping his grip on your jaw, he pushed you backwards, opening a door behind you and guiding you into a deserted women’s bathroom. He quickly locked the door and moved a vanity chair under the handle, clearly planning on being in here for a while. Once privacy was secured, his eyes were on you again.

“Jealous,” he repeated, a scoff now. “Fucking jealous.”

He walked you back until your ass hit the row of sinks, the cold stone penetrating through your tight dress. His hands found the spot on your upper thigh where dress met bare skin, his fingers dipping just under the soft material to grip your flesh roughly, tugging the hem of your dress up around your hips.

Instinctively, you threw your head back at his touch, feeling electricity follow his fingertips as they brushed over your skin. Roy’s hand immediately was on your jaw again, tugging you to face him.

“Watch,” he demanded in a low voice.

With a whimper that was more from arousal than anything else, you obeyed. You watched as he brought his hands over your hips and slowly rolled down your panties, letting them drop in a little pool of lace around your ankles. He placed one hand on your hip with a bruising grip as the other hand came to your already drenched pussy. When one finger traced your slit, you had to use all your concentration to keep yourself from throwing your head back in pleasure.

“So fucking wet,” Roy groaned, adding another finger as he slowly caressed your soaking lips. “Who’s that for? Your pretty boy ex?”

Not caring about looking desperate, you frantically shook your head. “You, Roy,” you murmured, your voice breathy. “All for you.” You leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss, to assure him with your mouth that he was all you wanted, but he shook his head.

“Thought I told you to watch.”

No man had ever spoken to you this way. Most guys tried so hard to be smooth, or romantic, or cool. No one had ever been so possessive, so jealous. No one had ever stared at you with such an intensity. And no man had ever turned you on so fucking much.

Obediently, you tilted your head back down to watch as Roy slipped those two fingers inside you, setting a rough, mean pace that already had you gripping the sinks so hard your knuckles turned white. His thumb began stroking harsh circles on your clit, adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

“You better keep fucking watching,” he grumbled before his mouth attached to your neck, kissing with more tongue than lip, leaving a slobbery path over your skin.

Even with his eyes off of your face, you did as you were told. You watched those two firm fingers pump in and out of you, curling upwards in that way Roy did that had you squirming in your now wobbling high heels. The only thing keeping you upright was this sink and Roy’s harsh grip.

Roy grunted when he hit a particularly deep spot and felt you clench around his fingers. “You really hurt my fucking feelings,” he growled against your neck, giving a soft bite to the sensitive skin. “Ignoring me while you paraded around in that little fucking racing suit. Looking like a fucking goddess.” His thumb pressed down on your clit, provoking a sharp whine from you. “Like my fucking Empress.”

“Yours, Roy,” you groaned as your hips stuttered against his hand, your climax rapidly approaching. “All fucking yours.”

And you meant it. You really fucking meant it.

“Damn right you’re mine,” he grunted, adding a third finger to your sopping cunt. “And I want to feel you come just for me.”

Apparently, his wish was your command.

Something deep within you snapped, and you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, so tight that his third finger slipped out. But he kept fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, finally moving his mouth to yours to swallow your lewd moans as you soaked his fingers with your release.

“Good fucking girl,” he mumbled against your mouth as your vision went blurry; the only thing you could focus on was the trembling pleasure Roy gave you. “His fingers ever make you come like this?”

Your orgasm rendered your speechless, so all you could do was give a little shake of your head, desperate not to lose the feeling of Roy’s lips against yours. His pumps slowed as you came down from your high; you let go of the sink and gripped his arms, needing some help with standing.

But Roy didn’t want you to stand.

“Turn around,” he growled, pulling his soaked fingers out of you. “Unless you’re fucking done with me? Hmm? Got what you wanted from me, yeah? Ready to go back to your little party and ignore me some more?”

You bit your lip as your eyes travelled down to the extremely noticeable bulge in his pants. When you looked back at his face, it was dark with desire.

“Need you,” you managed to croak out.

That was good enough for him. Not caring if he got your juices on your dress, he grabbed your hips and spun you around, pushing you down over the sink. Instinctively, you spread your legs, listening for the delicious sound of his zipper coming undone. Your entire body vibrated with pleasure as you felt his tip, already dripping with precum, press against your soaked core.

Roy brought his hand- the one soaked from your orgasm- to your face. “Open,” he demanded. When you opened your mouth, he stuck his two drenched fingers inside. “Don’t want anyone else hearing your pretty fucking sounds. Those are just for me, aren’t they?”

You nodded, moaning around his gorgeous fingers as you tasted your pleasure on him. Fuck, no wonder he was addicted to making you come, some dirty part of you thought. You were delicious.

Satisfied with the view before him, Roy slowly buried himself inside your soaked cunt with ease, his eyes staring into yours through the mirror with that same mix of lust and possessiveness.

“There she is,” he sighed as he set a harsh pace, his free hand on your back to keep you bent over for him. “My fucking Empress. Feel so fucking good. Just for me.”

A muffled “Mmm hmm” around his fingers was all you could manage as you bucked your hips back against him, drooling at the feeling of his hot skin against your bare ass. His cock felt perfect inside you, twitching and throbbing against your already spasming walls.

Eyes still on yours in the mirror, he lowered his mouth to your bare upper back and began leaving rough kisses all over your skin, sloppy and reckless, until those kisses became bites. Roy started sucking at the soft skin as he thrust into your slowly bruising sex over and over again, moaning against your back. When you clenched around him particularly tight, his tongue left a slow, deliberate trail across your skin, sending shivers down the spine he still had his hand on.

He groaned and gave a particularly stuttering jerk into you. “Should I mark you up?” he teased. “Show everyone who you belong to?” Using the fingers in your mouth as leverage, he made you nod slowly, as though you were his little toy. “Well, if you insist.” Rolling his hips harder, deeper, Roy returned to your back, sucking hard enough to make you whimper against the pads of his fingers. But the way you rocked into him assured him you liked it.

“Fucking look at you,” he moaned, giving you a bit of that hip action that had you seeing stars. “You ever been fucked like this, gorgeous girl? Bent over in a fucking bathroom, fingers in your mouth?” He brought his lips to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Bet no pretty boy’s ever done this.” He started sucking on the spot behind your ear, that perfect little spot that had you mewling as you spasmed against him.

He slowly inched his fingers further into your mouth, prompting you to suck them with the same enthusiasm you would his cock. The sensation had him twitching inside you, desperate to paint your walls.

“You look so fucking perfect,” he muttered as he returned his mouth to your slowly purpling back, adding more beautiful little dark spots wherever he could reach. “My dirty Empress.” He licked over a bite mark he’d left, one he hoped you’d have for days. “You want to come for me, gorgeous?”

Your desperate nod had him groaning. He’d never seen anyone look so fucking desperate, needy, hungry for him. After being ignored by you all weekend, to have you bent over in a public bathroom, panties on the floor, mouth full of his fingers, all of it was driving him mad. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, but he knew he needed to let you come first.

He needed to remind you about how he could make you feel.

He removed his fingers from your mouth, drooling a bit when he heard the little whine that escaped your now empty mouth. The hand on your hip came up to your beautiful neck, urging you to stand up with your back to his heaving chest.

When you wobbled, he tightened his grip, just enough to hold you steady. “I’ve got you,” he promised, planting a tender kiss to your neck. “’ve always got you.”

Roy brought those fingers- now sodden from both your cunt and mouth- to your pulsing clit, rubbing firm circles over the bundle of nerves.

“Roy,” you whimpered, gripping his arms with your trembling hands. “Please.”

He smiled, a real smile for the first time all weekend, as his cock continued to bruise your cunt. “Would you look at that,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “My Empress remembered her manners.” He pumped his cock as deep as he could, over and over, desperate to hit that one perfect little spot that would- “Oh, there she is.”

He watched with lewd pride as you fell apart in front of him, mouth open in a silent scream. Your whole body was drenched in sweat as you trembled, your knees buckling beneath you; the only thing keeping you upright was Roy. As your body quivered with pleasure, you slouched back over the sink, wondering vaguely how you were going to walk in the morning, let alone in the next few minutes.

“Such a good girl,” Roy cooed, his voice thick with a beautiful mix of mocking and adoration. “Now tell me what else you want.”

“Your cum,” was your automatic answer as your fingers traced over the cool faucet. “Please,” you begged, probably for the first time in your life. “Please fucking come for me.”

Roy’s devilish smile widened, setting your whole body on fire. “If my Empress insists.”

Whit his hands back on your hips, his thrusts became sloppy, no longer about making you feel good- although, the overstimulation did have your eyes rolling back. He gave a few harsh, bruising drives before you felt him fill you up with that delicious release; fuck, how you wished you could taste it. Pump after pump until you could feel it begin to leak down your thighs. You shivered when you felt Roy glide a single finger over your sticky thigh and bring a cum-covered finger to your lips.

“Taste.”

He didn’t need to order you; you would have automatically stuck out your tongue to get a taste of that tangy stickiness that now coated your throbbing pussy.

The room was filled with ragged breathing as he finally pulled out of you, still keeping a firm grip on you to keep you from falling.

Finally, you smirked at him through the mirror- or at least, as much of a smirk as you could manage.

“Fuck,” you gasped, brushing your wild hair out of your face. “I’m really supposed to go back to the party like this?”

Roy’s dark chuckle had your heart racing. “Party?” he scoffed. “Oh no, baby. I’m not fucking done with you.”

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misshoneyimhome · 3 months

Text

「2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION」

"Why can't you just do what you're being told?" I William Nylander (🔥)

Summary; Sometimes, a push can make all the difference, even within the realm of relationships.

Tropes & warnings; smut 18+, friends-with-benefits, friends to lovers, fighting to sex (is that a thing?); mention of masturbation, unprotected sex (p in v), spanking, more unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving);

Other notes; This one's for you, styles217, my love.🤍 Although it didn't end up as angsty as I'd envisioned 🙈, I hope you still enjoy it 🤞🏼 Surprisingly though, it ended up containing more smut than I initially planned, thanks to the requests I chose to combine it with [“take it out on me” I “I will never get enough of you” 🔥] - And no, I don’t actually think anyone on the coaching team would say something like this, and I’ve got no idea if anyone on the internet would react in such way; but for the plot of the story, they did 🤍

Knock on wood for not jinxing the winning streak ✊

Word count; 4.1K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

It had been quite a week. The Leafs had been on the road for a week, still keeping up their winning streak, which exceeded everyone's expectations. But even from the comfort of your sofa, you could sense that the games were getting more intense.

It was becoming clearer that the playoffs were getting closer. And suddenly, you noticed new aspects of your beloved William Nylander.

William had always been a talented ice hockey player. He might as well have been born with skates on his feet because the ice rink was his natural habitat. At just 16 years old, hockey became his first real profession, following in his father’s footsteps with aspirations of greatness.

And now, with his latest eight-year contract extension playing for the Maple Leafs, he was having the best season of his career.

Watching him play was almost magical - Every goal he scored or assist he made showcased his deep passion for the sport. And to you, he was simply an incredible person.

Despite the challenges that came with the fast-paced lifestyle, being part of William’s world felt nothing short of amazing. Over the past six months, the two of you had developed some sort of a bond, and there was nothing else you would have traded it for.

William Nylander had stolen your mind and soul from the moment he walked into the quaint coffee shop one early Wednesday morning before a training session. As he was completely exhausted and absent-minded, he inadvertently reached for something that appeared to be his drink, however as it turned out it was your coffee. With a gentle laugh and a charming smile, you kindly asked the handsome hockey player not to take it and encouraged him to enjoy his own instead.

Which then had turned out to be great a conversation starter, leading to a casual dating slash sort of a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Nothing too intense, just two consenting young adults enjoying each other's company, indulging in mind blowing sex, and relishing in easygoing conversations and hangouts.

However, perfection is elusive. Despite William's charm, kindness, and humour, he had a temper. Which you had only glimpsed bits of before, with penalties and a few snappy comments after tough losses.

But what happened during the Coyotes match was on another level.

William didn’t just receive penalties, but he suddenly also reacted aggressively to the pushes he usually shrugged off. He pushed back forcefully, his eyes blazing with anger.

And to your surprise, you found it incredibly arousing. Your cunt even tingled as William pushed the Coyote player, and a scuffle broke out among other players.

Never before had a hockey match stirred such arousal in you. And to top it off, the Leafs emerged victorious.

That night, thoughts of William's roughness lingered, leading you to touch yourself, and reaching an orgasm in a way you hadn't experienced before. The sheets beneath you were soaked as you moaned William's name into the emptiness with a whimper.

The game against Arizona was then followed by another impressive win, this time against the Knights, and then furthermore; a victory over the Avalanches after three thrilling periods, bringing the road trip to a satisfying conclusion.

Yet, as entertaining as it was to follow William and the team, it paled in comparison to being back in Toronto with him, where you could finally be intimate again.

And already Sunday afternoon you found yourself back at his place after he had a lie-in and taken care of the dogs. Entangled on his ample couch, his lips passionately locked with yours as your tongues explored each other with every shared breath.

With William on top of you, your fingers entwined in his blonde locks as he moved his warm mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and nipping, eliciting sweet noises from you.

He was insatiable. After a week of being apart, William craved the feeling of you wrapped around him, longing to reach his own release in the midst of passion.

Clothes littered the floor of the living room, and despite the TV show still playing in the background, your moans filled the space of his condo. His two doodles lounged in a basket nearby as William guided his hard, throbbing member to your tight entrance.

Feeling William's hands on you again was nothing short of amazing. His mouth expertly melded with yours as his cock stretched you, sending waves of pleasure through your body with every thrust.

It was intense and messy. Bodies slick with sweat as you passionately connected on the sofa. His movements were determined, rough, and primal as he straightened his position, one leg on the floor, the other knee on the cushion, holding one of your legs against his chest while the other wrapped around his waist, thrusting mercilessly into you.

Your hands eagerly searched for something to grip onto, settling on the pillow behind your head as your mind blurred and your body melted for him.

You moaned loudly, the sounds mixing with the TV as you reached the peak of orgasm. But William didn't let you rest for a moment. Instead, he increased his intensity, feeling himself nearing the edge as your muscles tightened around him. And with heavy breaths, he thrust vigorously until he reached his climax, releasing his cum into you.

The intensity of the moment was palpable as you both took a few minutes to come down from the high and regain control of your breathing. It was a prime example of how raw and amazing your sex could be – effortless yet dirty, filled with desire.

And what came after was even better: William's tenderness as he caressed your curves in the post-sex shower was almost romantic. The way he caressed every inch of your skin was incredibly arousing, washing away the remnants of your sofa session. And then, he kneeled before you, placing hungry kisses on your core.

It was an added treat he provided, indulging in a late-night snack before you settled in for the night, knowing that Monday morning and the workday would soon be upon you.

It was another day of facing adult responsibilities at work, with the excitement of hockey on hold until reuniting with William in the afternoon.

However, while your day passed uneventfully, William found himself stirred by something deeper. His recent behaviour during matches hadn't gone unnoticed, and while fights were often accepted in the sport, comments about William being 'out of character' emerged.

Social media buzzed with opinions about him; criticising his usual calm demeanour, suggesting it wasn't present to support the team during heated moments, and deeming his actions as outrageous.

Which ignited William's temper. Despite his stellar performance in recent games – scoring goals and providing assists – he felt unjustly criticised. And more over it seemed that every attempt to express confidence in his own game was met with accusations of selfishness and 'overconfidence'.

It simply seemed William couldn't strike a balance. If he didn't score goals, he was deemed a bad player. If he didn't assist but scored himself, he wasn't seen as a team player. And if he didn't contribute at all, he was deemed unworthy of the team. He was often labeled as the attractive star player, good at scoring goals, but not as exceptional as Auston Matthews or as dominant as other players like Rielly, Reaves, and Tavares.

'Nylander’s a talented player, but he only cares about scoring for himself.'

‘Great to see WN88 take on some responsibilities when wearing the A – but he’s nothing like MR44’

The power of public opinion could be harsh.

Though most of the time, William didn’t even pay much attention to the criticism, knowing he was a great player, and his confidence remained unshaken. But often when he tried to brush off the comments and act nonchalant, it only fuelled speculation about his carelessness.

And, for some unexpected reason, he found himself unable to contain his temper on that particular Monday. Tired of the negative remarks, he wanted to prove that he could be just as strong and skilled as anyone else.

So, during Monday’s ice training, he attempted to assert his dominance. But things didn't go entirely as planned. Although the comments from the assistant coaches might not have been intended to be negative, they still managed to pierce through his thick skin.

"Hey Willy, we all know you did great as an alternate captain in Mo’s absence. However, maybe focus more on your scoring, passing to Auston, and breakaways – you know, the things you’re great at."

William simply nodded in response to the coaching staff's encouragement. But as they all left the locker room, he still couldn't shake off the words entirely.

"Hey," you greeted him with a warm smile in the hallway, joining the other partners of the team. "Want to go out for dinner?"

"Sure," he responded tersely, his tone devoid of your enthusiasm. "Just go wait by the car, I’ll be right there."

His voice was low and cold, but as his confidant, you resolved to show your support and be there for him.

"That's alright, I'll just wait here until you're ready," you replied, offering a reassuring smile.

"Just go and wait by the car," he suddenly snapped, his words sharper than before.

“What did you just say?”

“Go wait by the fucking car.”

"Oh no... You don’t get to talk to me like that, Willy..." you retorted, your voice firm and steady. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just... I'll meet you outside."

"No, I'm not leaving until you talk nicely to me!"

"Why can't you just do what you're being told?" William shouted, his voice echoing through the hallway.

You were taken aback. William had never shouted at you, especially not in public like this. While your relationship wasn’t without its disagreements, it had never escalated to this level.

But you held his gaze firmly as the others dispersed, the tension between you palpable.

There was a silence that hung heavy in the air. A moment where every thing could fall apart if you let it. But instead you decided to take the battle elsewhere.

"Fine," you finally spat, before turning and walking towards the exit.

And needless to say, the ride back to William’s place was dead silent, broken only when William left the car to pick up your takeaway dinner, opting not to go out. And when he returned, he slammed the door shut, and the journey to his place remained eerily quiet.

You felt his frustration emanating from him as you entered the condo, and as you placed the bags of food on the kitchen counter, you decided you couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Willy... do you have any idea how humiliating that was?" you said with a steady voice, trying to catch his gaze, but he remained hunched over the counter, looking down.

"So what?" he replied curtly.

You let out a small sigh. "So what?... Willy, I'm not a toy you can play with however you like... I'm a person with feelings."

"Don't you think I have feelings too?" he suddenly erupted, standing up straight and taking a step towards you. "Don't you think I feel frustrated and annoyed? That I'm not this perfectly calm and chill guy everyone always wants me to be?"

"So, you're upset because you're a talented hockey player, but not perfect in every way?" you asked a hint of rhetoric in your tone, raising a brow. "Willy, nobody's perfect, and nobody can live up to everyone's expectations."

"Don't you think I know that! But it still doesn’t make the frustrations go away, y/n... not that you would know how it feels to just want to... let go!"

And you suddenly found yourself releasing a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding. William's words were sharp and filled with tension, fuelled by his passion for the sport. And strangely, you felt the same arousal you had felt the night you witnessed his anger for the first time.

"Take it out on me," you spoke softly, still maintaining a firm tone as you extended the invitation.

"What?" William inquired, taken aback by your bold offer.

"Take your frustrations out on me, Willy... let go, be angry... do what you need to do..."

For a moment, he couldn't comprehend what you were suggesting. His mind raced with thoughts, but as his eyes met yours, a sudden surge of desire and lust overwhelmed him. The offer was too tempting to resist. And without hesitation, he closed the gap between you, fuelled by a primal urge.

His lips almost crashed onto yours, his hands gripping your head tightly as he held you close. Your breath was stolen as he forcefully slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring your warmth with intensity, pressing his body against yours.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, but they couldn't stay still as William, using his size to his advantage, guided you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Clothes were shed along the way, leaving a trail of passion in their wake.

The intensity was so overwhelming that you barely registered how quickly you ended up standing by the bed, clad only in your lacy thong, as William's mouth continued to ravage yours until he breathlessly stepped back.

"On your hands and knees," his voice commanded roughly, his breath heavy and his eyes filled with lust.

And feeling your cunt already pulsating merely from the sound of his voice, you removed your last piece of fabric, and obeyed without hesitation.

William couldn't help but smirk as he admired the sight of your exposed cheeks before him. And as he lowered his boxers, freeing his hard cock, he slowly joined you on the mattress, kneeling behind you as he let his hands explore your soft skin.

"So you want me to let go, baby," he spoke darkly from behind, his mind clouded with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you. “I’ll fucking let go.”

And by encouragement form you, be withdrew his large hand from your ass, intensely stared at your ass before delivering a hard slap against your skin.

"Oh fuck..." you cried out, feeling the sting of his spank.

"You liked that, huh?" William inquired darkly, and all you could do was nod, earning another hard spank.

His force was harsh. Harder than you’d ever been playfully spanked before, and you could tell he was releasing some negative energy with two more intense smacks. His breath heavy and deep but his fifth and last spank, which had beautifully decorated your skin with a red hue.

And as you let out a soft cry mixed with a pleasure-filled moan, William felt satisfied with his actions. Shifting slightly in his position, he teased the tip of his cock against your entrance.

"Do you think you deserve this?" he asked, his voice filled with desire. “You think you deserve to be fucked?”

You could feel nothing but your muscles pulsating between your legs, yearning to be filled by his length.

"Yes," you whimpered, your legs trembling with anticipation.

"Good girl..."

And with a forceful thrust, William slammed his cock into you, burying himself deep inside your cunt and hitting your very depths.

His hands gripped your waist firmly as he established a steady rhythm of forceful thrusts, channeling all his frustration and annoyance into each powerful movement. With every slam, he felt himself releasing the pent-up tension, letting go of the negativity that had been weighing on him.

It was almost too overwhelming for you. His vigorous thrusts caused your body to tremble, pushing you closer to orgasm much quicker than anticipated as he pounded and overstimulated your walls.

Usually it’d take more than just forceful penetrating sex like this to give you that pleasurable high, however with William’s merciless performance, you suddenly found yourself nearing a peak.

And as if you had no control over yourself, your moans grew louder with each collision of skin against skin, and soon you found yourself clutching onto the sheets beneath you.

"Willy," you breathed, your voice filled with need. "I'm gonna come..."

Your words were music to his ears, mingling with moans and cries as he revelled in the pleasure he was giving you. And with no intention of slowing down, he continued to fuck you hard and fast.

"Oh fuck... Willy..." you cried out, your cunt dripping with juices as you threw your head back and allowed yourself to reach the peak of ecstasy, waves of climax rushing over your body.

William could feel how your walls clenched tightly around him as you embraced your orgasm, relishing in the sight of you closing your eyes in ecstasy and feeling your body shake and surrender to him.

And though as much as he wanted to continue fucking you hard and bring you to multiple orgasms, he also felt the urgency for his own release.

So, he paused his movements, allowing you to come down from the euphoria and catch your breath, before gently withdrawing his length from your dripping core. It was a sight to behold, seeing how perfectly your heat fit him, reflecting the pleasure he had given you.

But for now, he desired something else from you.

"I want you on your knees, baby, on the floor," his husky voice commanded, and with a deep breath, you summoned the strength to move your body.

Despite your legs feeling like jelly beneath you, you managed to manoeuvre from the bed to the middle of the room, where you flashed William a confident smirk as you knelt before him. You knew exactly what he wanted, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

Then patiently waiting for him to draw closer, you glanced up at him with desire in your eyes, parting your lips slightly as he approached. You yearned to taste him, to feel his hardness against your tongue, and even to savor your own essence.

And William happily gave it to you.

Holding his cock before your mouth, he gazed intensely down at you, silently granting you permission to take him.

Without hesitation, you accepted. Wrapping your lips around the tip, you began by circling it with your tongue. Then taking a deep breath through your nose, you focused on relaxing the back of your throat, guiding him in slowly and effortlessly. You felt him reach the back of your mouth, but you allowed him to push in further.

Gently withdrawing your head slightly, you coated his shaft with your saliva before taking him in entirely once again. And while taking your time, you savoured the sensation before starting to move your head in rhythmic motions, bobbing up and down on his length. Your lips wrapped around him as you moved, using your dominant hand where your mouth couldn't reach.

William's fingers found the back of your hair, gently gripping it as he began to let his hips move in sync with your motions. And as the pleasurable sensations intensified, so did his actions.

You allowed him to take control, something you wouldn't normally do as you needed to manage your gag reflex and breathing. But tonight was William's night to let loose, which meant allowing him to guide his cock in and out of your mouth.

And while feeling his grip tighten in your hair, you managed to glance up at him through your lashes and saw how he tilted his head back, surrendering to the moment.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he mumbled between moans.

Knowing exactly how to push him over the edge, you released your hand from around the base of his cock and placed both palms on his muscular thighs. Taking another deep breath, you prepared yourself as best you could before letting him push his shaft all the way into your throat, causing your nose to brush against his pubic hair. Holding still for a few seconds, you allowed yourself to gag around his cock before pulling off completely and gasping for air.

"Oh shit! Fuck, babe," William panted above you as you stroked his length. "That's fucking hot."

And you knew it was. William had often expressed his love for your blowjobs, and sometimes hinted at his desire for more dominant behaviour. While he had never actually choked you with his cock, he had shown some interest, which was how you knew he would enjoy how you forced him all the way down.

Then taking another breath, you placed both hands on his thighs once more and took him back into your mouth. And this time, William wanted nothing more than to come for you. Knowing how good you could be for him, he held onto you firmly, meeting your eyes as he thrust against your mouth.

It was forceful and dominant, as he relished every gagging noise you made. And as he fucked your mouth faster, he felt himself on the brink of climax.

"Oh yes, baby, that’s it! Oh, I'll never get enough of you," he moaned, his eyes shutting tightly. "Your mouth is so fucking..." But his words were cut off by a deep grunt as his climax took over, and he unleashed his load into your warmth.

You felt his muscles tense under your touch, your nails digging into them as he held his cock in your mouth, ensuring you received every single drop he had to offer.

Both of you remained still for a brief moment as William came down from his high, and holding back your instincts, you gazed up at him as you waited for his approval.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of your mouth, allowing you to taste every inch of his shaft. And locking eyes with you once more, he issued his final command.

"Swallow."

With a gulp, you let his raw cum slide down your throat, before releasing a light sensual gasp. It was nothing but an intense moment of sexual silence as you stared up at the man before you.

"Shit, baby, you're way too good at this," his dark words praised, and slowly he helped you to your feet.

"Did I at least help you with the frustrations?" you chuckled lightly.

"Oh, yes, you did," William replied, flashing you a great smile before pulling you into a cuddle. "How about a shower?"

"How about we heat up dinner?" you suggested with a laugh.

"Good idea - but shower first."

It felt as if all the tension had dissipated, as if there were no lingering issues anymore. Yet, a part of you remained uncertain about the true nature of your relationship with William.

As you enjoyed a later dinner after the post-sex shower, smiles gracing both of your faces, you couldn't help but ponder what was going on inside William's mind.

However, as you cuddled up, feeling satisfied in every aspect, he beat you to the conversation.

"Hey... thanks for... you know, today," he started softly, his thumb caressing your shoulder as his arms enveloped you, turning his head to face you.

"Of course, it's what I'm here for," you replied with a content smile.

"Yeah, I know, it's just..." he continued softly, struggling to articulate his thoughts. "You don't have to... let me do that... you could’ve just walked away after what happened at the rink."

"I know, but I didn’t want to walk away... Willy, I know I'm not exactly your girlfriend or anything, but whatever this is, to me, it's something..."

"Exactly... and I guess I just... I don't know how to say it, but I just feel like there might be more... you're so amazing, and I just really want you around, all the time... and I understand if that's not what you want, because it's not always easy with me, but... if you want to, I'd like to have you..."

His last words almost came out in slow motion, uncertainty evident in how he expressed his feelings.

"Willy, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah... I think I am."

You were slightly taken aback by his question. Despite being intimate and spending a lot of time together for months, you didn't think William was considering this direction. On the contrary actually, you had been nervous he wanted to end it because of the increasing intensity of the season.

"Yes, Willy... of course I'd want to be your girlfriend," you finally managed to speak, the words carrying a mix of joy and relief. "Babe, I was honestly afraid you'd had enough of me...."

It was a moment you had both anticipated and feared, but now that it was here, it felt nothing but right. Leaning in, you sealed your answer with a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of your commitment to each other.

William's eyes sparkled with happiness as he returned the kiss, his arms pulling you closer. It was a moment of clarity amidst the chaos of life, a moment where everything just felt right.

"Oh, I already told you; I'll never get enough of you," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

#2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ followers celebration #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #wn88 imagine

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benedictscanvas · 11 months

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be still, my foolish heart [5] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: finally! sorry it's a couple days late, but the busy week is over and we are back at it. i really enjoyed writing this one. did a poll to find out how people feel about reader pov, so there may be a few reader pov bits coming your way soon, just so we can see whether she's smitten too... <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist

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chapter five - if you got love to get done

The crowd is roaring as he walks out of the tunnel, squinting a little in the sudden wash of sunlight that hits him. The music is loud and he feels himself rising taller, pushing his shoulders back, chest forward as he realises the moment he’s having. It doesn’t matter one bit that he’s got a bib on, that he’s taking a sharp right turn and heading straight for the bench.

He’ll be subbed on at 60, he’s sure. Confident, even. The last few days in training, he’d played some of the best football he could remember playing. His phone was filled with encouraging messages that morning, from the team, from the coaches, from practically everyone that knew him. The only one he’d replied to so far was his mum, but he was looking forward to going through them properly later.

Earlier, he’d found himself disappointed not to see you at breakfast, but now here you were as he headed towards his seat on the bench, just one row behind him with a camera in your hand. You grin when you see him, and hold up your camera questioningly. He plays along as he stares off into the distance pensively, pouting and sharpening his jawline. You giggle as you take a few snaps and he's eager to sit down in front of you.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jamie said, swivelling in his seat to chat to you despite the funny look from Gondo beside him, “I mean, not at the match but, y’ know…”

“Sat on the bench?” you asked and he nodded, “Yeah, I had to fight to be here, honestly. But there’s nowhere else I can get the right angles for the socials. At least, that’s what I told them.”

He grinned right back, turning even further in his seat so the two of you were face to face, but then the first notes of the national anthem started playing and you whacked his shoulder frantically as the two of you tried to stand up quickly. Even during the anthem, he risked a glance back at you and you glared at him until he turned back around, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he sang.

“You’ll get me fucking fired!” you hiss from behind your hand when the two of you are able to sit back down again, “They’ve already asked me why you’ve been in so much of the content recently.”

“What did y’ say?”

“That you’re the only idiot who says yes to all my stupid ideas.”

His shoulders slump at that description, but he’s quick to bounce back when you start laughing at him. You rest a hand on your shoulder as you lean in, still keeping a hand over your mouth to stop any pesky press doing any lip reading.

“I couldn’t tell them you’re just my favourite, could I?” and he could swear his heart stops, because that almost sounds like flirting. He stares up at you, wide-eyed and helpless until you continue, “Not supposed to tell anyone I’m Richmond, remember?”

Right. Richmond. That was why he was your favourite, because he’s the only Richmond player who’s fucking here. What if Roy was here? Or Isaac, or Colin, or Bumbercatch? It suddenly occurred to him that even if he was your favourite here, you might have a very long list of Richmond players you liked more than him. The thought settles and he can feel his uneasiness in his stomach.

He doesn’t respond before he turns back around to watch kick off, just smiles at you instead and hopes that his lack of reply isn’t too rude. Your hand lets go of his shoulder after a moment or two, and he’s absolutely kicking himself but then the match starts and he can’t think about it anymore.

It’s an easy opener, even if Gareth insisted that they couldn’t become complacent. England were 2-0 up within around 10 minutes with a tap-in and a penalty from King, and from there seemed content to coast to half time with the majority of the possession. Jamie cheered for both goals wildly on the sidelines with the rest of his teammates and then jogged down into the tunnel quickly when the halftime whistle blew.

The team talk was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Gareth was hardly going to change tactics now, so once he’d got past the main parts, he turned his mind to you, just for a few minutes. He probably wasn’t your favourite player at Richmond. And it shouldn’t matter to him, he knows that, but it does. The pit in his stomach that the thought has caused just won’t go away.

He could ask you, but that would be ridiculous. Would make him seem ridiculous. This was definitely getting out of hand, because he had been so sure he could just be friends with you and be happy about it but- you were just so great. The two of you had spent the last four days in Italy practically joined at the hip. Filming and laughing and crying-while-laughing.

All the while he’d been promising himself not to think about you in any way that wasn’t friendly. All the while he’d been lying to himself. You smile at him, and he feels like he’s spinning around on a fucking hill like in that movie Roy had made him watch about a month ago.

The team is all clapping, so he snaps himself out of it and claps too as everyone files out of the room. He’s so frustrated with himself for thinking about this now - it isn’t the time. So he decides - after the match, he can think about it as much as he likes. Come up with a proper plan to rid himself of this once and for all, so you can get on as well as you do without him worrying about silly things like being your favourite Richmond player.

When he arrives back to his seat on the bench and flops down into it, he feels a delicate tap on his shoulder and turns to see you, still smiling that infuriating smile.

“Hey, you’re very tense,” you say teasingly with a light poke to his shoulder, “Whole first half without talking isn’t very Jamie Tartt of you. Something I said?”

He likes to think he can read you pretty well sometimes, and he’s positive he can see your smile falter as you ask. So he did come off rude when he turned around and stopped talking to you. Again, he’s kicking himself.

“No! No, love, ‘course not,” he tries to reassure you, “I’m just nervous, honestly. Y’ mentioned Richmond and I know that I’m…y’ know. I’m good there. Jus’ wonderin’ if I’ll be any good here.”

He wasn’t wondering. He’s been great in training and he’s fishing for compliments, he knows it. The thought makes him feel like a prick again.

“Come on. You’re joking, right?”

He doesn’t expect that particular response, especially not the thinly veiled amusement on your face.

“Uh- no? Don’t think so.”

“I’ve watched you in training. You’re feeling it, I know it. I know you a bit by now. So why are you lying?”

It was the most straightforward you’d ever been and he had no idea what to do with it. But Gareth was calling his name, and Gondo elbowed him in the ribs hard.

“You’re up, bro. Go and warm up!”

Jamie was quick to react, glancing back at you a few times but soon getting his head in the game. He pushes your conversation, your words, right to the back of his mind as he sidesteps along the side of the pitch, then moves through the exercises he usually did on autopilot.

He hadn’t even noticed it was 60 minutes through the game. At least he’d been right about one thing - he was getting subbed on.

He ran to grab his shirt as one of the assistant coaches told the fourth official that England would be making a change. You were nearby again and you grinned at him when he was close enough.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said loudly, and he knew what you were talking about, “Just go and fucking smash it, Jamie!”

He nods. Yeah, he’s gonna fucking smash it.

He tears off his bib and stands ready on the touch line, proud to be wearing Sam’s number on his back. He knows that Sam should be here in Italy playing for his country as he deserved, and it was only a small tribute, but he hoped it would make some kind of statement. King runs over to him, slaps his hands against Jamie’s and that’s it - he’s running onto the pitch with a new spring in his step.

He’s an England player. He’s done it. Lifelong dream achieved.

Around ten minutes into his debut, he sees Rife making a delicious run down the right side and he hooks his foot around the ball to send a pass forward, soaring over the heads of the defenders and landing right on Rife’s foot. He holds his breath as Rife shoots, but the net bulges soon after and now he’s got an assist too.

It’s overwhelming.

Still, Rife is running over to jump on him and he lets him, then Wire, then practically the whole team. At the bottom of the pile, Jamie spares a thought for the Jamie of a few years ago, the Jamie for whom goals were everything and assists meant nothing. How sad it would have been to miss out on this feeling of helping his team, his country, towards an emphatic win.

And it was a fucking excellent assist, too.

The last ten minutes are uneventful. Jamie knows he’s playing well and remembers your words - you’re feeling it. You’ve summed it up perfectly. His feel of the ball, his feel for his teammates and their positions, its all coming together. At the final whistle, he lets out a roar, full of all the anxious anticipation that went into this moment then takes the nearest player to him in a huge bear hug.

The coaches and rest of the team walk out onto the pitch, shaking hands and clapping each other on the back. Jamie makes a point to shake as many opposition players’ hands as he can before he moves on to celebrating with his teammates. Almost as soon as he’s ready to jog over to Rife to pick him up, however, he spots you, filming Rife on your phone.

Maybe he isn’t your favourite Richmond player. But you said he was your favourite around here and he’s going to take that and run with it.

“Y/N! Hey!”

You look round as soon as he calls and put your phone away instantly. He’s not sure you’ve even finished with Rife. Either way, you’re sprinting up to him and you’ve got him locked in the tightest of hugs before he knows it. Despite how unexpected it is, it doesn’t take him long to wind his arms around you in return because it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You pull back, positively beaming.

“That assist, Jamie! I fucking knew you were feeling it, that was insane!”

“It were pretty good, weren’t it?” he says proudly, pulling you back into his arms for one hug while he still can, grateful when you let him. He leans back this time, watching you with a quirked eyebrow, “You know me quite well, huh?”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you looked flustered.

“Didn’t know you were going to do that, though, did I? Magic, that was,” you’re still heaping praise on him, and there’s a part of him that wants to tell you to go on, but he doesn’t want to push it. He also doesn’t want any awkwardness between the two of you, but right now he thinks he could do anything, so he takes a chance.

“Earlier, you said I was your favourite because I’m Richmond and it jus’ felt shit,” he admits, all in a rush, “That’s not your fault, I know. I never thought about you likin’ Richmond in general before. Instead of-“

Instead of just me. Instead of just liking me, for who I am and not what team I play for. Tell me I’m your favourite Richmond player and I’ll stop being a fucking prick.

He keeps most of what he’s thinking to himself, because he feels like he’s probably already said too much. In his sessions with Doctor Sharon so far, she’s been so encouraging of his newfound honesty, both with others and with himself. She’d want him to ‘communicate his feelings’ with you, and he wasn’t sure if this was the best way of doing that, but it had happened now. He’d already said it.

You still had your hands on his arms, having pulled them back from their tight squeeze around his neck and shoulders. You were looking at him thoughtfully, and he was struck by how stupid he was when he thought he could read you earlier - you were impossible to read sometimes.

After what feels like years, you press your lips together like you’re suppressing a grin and squeeze his biceps.

“Jamie…” you begin, voice as soft as it’s ever been, despite the still deafening roar of the crowd. He’d practically forgotten he’s still stood on a football pitch, “Come on. You’re joking, right?”

Same words as earlier. His heart sinks.

“I swear, Y/N, I’m not lying this time, that’s actually why I got all mardy-”

“You have to be joking,” you repeat, interrupting him slowly, “Because you must know you’re my favourite player everywhere.”

He isn’t sure whether to sigh in pure relief or start panting for breath. You’re looking at him so softly, there’s almost shyness there. He’s never seen you shy, ever. Certainly not around anyone else.

“You’ve admitted something, so I will too. Just to be fair,” you smile easily, still holding him by the arms. He wonders if he could put his hands back on your waist, but he can’t move a muscle in case you move away from him, “I’ve never been nervous around football players. I work with them everyday, you know? And then you walk up to training that first day, and you don’t hear me when I ask my question, and I felt nervous. Stupid nervous.”

“…because you’re a Richmond fan?”

“No, Jamie,” you say, but you don’t say why you were nervous, you just fucking stare at him. His heart is begging him to lean in and kiss you silly, “Maybe it was the hair.”

You reach up to gently tug on one of the strands that falls in front of his face from his headband. He’s struggling to find his voice.

“I-” he has to cough to get his words back, “I do have good hair.”

“Great hair, even,” you smirk, and he can see you biting your lip, “The rest of you isn’t too bad either, I guess. If you’re into that kinda thing.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re flirting with him.

This is new. He’s oblivious and his processing time might be longer than others, but you’ve never blatantly flirted with him before. He’d know, because he’s been desperate for you to flirt with him for a few weeks now. Basically since he met you. Whether it’s playful or not, it’s a new development that has him floating.

This, he can do. Flirting. He’s good at this.

“And what kinda thing would that be?” he says, tilting his head and smirking right back at you. All his terror at your previous sincerity falls away and is replaced by a need to match you quip for quip. He can think about the fact that he’s your favourite player everywhere when he sits in his hotel room grinning in the mirror later.

“You know,” you rock back and forth on your heels, “The whole fit footballer thing. Abs and shit. It’s a very particular type.”

So you had looked at him at the pool party. It shouldn’t have made him so giddy. You just called him fit. He could melt into a puddle at your feet if he wasn’t so determined to make you giddy in return.

“And is it your type?”

You make a show of thinking about it in a way that shoots sparks all the way down Jamie’s spine. He’s so glad you can’t hear his heartbeat like he can, roaring in his ears.

“Dunno. I like my guys with enough hair gel to set their head alight, you know?”

A dig at his look from a few years ago. Of course you’d find a way to mention that without stopping that tone you’d taken on out of nowhere. The tone that was disarming and charming and downright hot.

“You know, I think I know a guy like that,” he said, pretending to search for someone over your head, “You don’t happen to know any mad pretty PR women I could point him to?”

The grin that took over you, bloomed across your whole face, was exactly what he’d been hoping for, finally finding the opening in the conversation to compliment you right back. You move closer to him and he feels himself let out a tiny gasp, but all you do is tuck yourself into his side, winding an arm around his waist. He lets his own wrap around your shoulders as the two of you start walking over to clap the England fans in the corner.

“I’ll keep you posted,” you say, looking up at him, all sweetness. He knows you aren’t, though, because your free hand comes to rest on his stomach as you look up at him. He feels every ab tighten under your touch despite his best efforts, “Guess we’ll just have to keep looking, hm?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, grinning down at you as he tugs you further into him, “If your mate Tiff ever joins us out here, she could be a good option for him, right?”

You push yourself away from him, and its the last thing he wanted. You walk backwards away from him for a few seconds, then shake your head at him with a smile and run to catch up with the rest of the team.

He’s left a little bit awestruck in your wake. He jumps when someone claps him on the back, then turns to see a very smug Rife.

“That bad?”

Jamie huffs out a half-laugh as his eyes go back to following you, watching you congratulate some of the coaches. There’s a little bit of jealousy in his chest even watching you talk with them, and he hates it.

“That bad,” he confirms, still staring at you from afar, “That fucking bad.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt series #be still my foolish heart #as someone who watches a lot of football can i just say this gif is the hottest thing in existence

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strawnarrries · 1 year

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"Should've Picked Me."

Summary: Niall wants a girl on his team for The Voice, but she ends up picking a different coach. She somehow ends up in his dressing room later and apologizes for not picking him. It's cute, but then Niall goes into cocky mode, and he starts talking about what she's missing. He takes off his button up, revealing his tank top. He seduces her, demands she gets on her knees, and he makes her choke and gag, and he makes her admit he's the best and she should've picked him. Lots of arrogance please!

Requested: yes!!!

POV: 2nd

Warning(s): M receiving oral, choking/gagging, dirty talk

You were speechless. All four judges had turned their chairs for you, pretty much arguing with each other over who wanted you the most. You had always had a passion for singing and growing up were constantly told by people around you how talented you were. It was your dream to be a singer but you never thought it would actually work out for you. After much encouragement, your parents finally convinced you to try out for The Voice and so far, it is paying off. You knew you could sing, but all four celebrity judges (who were also all professional, successful singers with amazing voices) were telling you how incredible you were. You couldn't believe it. Your dream was finally coming true.

After all the judges did their speeches, praised you, and begged you to be on their team, you were torn on who to choose. Kelly was one of the celebrities that you adored and always looked up to growing up so little Y/N would die to be on her team. Chance had such a beautiful singing voice that wasn't always portrayed in his songs so being on his team meant being able to hear more of his voice. Blake had that country-ness that you secretly adored, plus he was so funny so you knew you would have so much fun on his team. But Niall, oh you had the biggest crush on that boy. He was so fine. That chocolatey, brunette hair always perfectly styled, the jewelry adorning his earlobes, neck, and fingers, those gorgeous, blue eyes you could get lost in, the facial hair lining his jaw, the chest hair peaking out from under his unbuttoned shirt, his thick Irish accent, his personality, humor, just everything about him made you melt.

"This is such a hard choice," you groaned softly, "but Kelly, you were one of my biggest inspirations growing up so I think I'm gonna have t' go with Team Kelly."

Kelly erupted into cheers, coming up and hugging you so tightly. The 3 boys groaned and grumbled, upset that you didn't choose to be on their team.

"Yer gonna regret that," Niall tsked with his arms crossed.

You blushed and his eye contact with you sent chills up your spine. You brushed it off, trying not to get yourself too worked up over him, knowing nothing would ever come from it.

After all the auditions were over, you and the other contestants were gathered to discuss what the next steps going forward were in regard to the competition. From this point on, your mind was fuzzy. You didn't know if it was the adrenaline, pure shock, or excitement, but you couldn't even remember when or how you got to where you are now. You and Niall were alone in his dressing room.

The door was closed behind him and butterflies were swarming in your stomach as he spoke, "'m mad atcha."

"Why?" you pouted, even though you knew the answer.

"Ya didn't pick me."

"Niall," you whined teasingly, "I had to pick Kelly!"

"Ya did not," he giggled, "I feel so betrayed!"

"Why do you like me so much?" you asked, genuinely curious why he was so eager for you to be on his team.

"Dunno," he shrugged, stepping closer and cupping your face, "just somethin' about ya. Yer confident, gotta beautiful voice, beautiful eyes, beautiful face, beautiful lips."

His voice had gotten much deeper and his accent had begun to get thicker. You could feel the sexual tension filling the air very rapidly and you couldn't help the squeeze of your thighs once you felt your panties start to dampen at his words.

"I wanted ya," he added, "I wanted a pretty girl with a voice of an angel like you on me team."

You couldn't help but blush at his words.

"Yer gonna miss out though," he smirked, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Would've got a lot if ya were on me team."

"I'm sorry," you hummed seductively, "Do you forgive me?"

"Might be able to," he replied, beginning to walk away from you.

"Might?"

"Mhm," he nodded.

His fingers started fumbling with the buttons on his button-up shirt, slowly unbuttoning the buttons and watching as you watched him in awe. He slid his jacket off of his arms and tossed it onto the couch. His muscled arms were revealed to you and the tank top adorning his chest made your mouth water. You noticed the gold necklace still wrapped around his neck and you couldn't help but imagine the sight of it dangling over your face while he fucked in and out of you.

"What can I do t' get you t' forgive me?"

"I can think of a couple things," he hummed, walking towards you again.

"Like what?" you grinned.

He didn't answer you, silence taking over the room as you both stared at each other, curious about who was going to make the first move. The sexual tension in the air was so high you thought you might suffocate. He was so sexy. His blue eyes were clouded over with lust and you noticed his gaze trailing down to your lips.

"'m gonna be honest, it's takin' everythin' in me not t' kiss you right now."

"Then why don't you?" you smirked.

"Fuckin' hell," he groaned to himself.

His lips crashed onto yours, tongue slipping into your mouth and asserting his dominance. He quickly backed you up against the wall, lips moving in sync with yours. His hands gripped your hips tightly, squeezing them as he pushed himself into you. His bulge caressed you exactly where you were already throbbing for him. The slight friction of his hips grinding into you sent relief to wash across your body, but also made you want more at the same time.

It wasn't long before his hands started to wander your body. He grabbed onto the hem of your top and pulled it up over your head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. He pulled the right side of your bra down, revealing your nipple to the cool air. He cupped your breast and squeezed roughly while his lips landed on your neck, leaving marks everywhere they could reach.

His hands trailed down again and slipped past the elastic band on your skirt. He pushed it down your legs and allowed it to pool at your feet before you heeled off your boots and kicked your skirt and shoes in the direction where your shirt landed. Your matching red bra and panty set were now exposed to him. You were thanking your past self for putting on a pair that made you feel sexy rather than an old, ratty pair.

He bit his lip as he lusted over your body, his hands snaking behind your back and undoing your bra. He slipped it off your arms and tossed it to the side. Your nipples pebbled at the temperature change and you suddenly felt very vulnerable, but you weren't complaining.

"Fuck, yer sexy," he growled.

His lips immediately found their way to your left nipple, slipping it past his pink lips and beginning to lick, bite, suck, and nip at the sensitive skin. You moaned out his name, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure making you feel like you could cum on the spot. Your painted fingernails began tugging his brunette locks, messing up his perfectly styled hair, but he didn't seem to mind.

After giving your right nipple the same amount of attention, he pulled away and demanded, "Get on yer knees."

You immediately got down on your knees in front of him, his bulge now face-to-face with you. While unbuckling his black belt and pushing his pants and underwear down his legs, he grumbled, "Really gonna fuckin' regret not pickin' me after I'm done wit' ya."

He was huge. He definitely was the biggest you've ever seen. He was so thick and his tip peaked out from under his foreskin, bright red and oozing precum. Your mouth watered as you admired him before you were broken out of your trance by his accent, "Be a good girl and wrap those pretty lips 'round me."

You instantly obeyed and wrapped your hand around his length, immediately taking him in. You wasted no time, bobbing your head back and forth against him, looking up at him innocently through your mascara-coated eyelashes.

He let out of groan, throwing his head back, "Oh fuck."

He grabbed your long, curled hair between his hands and gathered it into a ponytail, lifting it up out of your face. You continued bobbing your head against him, sucking gently at his throbbing tip each time you came up, palms pumping what your mouth wasn't currently focused on.

His hands soon let your hair fall down to your back again, moving to press them against each side of your face to hold you still, "Stop movin'. 'm gonna fuck yer mouth and den you'll really be wishin' ya said me name up dere."

"Mmm, punish me," you smirked.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed out.

He immediately began thrusting his hips, his member moving in and out of your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat with each entrance and you began to gag on him. Your eyes watered and moans fell from both yours and Niall's lips.

Filthy words left his mouth as he felt his orgasm begin to rise, "Look at cha. Look so fuckin' sexy like dis; gaggin' on me cock, lettin' me use ya like the good girl ya are. I know ya love dis. Such a dirty girl. I bet yer fuckin' soaked right now all 'cause of me."

He wasn't wrong, you were dripping for him. Even though your vision was blurry, you could see the way his jaw was slack, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. Sweat began to seep through his tank top and you couldn't remember the last time a man turned you on as much as Niall was right now.

Your hands wrapped around his thighs to keep you grounded, nails digging into his skin, for sure leaving marks for him to notice tomorrow morning. The curls lining his pelvis tickled your nose when you took him in full and your throat tightened each time you gagged around him, sending him into a moaning mess. His member was coated with your slick saliva, making it that much easier for him to move in and out of your mouth.

"So hot seein' ya like that. 'm fuckin' dat pretty voice outta ya. Won't ever be able t' say anyone's name but mine after 'm done withcha."

Your eyes continued to water every time you gagged on him, tears rolling down your cheeks and your mascara beginning to crease under your eyes. You were throbbing for him, needing some sort of relief. You were sat on your knees so you adjusted yourself slightly so the heel of your foot was placed right against your clothed center. You subtly ground your hips against your heel, the pressure on your throbbing clit being just enough for tension to be lifted.

It wasn't much longer until you felt him begin to twitch in your mouth before he pulled out abruptly, painfully groaning, "Fuck, okay, 'm gonna cum. Needa be in ya."

You stood back up and immediately pressed your lips against his, letting him taste himself on your tongue. You whimpered desperately against him, gripping him tightly, "I need you so bad. I want you t' fuck me so hard."

"Ya know I fuckin' will. 'm gonna fuck ya so hard ya won't be able t' walk tomorrow mornin'," he growled.

You moaned at his words, your lips moving sloppily against his. He pressed you up against the wall again, grabbing your hands that were tugging his hair and pinning them above your head. He held both of your wrists in one hand, the other hand sliding down your body. His fingers dipped into your panties and slipped through your folds, feeling how wet he made you.

"Yer drenched, babe. Drippin' down me fingers."

The pet name he called you sent tingles down your spine and you let out a desperate whimper. You would've been embarrassed at how helpless you sounded but you were so turned on nothing else in the world mattered but him. With his one free hand, he pushed your panties down your smooth legs, letting them pool at your feet before you kicked them off, "Who made ya dis wet, huh?"

"You did," you hummed softly, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation for what's to come next.

"What was dat?" he egged on, fingers sliding up and down your slit to spread your wetness.

"You, Niall!" you moaned, "Fuck, you did."

"Damn right I did," he smirked smugly.

He easily slipped two fingers into your entrance, thrusting them in and out of you. You let out a pornographic moan at the relief, head falling back against the wall and hips bucking up into his hand. He curled his fingers up and wriggled them around, feeling every inch of you. He found that special spot inside of you, just under where your clit is located and your back arched in response. He rubbed over that spot over and over again and you knew it wouldn't be long until you were screaming his name.

His lips attacked your jaw and neck, nipping and sucking at that skin, being sure to leave marks. He began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, his pace quickening with each thrust and you couldn't stop the moans leaving your lips. The sound of your wetness filled the room along with Niall's raspy voice against the skin of your neck, "Gotta getcha nice and ready fer me, huh? 'm gonna stretch ya out real good in just a minute. Best fuck you'll ever have, I can guarantee dat."

His fingers continued to move in and out of you and the knot in your stomach tightened and tightened. He could feel your walls clench around him and your wrists straining against his hands still pinning you against the wall.

"'m gonna cum, oh my god, 'm so close," you whimpered.

Not even a full second later, you felt empty, your high instantly fading. He had slipped his fingers out of you and let go of your wrists. Before you even had time to complain, he ordered, "Go t' the couch and get on yer hands and knees."

You immediately obeyed, getting comfortable on the couch, and waiting impatiently for him. He slipped off his shoes, stepped out of the pool of his pants around his ankles, and pulled off his tank top so you both were now completely naked and exposed to one another.

"Do we need a condom?" he asked.

"No, I have an IUD," you replied.

"Fuckin' perfect," he groaned.

Getting on his knees behind you, he lined himself up with your entrance. You let out a whimper as he slid in, filling you up completely. He was huge. It took you a minute to adjust to him but once you did, you were in pure bliss. He wasted no time and began moving in and out of you at a fast pace, his hips smacking against yours and echoing throughout the room.

"Fuck, yer fuckin' tight," he grunted, fingertips digging into the skin of your hips as he watched himself move in and out of you, his member glistening with your arousal, "Haven't ever been properly fucked before, have ya?"

"Ni-Niall," you moaned, your breath hitching in your throat as you clenched around him, feeling every inch of him against your walls.

"Dat's right, say my name. Fuckin' regretting not sayin' it up on stage now aren't ya?"

You moaned out his name louder this time, feeling your orgasm begin to rise again. The sound of your wetness and his hips slapping against yours reverberated off the dressing room walls. He felt so good inside of you. You were dreaming of this the second you saw him turn his chair around for you in that sexy outfit and smug look on his face.

With each thrust of his hips, his swollen tip hit your spot perfectly, sending pleasure throughout your body. You clenched around him, feeling every ridge and vein on his member against your slick walls. You were supporting yourself on your elbows, your ass in the air for him. He had the perfect view of you. The arch of your back and the thickness of your ass were all he had in his mind at the moment. That and the fact that this sexy girl didn't choose to be on his team.

"Ya regrettin' not pickin' me now?"

"Oh god, Niall, yes," you moaned.

"Bet ya are."

His tip continued to reach that special spot inside of you, going so deep with every thrust of his hips. You were in pure bliss right now. A man has never made you feel this good in your entire life. You had expected Niall to be good in bed, but you never expected it to be this good. Your body was on fire, he made you feel so good, you couldn't help the moans that left your lips. You didn't care who was listening on the other side of the door, all you were capable of doing was screaming his name.

He leaned down slightly, his back pressed against yours as his right arm slid around your waist and held you against him. His thrusts became shorter at the new position, his tip now slightly rubbing that special spot inside of you.

"None of those other judges can make ya feel as good as I'm makin' ya feel right now, huh?" he hummed into your ear.

"Mm mm," you whimpered, "You feel so good. You're so deep."

"Can ya feel me in yer stomach?"

"Oh fuck, y-yes, yes," you breathed out, struggling to let the words leave your lips as your breath hitched in your throat.

His lips began attacking your neck, nipping and sucking anywhere they could reach. You let out a pathetic moan when he kissed just below your ear; that was your sweet spot. He began sucking and nipping extra at that spot, causing chills to run down your spine. His lips were wet and slightly cold against your burning skin. You could feel his warm breath fanning across your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin.

As he sat up again, he slipped out of you. Grabbing onto your hips, he comfortably repositioned himself before lining his tip up with your dripping entrance and immediately pounding back into you. His pace was fast and hard, desperately chasing both of your highs. Your orgasm was just around the corner. You knew it wouldn't be long until you were releasing all over him, screaming his name for the entire arena to hear.

"Should've picked me, huh?" he hummed, lifting his hand from your hip and landing it across the curve of your ass in a solid spank.

"Mhm," you whimpered.

"Say it."

"Fuck, Niall, yes! I should've picked you. You're the b-best judge up there and it was st-stupid for me to not pick you. Fuck, you feel so good." You struggled to get your words out, the pleasure being too much for you and your breath hitching in your throat once again.

"'bout t' make ya cum, aren't I?"

"Yes, oh my god, please don't stop, 'm so close," you whimpered, desperate for a release.

"Tell me how good I am and I'll let ya cum," he grunted.

"So good, Niall. No one else has ever made me feel this good. You're so fuckin' big, fill me up perfectly. I never want you t' stop. Fuck, it feels s-so good." Moans, whimpers, and praises continued to spill from your lips. His thrusts got quicker and harder with each compliment that left your mouth and you knew it would only be seconds before you were releasing on him.

You reached down underneath your body and pressed your fingers to your clit, rubbing it side to side sloppily to bring you to the edge. Your moans got louder and more pornographic as the knot in your stomach unraveled and your orgasm took over your entire body in waves of pleasure. Your face was buried into the cushions, muffling the sounds you were creating. You could see stars behind your eyelids and your toes curled against his calves in pleasure.

Your high slowly began dropping and you could feel him twitch inside of you before filling you up completely with his warm release. A new wave of pleasure washed through your body and you shivered in response. Sexy groans fell from his lips as he carried himself through his orgasm, soon both of you coming down from the high with heavy breaths.

You both collapsed on the couch, his chest resting against your back before you whined, his body weight being too much. He slid in behind you, spooning you as you both dwelled in the aftermaths of your orgasms.

It wasn't long before you spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence, "That was the best sex I've ever had."

"Well duh," he replied.

He got up from the couch, walked towards the rack that held all his clothes, and began to get dressed in a fresh outfit; a lot more casual than the one he wore on stage.

There was a cute grin on his pink lips while he spoke his next words, making you roll your eyes teasingly, "Should've picked me."

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ronika-writes-stuff · 20 days

Text

Thoughts on Ishan :

(and ict in general)

1. When he opted out of India's test squad before our series with S. Africa....I knew... I KNEW it will be a long time before we'll get to see him playing for India again.

And then few weeks later Rahul Dravid said in a press conference... He can come back... Just play domestic.... My heart sank.

Here's the thing, I don't blame him at all for taking a break due to mental fatigue.

I fully support his decision as well. He prioritised himself and that's good.

But my dude... If I was your friend, if I was there with you... I wouldn't have let you go.

I would have grabbed his trousers and refused to let go. This is team India. You take one step back and 10 other people are standing right behind you ready to take your place.

Shubhman gill was hyped up so much... Remember his 126 in 63 balls against New Zealand?

But he faltered.

And Today he's in reserve.

Jaiswal is going to be our new opener in all 3 formats very soon. And there's nothing wrong with that. The guy earned it.

Ishan left the South Africa Series and a month later during the india Vs England test Series Jurel was picked and he did an excellent job.

Now imagine... Imagine if Ishan was there instead... If ishan had scored those 90 runs.....he would have made his place permanent.

I'll repeat myself.... I don't blame him for leaving... But he should have thought this through. Especially when a guy like Rahul Dravid is your coach.

(he's the same guy who gave declaration during a test match when Sachin Tendulkar was about to score a century. He's not as innocent as he looks.)

Another thing which really hurts me is how so many people complain about him being benched and then dropped but Yaar....there are tons of players who have gone through this.

Even Ashwin was benched. He said in an interview that when his team would win he wouldn't even feel like going in the ground to congratulate them coz of how hurt he felt.

It happens.

Anyways My overall opinion on this drama is :

1. I support him for leaving.

2. But I hate that he left.

3. A block of ice would be a better coach than Rahul Dravid.

Anyways... Jo hogaya so hogaya.

What I want now is for him to focus on his future.

And He can start by leaving Mumbai Indians.

MI was the team who would pick young players, groom and invest in them and make them capable enough for team India.

The MI we have seen this year is no longer that team. It doesn't matter how many reels their insta page puts out, the atmosphere of that team is tense, awkward and a hot mess.

If Mumbai really cared about a future captain as they claimed.... They should have made Ishan their new captain...like how csk and gt did with ruturaj and gill.

But oh well.

Right now... The best he can do is keep himself fit, play domestic and leave MI at THE EARLIEST.

That team, it's atmosphere, the mismanagement and inner conflicts (believe me, they exist) will not help him at all.

Imo, he doesn't need a team to grow. He has developed a good skill set. What he needs now is a stage.

A team like Kkr, RR or Gt will be great for that because these teams don't drop Their players after 1 or 2 matches... Have good coaches, stable environment and a good atmosphere overall.

Ishan is an excellent wicket keeper + batsman and the type of cricket he plays is best suited for t20 format (one day and test also but especially t20).

Whether we win or lose this t20 world cup... This one is the last one for our senior players.

After that, our youngsters will take charge (at least they should).

Yashasvi and Abhishek should be our openers.

Gill, rutu and Riyan would perfect be for middle order.

Ishan, with his explosive batting style, would be the perfect finisher.

Also... This dumb culture of batters not learning bowling (encouraged by this stupid impact rule) that has developed in the Indian team needs to STOP.

Look at Australia and New Zealand's t20 squad. Look at how many all rounders they have.

Look at ours. We won the 2007 cup because of all rounders as well.

Also... We cage our players. We hold them back. A player like Travis head is playing with such ferocity because his style and mindset is supported by his captain, his team and his media.

Meanwhile... If an Indian player attempts to do the same and doesn't make a big score in 2 -3 matches... He'll be benched instantly.

Another thing... If we look up the stats of our players in this year's t20 wc squad...

Except virat, Bumrah and maybe kuldeep ...everyone else is on ram bharose.

When players like n. reddy, ishan, rutu, gill, Riyan, natrajan... will be groomed and given enough opportunities....their aggressive style will be supported instead of criticized.... that's when we will win trophies.

@fangirlingintellectual @roseromeroredranger @snowcloudsss

@ishuess @bimesskaira

#desiblr #indian cricket team #cricket #ict #ishan kishan #ipl2024 #ishman #shubhman gill #shubman x ishan #shubish #rohitsharma #virat kohli #world cup #t20worldcup

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noaltbruh · 1 year

Note

Hello! Can I request bucci gang with fem s/o who had a military background? She's stern, disciplined, can bark out orders and be your biggest life coach like it's nothing, her raw physical power is inhumane to the point she rarely use her stand, overall just give you military general vibe. But later when the mc and one of the members starts dating, she shows her sentimental side and surprisingly a kinda awkward simp lmao

That's it I hope you have a good day💖

Oh! This request was quite original for sure 😄 But it was fun writing it! And thank you for asking me to write stuff or I'd basically be playing Octopath 2 during all my free time-

Bucci gang with a S/O with a military background

Giorno 🐞

Needless to say, Giorno really respects you not only as a person, but also as a precious ally and colleague.

He thinks highly of you since you're so stern and disciplined, he knows he can rely on you when there's something he cannot handle on his own.

He sometimes comes to you for advice, he just feels like he can trust your judgement.

Okay, can I just say he's a bit startled by how...Aggressively encouraging you are? He thinks it's pretty fun, but he must admit he's very impressed by just how energetic you can be, mixed with your firm behavior as well.

He will never, ever say it out loud...But this boy is a bit intimidated by your physical power to be honest. Okay, he's pretty muscular, but he's not nearly as strong as you are.

He knows this fear is dumb since his stand easily makes up for it, but he can't help it and it embarrasses him greatly. With that being said, he still looks up to you for the effort you put into maintaining such physical conditions.

Of course, seeing your personality shift when you got into a relationship surprised him at first glance, but thinking about it, he can't say he couldn't have seen it coming.

After all, you just HAD to be hiding something more to you behind your military façade. He knows it well since he's the first to mask himself.

He doesn't hesitate to take advantage of this other part of you though. He'll try his absolute hardest to cluster and make you away as soon as he realizes how awkward you actually are.

He'll actually call you cute quite often and probably giggle seeing you all embarrassed, but he never holds malicious intentions whatsoever. He simply thinks you're adorable.

He warmly welcomes your romantic side too, being quite romantic himself, although it may not be very clear at first glance. He'll reserve fancy dinners, grow flowers and buy you the most beautiful roses as a way to keep up with your lovely antics, he can't afford to fall short.

Bruno 🤐

Bruno's brain is low-key trying to process your existence, since you're so different from the rest of his team-

That doesn't mean he does not appreciate you, he really does! It's just... He'd always been used to be the one who gives orders and supports his men, not the other way around.

So, seeing you do what is usually his responsibility and duty highly catches him off guard, but he's quite thrilled by it at the same time, which is what first causes him to developed this of admiration for you.

But be prepared for him to still encourage and guide you whenever he gets the chance to. He thinks it's a good way to indirectly tell you that you're allowed to rely on others too sometimes and you don't always have to be strong.

With that being said, he thinks very highly of you because of your sterness and discipline, you get stuff done when it's necessary and he doesn't hesitate to praise you if you did a good job...Which is pretty much always.

He may even give you some of the hardest jobs, but never too much to overwhelm you. He knows you have limits like everyone else and respects them.

While he does think that your raw strength is impressive, he'll also push you to use your stand more and train to fight with it too.

It's not that he doesn't think you're powerful, but some situations just HAVE to be handled through stands, you can't risk.

He's obviously taken aback by your sudden change, you're just so different from the person he had grown accustomed to. Even so, he must say he's quite happy about this too. After all, it is truly a sign that you're willing to let your guard down around him and be yourself more.

Although he did not expect you to simp and get all bashful as soon as he started to court you...

...And most of all, to court him back as soon as you got the hang of it. It does highly pleas him though, it's really nice to know that good ol' romanticism still exists outside of him.

All these different aspects to your personality only stimulate his curiosity towards you, he truly think you're a unique one and he won't rest until he gets to see everything you have to offer.

Mista 🔫

Nah buddy you don't understand how cool Mista thinks you are.

Honestly he's just astounded by your physical strength, he didn't even think someone could possibly be that ripped to the point where's you wouldn't even have to use your powers.

You low-key scare him, but there's no way in hell he's going to admit that. He also wants to be stoped and crushed by you, but he won't be saying that either.

The pistols love to be around you because of your whole vibe, but number five in particular likes you a lot because he feels safe in your presence and knows the others won't mess with him if you're there.

He's a fan of your praises and hype, he's sperate vero confident, bug having someone else's supports always feels good, doesn't it.

Probably didn't follow your orders at first and thought you were just joking around, then he saw your killer look and went "shit", before immediately doing what you told him-

Despite the respect he has for you, he can't help but think that you worry way too much about stuff and you need to learn how to relax a bit.

Because of this, he'll goof around and make jokes even more when you're near him than usual. He wants to help you to let loose a bit and become more chill.

Honestly, he thinks it's thanks to him that you changed so much once you got together lol.

Once he realizes you're just a huge simp, he'll look for all sorts of ways to embarrass and fluster you, it basically becomes one of his favorite hobbies. If he went too far, you might have to punch him to make him stop, not that he'd mind tho.

Mista's not a very romantic person, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate your own romantic side. The fancy dates, all those sweet words and moments are surely quite different from most relationships Mista's ever had, but that's also why he likes them. They're a new territory, and he's all in for that.

Narancia 🍊

Mommy? SORRY-...Mommy?

You can't tell me this isn't true. You think you're a simp? You've got Narancia on his knees simply by existing.

Literally, just say the word and he'll come running for your, hanging from your finger, following whatever order you may give him and completing him exactly like you told him to.

Please, support him and encourage him whenever he gets stuff done right. This boy lives for your approval and hearing you give him advice or tell him he did a good job will make him 10 times more motivated to get anything done.

He's a bit insecure about himself, so knowing you think positively of him reassures him a lot.

Speaking of which, he knows he's safe in your presence, and it's a great source of comfort for him.

Honestly, he thinks your whole super stern and collected behavior is super badass, he loves how you can keep your cool even in tough situations and you never seem to snap like he does. He just wants to be like you sooo badly!

You gotta stop his jaw from falling to the ground when he sees you beat the hell out of an enemy. After staring at you in awe for a second, he'll remember he needs to help you fight and will gladly join in kicking the dude to death.

With that being said, he'll spend the entre nighr staring at the ceiling and thinking about awesome you looked-

In case you haven't noticed, he'd quite muscular himself, he wants to train with you too! His dream is to become as powerful as you are, but if he can't, just training knowing you're by side, and showing off he can also be strong is enough for him.

Okay, when your personality begins to shift, Orange boy is so lost. It's not that he doesn't like you anymore of anything, he's just...Confused. You're so different from the Y/N he's used to.

With that being said though, he quickly gets used to this change, and he's all in for that! Honestly, the fact that you sometimes come off as a bit awkward just makes it easier for him to empathize with your feelings, since he'd most definitely be very nervous around you out of pure embarrassment during your first conversations.

But he takes your simping deep admiration for him as a way to show off to you! He's gonna prove he's just as badass as you are, he wants to leave you speechless and will give everything he has to impress you, no holding back!

This boy is 100% a hopeless romantic, although he's bad at putting his lovely dovey ideas into practise, mostly because he's very clumsy and he'd probably set the kitchen on fire trying to make a nice candlelight dinner-

Because of this, knowing you're alike when it comes to romanticism reassures him. He knows that even if he messes up sometimes, you'll still always appreciate his effort and the energy he puts in his sweet gestures for you.

Moreover, no matter what you may do or organize with Nari, like watching the moon together or dedicating a song to him, he'll cherish it forever and ever in his heart. Every romantic moment you two share become a core memory that he's constantly going to think back to and smile without even realizing it.

He'll always love you, no matter what side of yourself you may be showing :)♡

Fugo 🍓

My friend, Fugo's afraid of you-

Have you seen this guy? He feels like a wimp compared to you, he's genuinely afraid you're just gonna take him and rip his bones in half.

When he does start to realize that you'd never do that, however, he begins to feel...Relived by your presence, in a sense. You just seem like someone he can rely on, which puts him at ease.

Also, you're one of the few people in the house who aren't constantly annoying or trying to piss him off. You're serious and he knows he can have a mildly intelligent conversation with you.

You're a good partner on missions too. He respects the way you're so determined on upholding your duty and don't mess around, he's faithful that any enemy you may face is screwed as long as he's got you with him.

He understands why you'd prefer to rely on your physical force rather than your stand, he doesn't like using Purple Haze either. Even so, he does partially think that it's a bit of a waste not to put it in action, since yours doesn't put everything and everyone in danger as soon as it shows up.

Okay let's be honest, boy's probably got the physical strength of a little girl, unless he's angry.

Therefore, some advice or words of encouragement from you are always more than welcomed, they push him to better himself while still reminding him that he's already doing fine.

When you show him your more sentimental and awkward side, Fugo gets you so well. He may seem smart and all but he's an embarrassing simp himself.

So, you guys go together like two peas in a pod, you just feel very understood by the other and don't fear their judgment at all. You're both messes so you cancel your goofiness out.

Your romantic side is gonna get him so flustered. He blushes easily and has most likely never been in a relationship before, so this kind of...Ahem, behavior, makes him scream inside, but with joy for once.

He'll try to organize something romantic for you in return, and it'll be either the most well-crafted, prepared and unique date ever...Or a total disaster. Either way, his effort is admirable.

Abbacchio ⏪

I'm sorry but Abbacchio couldn't stand you at first.

Your whole behavior just reminds him too much of the person he used to be, and just looking at you feels like looking at himself in a broken mirror.

Tries to avoid you as much as he can, and when it's not possible, he's the rudest, meanest, coldest fucker around.

The two of you only started to get along after you either saved or was a huge help to him during a mission. He was taken aback by your raw sstrength, but literally all he did once this was over was calling you a moron for not using your stand.

Secretary, he thought it was the most badass scene he's ever assisted to in his life. No, he'll never say it directly, screw you.

Complains and claims that he isn't going to follow your orders, before doing exactly that. If you were to brought that up, he'll interrupt the conversation as soon as possible and simply tell you that he did it because he wanted to, not because you told him to or anything.

He acts annoyed everyone you encourage or hype him up, saying that he doesn't need your support, but from the way he always looks away and lacks his usual bitterness in his tone, you can tell that he secretly appreciates your efforts.

Slowly, very slowly, but surely, you begin to notice small shifts and changes in the way he treats you. He doesn't look at you with disgust, willingly follows your advice and overall feels more comfortable in your presence, even cracking a few smiles here and there.

You end up becoming a huge source of inspiration to him. He still sees a lot of the person he used to be whenever you're near him, yet he doesn't view it in a negative light anymore.

A small part of Abbacchio wants to go back to be the man with the string sense of justice he once used to be. You're a constant reminder that just because he made a mistake, that doesn't mean he can't make up for it or has to live stick in the past forever.

And just when he starts to respect you... You change too-

What the?- Is this really the Y/N he knows? The stern, serious one? The wise one? The responsible one?

Is he startled? Yes, yes absolutely. Then again, he HAS to admit to himself that you being in his life has led to him modifying his own behavior quite a lot, so he shouldn't be that surprised about you being different from your usual self as well.

He's not the best with your awkward or sensitive side, but he does what he can. He knows that emotional support is something he just has to give in a relationship, so he sucks it up and never makes you feel embarrassed for what you do or say.

He's most likely amused by your romantic nature and may think it's kinda cheesy, but he secretly loves it with all his heart, and wouldn't trade it for anything else.

Trish 🎙

Ok, Trish is a bit conflicted when it comes to you.

Like- she doesn't really have anything against you particularly. The thing is, she sort of has very split opinions concerning your behavior.

For example, she admires how stern and professional you are, how you seem to always have stuff under control and never be scared.

At the same time, however, the thinks that you sometimes take things way too seriously, you should learn to let loose a bit more and just enjoy life at it this.

Because of this, she tries to get you to break free from your shell and probably takes you dancing or shopping whenever she has the opportunity to.

Another example is that she loves when you act as her personal life coach. She's a very self-confident going lady and lives for praise...Especially from you, although don't expect her to tell you this often. You're always there to motivate her even on those rare occasions when she isn't feeling her best, she adores you for this.

BUT, she can't stand when you act all pushy and boss her around, she deposed being told what to do and there's a high chance she won't listen to you if she doesn't agree with you...At least during early times.

She'll become more willing to follow your advice if you're patient with her, but she'll always make it very clear that she doesn't think it's the best option.

No but like- the first time she saw you fight, her only thought was "Wtf?!"

She didn't think someone could possibly be as strong as you are, she just exchange concerns looks with Spice girl while encouraging you herself, even if you're already doing great.

"YAAAAS QUEEN SLAAAAY"

Honestly, she doesn't question your personality shift too much. She knows that'd how people are: the more you get to know them, the more you realise they're fundamentally different from what you actually thought of them.

And honestly, since she does also begin to show her softer side herself when you get together, knowing you won't think less of her for being open about her feelings truly makes her glad to have chosen you as her partner.

In return, no matter how awkward you can be, you can expect Trish to 100% support and be there for you at any given time. Although she will tease you for getting flustered if she got the chance to.

She lives for your romantic side, it's literally her ideal relationship coming true. Being courted and loved and feeling all special...God, she adores it.

Rambles to the others about your romantic gestures all the time and will hit in the face with her boot anyone who dares call you cheesy ^^

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futbol16 · 2 years

Text

Wildest Dreams ・Leah Williamson

The story doesn't follow the exact happenings of the Euros but it's pretty much the same, though doesn't go too much into detail anyways.

Part 1 I Promised

Part 3 My Baby Sister

This is part 2.

Word count: 2,1k

A comfort person, a person that makes someone feel less worried, upset, frightened.

You were Leah’s comfort person and everyone knew it, your club teammates, the lionesses, hell, even the fans saw it.

The only person that hasn’t yet realized it was Leah. All she knew was that you made her feel happy and safe and that she liked being close to you.

The first time your club team noticed just how deep the connection was between the two of you was during a match, Arsenal vs Tottenham.

It had been a particularly hard match with a lot of aggression shown from both teams and your team walked off the pitch at halftime with a 0-1 to the opposing team.Everyone was frustrated at their lack of performance and as you enter the locker room you look around taking in your teammates’ expressions.

You sigh as you spot your best friend hunched over in her seat angrily untying and retying her cleats. Leah could feel your presence before you had even placed your hand on her thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

She immediately turns to you and her hard face immediately crumbles as she allows herself to be open with you.

“Hey come on, we still have another 45 minutes to go. Nothing is decided yet.” you try to cheer her up a bit, it seemingly is not working as she frowns.

“I already feel like I’ve let down the team, imagine me on the pitch for the second half.” she sighs heavily, shoulders slumping as she stares in front of her. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well I do. You’re gonna get yourself together, we all are, and we’re gonna go out there and show them what a true gooner is made of!” you said turning to the rest of your teammates by the end of your sentence who all nod and let out encouraging shouts of their own. You turn back at Leah who now holds a determined look on her face. Standing up you pull her up with you and pat her bottom as you walk through the tunnel, ready for the game to continue.

The second the final whistle blows you feel someone collide with your back before jumping on it, arms wrapping around your neck as they giggled happily, their blonde hair falling into your face. You smile up at Leah as the rest of your team joins the group hug.

“I told you you could do it.”

“We did it.” she corrects you with a cheeky smile.

You felt a heavy sense of pride flood your body when you read over the England Lionesses squad call up as you spotted your own name. You’ve always been a great asset to the team, someone they heavily relied on, but knowing that even the new coach wanted you on the team had all your worries dissipate.

Now you stood with the lionesses after one of the Euros qualifying games, ready for the team picture to be taken.

You listen to the camera crew give a few of the girls directions and you look at the row of players standing behind you, however you’re suddenly distracted by someone shaking their leg and you move your eyes upward also noticing the fingers drumming on the side of their thigh.

As your eyes reach the head of the person, you’re met with two eyes staring back at you with a pleading look in their eyes as they bite their lip. You were familiar with that look, in fact, you knew it too well.

You usually crouched between Georgia and your sister on team photos, you suddenly stand up from your place and kindly ask Beth to take up your place and pat Lucy’s back as you see the confused look on her face.

Squeezing yourself next to Leah, your hand immediately goes to where it usually is and you give her waist a squeeze, one that she reciprocates as her fingers finally stop drumming on her leg.

Leah’s whole body relaxes at your closeness, something that the rest of the team is painfully aware of, but you ignore it as the cameraman finally takes the picture.

She leans close to you, muttering a small thank you and you only smile back at her reassuringly.

Amanda and Jacob, Leah’s mom and brother, always knew how important your presence was to Leah having experienced the calm wave you brought with you on multiple occasions. You had spent half your childhood in the Williamson household growing up with Leah in the academy’s system. The two of you had spent every free second together, always up to something or messing around with a ball at your feet in one of the parks closest to their home.

It was one of the few reasons Leah’s mom wasn’t overly worried about Leah being away from home for international camps, she knew you’d do anything to keep her daughter safe.

The Euros was both physically and mentally exhausting, but you knew you were doing this not only for yourselves, but also the little girls you once were who wished to play in a girls football team.

This final was a very important final if not the most important one in your career so far and as you stood in the tunnel of the Wembley stadium you will yourself to focus on the match ahead.

The fans were screaming at the top of their lungs, the crowd at an insane number ready for their team to win on home grounds. You were just as ready, you’ve been dreaming about this day, the day you’d win the biggest European championship and lift the trophy with England.

At halftime both countries were still at a 0-0 the players hungry for a chance at scoring. You sat in your cubby as you took a breather, trying to get yourself ready mentally.

Much like always, you looked around at the rest of the girls noticing a scowl on a lot of their faces. Exhaling, you slapped your thighs as you stood up, earning the attention of some of the players.

You made your way around the room whispering encouraging words to the girls, clapping them on their backs as you received determined nods back, unaware of the pair of eyes watching as you moved around.

The way you cared about your teammates was something a lot of people admired about you, your ability to lift someone’s mood in a matter of seconds was fascinating.

Leah smiled softly as you talked to Ella before pulling the girl into a side hug. Similar to the one she was witnessing, Leah was pulled into a stronger body as Lucy smiled at her teasingly, she blushed at that.

“She’s so good at that, always knows how to approach people and what to say.” Lucy’s smile turned into a softer one as she as well watched you, Ellen and Jill soon joining in on the encouraging words you were spreading.

“She’s amazing.” Leah smiled fondly as you shot her a wink.

“You seem to really be liking my baby sister.” Lucy raised an eyebrow though the playful smile she sent the blonde assured her that she approved of the situation.

“She’s hard not to like.” she chuckled before you approached the two, Lucy planting a kiss on your head as you were told the game would resume in a minute.

England’s joy didn’t last long as the German team equalized in the 79th minute of the match and the playing style of both teams turned a bit more aggressive as the time ticked away on the clock.

With the time running out, tackles were sent at any of you running with the ball and you ended up on the turf on more than one occasion in the last five minutes of the 90.

The lionesses were trying their best to keep the ball away from the Germans while also trying to advance on their goal. It wasn’t until the 110th minute of the match when Chloe sent the ball towards the goal, the ball somehow being saved or blocked by the many legs and it was sent outside the penalty box.

Both you and Oberdorf ran after the ball and with the show of a few skills you managed to outsmart the young player and you looked up to pass to one of your teammates.

Shit, you thought, everyone was marked by either one or several German players and you momentarily stilled as you contemplated what to do.

“Shoot!” Ellen’s voice rang out loud, almost louder than the shouts of the fans. You looked up once more before sending a powerful shot towards the goal as you heard Oberdorf catch up with you.

The whole stadium held their breaths as the ball went sailing towards the top right corner of the goal before hitting the back of the net with a swoosh.

Cheers and screams were heard, the fans and your team jumping up and down and you took off running around the pitch. You were screaming as you pulled your jersey over your head and waved it around above your head like a mad woman, the girls running after you as they piled on top of you in celebration.

For the remaining few minutes your team made sure to not let any of the Germans near the ball and the second the final whistle was blown you were jumping into the arms of your older sister who spun you around, the both of you letting out joyous laughs.

You were on top of the world, or well on top of Europe as Lucy would phrase it later, and you celebrated with each and every member of your team, from players to staff and your coach, Sarina who was ecstatic at the win.

Looking over to the other side of the pitch your smile fell at the sorrowful looks on the Germans’ faces and you made your way over to them, pulling each of them into a hug and telling them they played a wonderful game. It was greatly appreciated by them, something that surprised you and you hoped you’d get a similar reaction as you approached the brunette sitting on the turf.

You crouched in front of Lena as you gently removed the hands covering her face.

“I’m so sorry.” you told her as you tried wiping away her tears, she nodded at your words before pulling you towards her and you wrapped her up in a hug praising her for the player she was and the game she’d played.

Pulling her up from the ground you gave her another hug before guiding her towards one of her teammates who gave you a thankful smile. You were patted on the head and shoulders by many of the German players as you made your way back towards your own team.

You celebrated with them, jumping up and down, singing sweet Caroline at the top of your voices, grinning at the fans dancing along. Feeling arms wrap around you from behind, you turn around to be met with a tearful Leah, a bright smile on her face as she hugs you tight.

“You were an amazing Captain, you did so good! Not just today, all throughout the games.”you told her proudly and she leaned back a bit the look into your eyes.

“You played so fucking good out there, oh gosh Y/N I’m so proud of you!” she admitted with a sniffle and you felt your eyes watering. Standing there with your best friend and captain in your arms, you watched as Leah searched your eyes before they flicked lower and back up.

Slightly parting your lips you saw her eyes linger on your lips for a second and you silently gave her a small nod.

Leah didn’t need more encouragement as she closed the distance between the two of you, her hands settling on the back of your neck as she placed her lips on yours in a passionate kiss.

Cheers of the fans were blocked out as you focused on the feel of her soft lips and the butterflies erupting in your stomach, before a handful of confetti was dumped over the two of you.

Parting from the kiss you looked up at Lucy as she grinned at the two of you, causing the blush on your cheeks to intensify.

Lifting the trophy with your teammates, your best friends and your sister, felt better than it ever could’ve in any of your dreams and you knew your throats would be sore tomorrow, the bus ride would be filled with cheers and singing as well.

Glancing to your right to see Leah’ eyes already on you, the two of you sent each other big smiles as you were once again pulled into a group hug, your fingers intertwining with hers.

You hadn’t only won the trophy of your wildest dreams, but also the girl of your dreams.

#woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #lucy bronze x reader #futbol16

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groundzerosgirlfriend · 1 year

Text

A Girl on A Boy's BasketBall Team

Chapter 1: A Meeting With Red & Blue

E/n- Enemy Name

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be the best right?"

"If anything it's in our genetic coding as humans."

"Strive for the best and you'll become the best."

Bright florescent gym lights that leave you partially blind, obnoxious tennis shoes squealing and squeaking as they slide and glide across the freshly waxed floor, the smell of sweat and B.O from teenage girls that desperately try to forget it exists by drowning it with overly flowery perfume and wayyy to minty gum, the crash of the rim as another basket is made scoring 2 more points, it's all so tantalizing.

So why? Why am I currently being yelled at by my coach, as my "teammates" whisper and jeer at me in the corner of the gym? Those sluts, with their toothpaste ad smiles and their gold flaked nails I'll show them who to laugh at when I dunk on their asses. They aren't even fucking good at the game, they only play for attention, to scared to break a nail or even to much of a sweat.

"This is the 3rd backboard your daughter has broken in a month." Your coach grumbles bitterly, fidgeting her foot up and down on the maple floor planks "The school really can't afford to keep replacing these monthly.

"Can't we jus' send a check to the school to replace the backboards." Your mother suggests boredly, as she pulls out a spare checkbook from her pocket scribbling numbers and scrolling through her phone simultaneously.

"Well it's not only that... your daughter she's an awful team player, she refuses to pass the ball to anyone else, all her teammates feel neglected on the court" Your coach backs away, her eyes longing yet, hesitantly rejecting the check your mother is waving towards her in her hand."But their winning right." Your father queries, cutting your coach's complaints short. "My princess's team is bringin' home the gold every time." Your dad rubs the top of your head playfully smushing your hair in the process as you whine and stomp for him to quit it. He obliges to your request of course, but not smacking you lightly on the back of your neck causing you to jump away from him.

"How many points did you score in practice today hunnie." Your mom scribbles more numbers on the checkbook paper after examining it again. "38 points mum." You fiddle with the hem of your jersey shirt nervously already knowing what to expect.

Your mother gives you "the glance" and clicks her teeth, not in disappointment you've come to understand, but more so in encouragement. "You can do better than that hunnie."

"Your mother is right princess, we need at least 50 points per session practice or not." Your father hands you 38 dollars from his brown leather wallet tucked away in his back pocket, to which you gladly accept. "Yeah I know, but it ain't my fault Coach, wouldn' let me play at all." You point your finger and blame accusingly at your Coach, who's face has begun to morph into annoyance from being ignored and spoken over.

"No excuses hunnie." Your mother places phone down and digs her free hand into her purse to hand you 38 dollars as well. "Fine..." You place the two sets of money in your wallet and groan slipping it into your sports bra. "Moving on ladies."

Your father breaks the tension in the area with his signature grin. "My princess will see you tomorrow right at practice right Coach." Your father gives the woman an even toothier grin along with a smooth chuckle, causing your "teammates" to swoon in unison, as he takes the check from his wife. "We'll jus' drop this off at the front desk and take our leave."

"Coach did you tell 'em yet."

"The team is ready to start practice again." A snobbish voice is heard from behind your Coach. She averts her eyes nervously and rubs her hands together. "I'm letting them know right now E/n."

"Oh, hi Mr. and Mrs. L/N." A girl with long silver hair tied in a high ponytail with a black ribbon strides over to your Coach standing beside her confidently. Her hands were placed sassily on her waist, hiding a mischievous smirk. She shoots daggers through her eyes at you for a moment as you both make eye contact, and quickly turns to smile sweetly at your Coach and parents. "Well hurry, we're all ready to finish the quarter."

"Let us know what?" Your mother questions, as you hand your schoolbag over to your father, who willingly takes it. Your coach clears her throat awkwardly, the whole room becoming deathly quiet. Slowly, you rummage through your mother's handbag for a stick of gum, placing the wrapper back into her bag.

She gives you another "glance" this time more fed up, and snaps her fingers rapidly. "What were you lettin' us know Coach." Your mother slides a pair of encrusted shades onto her face.

"We have places to be, my daughter needs a new pair of sneakers for next week's game and has a photoshoot in a few hours."

"Your daughter's off the team." Your coach says bluntly, as you hear E/n and the entire team snicker. "What the hell are you sayin' Coach." The dribbling of a basketball in your hand starts, as you raise an eyebrow at your coach waiting on a response. "All of your teammates think your a selfish player Y/N, and I'd rather lose one player rather than the whole team."

"So until you can prove that your ready to treat this team and I with some respect and sportsmanship you're off the team."

"Tch, really Coach is that how it is." "You're gonna' get rid of your most valuable player." The ball your dribbling rolls away from you, and E/n snatches it, spinning it around on her pointer finger, a fake sense of disappointment that you can detect from a mile away radiating from her voice.

"Maybe you shouldn't have been so selfish angel~." You ball your fists in pure anger, hissing your teeth loudly. "Don't call me that you skank." Your father rests a hand on your shoulder "Calm down princess."

"But father I-" Your sentence is cut short. "Let it be, if your off the team, it's final." Your mothers says bluntly, as a lump forms in your throat and you excuse yourself outside. You swing the gym doors open, ignoring the cruel headache inducing laughs of your teammates.

And in a fit of rage you punch a wall over and over, the jagged surface bruising your knuckles. "It's not fair." "Not fair." "Not fair." Not fair." You mumble repeatedly, turning around and leaning against the wall you had just finished assaulting.

You slump down onto the floor and bury your head in your arms. "Why do it matter, if I'm a team player or not." "They shoulda been grateful I was on they shitty ass team anyway." "That stupid skank E/n, has nothing better to do obviously." You hear the crunching of gravel as footsteps approach you and quickly you assume them to be your parents, but blinded by anger, you don't look up from your self-pity.

Two presences tower over you as you sit huddled in a ball, rudely snap at the figures. "What the hell do y'all want, I don't need no lecture or nothin'" "It's obvious yall didn't mind lettin' me get kicked of the team so go away."

"You've got the wrong people." A voice scoffs. Even more annoyed, you look up to see a tall and muscular red-headed man? His aura is quite intimidating as he looks down at you. "I'm not supposed to talk to older men." You bury your head in your arms once again.

"What the hell!" "I'm a teenage boy, do you not see the uniform." He grabs your hand and places it on his school uniform. "Whateva.. and tell your friend to stop standin' behind me like a weirdo." You pull your hand away and pick yourself up off the ground and turn around to see a pale boy with light blue hair.

"You noticed I was behind you." The blue-haired boy speaks quietly, his straight face matching his tone of voice. "Of course I did, you ain't Casper the ghost or sum shit." You look at him confused "I think I'm jus' gonna go, yo crazy asses."

"Before you do, why were you crying and punching that wall." The blue haired boy asks you. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, realizing that they saw your tantrum a few minutes ago. "Can we go know, I'm starving." The red haired "boy" grumbles obviously bored, as the blue haired questions you.

"In a second." The soft voice protests, waiting for your response. "I don't tell strangers my personal life." You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. "Well my name is Tetsuya Kuroko and that over there is Taiga Kagami, we're both middle schoolers from Seirin High."

"Dude don't tell random chicks my name." The red boys yells at him, as you look at him a bit skeptically, squinting your eyes. "You sure his ass is in highschool, blink twice if you need help." Kuroko cracks a soft grin.

"No, no he's a teenager." Kuroko reassures softly, causing you to sigh softly as you sit back in the ground where you were previously. "That's good, thought the old man was gonna kidnap me or something." Kagami yells at you again, as he rants about how he's not an old man.

All you do is grin at him, until he gets bored and rolls his eyes ready to walk away. "Whatever, Kuroko let's go I'm starving." Kuroko nods and hold his hand out towards you. "You wanna join you look like you could use it."

A little stunned by his kindness your cheeks flush as you shrug "Why not, what's the harm in it." As you grab his soft hands and follow the red and blue haired duo along, Kagami insists that Kuroko shouldn't have brought you along and that's he not an old man.

You can't help it, their chaotic energy is contagious so much so that you grin the whole walk.

So if anyone's to blame it should be these two.

Nobody should have let you meet red and blue.

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yuu-kumeii · 11 months

Note

Heeello, hru?

i want a tsukishima kei × fem!reader, NO TIME SKIP, i want his reaction on the reader hugging him suddenly without saying anything and the reader doesn't pull away from the hug (aka gives him a long hug)

(Reader is clingy and doesn’t want to vent, but at the end she let it all out)

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, crying

Omg hi anon❗❗❗ I'm doing fine when I got this, but now I'm like a deflated grammar balloon 😭😭😭

SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH YOUR REQUEST I SWEAR I WAS THINKING ABT IT THE WHOLE TIME AFTER I GOT IT, I just didn't get the motivation at that time so I waited for inspiration to strike. But then inspiration hit me too hard and this ended up going waaaay off track ⚰️ PLUS I wrote the middle part during a campus tour and boy am I glad to have friends who are willing to be my beta readers bc past Yuu was NOT having a good time there 🥹. So sorry again in advance if this isn't exactly what you were expecting 🙏

Btw, your all caps red NO TIMESKIP is kinda funny to me bc it's like telling me to REMEMBER THAT THIS IS A PRE TIMESKIP THING NOT POST since I'm someone who mainly writes for post timeskip 💀 ntm how you probably had your own timeskip waiting for this thing 🧍‍♀️but anyways I hope you still enjoy this monster of a drabble fic hybrid 🫶

Also heads up, it's an established relationship, yeah sorry I didn't know if you would be ok with that but uh yeah sorry 😭

Word count : 3.5k (How did I get here)

There wasn't any indication as to why you started to feel the way you do, maybe you were tired. It could be from stress, school work has been piling up so it wasn't a stretch to say that you might've been feeling a little burnt out. But deep down, you know exactly why. You're just too embarrassed to say it out loud, because what kind of person would you be to think that your friends were that shallow? A bad manager and an even more awful friend, that's what.

Everyone has been asking about you, concerned for your lack of response as of late. You barely look up from your notebook, something about a 'full proof strategy for their next game'. One so full proof it apparently doesn't need any input from the team or Kiyoko...or the coach... It's obvious you're trying to avoid them without being absent. Which makes it even more strange, usually you'd want to get away from the people you're avoiding. So why aren't you?

"Oh no, [Y/N] lookout!" A voice suddenly calls out, snapping you out of your thoughts just as you see a ball coming straight for you.

Before you could react, someone beat it to you, "I got it!" A hand reaches out and blocks the ball, you don't register who it is until—

"Nice save, Yacchan!"

Of course.

Yachi was the one who saved your face from getting pummeled while you sat there with your head in the clouds. All the more reason the team should just— just—

Just kick you off the team.

Ah.

There it is.

That's what's been on your mind. Why it was so hard for you to actually avoid them, you were scared to be pushed aside while trying to encourage them to do so. Thinking you were being good at your job, only to see someone new do it better.

You feel like you've been lacking as a manager, despite being in the club for longer. It felt like the newcomer, Yachi, was doing a lot better in the short time she's here. You know it was unwarranted, she's been nothing but helpful. Picking up all the little things you and Kiyoko taught her. The team also welcomed her with open arms, as did you.

It was a gradual realization on your end, with 3 managers on standby, it's easy to lose track of who does what job. But more and more it felt like you've been doing the least out of the 3 of you. It really affected you, even without you knowing.

You start to forget routines, things like after school clean up duty, homework, even going as far as to forget planned hangouts. It felt like all you wanted to do was finish the day as quickly as possible, you don't even get up from your seat much anymore. Your indifference in class is mostly likely why no one tried approaching you for stuff, which makes sense, you probably look unapproachable anyway.

Well, almost unapproachable. If it weren't for Tsukishima, who chose to come up to you on days you fully ignore the team.

"What's up with you?" His words were short and lacked any poise, fitting for the only first year keen on riling up opponents and allies alike.

"...Nothing is, I'm fine" Much like Tsuki, your words were curt. Hoping that the less you answer, the more he's inclined to leave you alone.

Giving you an unconvinced look paired with an equally unconvinced once over, he shrugs and turns to leave you be.

"Suit yourself"

That hurts more than anything your own mind can throw at you, because all it does is convince you further that they're better off without you. All you've been doing is feeling bad about yourself, starting to forget everything important in favor of ignoring the problem.

But strangely enough, even when you forget, nothing seems to have any big consequences. When you realize you forgot about cleanup duty, your class partner just shrugs, saying your friend stayed behind and helped them instead. You think that it could've been Yamaguchi, he sometimes helps with cleaning duty when someone's partner goes home early.

It makes you feel worse about your moping, inconveniencing not one but two people. All because you can't convince yourself that just because Yachi is doing a lot better than you, it doesn't mean you're useless.

Right?

Not to mention the heartwarming messages from your friends when you don't show up to a hangout, they seem so understanding in spite of how you don't even tell them anything. The messages telling you to "Take care of yourself" and "Work things out at your own pace" could honestly make you cry.

Even the team tries their best to cheer you up, or at least to get your attention. You can't lie and say you don't see Hinata trying to get the other first years to pull some cool volleyball stunt he saw once, hoping that you'll congratulate them. It's hard to ignore it, especially when you can just feel his occasional stare, trying to get a reaction from you. But, as much as you want to cheer them on, you just can't do that. And yet, they're still so understanding. Trying to raise your spirit, Yachi even tried to start a conversation with you by asking for help on different managerial duties. But to no avail, all you do is point her in the right direction before going back to your place in the stands. Her efforts weren't in vain, but not enough to really get to you.

But it doesn't add up, how would they know you're going through a tough time? Are you really that obvious? You probably are. Either way, it's sweet of them to still think about you even when you're basically ditching them.

What does make sense to you is the homework, which you still end up submitting on time. All thanks to, you guessed it, Tsukishima. He just started reminding you about homework due in 2 days, complete with the pages and formulas needed. A smart comment about your recent forgetfulness is always attached to the message, something to remind you that it's from Tsuki of all people.

Someone you got to know through Yamaguchi, a mutual friend of yours, and if that's not enough, then being on the same team definitely is. As a manager on said team, you were always there for whatever sarcastic quip he had at the ready. Complete with every short joke ever made and that snide smile of his almost everyday. Needless to say, it didn't take long for a friendship to bloom. No longer hanging out only when Yams was around, you both built a routine for when you have each other. Yet you were always one to break routine for something new, a habit the tall beanpole never fails to challenge.

"Why do I have to come with you? You can just go alone" He says, not too keen on the idea of skipping your usual bakery visit for a cafe.

"Because I don't want to go alone and you're the only free one" You were always so sure he'd come with you anyway, to the point where you don't even try to convince him anymore.

He did end up going with you in the end, even if he did have his complaints here and there. But overall, it was one of the few times you can visibly see him having a good time. You chose a cafe themed around the stars and space in general, which you knew Tsuki liked quite a bit. Sure it would've been better to go to a dinosaur themed cafe, but the ones you know about are all the way in Tokyo and Fukui. Nevertheless, that space cafe visit was definitely a core memory in both your and Tsukishima's friendship, no matter how much that salt shaker wanted to deny it.

Though you did promise that one day, both of you would go together.

As friends, cause that's what you are, right?

Wait, actually do you even remember what happened after the space cafe? Wasn't it really important?

It feels like you know exactly what it is, it's a *fact* that you remember what it is. But much like everything else around you, it as well, whether you mean to or not, is pushed to the back of your head. Your thoughts start to discourage your resolve in this self-driven solitude of yours, built upon claims with no support. But why would the evidence matter if the claim itself is enough to make you believe?

It really felt like you were going to keep up this ruse forever, nothing really served as a consequence to you. The only thing keeping you in this state were the small glimpses of the team above your notebook, always up to some dumb fun. Something you always looked forward to in spite of the grueling practice ahead of them, well it was something you looked forward to.

Your eyes catch onto the other first years happily chatting with each other, except for Tsuki who preferred to stand on the sidelines, only chiming in to add a sprinkle of sarcasm into the conversation. That seems fun, you knew it was. As you watch everyone laugh at something Yachi says, something in you starts coiling around your heart.

You're suddenly aware of every breath you take, your thoughts start to repeat 'breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out...'

Your surroundings start to feel heavy, like you were tethered to your place. The sound of your own breathing feels louder than the voices in the gym. So focused on your empty notebook that everything else blurs at the edges of your vision.

It wasn't until you caught golden-brown eyes staring at you from across the court, genuine concern masked under a nonchalant gleam. You hold his gaze for longer than you'd like, unsure if there's anything else hidden under the bespectacled stare.

Tsuki only tilts his head in the direction of the other first years, probably telling you to come with them. You can only refuse, solemnly shaking your head. They can't possibly want you there with them, not after ignoring them for the better part of a week. It wouldn't be right to just butt in like that.

He probably knows that you're still not giving in, because it looked like he let out a sigh before walking towards them. Not before one last stare down with you, his gaze asking if you're sure about your decision. You can only hesitantly nod, you're not sure, you don't want to pick this decision, but you've convinced yourself that you're backed into a corner.

A corner you made up.

Well, no use in thinking about it now.

"Oi [Y/N], I'm gonna lock up the gym now! Better get going" Oh coach Ukai, you forgot he was still here. Taking your notebook and pen into your arms, you nod at the coach before heading towards the exit. Body slightly hunched over when you pass him, unable to look at him in the eye.

"Whatever it is you're going through, you know they got your back, right kiddo?" Ukai suddenly says, right before you leave. It makes you stand in your place for a while, thinking. You know they do, it just doesn't feel right to, especially when you didn't give them a valid reason for your distance.

"Y-yeah…Thanks, coach" You mumble, fully facing away from him. Turning to leave, when you catch a glimpse of the orange sky outside. Realizing how late it got, you break into a sprint back to your classroom.

Through the now empty halls, doused in ombre. No other soul in sight, leaving the sounds of your footsteps to be heard. The sky is beautiful today…wouldn't it be fun to experience it together?

Your pace slows right in front of your classroom, 1-4 written on a sign next to the door. Putting your hands on your knees to catch your breath from all the running, you stop to admire the light that passes through your classroom door.

And that's when you heard it, the faint scratching of a chalkboard being erased, you'd know that sound anywhere. It's soft, you could barely hear it over your own breaths, who could be cleaning it at this time? You know your partner didn't come to school today, they were sick. You yourself forgot, so why would anyone be there?

Slowly peeking through the door frame, you see a lone figure standing by the chalkboard. Short blond hair, a lean figure, headphones over his neck, the wire hanging loose. It's him, the one you felt the most guilt for. You watch him for a while, lazily swiping the eraser across the chalkboard.

So that's who your cleanup partner was talking about.

It wasn't Yamaguchi…

It was Tsuki.

He's been the one filing in for you, the one picking up after you. The one who kept pushing you to just talk to the team from a distance, he was looking out for you. The one that's been trying to reach out in his own way, you feel so stupid. Running away while your…

Your…

Your...

Own boyfriend looks out for you even when you unfairly pushed him away.

Your eyes glaze over and your breathing interchanges between short huffs and long shaky sighs. Feeling like you owe so much to him, keeping you afloat in an ocean of your own solitude. Step by step, you make your way over. Speeding up the closer you got.

Reaching him, you immediately press your face into his back. Arms wrapping around his waist, grabbing at the fabric of his school uniform to keep yourself in place. You can feel him tense, before slowly relaxing and going back to his cleaning. The guilt eating up at you even more, you clench your fists around his uniform, trembling in your place. Your lip trembles slightly, making your words sound even more pathetic than they already are.

"I'm…I-I'm so-so-...so-sor—ry—!" You sob, voice breaking off the same way you are. No words could express the mix of relief and remorse you feel, relief to be able to express your true feelings and remorse for your actions that didn't. Your eyes fill with tears that linger at their edge, waiting for a push to get them down.

"You better be, do you know how much they miss you? Those idiots won't stop asking me about you" Kei's words striking right through your heart, the coil no longer tight. Your tears finally fall as your cries get louder. You press your face further into your boyfriend's back for comfort, letting out all the pent up feelings you've harbored the past week.

"I…I just f-felt like—like I wa-was u-useless!" You whimper, sobs reduced to short intakes of air between big breaths.

"Idiot…" Turning to face you fully, Kei's hand settles itself on the top of your head, sliding down to the back. Pushing you further into an embrace of his own, refusing to look at you. One hand on the back of your head, the other fiddling with his headphone wires.

All that you've done, the distance you tried to make, it all came tumbling down. All at once. It was never supposed to take hold of you the way it did, so all you needed was something to justify ending it. Kei, is that something.

"It's just tha-that—Yachi is such-such a good mana–ger…be-better than me…" The words flow out before you could stop them, a confession to your actions. Hearing it out loud, you truly realize how weak your reasons are. It just shows how little it took to have you questioning your worth as a member of the team, laid out in front of the both of you.　

"..." His silence causes you to meekly look up at him, afraid of what he might think. Kei was always good at keeping a neutral face, never making it easy for you to know what he's thinking.

"I don't want to stop being your guys' manager…" You lower your head, voice a whisper, lip still quivering slightly.

"Then don't, no one's telling you to quit"

Huh.

"But—" You quickly look back up at him.

"But nothing, Yachi's great and all but when will we ever get another clutz like you who pays for my drink?" He has a smug look on his face after saying that, eyes filled with nothing but mischief.

You say nothing, words stuck in your throat. Still staring at his stupid smile, he's probably so proud of himself for that. But, you knew he said that to cheer you up. Something to keep you out of your own head, and it's working.

"Way to ruin the moment…" You mumble, "Could've been a bit more dramatic" A soft smile takes over your expression, already feeling much more relieved than before.

"You can do that by yourself," Kei retorts, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

"But you'd still do it with me" Your smile grows, eyes filled with adoration for the pretty face in front of you. After being alone for the better part of a week, it was nice to finally talk again. Even if you had so much making up to do, to everyone in the team, maybe you could start with the one who still held you close.

"Oh? You sound so sure of yourself for someone who's been running away from me" Eyebrow raised in faux skepticism, waiting for your answer.

"I promise I'll make it up to you first" You tell him, before burying your face back into his front, basking in his familiar scent and warmth where you feel most at ease.

"You better"

And you will. To all of them.

Walking home from school during sunset is a special kind of rare to you, barely anyone on the streets. Your newfound goal for the following week, circling in your mind. Beside you was Kei, matching your pace with long strides contrasting your own smaller steps.

"Kei…Do you want to stop by Paprika heaven?" You suddenly ask.

"Paprika heaven? Really?" Kei is not convinced you're being serious, you can practically sense that raised brow.

"It's a cafe! I know the name isn't the sweetest sounding but trust me on this!" You insist, letting out an exasperated huff.

"Shouldn't it be closed?" He questions further, still doubtful.

"It closes at 9, I checked" You proudly exclaim, crossing your arms with a content look on your face.

Kei rolls his eyes at your antics, "Alright, I yield" he raises his hands in surrender, yet a smirk still makes its way onto his face, "But you're paying"

You freeze, realizing that he's right. You are going to pay for it, with your own money. Immediately, your figure deflates dramatically. Slouching forward with an exaggerated groan.

"Right…" Your wallet will never forgive you. But not because Paprika Heaven was too expensive, a piece of your soul just dies whenever you take out a remotely large amount of money from your wallet.

This apparently amuses your boyfriend because he starts laughing, so much so that his shoulders move in time with each laugh. He turns to look at your stunned figure, which only entertains him more. Hearing his mocking laughter, it shakes you out of your stupor. Irritation starts to take hold of you, wanting him to stop laughing at your obvious misery.

"Wha—?! Stop laughing!" Your fists make contact with your boyfriend's chest, repeatedly hitting him to get him to shut.

"I'm serious! I might become poor after this!"

"That's your own fault" In between laughs, Kei is still able to call you out. Seriously, can't he take this seriously?

After a while he calms down, wiping a single tear from his eye. You also calm down, arms tired from the repeated attacks on your boyfriend. Leaning your forehead on his chest to rest, eyes closing on their own from the change in atmosphere. Kei only stands proud, hands in his pockets and a grin spread across his face in content.

Comfortable silence wash over you, the sun still peeking just beyond the horizon, lighting up the road just enough for you to see the way ahead. It's way too late for a bunch of high school students to be out, let alone ones who plan on staying out. But that doesn't matter, you can take the worried lectures from your parents later. Right now, you want to make up for lost time.

"Kei—," You raise your head to face him, taking a deep breath,

"Thank you" A closed eyed smile appears on your face, "For still putting up with me"

"...Whatever" He looks away from you, eyes gazing over the road in front of you.

But no matter how much he tries to hide it,

You can still see that small genuine smile on his face.

#「★ It's showtime! ★」#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyu x female reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu hurt/comfort #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima fluff #I DID IT #I'M DONE IT'S COMPLETE #Pls I'm so bad at anything angsty that this is just barely hurt and more comfort lmao #But still I'm so AKAJDHAJAHFNA #My first request and I took like 3 weeks to finish it AND it's probably way off track to what it's supposed to be #This could've been a nice short drabble but NO it turned to this #CURSE MY SLEEPY BRAIN IDEAS #But anyway wouldn't it be so cool if I just wrote short hcs for the time being 🫶#I'm going in drabble break after this ⚰️

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