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woso-dreamzzz · 3 days

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Injured (Alexia's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You need perfection

TW: eating disorder, self-destructive thoughts, unhealthy thoughts about weight and size, self-harm through dance

There's a reason the ballerina body is thought to be unobtainable.

It's because it is.

Even to the dancers.

Perfect feet. Perfect legs. Perfect waist. Perfect stomach. Perfect face and hair.

You didn't have the perfect feet. Your arch wasn't quite perfect. It was close but with the right shoes it looked perfect.

Your legs weren't quite perfect either. You think one of your knees bulges weirdly and one leg is the tiniest bit more muscular than the other. But that can be hidden under your tights.

You don't like your waist or your tummy. You're different to your Mami but you're built a bit like her. She's built like a football player where she doesn't need to care about her waist or her stomach like you did.

You could fix your face with makeup and your hair with product but you couldn't fix your biology. You couldn't fix the way you've developed.

When you were younger and still at ballet school, the older girls passed down one line of wisdom to the younger girls.

If you weren't thin enough to fit between the space of the barre and where it's mounted on the mirror, then you're too fat.

You know now that that's too small of a gap for anyone to fit through without tucking in their tummy to the extreme. You know that now but it's still embedded within you. It still haunts your every step, a looming figure in the shadows that will one day catch up with you.

Some of the other dancers smoke or vape to keep their figures but you took the more classic route.

It was easy to cut breakfast out. A protein bar sufficed as your lunch, maybe a pre-packaged salad as well. You would eat dinner because that was a family meal and, while you were desperately trying to keep your figure, you knew that eating at least one meal a day was good.

It worked like a charm though and soon your stomach shrunk to the point that having one meal a day was all you could stomach.

"Why are you still asleep?" Jaume asks as he throws himself onto your bed," It's nearly dinner."

You groan, poking your head out from your blanket cave. "I was napping. I'm allowed to nap."

You've been napping a lot lately but you're used to that. Whenever you start cutting out meals, you feel the need to nap more to conserve your energy.

"Mami told me to come get you," Jaume replies," Dinner's almost ready."

You pull the covers off before freezing.

"Jaume," You say," Are you wearing your dirty football boots? In my bed?"

He grins. "Yeah."

"Get out!"

"Oh, come on, it was just a joke!"

You smack him in the face with a pillow. "I'm telling Mami!"

He scrambles after you, trying to stop you from making it down the stairs.

"She's lying!" He cries out, skidding to the dinner table just as you arrive.

"Jaume wore his dirty football boots in my bed!" You announce and Alexia sighs.

"Just one day," She says wistfully to Olga," That's all I ask. Just one day of no arguments."

She scolds Jaume lightly over the meal and you pick at your food.

Alexia watches you out of the corner of her eye. This meal is your favourite but you're pecking at it like you're a pigeon.

"How was dance?" She asks.

You shrug, grateful for the opportunity to talk as you push the food around your plate. "Good. I'm going back in after dinner. I'm going to practice my solo."

Olga frowns just like Alexia. "You've been doing that all week. Don't you think you need a break?"

"It won't be for that long," You lie," I want to get it perfect."

Perfection has always been a big part of your life. If you have perfection then you've proven your worth. If you have perfection then you cannot be replaced.

If you perfection in your dancing, in your body, then everything will be good and right in the world.

If you have perfection then you'll never be forgotten again.

Alexia watches you, eyes narrowed before she starts helping Olga clear the table.

"Jaume," You hiss," You want this?" You offer him your plate.

He glanced over to where Olga and Alexia have their backs turned.

"Give."

You scrape the rest of your food onto his plate before getting up quickly.

"I'm heading to the studio," You say.

"I'll drive you," Alexia says.

"I'll walk." You're actually planning to jog. "I want to grab a snack from the store on the way."

There's a reason Mami hasn't found out yet. You've gone back and forth on this for years. Cutting out meals before a performance only to introduce them again a few weeks after. You know exactly how to play her.

It's easy to slip away just like it's easy to dance and dance and dance until your feet ache.

There's something about pointe work that you love. It's a hard discipline. Nobody outright loves it like you do. You don't think they'd understand why you love it.

You love it for the wrong reasons.

You love it because it makes your feet hurt. You love it because it makes you look good even when you're falling apart. You love it because it makes you feel perfect even when you know you're not.

You love it because it's the quickest way to make you bleed.

Your chest rises and falls as you feel your toe pads grow wet with your own blood. Your vision is full of spots and you can barely see yourself in the mirror.

All you can focus on is your next move and the pain in your feet.

All you can do is dance and dance and-

You're on the floor the next time you blink, feeling groggy as your stomach rumbles. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror as you crawl your way over to your bag, shakily unwrapping an energy bar.

You pull off your pointe shoes and toe pads.

This is so normal to you now that you don't even think about the fact that you just blacked out.

You eat your snack, drain down your sports drink and wrap plasters around your bleeding toes as you dial Mami's number.

She picks up quickly, like always. You can imagine her just sitting at home, waiting for your call.

"Bambi?" She asks as soon as she answers," What's up?"

"Can you come and pick me up?" You ask," I'd like to come home now."

Alexia's already grabbing her keys. Her shoes are already on. She's already out the door.

Something's up with you. She knows this. She just doesn't know what it is. But she knows she'll always be ready to pick you up. Always want to bring you home herself.

You look pale and shaky as she pulls up and, like usual after practice, your bare feet are out of your shoes. They're covered in plasters.

"Did you get your snack?" Alexia asks," You look a little pale."

"I did," You reply," I was just dancing a lot."

"Hmm," Alexia says," You know you can talk to me, right? You know you can tell me anything."

"I know," You say.

"Good. Just...Good. You're a good girl, bambi, and I want you to come to me if you need to talk, alright?"

"I know, Mami," You say with an eye roll.

Alexia holds your gaze for a moment before nodding. "Good. Now, your brother wants a milkshake. Do you want anything at the drive through?"

Your tummy rumbles.

"A meal then," Alexia decides before you can protest," A burger I think. Greasy."

You wince. "Mami-"

"You gave half your dinner to Jaume," She says suddenly," I'll split the meal but it's non-negotiable."

It's fine, you think.

So long as you get to practice early tomorrow, you can work it all off.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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bakuhatsufallinlove · 3 days

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424

All right, listen. It’s pretty damn funny that two weeks ago I posted all like, “oh I don’t really comment chapter-by-chapter, I’m waiting to see what happens next,” but this one broke me.

This chapter was everything I wanted for bkdk, and it’s so much more tender than I ever dreamed it could be.

This post is not going to be like most of my posts, because I am a flood of emotion. If you’re wanting some detailed, well-researched analysis of this scene, that ain’t coming for a while.

I don’t have some kind of comparative linguistics to show you. I just have my visceral reactions as someone who speaks Japanese and has absorbed Japanese media for many years. I have shared my heart with others in Japanese, I’ve sputtered out words between sobs and felt the many kinds of comfort different people try to offer. I have comforted others who let themselves be vulnerable with me.

In all these moments, just as in English, I wondered if my words and feelings reached them. Each time, I felt the warmth of connection when they looked at me, and I decided that they knew I did my best. They accepted me, even if it wasn’t perfect.

I’m gonna tell you the truth, and I wouldn’t normally say this so directly, but it matters to me: the fan translation for this specific scene is not good. The tone is wildly off in some ways and it outright omits a number of very important words.

The official translation gets so much of it right.

But that’s not really what I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about how people are reading this scene.

I have seen a ton of, frankly, oblivious interpretations of Izuku’s side of things.

Listen to me. Izuku is not making fun of Katsuki for crying, he is not telling Katsuki that crying isn’t like him, that isn’t in the text at all. He is not rejecting Katsuki’s feelings, or belittling them, or ignoring them, or any of that.

Izuku has seen Katsuki cry in-canon a number of times, but every time it was over his own personal failures, and the frustration, anger, guilt, and grief associated with them. We see it in the aftermath of Deku vs. Kacchan 1. We see it during Deku vs. Kacchan 2.

Izuku is shocked to see Kacchan cry because this is the first time he has cried for Izuku.

When Katsuki apologized in 322, he looked Izuku in the eye and told him his feelings with conviction and poise. He was gentle and vulnerable, but strong, because he was asking Izuku to trust them and rely on them. To come back with them and believe in them, like they believe in Izuku. He bowed his head to show his remorse. He caught Izuku when he fell, and he accepted Izuku’s own apology.

He embodied dignity, sincerity, and strength of character. He was a true hero.

This?

This is the raw, honest sorrow of a young boy. It is a tender, earnest, unguarded display of how much Izuku means to him.

These are the tears you shed for someone you cherish. These are tears for when you think you are losing something you can’t live without. Because Katsuki isn’t just crying for the loss of Izuku’s dream—it’s their dream, the future they dreamt up together as kids.

Izuku is almost pathologically incapable of understanding how other people see him and feel about him, but this is unmistakable. He is stunned because there is no other explanation.

There is unmitigated heartache and longing at the core of Katsuki saying, “I just thought somehow we would be together like this, competing and chasing after each other, forever.”

And Izuku is reeling, but so, so touched, and filled with fondness. Look at how his shock shifts to this overwhelmed, affectionate smile.

He’s right—this isn’t the usual Katsuki, and that is precisely why it means so much. We as the audience have been privy to Katsuki’s feelings, but until now Izuku himself has never really grasped the depth of them. This is all the tenderness Katsuki has kept locked up inside, and he is letting Izuku see it for the first time.

To see Kacchan—strong, fierce, and absolutely unstoppable—shed these innocent, helpless tears for him and tell him through sobs that he wanted things to stay this way forever, I can’t blame him for being blown away.

I think Izuku expected Katsuki to be shocked and a little sad that he gave up OFA, both for Izuku’s sake and because it is the legacy of their hero. Before Katsuki even starts crying, Izuku has this small smile on his face, like he was ready to reassure him that he had made peace with his own choice.

But he clearly didn’t expect for Katsuki to weep openly in front of him about it or to confess to wanting him by his side. Izuku had so enjoyed just being allowed near Katsuki, allowed in his life at all—to think that Katsuki could want the same and want it this much, to the point that he worries that things would change, that Izuku would abandon him or deny him? How could that ever be?

In what world could Izuku ever stop chasing Kacchan?

Izuku is a bit of an idiot. He has always thought that Katsuki understood how much he cared for and admired him—that’s why he is so shocked during DvK2 to hear that Katsuki thought he looked down on him for years. Izuku thought Katsuki understood his feelings and simply rejected them.

The way he loves Kacchan is natural and unquestionable. Even now, he can’t understand how Katsuki doesn’t know. It’s baffling to him.

But he still accepts Katsuki’s vulnerability and responds to the intimacy.

This is such an affectionate, loving thing to say. Izuku is being so sweet. I cannot convey to you strongly enough how Izuku telling Katsuki, “C’mon, stop it, this isn’t like you!” reaffirms their closeness.

If Izuku had not said this line and instead skipped straight to this nervous, awkward little attempt at comfort here:

It would have read as so much more distant.

With his tears and his confession, Katsuki pleads with Izuku to not leave him. To be with him always.

And in response, Izuku unabashedly stakes his claim on their bond by being bold enough to affectionately scold him and even assert authority on what kind of person Katsuki is. Remember these?

Chapters 202 and 319

This is such a staple in Japanese media for showing close bonds. Your loved ones know you. They tease you. They scold you. They have that right. You gave it to them.

The people you love cheer you up by reminding you that you’re strong and brave and that even if things feel hopeless and like you can’t go on, that they know you can. Everything will be okay, and they know so because they’ll be right there with you. Of course they’ll be there.

Symbolically, throughout the series, Izuku’s response to Katsuki trying to be closer to him has always been: “Of course.”

He has always accepted Katsuki as much as he is able to, as much as he had awareness for. He is wildly lacking in self-awareness, so it’s certainly not perfect, but by god does he try.

What Izuku is really saying is a mixture of “Really? You want that, too?” and “Don’t be silly!”

One part is him being shocked and touched; the other is him being absolutely certain of his own heart, and showing it as best he can.

He does get flustered and self-conscious, though—because it’s overwhelming to see Kacchan this way, and this is kind of new territory for them. So he switches tactics to reassure Kacchan about how things are now, and make sure he doesn’t feel embarrassed about this outburst. He still has the embers, so it’s okay for now. And their bodies are weak, so of course their heads will be in a bad place too, it’s easy to get low spirits. Of course Katsuki would be feeling vulnerable. It’s normal.

He gives Katsuki so many things here. He gives him as much as he can.

Izuku doesn’t know how long he’ll have the embers for and, frankly, he doesn’t have any guarantee that he will be able to satisfy this longing of Katsuki’s after he loses them. This, too, is a staple of promises in Japanese media: “I don’t know if I can satisfy you, but I want to try. I hope you can accept me.”

Things will be different—the future is always uncertain, now more than ever for their world. But what will never change is what they feel in their hearts.

After this scene, I honestly don’t care if we get something other people see as “bkdk canon.”

What Katsuki says is as good as a confession to me. What Izuku says in return is genuine and pure. This is a messy pair of teenage boys figuring out how to reach each other with words, when they have always been so damn bad at it. This is the two of them both reaching a new point of intimacy and reaffirming everything that came before.

#bkdk #bakudeku #mha 424 #meta #mha spoilers #mha manga spoilers #I swear to god I will fight everyone #my heart is dying at the LACK OF APPRECIATION FOR WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE #some of us need to learn how to love Izuku the way Kacchan loves Izuku

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buddie-buddie · 2 days

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Bucktommy + “Go back to sleep.”

“Go back to sleep,” Tommy mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Buck finishes tugging Tommy’s duvet up, tucking it beneath his chin and curling in on himself in an attempt to warm up. He doesn’t care if it makes him a blanket thief; he’s cold. Plus, Tommy is practically a human space heater. He’s laying beside Buck in nothing but his boxer briefs and looks perfectly content. Meanwhile, Buck’s in sweatpants and a hoodie and can’t seem to shake the chill that’s climbing up his spine and taking up residence deep in his bones.

He mumbles a sleepy apology, but if the way Tommy’s breathing has already evened out again is any indication, he doesn’t hear it.

Waking up next to Tommy is all of Buck’s wildest dreams come true. He loves waking up with the familiar, grounding weight of Tommy’s arm draped over him, loves the way Tommy tightens his grip as he feels Buck stir beneath him, how he mumbles a sleepy “Morning, baby,” into his hair as Buck slowly blinks his eyes awake.

Every day he wakes up next to Tommy is a dream, but days off are the best.

Days off are when Buck wakes up warm and cozy in a sun-drenched room, tucked against Tommy, their bodies curled around each other like a pair of parentheses. The warm, familiar rumble of Tommy’s early morning voice low in his ear, the brush of his lips against the shell of his ear, chased away by the slight burn from Tommy’s day-old stubble against his skin as he trails kisses down his cheek, across his jaw. For a few quiet moments, it’s just them. There are no alarms ringing, no fires to put out, no helicopters to fly, no nothing. There’s nothing but them. Nothing to do except just be.

The thought of this particular day off– this particular morning– was the thing Buck was most looking forward to all week. And it had been an epically awful week. It had been six days since the last time their days off had last lined up, and he’d been all but crawling out of his skin with his need to see his boyfriend outside of a quick FaceTime call between claxons ringing.

On top of that, the station’s A/C had been on the fritz and Chimney had been out sick with a flu he still insisted he didn’t have, both of which made shifts considerably less enjoyable. They’d had a few really tough calls, including an especially hard loss in the middle of the week that was still living behind Buck’s ribs and needling at his heart each time the air fell silent and his mind began to wander.

Their shared 48 off had been the light at the end of the tunnel. A very dark tunnel that was starting to feel less like a tunnel and more like an inescapable hole towards the end, but a tunnel nonetheless.

“Hot date?” Hen had teased him as he all but ran for the locker room the moment B shift started filtering in through the bay doors.

Buck thought about what was waiting for him. His sweet, beautiful boyfriend. His favorite pad thai takeout from the mom and pop place around the corner from Harbor. Sheets that smell like Tommy and a pair of reading glasses on the nightstand and two toothbrushes next to each other in the cup beside the sink.

“Yeah,” Buck grinned, dipping his chin as his cheeks flushed. “You could say that.”

The feeling of waking up beside Tommy is everything Buck always wanted and never let himself believe he could actually have. It’s better than anything he ever could’ve dreamed up. Even now, when he wakes up and it’s still pitch black outside, the only light in the room coming from the glow of Buck’s phone on the nightstand as he taps it awake to check the time. It’s not even four o’clock.

No wonder Tommy told him to go back to sleep.

They’ve barely been asleep for five hours, and after the week he’s had, Buck would like at least twice that before even considering getting out of bed. But he’s up now and he’s freezing. He flips over beneath Tommy’s arm, turning to face him and curling himself into Tommy’s side with a small, content sigh. He tucks his head beneath Tommy’s chin in a shameless attempt to leech his body heat.

Tommy murmurs something indecipherable in his sleep, one of his big, warm hands coming up to rest between Buck’s shoulder blades. His welcome touch is warm and familiar, instantly soothing. And yet, it does nothing to stop another shiver from running through Buck.

He closes his eyes, starting to drift back to sleep just as Tommy shifts beneath him.

“Evan,” Tommy says quietly, concern clinging to the word. “Baby, wake up.”

Buck blinks slowly, confused. “Y’just told me to go back to sleep.”

“You’re burning up,” Tommy says, his other hand coming up to feel Buck’s forehead. He makes a tsk sound under his breath. He tries to sit up, but Buck protests by way of a sleepy whine, holding onto Tommy even tighter.

“M’cold,” Buck mumbles against Tommy’s chest.

“C’mon,” Tommy says gently. “Let me up. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Buck is too tired to argue. Tommy extricates himself, and Buck can tell he tries his best not to disturb him too much as he does. True to his word, Tommy returns a moment later. He runs the thermometer over Buck’s forehead, and its rapid warning beeps are followed by a small displeased sigh.

“Fever?” Buck asks. Another shiver wracks through him, and he knows the answer.

Tommy’s hand is warm and solid as it rests on his cheek, his thumb stroking over Buck’s cheekbone in a soothing back and forth. “Yeah,” Tommy says. Buck can hear his frown. “Gonna give you some Tylenol.”

Buck lets Tommy help him sit up enough to bring the pills and a glass of water to his lips. He’s a little more awake now, enough to register the way that his head feels heavy and his eyes feel hot behind their lids. His arms and legs ache as he settles against the pillows, and he has a fleeting memory of Maddie saying that Chim’s flu started out with a high fever and body aches.

“Be right back,” Tommy promises.

And he is. He returns a moment later with another blanket, a heavy one. He covers Buck with it, tucking it beneath his chin and running a hand through his hair fondly before climbing back into bed beside him.

“No,” Buck protests. “I’ll get you sick.”

Tommy’s arms encircle him, pulling him in until they’re pressed up against each other. “Don’t care,” he says simply. “We’ve already been pretty close.”

Buck sighs against Tommy’s neck, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he remembers the very enthusiastic reacquainting that happened against the back of Tommy’s front door no more than a minute after Buck had come through it. Not to mention the hours they spent on the couch watching a movie after dinner, with Tommy’s arm around him and Buck’s head on Tommy’s shoulder. All of which was before they fell asleep practically plastered to one another.

Tommy does have a point.

But Buck felt fine going to bed, which means the fever must have spiked pretty recently, which means it could be early enough that Tommy could still save himself and—

“I can hear you overthinking.”

Buck frowns. “Am not.” And then a moment later, “I’ll go to the guest room.”

“No you won’t,” Tommy says simply. “There’s no blanket on the bed.”

“But you—”

Tommy silences him with a kiss to his forehead. “I am exactly where I want to be.”

Buck’s heart squeezes. A tiny, happy sigh falls from his lips. And for the first time since waking up, he feels warm all over.

prompt game

#prompt game #my writing #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #kinkley #it’s not lost on me that these are supposed to be like six sentences long #and i am repeatedly clocking in at over a thousand words #idk what to say #i open a google doc and the brain rot takes over and here we are

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moonstruckme · 15 hours

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Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!”

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?”

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.”

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.”

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.”

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.”

“How would it be your fault?”

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.”

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.”

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?”

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.”

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?”

You blink. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.”

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.”

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?”

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now.

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.”

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway.

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up.

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.”

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours.

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime.

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice.

“I might,” you say.

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

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primofate · 2 days

Text

Time: 3:00 am

Status: can't sleep. Sudden urge to write something. Here goes.

Timer: 10 minutes

Actual time: 28 minutes

Warning: might be messy and rushed

Characters: Wriothesley x gn!reader

"Do you remember when I first met you?"

"...bits and pieces. It isn't very clear in my mind anymore," you reply rather curtly.

There's a short pause of silence at the dinner table, your cutlery and his cease to move as the two of you try to piece the event together.

Wriothesley chuckles and recounts the events with detail "It was one of those spring nights. Breezy, nice weather, sun wasn't up too high in the morning so the night was cool," as you continue to eat, he has stopped for the moment. "I was cut up from head to toe, small scratches everywhere. Some trouble with the meka that day,"

You raise your eyes up from the food, suddenly getting a wave of nostalgia as you recognize the moment all too clearly.

"On my way back to the Fortress I ran into you. All tidy and clean, box in your hands, looking up at me blankly. Do you remember what you said?"

You stifle a smile, because this part, you remember all too well.

"Here's your tea," the two of you say in unison, followed by a small laugh from you.

"...you left it in my hands, and then walked away as if it was the most normal day in your life. Like you never even saw me injured,"

"In my defense, you didn't look like you were in pain at all,"

He raises an eyebrow, meeting your gaze and ignoring your comment altogether. "I was suddenly obsessed with who you were. It wasn't as if you were trying to be mysterious, but who was this uncaring person standing at the Fortress entrance with my box of tea? I had to know,"

"Uncaring isn't quite the word for it. I was tired," you gently explained.

Yet again he continues as if not hearing you, "Only to find out the following week that my exotic tea dealer carefully hand picked herbs and mixed them, then personally delivers them to their customer's door. Lovely service. You remember what happened after that?"

Wriothesley's gaze on you is soft, with a hint of mischief on it, one that you returned. "I got orders. Tons of it. All to the Fortress of Meropide. I was there nearly every day doing deliveries,"

"Mmhmm. And then?" There's a chuckle on his lips, amused that you had taken over telling the story.

"And then one day I got fed up, asked to see the duke, burst into his office and said "Why don't you make your orders all in one go?!""

The scene in your mind is vivid now. The anger you felt at that moment whiplashed into your memory. It had been tiring, to go there everyday, only to deliver a miniscule amount of tea.

"And I said...?" Wriothesley has opted to lay his head on his fist, smile playing on his lips as you close the story.

You roll your eyes, "Here's your tea," but couldn't help the laughter that escaped your lips. "Poured me a cup as if you've never seen an angry person before. I was fuming!"

"It worked didn't it?" He had gone back to his food, hands now busy with cutting, smile still on his face. "I wasn't sure how to meet you again so I had ordered a box of tea for every day...that day you burst into my office? I just happened to be there at the right time, it was the first time in days I'd been able to sit and prep tea for myself. It was busy,"

"Or so you say,"

He chuckles at your suspicious look. "I made up for it, didn't I? The rest of the orders I placed, I personally picked them up from your store,"

"Everyday," you recall fondly.

"Every single day, I found time. And I'd do it all over again, in that same way, same words," he sounded like he was done talking, but him being the charmer that he is, added "except maybe I would've kissed you earlier. By the 24th order, maybe?"

You kick his leg from under the table. He hides his amusement with a short bark of laughter.

#wriothesley #genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact fluff #wriothesley fluff #genshin fluff

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 day

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Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone.

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway.

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet.

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled.

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life.

None of them mattered.

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile.

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence.

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels.

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way.

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars.

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye.

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score.

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop.

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips.

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard.

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you.

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail.

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like.

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better.

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen.

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door.

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting.

The feeling was mutual.

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child.

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest.

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

#challengers x reader #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #taylor swift #so high school #ttpd #the tortured poets department #the anthology

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hellodropbear · 2 days

Text

like she used to

alexia putellas x sister

i have been writing this for ages and it has just sat in my documents folder since january. i don't usually post stuff i write so this will probably get taken down at some point. i've written 13k words so far but this is just the first 4k.

~~~~~~

I hadn't expected to get the call up, not at all really. But Mapi tore her meniscus and apparently the first team found themselves in need of a backup centre back and I was the best option from the B team. It's a compliment, really. Mami is very proud of me and she is excited for me and my sister to play together in a few weeks, even though she is still recovering from her surgery and I will probably not make it off the bench. I am only 15 and 10 months, usually they wait until you are at least 16 and a bit before you can play.

But, I don't really know how to feel. Thankfully Alexia won't be in training with me for now and I try to avoid thinking about what will happen when she eventually gets better and I have to face her again.

Alexia is my older sister by a lot. There's a 14 year age gap between us and I used to completely and utterly idolise her. She and Alba were two superheroes, always by my side when I needed them. I put them on a pedestal like they were the greatest human beings to ever walk the planet. To me back then, they were.

I was only four when my father died. All I remember from that time was the big black invisible sheet that hung outside his study and the dark and scary emotions that swallowed our house whole. Alba and Alexia would argue about who got to cuddle me at night and I was so unaware what was happening that I would happily agree, wiping away their tears when it all got too much.

The death of our father made our family unit stronger. Mami, Ale, Alba and Elena - it was all any of us needed and we supported each other in whatever ways we could.

Mami had to pick up more shifts at her job, so she couldn't pick me up from school. Alexia had just got her license so she would come in a break during training and pick me up in her training gear.

Alexia didn't have time to drop me off at home so I would sit and watch the training with whoever wanted to give me company when they were injured.

Most days, Alba would come and pick me up and take me on the bus all the way home. She would play cartoons on the TV as she sat at the table and did school work. Some days, when she had the time she would sit with me and watch Alexia's training and we'd all go home together. Alba used to say she enjoyed the training. Looking back, I think she just wanted a free ride home and an excuse to not do her homework.

As I grew up, everything just worked. Alexia and Alba were still living at home as a support to Mami and everything was perfect. My sisters were my idols, my Mami was my shining star. She still is. She would do anything for her daughters, as long as it meant we were all happy.

That is why it has been so hard for her over the past two years.

I have not been happy, not really. My football has been thriving, I have represented my country in the under 17 age group and I am a consistent starter idol the Barcelona B team. I spent two years in La Masia before they sent me to the B team last year and I have only been improving since. Everything is going well. Mami says I have had a better start to my career than Alexia did.

Maybe that is why Alexia hates me. Maybe Mami is just saying that to make me feel better about it.

Alexia and I, despite the 14 year age gap, were always inseparable - for the first 12 years of my life. She was at every single school event, football game, she picked me up from trainings when she could and would train me herself in the garden. We shared a common passion that Alba was not interested in at all - we both love football, we eat, sleep and breath it. Football is everything. She was the one who gave me that mentality.

"Football is life, Lena, you are lucky you are so good because now you also get to live football and hermanita, it is the most incredible thing."

She had whispered that to me when I was 11. We were sat on the beach, a place we visited frequently throughout my childhood, both of us staring out at the reflection of the moon on the sea. Alba was fast asleep, her head in Alexia's lap as she snored lightly, completely oblivious to our conversation.

It all fell apart over three years ago, although I don't have the first clue as to why.

It was not an explicit event that ruined everything, more my older sister growing up and flying the nest that was so secure and established over years and years of shared success, happiness, failure and grief. She moved out of home long before that, but her split with Jenni upset her, I think, a great deal. I wouldn't know because she didn't really tell me anything - that was strictly Alba's business.

I didn't even know they had broken up until 5 months after it actually happened.

"Mami, why does Jenni never come over any more?"

It was an innocent and normal question, but the look on my mother's face told me everything. Everything about Jenni and everything about my sister.

I think that was the first knock. She hadn't done anything wrong but I had loved Jenni and Jenni had loved me. I would have thought that she would have told me they broke up. Maybe she didn't want to, maybe she just forgot. She does a lot of that these days.

Before she and Jenni broke up, she still came to all of my games. She never missed one game before I transferred to La Masia and would insist on taking me out to ice cream after every one. She would tease me for not scoring like she does, even though I play as a centre back.

"You need some training from Mapi, she is a centre back and has the most lethal free kick, hermanita! She is the best defender I have played with, but don't tell her I said that. I think you will grow up to be better than her."

She was excited that day, I had made a few good saves and I think that was the first time she really saw that I had the potential to be great.

I remember the first game she was late to. I noticed immediately but we both pretended she was on time - she only made it to the last 10 minutes but I put it down as traffic or being caught up at training. She was busy, it takes a lot to be La Reina.

I remember the first game she missed entirely. She wasn't there at the beginning and she wasn't there at the end. I was 13 and I didn't have a phone yet so I couldn't call Mami and ask her to come pick me up because Alexia was too busy. I told myself it was because she was too busy. I didn't want to say she had forgotten because that was too hard for me to handle.

I remember vividly sitting outside the stadium as the sun set. My coach had asked where my sister was, I was a bit stuck with what to say but I managed to convince her I was fine and she could go home.

Alba came and picked me up after work that night. It was dark and she looked sad but when I asked if she was ok, she just shrugged her shoulders and said everything would be fine.

I found out from Mami a few weeks later that Alba was sad because I had never once been forgotten anywhere. Alba saw that as the destruction of our strong family. I suppose she was not wrong.

Alexia never said anything about that game but she was at the next. She didn't take me out for ice cream after, instead patting my head and telling me she would drop me off at Mami's work.

"I have things to do, Elena, I am very busy. Hopefully soon Mami will let you catch the bus on your own. Maybe Alba can take you soon so you know the correct routes."

Her words hurt more than I could admit to myself, I told myself to stop being pathetic. Mami asked why I was crying when I walked into her office. I told her I had played terribly and she comforted me. I think she knew I was lying. I think that is why she had tears in her eyes when she released me from her grip-like hold.

Since that day, Alexia has been to 3 of my games. She went to one more of my old club games but she was sat beside Alba, her eyes glued to her phone the entire match. I was so unfocused that the ball deflected off my face and we conceded. I was taken off with a bleeding nose but when I looked up in the stands, my sister was still staring at her phone. Alba had run down the stairs and was by my side when I entered the little sick bay.

I cried then too. Most people thought it was because of the bleeding nose or the conceded goal. Alba knew that wasn't the real reason.

The penultimate game she watched was the final of the under 15s Catalonia cup. I don't know what she did during the game because Mami told me not to look up. She said she didn't want me to get distracted but I think she meant to say she didn't want me to get hurt.

I think I still idolised Alexia at that point in time. She was still my older sister and she was still the best player in the world. She still had weekly dinners at home, although she wouldn't sit next to me and sneakily take all the food I didn't want off my plate anymore. She stopped staying to watch a movie after dinner even though my favourite part of the week was falling asleep in her lap as her hands combed softly through my hair.

I remember when I was accepted into La Masia, Mami held a nice big dinner. It was right in the middle of covid so it was technically illegal, but we had a lot of my family over. Mami invited a few of the Barcelona girls as well and Mapi and Leila reminded me of what it used to be like before Alexia stopped loving me.

The reminder of the before was more painful than I liked to admit, and the night ended when the tears that had been burning in the back of my eyes finally spilled out as I was talking to Mapi.

She immediately pulled me into her arms and asked what was wrong and I struggled to find a lie that would be believable.

I settled on saying I was upset about everything changing - which I suppose was true.

I remember Alexia looking mortified and breaking eye contact as soon as I looked at her. She told me off that evening when Mami was in the shower and Alba was talking to someone else. She told me I needed to be grateful for everything I have been given and that she paved the way for me.

It was even worse when she said I would never achieve the things she has. She said it was because I didn't have the mentality that she did, that I had it all so easy.

It hurt the most when she told me she was disappointed in the person I was.

"I hope we never share a shirt, Elena, because the day you play in the first Barcelona team is the day that we have run out of players. It will mean that football players are week and female footballers can not be weak. You do not have it in you to be like me, to do what I have done to get to where I am."

The venom in her voice sent a cold shiver down my spine and I felt like I had been stabbed. I didn't cry that time. I waited until I was in my bedroom to sob my heart out.

The last time she ever watched me play was the next day, but she didn't have an option not to. I played terribly, my first game as a La Masia student, my sisters words repeating over and over in my head.

That was really what tipped the relationship I once shared with Alexia on its head. The pedestal I had put her on was destroyed and suddenly she was just another player. I barely saw her as my sister any more. She couldn't love me, you wouldn't be able to hurt someone you love so much.

I have barely seen her since. She still comes to our family dinners on Thursday nights - she still very much loves Alba and our Mami. But I tell Mami that I have training with Barcelona B late on Thursdays. It finishes at 6 and dinner starts at 7, but I just organise to go to my friends' houses for dinner instead.

Sometimes we both have dinner together at home, but it is awkward and I hate it. I think she has probably forgotten about what she said to me in June of 2021, but I don't think I will ever be able to.

She doesn't like me, but it's ok because I have learnt to accept that. But I will never not love my sister because she was once everything to me.

~~~~~~

"Pequena Putellas!" Patri's excited shriek is what welcomes me into the dressing room on my first day. She tackles me into a hug and squeezes me tight. "It has been such a long time, mi favorita!"

The last time I saw Patri was only last year at the champions league final. I had sat with my whole family but I went to the bathroom when everyone else went and spoke to the players. I don't think Patri would have seen me.

I can only smile as she continues.

"I remember you as the little 8 year old who would sit and watch our training sessions after school! I was so confused by you when I first arrived here, you know. I remember the first time Ale let you play a game with us and you were so good!"

"Nobody doubted that you would be on this team one day!" A new voice entered the conversation.

"Marta!" I hugged the brunette closely. She was always one of my favourites.

"I am proud of you, pequena putellas."

Her words are familiar as I have heard them out of my mothers voice time and time again my whole life. But they seem foreign coming from Marta and it is an unwanted reminder of my sister. I don't know why - maybe it is because I have always associated this Barcelona team with her. I don't remember the last time she said she was proud of me.

I don't remember the last time she said anything to me, really.

"Gracias, Marta, I have missed you." I bury my head into her neck and she holds me closer.

"You have not been around as much since you transferred to La Masia. I wanted to come and watch but Ale never extended an invitation and I didn't want to overstep." I shake my heads at her words and she frowns.

"Alexia doesn't have time for my games, she hasn't for a while. It takes a lot to be La Reina."

Marta's frown deepens at my words and the attention of a few spanish players is captured. I should have spoken quieter, I forgot how many people in here speak catalan.

"It is ok, she is very supportive, but she just can't come to my games. She makes it up in other ways." I am lying through my teeth but Marta will never know.

"I am sure, she must be very proud of you, being selected in this team for the first time, it is a big deal, you are very young."

All I can do is nod, my energy is all being put into holding back my own tears. I don't know if Mami told her. I don't know if Alexia even knows that I was selected.

"Get changed now, I am sure Jona will want to talk to you before the session, especially with the game tomorrow."

I nod again as Marta pats me on the back and walk over to the cubby that says my name. It feels a bit surreal, really.

I never really thought I would see my name on a Barcelona cubby, accompanied by my new number that I chose in the meeting a few days ago. It was always a dream, but I never thought it was achievable. Alexia always seemed like a superstar, a superhuman of sorts and I would never reach that kind of level.

But here I am in the team that I always wanted to be in - in no way am I anywhere near my sisters level but I am on my way to being like her. I just wish she cared. I wish she was proud of me like Marta is.

Her cubby sits across from me and I try to tear my eyes from it but it sits and stares right back at me. I feel like an intruder in Alexia's space, this is not for me, she would not want me to be here.

I tie my laces quickly after that and head out onto the pitches to begin training.

I have trained with the first team twice before, but the Barcelona Bs were always slightly seperate and we could keep our distance from the first players. Jonatan is a familiar face and I feel comfortable as he smiles and me and motions for me to follow the others to the gym.

It is weird, being promoted within my own club. I am not so much a new signing, but a replacement - I am not good enough to be in the first team but they had no other options when Mapi injured herself.

I used to worry that people would say I only get opportunities because my last name is Putellas. When my sister told me I was weak all those years ago, that idea sort of cemented in my head, I suppose.

I never told my Mami what her daughter said to me because it would upset her. I told Alba half of it when she found me crying in my room a few days later but made her promise to not tell anyone. She couldn't say anything to Mami, Alexia, anyone at all because it would only make Alexia think I was weaker.

She was furious and tried to tell me it was untrue but it had already been said. I believed Alexia's word more than anyone else. To me, she was a superhuman.

But when I spoke to Jonatan a few days ago he made me feel like I was wanted within this squad. He made it clear that he wants me to integrate completely into the squad in the next few years and that he can see me playing soon even though I am only 15.

I told him I didn't want anything special because of my surname.

He told me that he chose me because of my first name.

"Elena Putellas," he said with a grin, "you may be as good as her, but you are not your sister. This is a professional environment. As long as you perform, which I know you will, nobody will care what your name is."

It was a big boost to my confidence.

Aitana Bonmati caught up to me quickly as I walked to the gym.

"You are big now." I chuckled but did not look over, I didn't need to really. "But not that big. You are only 15, si?"

"Yes, I am 15."

I met Aitana when she first joined the club. She always used to say that she would steal me and take me home with her because she thought I was adorable. It is strange that I am now sort of in the same team as her.

She started playing for the first team when I was 8. I was older then, I played my own football and liked staying with Alexia so I could kick a ball around with her teammates when they were done.

Aitana was one of the few who would stay every time I was there. When Alexia didn't want to wait she would drive me home herself, all the way to the other side of Barcelona. We would always stop for ice cream on the way home.

"I have not seen you in too long, Lena. I have missed you a lot but you have been doing very well in the B team. I am very proud and I take credit for your abilities." She spoke in such a dead pan voice but it was somehow still filled with emotion.

"I have missed you too, ABC." It was a nickname I gave her the first time she drove me home. I had been learning about the alphabet in English class and had the little song stuck in my head when she told me her full name. I used to sing her initials in the tune of the song but it quickly merged to me just saying the three letters.

"I have been to a few of your games, you know?"

I look at her in confusion, I have never seen her there. She just nods.

"Alexia never invited any of us but she was never at the ones I went to so I would sit in the stands with a hat and glasses so people wouldn't recognise me, but I was there. I went to your La Masia games as well. You have become a phenomenal player, Lena."

She has always spoken with such sincerity. I have missed her a lot.

"Maybe you can drop me off at home again tonight? I have missed you."

She chuckles and pulls me into a side hug.

"I was waiting for you to ask, little Lena. Oh you are not so little any more!"

I chuckle as well and let my head fall onto her shoulder as we enter the gym. My eyes scan the room, looking at all of the players on their equipment, nerves quickly settling inside me.

"Don't worry, it's all easy." Aitana seems to read my mind. "Just come with me and I will show you how to do everything. It will become second nature in the next few days."

The gym session went quickly as I was taught all the different exercises. I was familiar with most of them, having done a very similar program in the past with the B team.

We went out onto the field to do some drills and I played well. Jonatan was impressed and so were the first players. My teammates? Maybe, not quite, I don't think. I still haven't been in a team list, so I suppose I'll be their teammate when that eventually happens.

It wasn't until we reached the ice cream shop that Aitana started asking me all the awkward questions. I should have seen it coming.

"Why do you never come to our games anymore, Lena?" I was very grateful for the scoops of gelato in my hands. Eating it delayed my response as I tried to come up with something to say. I shrug as I eat.

I can not say it is because I do not get along with Alexia. It is too hard for me to say now, even after all these years.

"I'm not sure. I suppose I got busy with my own training and school. I have been to a few but I usually go home with Alba pretty quickly after they finish." It is only half a lie but she just shrugs, apparently not believing my words.

"And why is it that I am driving you home from your first ever first team training? I thought Alexia would have wanted to." I anticipated a question like this but that does not mean I wanted her to actually ask it.

"Alexia is busy." I hope that Aitana understands I don't want to talk about it. I haven't spoken about my broken relationship with my sister to anyone. I think she can sense something is wrong though, because she puts her spoon back into her ice cream and grabs my arm so I am staring right at her.

"If you ever want to talk, I am right here, Lena. I know you don't like people knowing what is going on inside that crazy head of yours but it is good to release your feelings."

She definitely knows something is wrong so I appreciate her not pushing.

"I have outlets, I play football, I play the piano, I am ok, aitana, I really am."

She eyed me as if to say she didn't believe me but dropped the topic anyway.

"When did you get so good?"

chapter II

#woso fanfics #woso #woso imagine #alexia putellas #putellas!reader #alexia putellas x reader #barca femeni #fcb femeni #alexia putellas imagine

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moneymartin · 1 day

Note

kate hcs? like what u did w nika plsss

・❥・- gf!kate hcs

warnings: harddd smut under the divider at the end and suggestive content :p

afab!r

a/n: i genuinely love doing hcs more than writing full on fics cause my lord i cannot write a whole story without going off track and ruining the entire thing… got carried away like always. also this is longgg overdue as well. i’ve been procrastinating everything and i feel bad for not releasing anything sooner like i promised. thank you for being patient w me lolz

i’m glad that we all agree… kate is theeee golden retriever girlfriend

i mean who wouldn’t say that

blonde masc that gives off happy vibes and literally has a tattoo that says ‘sunshine’

treats you like a real fuckin’ princess like she knows what she’s doing

okay kate lovesssss the kids

her and carson are so adorbs 💔

when someone asks her what her profession is she is not gonna say a pro hooper

shes gonna say that shes carson’s aunt 😭

def takes you over to kennedy’s house when she’s gone and makes you babysit carson w her 🥹

loves when they hold her fingers she thinks its the cutest thing in the world and you photograph the whole thing

spoils you fosho!!!!

mention one lil thing and shes buying it for you

new clothes, bags, shoes, jewelry, accessories. ANYTHING YOU WANNTTT!!!

yk how she likes tswift…

takes you to a concert for your bday if you do too

and wears that stupid cowboy hat 😒

but you guys would be matching soooo

DEFINITELY loves physical touch

hands hands handssss

they’re all over you in public like she is not afraid to show people you’re hers 😩

on your waist or hips. her fingers are always on you somehow

also does it romantically like she’ll intertwine pinkies with you and always holds your hand no matter the situation

the thumb thing is her favorite

loves pda foshooooo

i don’t think she’d be possessive but i feel like shes the jealous type

sees you w a girl at the bar or sumn and starts to FREAK!

she’ll sit next to you immediately and is touching you all over so that the girl goes away 😭

or shes burying her face into your neck and kissing your skin in front of her

WHEW!!!

everyone can disagree w me on this but i see her as lil spoon when you guys cuddle…

FIGHT ME ALL YOU WANT BUT THIS GIRL LOVEEESSSS WHEN YOU PLAY W HER HAIR WHILE SHE SLEEPS

kisses your neck or your collar while shes half asleep 😣

back rubs are her fav thing too

shes the one getting them tho cause she’s always so tense after practice and she believes that if you do it she’ll feel better already

we all know shes a passenger princess.

she probably has a car but refuses to drive it alone when you’re there cause she thinks she’ll crash it or something

lets you wear her clothes

if she was taller (most likely) she’d have you in all her shirts and stuff cause they look bigger on you

you think you shouldn’t wear anything under cause it hides everything anyways and kate agrees

in reality she just loves the easy access…

total baby when she’s drunk

and super clingy :(

arguments don’t happen often but when they do it ends real fast cause she knows how to calm you down 🥹🥹🥹

if anything though the arguments start cause its about something real stupid

teaches you how to play basketball if it isn’t your sport

can’t cook for SHIET!!!! burns eggs easily or somethin like that cause she can’t bring herself to learn

knows how to bake tho 100%

super adventurous

have you guys seen the pic of her zip lining… like she’s fearless when it comes to that stuff

hits the gym and weight room every fuckin day w you so she can build those arms 🤫

spots you when you think its too hard

KATE IS A MUNCH

ik y’all have seen that pussy eater jaw…

kisses are her thing as well

making out w you is the highlight of her night week day whatever!

initiates it all the time cause she knows you love it too

whines during it too me thinks…

when she needs you to shut up during it i firmly believe that she’ll kiss you to muffle the noises 😩

she isn’t straightforward but when she wants to she’ll make it obvious.

GROANER AND GRUNTERRRRR FOR SURE

cusses all the time

hard breather too

she’ll breathe out a bunch of words that you can barely hear cause of your own noises 💀 but you love hearing them cause you know she’s engaged

her strap game is crazy though i can tell…

feel like she’d sometimes just wear it for fun

she’ll wear it just for the looks and not to use it on you 😭😭

she doesn’t wanna have sex w you for her pleasure b/c during it, everything is about YOUUU

your pleasure >>>>> anything else

soft dom 100% but will also switch sometimes if thats what you’re feeling

especially after games like she loves having sex after cause she knows you’ll do everything for her

FUCKIN LOVES WHEN YOU RIDE HER ITS HER FAVORITE THING EVER

always grabbing your hips really tight when you do and theres always marks afterwards on them

and she likes seeing your face when you’re on top

missionary is her thing

eye contact during sex is important

to her at least

LOVES DIRTY TALKING

degrades you but only when you’re being cocky about something while she fucks the shit outta you

i don’t think she’d be aggressive but she’d be a lil rough when she’s upset

hickeys.

leaves marks EVERYWHEREEE

in the most visible spots so that people can see them when you two are in public

only happens during makeout seshes or when you guys are havin your own time tho

she so talks you through it.

always reassuring and asking if you feel good or not

“is this okay?” “does that hurt?” “it’s okay, baby. i’m right here, i promise” “take your time” lil things like that

praises you hella too

call me cringe or whatever

but she’ll call you a good girl if she has to…

when she eats you out she’s SOOO FOCUSED

quiet the wholeeee time but you can feel her getting all breathy against you

kisses your thighs after you cum so you know she’s still there 😞❤️

aftercare queen

she’s already cleaning you up and getting you a new pair of clothes or running a warm bath for the both of you 🥸

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #wcbb x you #wcbb x reader #wbb x you #wbb x reader #my works

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thir10th · 19 hours

Note

hey lovely! can I request a fic where r is feeling insecure with her body lately and emily shows how beautiful she is? fluff w some smut if you feel comfortable :)

Hi anon! your timing couldn't be better. This has been sitting on my drafts for weeks, i kinda hated it, but you just gave me an excuse to get back to it, so thank you for that and for requesting! Hope you like it <3

will you? - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: see the ask. I changed it a bit but the main idea is still there tw: insecure reader, face-sitting, oral sex, body image, tiny bit of angst (blink and you miss it) a/n: this one might be a bit messy but i still enjoyed writing it! like & reblog <3

You throw your bag far away when you enter the hotel room. This case was getting hard, nothing was making sense, and you had been working for the past 14 hours none stop.

You need to ether sleep, eat something, a shower, or an orgasm. Or maybe all of them

but that isn't an option right now, because you're mad at her.

You aren't even sure why you had gotten so upset about it, its not like she had actually done anything, but you were still annoyed.

You were actually mad at yourself, more than at your girlfriend, but her words still resonating on your head wouldn't go away.

Emily's arms wrapping around your waist make you jump, getting you out of your thoughts.

Hugging you from behind, she rests her face on your shoulder, you feel her warm breath on your neck, she kisses your cheek lovingly.

Her arms leave your waist to reach your shoulders, her hands massage your arms which makes you close your eyes in pleasure, relying on her touch. Maybe staying mad wasn't that worth it.

"You know what i think you need?" she moves a strand of hair to kiss the curve of your neck "mh- what?" you say, a smile of pleasure starting to form on your lips

"I think you know what" she answers, you can feel her smile against your skin, her teeth brushing against your shoulder, and then you realize what she has in mind

"No, no, Em, absolutely not" You refuse, pulling away from her touch, turning around to look at her, crossing your arms.

"ugh i can't believe you're still thinking about it, after this morning" there it is, you are pushing her away again.

Why is she so insistent though, why can't she just read your mind and understand?

"Ok, ok I'm sorry, I just don't understand. You're always so open to trying new stuff, and that, just... i don't know, baby, i just want to know why you don't want it, that's all" She says, her hand reaching to rest on your arm to comfort you.

You just can't tell her, you're too ashamed. That same morning your girlfriend had suggested you tried something new in bed. She had asked you, boldly, (like she always did) to sit on her face.

She had insisted so much, you had denied every time.

Really, what was there to hate? your beautiful girlfriend was literally asking you to fuck her face, to eat you out, to give you full control. But you just couldn't do it.

"c'mon, baby, i just want to understand" she is being gentle, using her persuasion skills on you, calling you by the special pet name that would only come out in moments of special intimacy or vulnerability

She knows how to get to you, and that only makes you angrier.

You take her hand off your arm, getting yourself away from her, you need to be alone.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, try to keep it in your pants while i'm gone, all right?" you spit at her, and seeing her mouth-opened expression, you regret it inmidiately.

Standing under the warm stream of water helps you get your mind off of things for a while, while you wander what's exactly got you all worked up like this.

Emily doesn't deserve any of this, she had been nothing but sweet. Yes, she has been insistent about it, but that doesn't mean she had to be hit in the face with your own insecurities.

Getting out of the shower you stare at your reflection on the bathroom mirror. God, you hate how it makes you feel, but what you hate the most is how you're paying your own frustrations with your girlfriend.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, you get out, ready to face an angry Emily, instead she lays on the bed, already on her sleep clothes, reading with her book resting on her knees

"Em?" you try, she looks at you from over her book, then gets back to reading

"You're not gonna talk to me?" you ask

"whenever you're ready to actually talk to me, then I will. I'll try to keep it in my pants in the meantime, though" she shoots back in a sarcastic tone.

She's right, you shouldn't have said that, it had been a low blow.

You sit beside her, taking the book from her hands and placing it on the nightstand. She looks at you with mixed anger and sadness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, you know i didn't, this is just hard for me" you try to explain. "Look, I just don't think it's a good idea, alright?"

"I don't ever want to make you uncomfortable, but i want you to talk to me, i've been trying to get to you, and you just shut me out" she says, sitting upright on her spot on the bed, taking your hands on hers, looking you in the eyes

"it's just... i don't want to... hurt you" her mouth falls open once again "hurt me? that's what this is all about? baby c'mon, you won't hurt me, why do you say that?" her tone switches to full concern now, the previous argument already forgotten

"yes, i will, I will choke you with this big stupid things and you won't ever want to go down on me again" you finally let out

"well... I'll die a happy woman then" she chuckles, trying to downplay it

"Ok, baby, listen to me" she holds your face with both her hands, forcing you to look at her, the tenderness of her gaze deepening into you

"i love every part of you, even the ones you don't like, thighs included" she waits for an answer but you don't say anything.

Emily lifts your your chin with her finger, and leaves a soft peck on your lips, the contact makes you relax instantly

"you are smart" she says, leaving another soft kiss on your cheek

"and beautiful" now getting your other cheek

"and sexy" she kisses your nose this time

"and so, so hot" she moves back to kiss your lips again, and you chuckle nervously at her words

"what can i do to help you believe me?" you shake your head "let me bury myself into you, please" her pleading is getting too much, her thumb caresses your face so softly, so tenderly.

How could you deny her anything when she asks so sweetly? you finally nod, the huge smile spreading along her face

"Em, are you sure?” you ask, biting at your lip as you watch your girlfriend sit on the edge of the bed and recline back, laying face-up atop the covers with an eager grin spread across her face. “I might weigh too much…”

Emily raises her head up and shoots you a look. “Honey, I’m positive,” she says, trying to keep the whine out of her voice.

She wants you on her so badly she can barely stand it, eyes flickering between your face and the bathrobe that covers your thick, delectable thighs from view.

A moment of deliberation passes, then, without another word, you reach down and untie the soft white hotel bathrobe, letting it slide down your arms to fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you completely naked in a matter of seconds

"fuck" you hear her mutter "you're so beautiful" Emily breathes

“Not as beautiful as you” you murmur as she clambers onto the bed.

You crawl up it until you are kneeling beside Emily's head, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your combined weight.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“Yes.” her decisiveness tells you she wasn't joking, she does want this more than you had thought

You take a deep breath in and then lift a leg, swinging it over Emily and settling it on the other side of her head so that you are straddling her, your cunt hovering mere inches over Emily's mouth.

"Promise me you will tell me if i'm too heavy, or if you can't breath" too excited to resist, Emily reaches up to thumb at your clit.

“I will” she says, sliding her free hand along your thigh, rubbing comforting circles into the soft skin.

“I promise you i will tap you twice, but i won't need it" she reassures. "You’re gorgeous—fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.”

Cautiously, you lowered yourself down enough that your near-dripping pussy was just barely pressing against Emily’s face.

You were planning to keep as still as possible in order to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around Emily or put too much weight on her, but that idea flew out the window almost immediately after her tongue darted out, flattening itself against the lips of your pussy before dragging upward and settling at the soft nub of your clit.

“Oh,” you gasp, giving a shuddery little jerk of your hips before you can stop yourself.

Emily moans in reply, the sound vibrating against your walls and causes you to whimper again.

Her tongue flicks out, circling your clit and applying occasional pressure, whilst two fingers push inside you, crook and rubbing at your sennsitive inner walls.

You shudder and gasp, quickly losing yourself to the feeling.

“Oh, fuck, Emily,” you gasp out, finally giving in to the temptation to reach down and fist her hand into her silky hair.

Your girlfriend lets out another appreciative moan when you give it a rough tug, the vibrations making every feeling intensify.

Losing yourself to the pleasure, you rock your hips against Emily, knees pressing hard into the mattress. She has always been an expert on driving you wild like this.

Her nose rubbing right at your clit and you couldn’t help but moan, gripping tighter on the headboard. God, she has the perfect nose for this.

Emily’s mouth wrap around you, tongue sinking into your pussy as far as she can while she sucks at you, eagerly lapping your juices into her mouth.

Her hands groped at your ass, encouraging you to roll your hips, effectively riding her face.

She keeps up the pace, mouthing desperately at your clit until you can feel yourself letting go.

Hips stuttering and then stalling. Your thighs shook up, inner walls spasming around Emily’s fingers as you fall over the edge and into bliss.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Em...” You breath out, your chest heaving as you very slowly open your eyes, coming down to earth as Emily leaves little kitten licks on your cunt, sucking up as much of your juices as she could.

Your body shudders when her nose brushes against you again, this time an accident and she chuckles softly, helping you swing your leg over her and drop onto the bed beside her.

Emily stays put, lying face-up as she catches her breath. Then, once she feels able to, she rolls onto her side and grins at you.

"good?" she asks, her fingers softly playing with your hair

"absolutely perfect" You reply with a dreamy smile, pulling her to you for a kiss. You can't help but moan into her mouth at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

"I'm really sorry of what i said, Em" you said, keeping you face close to hers, holding her

"It's ok, I know you were upset. I just want you to know that i love every single part of your body, no exceptions" you kiss her sweetly, her words causing a warm feeling to spread on your stomach

"you're perfect" you say, pulling her in for another kiss

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you like it! reqs are still open!

#emily prentiss #wlw #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #lesbian #emily prentiss lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fandom #emily prentiss x jj

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writingroom21 · 6 hours

Text

I Dare You

Pairing: Bestfriend!Rafe x fem!reader

Summary: A game of truth or dare shouldn't be an issue right? Definitely not when it's with you hot best friend. It's all fun and games right?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), p in v, cockwarming, cream pie, slight chocking and slapping, teasing, let me know if I miss any

Wc: 3.2K

“Let’s play a game or something?” Rafe suggests next to you. You’ve been hanging out for the past few hours. It’s kinda a tradition at this point. Every week the two of you will hang out at either Tanny Hill or your house. The two of you would spend the time watching movies and binge eating pizza or whatever food you decide.

Tonight was the same thing. You had ordered pizza and wings before Rafe got to your house. Giving him the perfect timed entrance with the food since he ran into the delivery boy. That was at least four hours ago and the food is long gone. The movies you watched are just rolled credits.

“I think I have Monopoly in the closet. We also have the switch that we can play on.” You rack your brain trying to think of what games that you have. “OOO! We can play just dance.” Rafe groans at the thought of the game. All throughout middle school you were obsessed.

Everyday you would go home from school, do your homework and play for hours. It was a great way of letting out energy while also giving you a workout. Your love for the game was then forced onto Rafe. You made him go home with you one day after school and play. Rafe has always been athletic, even as a child he loved sports. But that game took something out of him.

Every move was always red, never getting the motion correctly. Don’t get him started on the burn he would feel the day after. All the jumping around and the squating tore his muscles til they were strands. He hated that damn game but for some reason he would go back to your house the following day to do it over again. Now even thinking about the game hurts him.

“I would rather get back together with Christine then play that game.” He’s being over dramatic. The game isn’t even that bad. To say he would rather get back with the ex that stole from him, tried to sleep with his dad, and reported him to the cops is crazy. The stare you are giving him tells him you aren’t convinced. “Okay I wouldn’t but seriously I am not playing that death game.” Typical Rafe, drama queen. “Fine then what do you want to play? We can just put on another movie if you’re that bored.”

You took the bait without even thinking too much about it. “Why don’t we play truth or dare?” He suggests. His eyes are staring at the phone in his hands but he keeps an eye on you. Watching the perplexed look you give him. “Truth or dare? What are we twelve?” Teasing him will never get old. He just has a habit of saying the dumbest or weirdest things when he’s comfortable around people. Teasing him is a part of the friendship.

Rafe throws his phone on your bed as he moves around to look at you better. “Weren’t you watching that dumb kids tv show the other day? Gluey or something.” “Bluey.” You correct him. “That doesn’t matter. It’s good for your brain to help relax, you clearly need it.” Your foot nudges his thigh as you poke fun at him. He catches it and yanks you closer to him, your legs resting on his lap now.

You get a little more comfortable, fluffing the pillow behind you as you lay back. “It does matter. You watch something made for toddlers but you can’t play truth or dare. Come on indulge me.” He whines, his hand squeezing your calf. The feeling of his hands on you is not something new. You are one of the only people that he is comfortable enough to physically touch. The only thing is that sometimes the touch lingers, filling you with a fluttering feeling.

Clearing your throat to distract from your emotions, you answer. “Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” You giggle as you think of something. “I dare you to try on one of my dresses.” His face drops and your giggles become full laughs. “Fuck you. I’m not doing that shit, think of something else.” His nails graze along your skin, reaching your knee then going down. “Nope, gotta follow the rules.” You know he would never put on a dress in his life. You also know that he has a hard time saying no to you.

This is more of a test to see how far he would really go. “Too fucking bad. I’m not going to wear one of your dresses.” You pull your legs back to your body. Rafe tries to stop you from leaving but you had already turned away from him. “Baby come back.” There it is. That little moment he gives you butterflies. He’s been calling you that recently.

Baby

Like some freudian slip, a moment where he truly reveals how he feels. You ignore him as you open your closet grabbing a crop top instead. A dress was a long shot but you could pull this off. You walk back over to the bed, shirt in hand as you climb up. “What are you doing?” He’s watching as you crawl over to him. He can’t help but to have to adjust his pants. The action doesn’t go unnoticed.

“If you put the shirt on I’ll be happy. Then we can continue.” Rafe stares at the shirt then you. “Plus guys in crop tops are kinda hot.” You shrug your shoulders, looking down at the fabric and playing with it. Fanning innocence in your words to hide your true intentions. His eyes perk up hearing you say that. “You think guys look hot in that?”

His voice somehow got a little lower. You are itching to squeeze your thighs to sedate the ache you feel. But you won’t let him see that this is affecting you. It’s harder for him to hide and your eyes keep glancing down to get a peak. “Yeah. I like when you can see how tight the shirt is over their muscles.” Your eyes follow along his chest, imagine the shirt clinging to life on his chest. Your fingers are dying to touch him.

“Give me the damn shirt.” Rafe rips his shirt off, taking yours and puts it on. You mindlessly stare at him. You were right, the shirt is clinging to him. His muscles are stretching it out but his biceps are the main show. They are bulging out, the fabric barely holding together. He could choke you with his arms and you would be happy.

“Happy?” Your eyes flicker up to his. “Very.” Rafe shifts back to relax, his arm resting by your folded legs. His fingers extend out to brush against your exposed skin. “Truth or dare?” You think about it and take a long pause. “Truth.” His eyes squint at you, expressing his irritation that you took the easy way out. “Why did you and Evan break up?”

He knows why you two broke up, it was him. Evan made it known he never liked rafe and your friendship with him. It definitely didn’t help when Rafe and him got into a fight. Rafe may have implied that you would leave him in an instant if he asked you to. That really set him off and escalated from there. The next day you told Rafe that you and Evan had broken up. He was relieved to know he had once again chased off another guy.

“We had a huge fight after the party. He accused me of sleeping with you and wouldn’t stop yelling. In the end he told me I had to choose, you or him. I chose you.” His hand sandwich between your calf and thigh. Tightening as his mind processes what you said. “Why?” “That’s not the game. My turn.” He tries to protest and you won’t let him. You can’t admit that a part of you does want him. Evan was right to be concerned, not that you would cheat but that you have feelings for Rafe.

“Dare.” You wish you had fought harder to not play this game. You suck at coming out with things to say. “Are you always going to say dare?” “Yes.” You huf a bit. “I dare you to take a thirst trap photo and send it to the group chat.” He groans, already picturing the texts he’s about to get. Reluctantly he gets up positioning himself in front of your full length mirror. He takes the picture and sends it to the chat.

Automatically Top and Kelce start blowing up the group chat. He ignores them and walks back over. “Truth or dare.” You don’t even think. “Dare.” He crawls on the bed like you did earlier, forcing you to lay back. His body is hovering above you, hand playing with the hair that frames your face. “I dare you to show me what you got earlier at Victoria Secret.” He saw the package when he got through the door. His curiosity was eating at him. Smirking, you run your hand around his chest, teasing where the shirt ends only to push him off you.

You grab the box that was sitting on your dresser and open it up. Slowly you take off your sleep shorts and shirt. Your fingers wrap around the thin piece of fabric you call underwear. Pulling them down inch by inch teasing him further by throwing them at him. You don’t know where your confidence came from. Before today you would never strip naked in front of Rafe, you just can’t help yourself.

You take out a red lace teddy, the lace only covers part of your sides and your breasts. It was held together by thin straps, leaving your front fully exposed. Rafe’s hand starts to palm himself over his sweatpants, the pain in his dick becoming unbearable. “Fuck you look good.” You giggle and give him a twirl shaking your ass in the process. “Yeah? You like it, pretty boy.” Your hands are roaming your body, pausing to play with your breast.

Rafe can’t help but stare. “Come here.” You do without question, not wanting to let go of the game you ask him again. “Truth or dare.” Rafe reaches for your sides as soon as you get close. Playing with the lace between his fingers. “Can we both just stick to dare? It’s more fun that way.” Smiling you lean in, closing the gap slightly. “I dare you to take off your pants.” Like a good boy he does.

His boxer does nothing to hide the impressive dick he has. Your mouth water just thinking about it. Without really thinking your hand lands on his thigh, making its way up and retracting as soon as you get close to his dick. “Don’t be shy, baby. You can touch me.” Your eyes look at him through your eyelashes. He could probably cum just from watching you. Bingo

“I dare you to touch yourself.” A gasp leaves your lips at his dare. You know what he means, he wants you to pleasure yourself in front of him. But instead of listening you start to touch your thighs, then arms, and chest. “You know what I meant. Don’t you go start being a brat right now.” Giggling you move his thighs, slotting yourself in between them. Leaning back you expose yourself to him. The open crotch leaves you fully bare to him.

“Fuck.” He grunts as your fingers play with your clit, collecting the wetness by your entrance to help your movements. You almost get lost in the feeling, forgetting about the game, almost. “I dare you to take those boxers off and show me how you take care of yourself.” Rafe’s dick twitches when the cool air of your room hits him. His hand rapidly wrapping around himself and tugging.

The two of you kinda stay there in a lull. Both of you watch the other as they play with themselves, waiting the other out till they crack. Rafe had envisioned this differently, he thought he would be the one having you begging for him. Now he doesn’t even know if he can go another minute without touching you. Without feeling you stretch out on him. He knows this is only going to torture himself more but he can’t help it. “I dare you to come sit on my lap.”

You may have been confident before but this is going further then you thought. Before you can psych yourself out you do it. Throwing your legs over his, your folds parting as you sit down on him, his dick laying perfectly on your pussy. His hands find your hips as your arms wrap his neck. Holding each other and staring into each other’s eyes. “Like this?” Your voice convey’s innocence, so do your eyes. Melting him even further into your spell. “Just like that baby.”

His hands start to rock you back and forth, his dick sliding between your folds. The tip brushing against your clit. You let out a moan from the feeling, grinding harder to please him too. Your efforts were rewarded with a chocked moan leaving his perfect lips. Wanting to test how far he’s willing to go, your head leans forward. He's moving in trying to taste your lips, only stopping when he sees that you did. “I dare you to kiss me.” The words whispered on his lips.

Rafe brings a hand up to the back of your neck, dragging you in for a kiss. His lips devour yours as if you were his last meal. With the way that your soaking cunt is drenching him, it might actually be. He feels like he’s in heaven right now, he never wants this feeling to stop. But he knows it could be better. “I dare you to put it in.” Your hips stop, lips following along. There’s saliva connecting your lips as you detach yourself. You look apprehensive, not really sure if you want to ruin the friendship. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Your fingers graze his scalp, missing when he had hair. The feeling of it weaving through your fingers can be felt lightly. “I miss your hair.” Rafe grins at you, pecking your lips. “I’ll grow it out again if you sit on my dick.” You clench around nothing, itching to feel him inside you. “Plus we’re best friends. We should be able to do everything together.” He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your check, thumb grazing your bottom lip. Blue eyes following the movement, flickering up to catch yours.

In your mind you know he’s trying to manipulate you with the best friend card. The truth is you don’t care, you would have pulled the same trick. Rafe isn’t the only one desperate to have him in me. “Okay. Promise this won’t change anything.” you lift your pinky up to him, he latches his to yours. “Promise, Just…just sit on it. That’s all you have to do.” He needs you now, he’ll say or do anything to get it. You lift yourself a little, getting a hold of him to line him up to your entrance.

Slowly you tease your hole with his tip. Slightly putting it in and then going up to then swirl his head around. Rafe is getting frustrated, groans of displeasure leaving his mouth. “Please.” He whines out, hands death gripping your hips. You lightly tap his cheek so he can open his eyes. With a smile you sink down, moaning at the feeling of his big dick stretching you. When you bottom out you lean your forehead on his. Hips flushed to one another.

Your eyes are locked in, watching as you both stew in the pleasure of feeling each other. Your walls are fluttering around him so nicely. He doesn’t know how much of this he could handle. Honestly he’s glad he suggested you cockwarm him. If he was fucking you right now he would have already finished. You are so tight and warm he wouldn’t have lasted a minute. Plus it gives you a chance to get used to him, he doesn’t plan on being gentle next him. His hands explore your back, nails raking down and slapping your ass. You let out a loud moan, your walls contract making him let one out as well.

The minutes pass by as you two explore each other. Sharing kisses on lips or exposed skin, hands touching every inch they can reach. You can feel him throbbing inside you, pulsating every few seconds. Pulling away, your hands lay flat on his chest to keep him still. “I dare you to touch me.” Tilting your head you mock him. “Let’s see if you can make me cum.” A hand flies to your clit rubbing calculated circles, the other gripping your neck. “Dangerous game you’re playing there, baby.”

Rafe’s back to attacking your lips, moving his assault to your jaw nipping at the skin. His fingers move faster on your clit, hurdling you closer to your orgasim. “Tighter.” You plead, your own hand laying over his to get what you want. He tightens his hold, chuckling at your open mouth expression. “Fucking dirty girl. Here I thought you were my little angel, turns out you're a little devil.” Words don't seem to be forming in your brain.

Everything is blank, the only thing in your head is forcing you to focus on how good his fingers feel. How every twitch of his dick brushes your g-spot only adding to your pleasure. He can feel how close you are, your walls are strangling him. Ironic since it's the same thing he’s doing to you. The fuzziness of your mind snaps the band in your stomach, all the stimulation too much for you to handle. “Rafe please.” Your moans mix with his, they echo in your room bouncing off the walls.

Rafe continues his motions to help you ride out your orgasim. His hands give up once you relax again. He’s on the verge of cumming, mustering up all his strength he holds back. You sense his hands on your hips ready to pull you up. You slap his hands away, cementing yourself to his lap. He gives you a panic look, knowing he won’t be able to hold off for long. “I dare you to cum in me. We should be able to do everything together right?” The moan he let out was pornographic at best. His body is shaking from how intense his orgasim is.

You moan as you watch him enjoying the view of his face and the feeling of him filling you up. He pulls you to his chest, keeping you close as he comes down. This is better than any drug he has ever taken. Slowly and carefully he moves you around, laying you on your back and pulling out. He stares at his dripping cum slides out of you. “God baby you’re amazing.” He kisses your stomach, chest, chin, then lips.

He holds you there, lips molding with yours. He gets up after a minute, getting a wet rag to clean you up. You lay in bed motionless when Rafe comes back after disposing of the dirty rag. “That was fucking amazing.” You say to your ceiling. Laughing, he lays down next to you. You look at him with a smile. “If you think that was good just wait till I actually fuck you.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #drew starkey smut #outer banks smut #rafe x you #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #best friend rafe #rafe cameron x reader

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houseofevanbuckley · 3 days

Text

Part 1 : here

Tommy left. Of course he did.

Who would stay when Evan “Buck” Buckley fucks up again, uh?

He’s back in his room now, in his bathroom, getting ready for a shower and he’s wondering if he can avoid cleaning his lips and his birthmark so he can pretend to still feel Tommy’s touch. Tommy’s lips.

What a teenager.

He slams the door of the shower behind him and lets the water drop on his face, visualise it erasing Tommy’s kiss, his touch, like it never happened.

He doesn’t cry. It’s not his first deception. He knows how to deal with it.

He knows !!

Ok, maybe he doesn’t know. It’s been 2 weeks and his eyes still wander around every rooms he goes into. Around every venues.

Maddie has been on his ass as soon as he dropped his mug at the news of Tommy’s leaving.

And everyday she looks at him suspiciously. She even pulled his best friend Eddie and his son to try to have Buck to come out with it, whatever it was.

Her words. And he almost lost it laughing at the “come out” part. If she knew.

Maybe she should.

It’s been 3 more weeks. Five weeks in total and he called Maddie in his room.

“He kissed me.” He blurts as soon as she’s sitting down.

It’s a sign of how close they are that she doesn’t even need anything else to know what and who they’re talking about immediately.

“Did he force you?” she asks serious.

“What? No, no absolutely not! Why would you even think that?”

“I dont know Evan, maybe because you’ve been hurting for five weeks and now you tell me your bodyguards kissed you before running away and-“

“I liked it Maddie, I liked it so much,” he says, and his eyes fill with tears.

She looks at him for a few seconds before her face finally clear. He knows she gets him. He knows she already knows or guessing what he’s not saying yet.

“Oh Evan,” she says before standing from her seat and comes around to hug him.

They stay like that for a while, before she breaks the silence of the room.

“What happened ?”

“He kissed me. He came into my room, I was freaking out because I said “he” during that show. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and he knocked and he came inside. And he kissed me. And when he asked if it was ok I… I just told him that I was sorry. And then he left. And he really left …”

They stay like that for a long time.

“Why did you say no?”

“Please Maddie… it’s been hard enough for us. Yes mom and dad helped a little but we struggled. YOU struggled so I could have my music lessons, my voice training, my recordings. Everything you did for me…. If I come out now? As what? Bi? People will freak… they’ll hate me. And through me you. They’ll destroy what we built together. What we fought for.”

Maddie looks at him and instead of the understanding he thought he’d see on her face he only see sadness, “Evan … do you truly think that your happiness is not my priority? That I wouldn’t drop everything here if it meant that my baby brother could have all he wants?”

“Maddie… you shouldn’t sacrifice anything for me.”

“And I don’t intend to, but I’d do it in a heartbeat. And I’m sure many of your fans would still love you. Yes maybe we would have shows in smaller venues, but you always said that you liked them more, that it gave you a better bond to your fans. Or maybe you’ll be the first bi-icon of country music here and you’ll explode. We don’t know what the future holds. But we know what you always looked for. We know why your eyes always wander around in a room. What if Tommy is that person that will always be here for you ?”

He can feel the tears sliding slowly down his face.

“How was that kiss, Evan?”

“It was like when I first played on my first guitar…” he says looking at his sister, silently pleading for her to understand what’s the significance of it is. And he sees on her face that she gets it. Like she always does.

“Let’s get your man”

It takes some time. They know where Tommy works easily enough but the tour is now in Canada and Tommy is all the way back to California, to Los Angeles where he works apparently for the Rams.

The fact that they’re away and can’t come back ends up working for them as Maddie put a plan together so Buck can talk to Tommy, and convince him for a second chance.

They’re finally hitting a two weeks break in the tour and they’re back in LA. Buck is looking outside to the game being played.

They’re close to the halftime and he’s getting ready. He knows Maddie is around there, texting Chimney consistently while her husband has the job of keeping Tommy focused on him and close to the playfield so he doesn’t try to run away when he realizes who’s singing.

Of course Chimney was made aware of their plans and it was only his love for romance that probably kept him from blurting it all out to Tommy already.

When the halftime is finally announced and they say that a surprise entertainment has been put together Buck leaves the room and goes outside to get on the stand they put together for him.

He knows where Chimney and Tommy are supposed to be. He knows exactly where to watch. And for the first time he’s scarred of what he’ll see if he let his eyes wander around to find Tommy.

But he still does it.

And here he is. Looking back at him.

Even from where Buck stands he can see how tense Tommy look, and he still drowns in his blue eyes.

He hears the music start and the years of training and experience make him act. He grabs his guitar and start to play.

This time when he says “he” it’s not a mistake.

This time when he says “he” it’s with intention.

This time when he says “he” he shouts it.

And he shouts it again. And again. And again.

His voice never wavers. His eyes barely blink, scared of missing any hints of Tommy’s reaction.

When he switches to a second song, a silly little song just to distract the crowd he sees Tommy moving his head a little. Like he did when he took care of Buck at the venues.

He always pretended to not like Buck’s songs. To not like music at all, but Buck saw him enough time mouthing the words of his songs to know it was just an act.

And when he starts the third song, he can see Tommy singing words for words. He only stumbles a little when Buck says “he” again and he smiles. He smiles at Tommy, and he shouts louder. And louder.

He.

The last notes are still resonating when he shouts a thank you to the crowd that applaud. This time he doesn’t care. The show wasn’t for them.

It was for him.

And he leaves the stand and he walks toward Tommy. He walks across half the field. It’s not what he’s supposed to do. It’s not how the artist is supposed to leave. He had an exit. The same that he used to enter the field.

But Maddie is supposed to have cleared that with them. He doesn’t really care to be honest.

Not now that he’s in front of Tommy and he sees Chimney walks quietly away.

“Hey”

“Hey,” answers Tommy, his face inscrutable.

“I’m so sorry,” says Buck, taking the few more steps that separate them. He can feel the heat from Tommy’s body now. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats.

“Evan”

“I made a mistake. It was ok, Tommy. It was so ok. The okayest”

Tommy huffs, his lips quirking up, “the okayest,uh?”

Buck nods, he’s not sure what he should say now. The plan was to sing for Tommy. To meet him again. To tell him that kiss wasn’t a mistake. That he liked it.

But now in front of Tommy, he feels his lips moving but no sounds leave them.

He doesn’t have to. Not when he feels Tommy fingers rub his jaw, retracing the same pattern they did after their kiss. He rubs his face on that hand like a cat, closing his eyes and then he feels it again. Tommy’s lips.

This time the world goes silent. It goes still. Only Tommy is here, Tommy and Buck.

And when they separate to breathe, the first sound he hears is the little exhale from Tommy and he vows to one day be able to recreate it through music. But now he just pulls Tommy closer to kiss him.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #buck x tommy #tommy x buck #evan buck buckley #tevan #buck and tommy #kinley #kinkley

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seungmoonandstars · 2 days

Note

hi again! ~

i'd like to request yandere/obsessive seungmin. it's a concept that's been eating me alive for the past few days!

if this falls outside your comfort zone, please feel free to ignore! ❤️✨

love your blog! okay bye ~ 🥰🫰🏽

Thank you for being so patient! 🤍 This flavor of Seungmin is a first for me, so I definitely spent a lot of time overthinking. Hope you enjoy him!

Yandere!Kim Seungmin/female reader

wc: 5.2k

rating: explicit/18+

contains: manipulation, a little stalking, humiliation/degradation, choking (sexual & non sexual), reader is a little into it. overall typical male yandere things, so please keep that in mind when reading...

. ✦ . ✦ . ✦ . ✦ .

He isn’t taking anymore input on the matter. Seungmin is done, he’s standing, and he’s ready to go. He puts his hands in his pockets and waits impatiently, and you can already see what’s happening between his legs. He’s still soft, but he pulls the front of his sweats tight so you can better see what you’re obviously staring at.

“Come on…it’s all yours, remember?”

. ✦ . ✦ . ✦ . ✦ .

Seungmin watches you closely from his side of the table—arms crossed, legs spread open. You can see the soft flesh of his inner thigh peek out from his shorts, and when he moves, it moves, and staying on your side of the table gets a little more difficult with every passing moment. You hardly know him, and yet...this is tough. It's been four weeks since you met, and that in itself seemed like pure luck.

He looks at you like he has you all figured out.

. ✦ .

He was here, in this cafe, waiting patiently on a date that definitely stood him up. An hour had gone by since he arrived, and you watched him sit there, sipping his coffee, checking his phone...wringing his hands. It was obvious what had happened before you worked up the nerve to go over there, but you did. You abandoned the laptop and the work you'd been mostly ignoring (to look at him), and you cautiously walked closer. Had the cafe been any busier, you might not have, but there was nobody there to see you embarrass yourself except for him.

He smiled at you immediately when he noticed you walking toward him, but he was still surprised when you stopped and stood there, thinking of what to say. Even though you went over it in your head for the last twenty minutes, you were still stuck on an opener.

Seungmin spoke first, in perfect english, and his voice was so soft and pretty. "Hello, are you getting a lot of work done? You look very busy over there."

"Yes," you laughed under your breath, "I'm sorry to bother you—"

He shook his head, "No...not, um...you're not bothering me. I'm not busy," his eyes drop to the napkin he'd been tearing into pieces.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"I was, but I don't think they're going to show up"

You were right. Stood up. Whoever decided to not show up was missing out on a very pretty face. "Would it be too..." you switched to Korean very briefly, "Can I join you?"

He nodded quickly, and his smile grew a little, "yes, I don't think my date will be interrupting us."

"I'm sorry they didn't show up"

"I was feeling very down, but I think I'm better now...my name is Seungmin."

. ✦ .

Lucky.

He clears his throat and bounces his knee, "what did you wanna talk about?"

"Us"

"Yeah? I like us. We can talk about us.”

Still he sounds so sweet, so smooth.

The shy, well mannered boy at the cafe isn't here, though. Actually, he wasn't even at the cafe. You were both polite and respectful, but he matched your flirting perfectly, and you were both calm and reserved…until you took a walk an hour later and he fucked you in the park.

The sun had just set, and almost everyone had cleared out when you felt his knuckles drag up the back of your arm, and there was no denying it—you wanted it from the moment you laid eyes on him. And you did exactly what you imagined: hung on desperately to his shoulders, gripped his neck, dug your nails into his back as he held your thighs apart and fucked you slowly. You let him fill you up—you watched him slowly pull out, and felt his cum start to leak before getting on your knees and begging him for more. And he gave it to you.

Afterward he walked you home, and you invited him up, because you didn’t want to let him go just yet. There was no more sex, but he kissed you and touched like he already loved you.

“Are you mine?” He whispered into your ear as he kissed and bit at your neck, . “Hm, yeah, you are…I want you.”

“Lucky me. I want you, too.”

He leans back even further and stretches his arms over his head. A pale line of his tight stomach peeks out from under his shirt, and you watch it like you haven’t seen it before—haven’t touched it, haven’t tasted every inch of it.

“This was fun, but I’m not sure it’s gonna work”

The fall of his face is so fast, so dramatic. You didn’t think he would be so surprised, to be honest. It’s only been a month, but nearly every day together is enough time to figure out that things just don't fit.

“Not going to work?” He sits up and runs his palms roughly down his thighs, pulls at his shorts. “We work great, and we have fun. I’d like to keep having fun."

Breaking things off is hard because of the fun. The sex is too good, and it’s been blurring your judgement the entire time. Even now, all you can think about is getting on your knees for him, and you feel like today might end with that regardless of what happens. But Seungmin is everywhere; he’s always the first and last notifications on your phone, and it doesn’t stop at all in between. Maybe he means well, but you’re exhausted.

“I like our fun, too. But Seungmin…I need some space. We both need space before we burn this thing out.”

He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes wander around your apartment. The look on his face is familiar, because it’s the same one that he had before you approached him four weeks ago. Upset, a little confused.

“I can take a break. So…what, no sex for a few days?"

You almost say yes. “I think we need more time than that.” This is you trying to be smart, but you don’t want to be smart, you want to do what you usually do with your relationships; let them run their course even though you know things will get bad, and someone will definitely get hurt. No, you want to be stupid...you want him to fuck you senseless right now.

Seungmin stands and adjusts his shirt over his shoulders, stretches his neck. “Okay…got it.”

Your heart thumps a little more as he approaches.

“You want me to go?”

Eye contact is hard to hold. His stare is so intense, and he’s so handsome...too handsome. The little nod you give him takes so much effort, like his closeness puts some sort of spell on you.

He steps even closer, and gently grabs your wrist. “Okay, I’ll...go…” another step, “can I have a goodbye kiss?”

The smell of his breath and his cologne make you dizzy. Pliable. Seungmin laces his fingers with yours and squeezes, and before you even tell him yes, he’s kissing. He kisses like it could somehow make you change your mind. He pulls back and guides your hand to his hip, “you sure?” hoping you’ll move it to where he really wants it.

But you don’t. You squeeze, though. “Yeah.”

“Don’t make me beg”

“Seungmin…” you start, but you have no idea where you’re going from here.

“Please, I have no problem begging”

You watch your hand slide up and under his shirt, touch his warm skin. His muscles tighten under your touch as you stupidly, mindlessly tuck your fingers beneath the button of his jeans.

His hand closes around the back of your neck, “it’s all yours,” and pulls you close to him, “and you’re mine.”

“No…no,” you pull away and make as much space between you as possible. “You gotta go.”

“I did something wrong, right…what was it?”

Being a little too much isn’t wrong. Seungmin didn’t do anything wrong, not really. The problem is his intensity...his overzealous personality. He watches you're every move when he doesn't think you notice, and he glances at your phone when he sees something pop up. You purposely left it unlocked and unattended at one point, which you still feel shitty about, just to see if he would go through it, and he did. He keeps you away from others when you do manage to go somewhere other than the bedroom—everyone is percieved as a threat, no matter what. A few nights ago you left a club because Seungmin insisted there were too many single looking men there. He was right, but he had nothing to worry about. Seungmin doesn't seem to understand how you see him; he's handsome, and he's funny. Thoughtful, and a little too selfless...especially in the bedroom.

But at the same time, he's suffocating. Jealous, possessive, and obviously terrified of someone stealing you away from him. So, this is hard.

"I'm sorry, Seungmin. I really wish we—"

"Wish? You don't have to wish...you have all the power, right? Let me try...I wish we never met. I wish you never decided to take pity on me, and talk.

You're lost for words, but it doesn't matter...everything you needed to say was said. He grabs his jacket from the chair and heads for the door, but he takes his time putting his shoes on. If he's waiting on more from you; a change of heart, more of an explanation (you didn't really tell him the truth), he won't get it.

He looks back at you once more before opening the door, and he closes it behind him with a slam.

. ✦ .

Two days pass so quietly, and you're surprised. Maybe he figured out what the problem was, the main part of the problem, because you didn't completely lie to him. You are afraid of going hard and burning out, and that is exactly where the two of you were heading.

The office door pops open and your coworker peeks in, "your lunch is here!"

"No, I didn't order lunch"

"Well, it has your name on it, and a note! It says..." she starts to unfold it, but you're up and on her before she can read any of it.

"Okay, okay...lemme have it"

The smell coming from the bag gives you flashbacks to your first real night out with Seungmin. You told him how much you liked the spicy fried chicken he picked for you, and that you couldn't wait to have it again, and of course he remembered. You open the note and read:

잘 먹고 있길 바라 승민

"Dammit, Seungmin." You fold it back up and stick it in your back pocket. This could be his soft approach to communication, but you also wouldn't be surprised if he scheduled your Monday lunch before you broke up with him.

Maybe you should have told him the real issue. You don't believe you can change his unhealthy approach to a relationship, and talking to him about it might even make things worse, but you didn't give him that much of a chance.

The buzzing of your phone snaps you back to reality, and you're not surprised when you see his name. The message throws you a little, though.

who is he?

Who is he? There is nobody else. There wasn't before, or during your few weeks with him, and there is no one now. He thinks you broke things off to be with someone else; seemingly, his biggest fear. So now what do you do? Anwer him and tell him there is no he? Or ignore him and hope he doesn't text again? Or pay you a surprise visit.

Today, you ignore.

Later that night, you stare at the open message thread and think. Instead of typing a reply, you scroll up and read his past text messages:

No, don't be busy tonight...can come over and we can make a mess here for a change

You did go over that night, and the two of you made a mess of his bed, and then the couch. That was the last time you slept with him, and Seungmin whispered I love you over and over as he fucked you raw, over and over. It didn’t seem wrong at the time, because he makes your head fuzzy, but afterward…you’re positive he wanted to tell you again.

Morning! I missed you last night, I miss you right now...don't make me miss you anymore today

Only vaguely threatening in retrospect. But also cute.

I couldn't sleep last night, and I really wanted to call you. Can I do that?

Thoughtful, but needy. Seungmin knows how to balance his cute, his hot, and his…whatever he is—you have to give him that. A new message from him throws the thread back to the bottom, and you read it before you even realize it's there:

I know you're reading this...fucking answer me

. ✦ .

You expect to see him outside of your building when you leave the next morning. And then outside of work. He’s nowhere, and he doesn’t text again—not yet. Answering him is inevitable, but you have to think about your reply.

Home is two more blocks away when you feel the buzz of the notification. Maybe he’s outside the lobby door, waiting patiently. Your heart races when you see him typing again. You're not sure if you're nervous, or excited.

how was work?

I hope you had a good day…

You don’t have to look so nervous

He’s watching. And you're not nervous, because Seungmin doesn't scare you. The watching is a tiny bit unnerving, though.

I can forgive you if there is somebody else. It’s not too late to fix things.

The texts keep coming as you walk, get to the lobby, and finally make it to the elevator. Only then do you look at your phone again.

Get rid of him, come over

Or I’ll come to you

I miss your bed

I miss you

I know you miss me

It feels like a weird dream.

Seungmin, there was nobody else, and there is still nobody else. And yes, I’m here and I’m reading everything you send.

There is nothing to forgive, and nobody to get rid of. I won’t be coming over, and I’m sorry that you miss me.

It’s stupid, and it might make things worse, but you send it anyway. You make a drink and find yourself sitting at the counter, watching and waiting to see his three little dots start to bounce, but it takes longer than you expect. Now you're feeling impatient, and you're not sure why. You want him to reply; you want to know what else is going on his his head, and just as you drain your glass, he starts typing.

I know you miss me. Stop pretending this is what you want. You're acting like a cunt.

That stings a little. He moves quickly between anger and sadness, but he's also somehow getting everything right. You can't deny that you miss him, and you are turturing yourself...but you kind of like how badly he wants you.

I need you so bad

That's the last message he sends, and it’s the one that you dwell on after a few more drinks; after getting into bed and pulling up the photos in your camera roll—selfies you’ve begged for, screenshots from your video calls.

You’re one hundred percent thinking with your cunt right now. Looking at him—he takes the cutest selfies—and remembering how good he makes you feel, and how good you make him feel…not touching yourself is a challenge. You squeeze your thighs together, put some pressure where you need it. You decide you can't give in and get off to this, not tonight, but maybe giving into him wouldn’t be that bad. Besides, Seungmin needs you.

. ✦ .

I'm not going to give you another chance. You have today.

That sounds a little more threatening, but you're not sure if he means it how you're imagining it in your head. What happens after today? You expected to wake up to more than that, but you’re relieved you woke up less horny. The last month with him is enough of an explanation for you, as far as why and how his weird, slightly unhinged texting got you so riled up last night.

But you’re only less horny. And you might text him back over your morning coffee.

Yeah, you definitely will.

What happens after today?

He starts typing immediately, but then he stops. A few seconds later, he starts again. Maybe he didn’t think it through well enough yet. Still, you’re on the edge of your seat.

Do you think I’m going to tell you over the phone? No, I need to see you.

He’s smart, you already know that. He has a big brain, and a big dick, and you thought for a while he might also have a big heart. Or you hoped.

Alone

Alone, of course. No coffee shop talk. But if he’s sentimental enough, he might agree to it.

Why don’t we just meet at our table?

He doesn’t respond quickly. He’s considering it…wondering if it’s isolated enough to get his point across. But you’ve offered to talk to him again, and that’s good enough.

okay…when you’re free

Thoughtful. Luckily, you’ve already called work and told them you needed to take a personal day.

I’ll meet you there in an hour

. ✦ .

You’re late, on purpose. Seungmin is sitting inside at your table, head in his hands, staring into his drink. He looks tired and angry, and you expected a text by now, asking why you aren’t there. As soon as the door opens, he looks for you, and he tries to keep a straight face as you approach.

“You’re late”

“I’m sorry”

There’s already a latte waiting for you on the table—caramel, steamed extra hot.

“…uh, I’m sorry,” he says it so quietly, you barely hear it. “For what I said yesterday.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes, I miss you…I do. I can’t think straight knowing you have someone else.”

“You were watching, did you see me with anyone else? And I mean when you called me a cunt.”

Seungmin doesn’t answer, but you assume that is what he’s really apologizing for. He’s fidgeting with his cup, and you see the same version of him that was here the day you met. The same sweet boy you couldn’t resist.

“I miss you, too”

“You do?” He perks up and clenches his drink.

“Yes, but you’re a lot to handle. You were a lot before yesterday.”

“Please, I promise I’ll be better at this. I do love you, I really do.“ He reaches out for your hand, and you let him take it.

“Seungmin, you haven’t known me long enough to even know that”

“Maybe not, but I do. I can prove it to you.”

“What happens after today? What if I leave here…what if I don’t take you home with me?” More silence, but his face changes. It’s not so soft anymore. “I don’t believe you’re going to just disappear.”

“I won’t”

“Why do you want me so much?”

“Why do you deny how much you want me?”

You try not to look too surprised, but you’re pretty certain he can still read you. Instead of answering, you take a long sip of your coffee. Seungmin does the same.

“Thank you for the lunch yesterday”

“I hope it was as good the second time. We should do that again.”

That was the only dinner date you’ve had. Everything else was mostly isolated; here, the park…but mostly sex. Seungmin doesn’t seem like the type for traditional dates, but maybe it’s because you didn’t get all of the fucking out of your system yet—both of you.

“Okay…” you start, but you feel like you’re making a mistake even as the words form and come out of your mouth. “Take me out tonight.”

He smirks. The look on his face is a little condescending, but relieved at the same time. His smile grows until you can see all of his teeth, and his cheeks turn pink. It’s a good look on him. You really hope you’re not making a mistake, because you’d love to look at him like this all the time.

“Six...Seven? We can meet wherever we decide to go.”

Seungmin slowly shakes his head. The smile is still plastered on his face. “At seven? No, no you’re not going anywhere, I’m hungry now. We can get food later.”

His voice drops, and the drop in your stomach feels so good. Your thigh twitches, and the pulse in your clit is too much.

“And your apartment is closer”

“Come on…it’s all yours, remember?”

You nod as you pull your eyes away and look at his face.

“Let me make you feel good,” he takes a step closer and rubs his finger under your chin, “I know you’re already getting nice and wet for me.”

“Yeah,” you sigh as his finger traces over your lips, and you are…you start to ache for him. Your legs shake as you get to your feet, but Seungmin grabs you by the arm and holds you. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The whole walk back, he’s on you, holding tight like he expects you to change your mind and run. But that’s not going to happen. Your head is swimming, and you can only think of what he’s going to do when he gets you alone. You’ve gone this long without sex, but your downtime was still full of dirty texts, photos, telling each other in extensive detail what you wanted to do to each other next time.

His hand slides under your shirt and up your back once you’re in the elevator, and just as it slides back down to grab your ass, the doors open, and you lead him out with his hand still gripping you.

“Take this off,” he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it on the ground.

“We’re almost there…Seungmin.” You’re spun around and pushed hard against the wall. One hand is on your throat, and the other unbuttons your jeans. “Seungmin—“

He shushes you, kisses you softly, and unzips, “pull them down for me…” You tug at each side until he has enough room to slip his hand between your thighs, and he smiles as he slides his fingers back and forth, collecting as much of you as he can. “Good girl, so wet for me.” He pulls back out and sucks his fingers into his mouth.

“Minnie…my door is right there”

“I know. Take them off.”

The pressure on your throat increases until they drop, and then he rewards you with another kiss. The cool air on your nearly naked body sets goosebumps off all over you, and you shiver. He tugs once at his sweats and you watch his cock slowly appear, and it bounces as he frees it completely. The shine of his pre-cum makes you throb and whimper, and for a moment, you forget where you are.

He grabs your hips and turns you, and now he has you by the back of your neck, cheek against the wall. There’s nothing to hold onto here, and you can’t reach for him, so you set your palms flat against the wall and try to balance yourself. And then his hand is gone. Both of them grab your hips, and his tongue slides over your entrance. He licks, pushes in deeply, and sucks at the arousal pouring out of you until he’s satisfied. Now you're hyper aware of where you are, out in the open…and someone can turn the corner at any moment. Seungmin doesn’t care. You're not sure if you care.

“Fuck me”

“Fuck you, hm? You ready for me?”

“Yes, fuck…please…I need it”

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” He’s back on his feet, fingernails grazing over your thighs and ass.

“I need your cock, I need it”

His arm wraps lovingly around your waist, and slowly…very slowly, slides deep inside of you. Seungmin groans from the pressure, tight and hot. You clench around him and whine when he pushes in hard, and then he’s back out again.

“No, don’t stop”

The tight squeeze of his hand is on the back of your neck again, “c’mon…get your key…inside. Someone’s gonna see us.” He says it like this whole thing was your idea, kisses across your shoulder as you fumble with the lock, and leads you inside, “go... get into bed.”

Your head is spinning. You’re confused, and ready for him. But the bed…that’s good. That’s exactly where you want to be. You crawl onto the clean blanket and collapse onto your stomach—eyes close as you will your mind to catch up with the rest of you. It’s suddenly very quiet. Seungmin didn’t follow you in, and you don’t hear him outside the door. Maybe he left. Maybe he was just getting back at you—stripping you in public, getting the two of you caught. Embarrassing you, or worse.

Just as you start to believe yourself, the door swings open and he walks in, very casually, open beer in hand, bottle of water tucked under his arm. He smiles sweetly as he looks over your body, because you’re exactly how he wants you, and you’re immediately gone again as he walks closer, cock still hard and bouncing from the tease in the hallway. He runs a hand through his hair, and pushes it back until it stays out of his eyes, but you can’t watch long…his hand is on the back of your neck again, pushing your cheek into the mattress.

“You’ve been so well behaved for me…” he starts, squeezing a little tighter. He straddles the back of your thighs and rubs the head of his cock over you. “And good girls get what they want.”

You can’t talk, but you whimper…moan a little, just so he knows you’re still with him.

His hands run down your back, scratching before he grabs and pulls your hips up to meet his, and you’re filled up with him again. This time he stays in, rolls his hips, and pushes until you whine from the pressure. “Too much, baby?” Seungmin sounds so sweet, so concerned…and he does pull back before he starts to pump into you. Now he whines and speeds up, comes forward, and clenches the sheets as he fucks you. You push back against him, even though it hurts. The bed starts to shake, and the sound your bodies make on contact is almost drowned out by the moans neither of you can hold back anymore.

A Seungmin slips out between your cries, and his pleased little laugh slips out between his. You don’t want to come yet, but you can feel it rising, and you need to touch yourself. As soon as he sees your hand sneak under your stomach, he grabs and pulls both of your arms behind you. Seungmin wants to make you come on his own—no touching—and he will. He adjusts, and he knows he finds the perfect spot when you start to squirm.

“You…first,” he groans.

And you listen again—you come hard and tighten around him, let out a muffled moan into the blanket. You know he lets go by the desperate sound he doesn’t hold back. Seungmin says your name—pleads over and over again as he empties himself inside of you. He loses himself completely.

You’re still as he finishes, and you slowly come down from your high, gasping for air as he pulls out with a heavy, relieved sigh. Seungmin grips and pulls your asscheeks apart, and you know without looking back that he’s savoring what he did—he’s watching his cum slowly drip out. He places his hand over your cunt and gathers it up before pushing two fingers back in.

“Seungmin…” you’re still panting, face down in the blankets, unsure of what to do next.

You wonder what he’ll do next, but you don’t wonder long. His lips begin to trace a line up your back, along your spine. Long, slow, wet kisses every few inches until he reaches your neck—now he moves along your shoulder, and back up to your neck until he’s breathing steadily in your ear.

“Seungmin?”

“Yeah…you alright?”

The weight on your body is suddenly gone, and he comes down next you, looks at you with his usual puppy eyes, and smiles.

He asks again, and his smile falls a little when you just stare at him.

“Uhm…yeah”

Seungmin nods and makes himself comfortable on his side of the bed, stretches his naked body out, and watches you. "Come here," he beckons you with two fingers. Despite what just happened—despite the tousled, sweaty hair, and his spent dick resting on his thigh, the look of innocence on him is so intoxicating. The big eyes, his soft pouty lips, and pink cheeks. Seungmin looks like he just woke up and needs a good morning kiss.

Of course you listen and crawl to him, but your brain is fighting you with every thought, every movement you make. The lust, the hate, the need, they’re all on even playing ground right now.

. ✦ .

The first thing you feel is warm breath against your neck, but it’s not enough to wake you completely. It feels good—this could lull you right back to sleep. Next is a wet kiss. Then a nibble. And then his palm is flat against your throat, and your eyes finally open.

“Min?”

He shushes you and kisses as his fingers close around your neck.

“Don’t, please”

“Okay…okay,” his grip loosens while his thumb runs back and forth beneath your chin. “I love you…you know that? More than anything.” But he doesn’t let go. “I don’t know what I would do without you. Thinking you can just…leave me, like it’s nothing—“

“This isn't easy.” You choose your words carefully.

His voice is shaky, and when you finally look at him, his eyes are red and brimming with tears. “You're breaking my heart. I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Anything.” He squeezes again, just barely. “Everything. That’s what you are…everything." Seungmin’s face is flushed, and a few tears escape him. One, two kisses across your face, and your cheeks are wet with his tears, too, but he finally lets go, and you relax. Maybe he’s right. You don’t have any close friends here…you have nobody. But you do have him.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispers. An arm wraps around your waist and pulls until he can hide his face in your neck. “Please,” he begs.

His scent is intoxicating. The lingering smell of sweat in his hair, and the sweetness of his shampoo are pushed into your nose and mouth. When he’s sweet, he so sweet. He’s comforting. Even now, hours later, he feels warm and comfortable, and exactly what you need. “I do...I love you.”

“Tell me you’ll stay”

You can hear the tightness in his chest, and throat. More tears fall onto your neck, but you hesitate. You’re unraveling again. Seungmin is pulling you apart piece by piece—every sweet word, every aching appeal chips away at you.

“Please,” Seungmin pulls back and kisses your forehead, “I’ll beg all night…I’ll keep you up all night.”

Saying no just means starting this whole thing over again. Saying yes…maybe you can fix this.

“Yeah…I’ll stay”

. ✦ .

138 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 9 hours

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Chasing Cars | ch 1.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: curses, alcohol, explicit content: jungkook has sex with a girl at the party, he overhears OC and Hoseok (no details), mentions of Jungkook knowing about the Incident

☆word count: 1.6k

☆a/n: wrote this in like twenty minutes after being unable to write for a few weeks, let's go :))))) hope you guys enjoy <3

☆join the discord server here!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook has been playing beer pong with Jimin for a while. They’re undefeated, like they most always are, and he’s buzzed with victory, but not alcohol because of course he’s not drinking tonight.

Mostly, he’s buzzed because he just beat you and the guy you were playing with, the one that looks a little too comfortable next to you. So Jungkook teases you about the game, his heart rate spiking momentarily as you blush lightly and playfully glare at him.

It’s been doing that every time he teases you since he met you last semester, and he’s grown addicted to it, which might be the reason why he teases you all the time. But then the guy interrupts, asking you if you want a drink.

“Please, I need a new drink,” you answer.

The guy smiles, and Jungkook can’t help himself. He reaches out, grabbing your arm gently to attract your attention. “I’m not drinking tonight,” he says after he let go of you. “I came with my car, thought I’d offer you a ride home.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

“As long as you don’t get sick, that is,” Jungkook teases, a smirk playing with the corners of his mouth.

You don’t answer for a few seconds, but then you let out, “Ayt.” You move closer to him, a smile growing on your lips. “I’ll find you later?”

Jungkook is aware that you’re close now. Close enough so that he sees the way your eyes are sparkling with mischief as you look up at him, head tilted back. His tongue pushes on the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, and then he smirks as he glances at Hoseok before looking at you again.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

He means it. He fully does, yet he forces himself to leave then, even though you looked like you might want to say something else.

Later, when you return in Jungkook’s vicinity, all he can notice is the bright red hickey that’s appeared on your neck, and he clenches his jaw, only to relax it a few seconds later. Especially as you glance at him, asking Jimin and him not to tell Taehyung about the guy you apparently were kissing a moment ago.

As the hickey on your neck seems to indicate, too.

“Lips sealed,” Jungkook says.

“Didn’t feel like playing with your friends?” Jimin asks you, not replying to your request, and Jungkook notices the two girls at the beer pong table. The pretty one meets his gaze for a few seconds - Ria, he thinks - and he smiles at her, only for her to look away immediately.

“They don’t need me,” you claim as you take a sip of what looks to be rum and coke.

“Pretty sure you’d be a liability anyway,” Jungkook jokes.

That cute blush reappears on your cheeks, and Jungkook’s heart warms for a few seconds, right as he and Jimin laugh.

“I did get the redemption shot!” you say, and Jungkook can’t help himself.

He can’t help himself but nudge you with his elbow playfully. “Doesn’t count, your little boyfriend got all the other shots for you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you insist quickly.

“Of course not,” Jungkook says, cocking an eyebrow.

Jimin intervenes, “Leave her alone. She did her best.” It’s his turn to smile mischievously. “Not her fault if her best sucks.”

“Bruh,” you let out, and then you’re all laughing.

Jungkook likes this. You rarely hang out with him and Jimin, but he’s always found you fun to be around, despite the fact that you are Taehyung’s sister.

The way you occasionally make his heart race in his chest probably contributes to it.

You and Jimin start talking, and Jungkook finds himself joining in the conversation less and less. Perhaps because the pretty almond eyes of a certain Shelly have attracted his attention, even though you’re right here beside him. He excuses himself, and then he’s walking towards Shelly who smiles at him knowingly.

It’s not too long until Jungkook is buried inside of her in the upstairs bathroom, and though he usually takes his time with her, tonight he only pursues his pleasure, filling up the condom with cum before he’s made sure to please her.

Shelly doesn’t mind. She’s playful about it, teasing Jungkook, and he just kisses her deeply before pulling away. They clean up and get dressed, and when they’re ready, Jungkook grabs her hand and pulls her out of the bathroom.

Only to be met by your startled gaze the second he opens the door.

He lets go of Shelly’s hand almost instantly, holding your gaze but not saying anything. Shelly must have sensed the awkwardness slowly seeping in the atmosphere, because she leaves, not once looking back.

“Really?” you let out.

Jungkook pokes his cheek with his tongue before laughing lightly. “You told me not to fuck at home anymore.”

You purse your lips. “Didn’t expect you would respect it.”

“I’m not an asshole, peach,” Jungkook says, and it’s a little cold, a little mean. He can’t help it - it’s offensive to him that you didn’t believe him when he said he wouldn’t bring his hookups at home anymore. Like maybe his word is worth nothing, when he prides himself in trying to always respect it.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

There’s a silence, and Jungkook folds his arms on his chest as he leans against the door frame. He feels like he should say something, but he doesn’t know what, so he contents himself with looking at you as you clearly seem awkward under his gaze.

“Jimin went home,” you finally say.

A group of people appears at the top of the stairs, and Jungkook pushes up from the door frame, walking towards you. “Do you want to go home too?”

You tilt your head back so that you can meet his gaze. “You already want to go home?” You wet your lips, immediately attracting Jungkook’s gaze.

He scoffs. “I’m not drinking, I don’t see why I’d stay longer.”

“Why aren’t you drinking anyway?”

He offers you a smile. “Got morning shift at the library tomorrow.”

“Ah… Well…” You glance at the group of people as they exit the room where the coats are, and then look back to Jungkook. “My friend is supposed to sleep over, can I go find him?”

And though he was buzzing with the ecstasy from coming just a moment ago, Jungkook finds annoyance replacing it.

“Who?”

“Hoseok,” you reply.

“Ah, the guy you played beer pong with.” Jungkook smirks. “Thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

You furrow your brows. “He isn’t.”

“Then why are you bringing him home, peach?” Jungkook asks.

He doesn’t like your teasing answer. Doesn’t like that you tell him to imagine. Because he does. He fucking does, and he’s clenching his jaw as you all walk to his car a little later, the arctic winter night doing nothing to ease his annoyance.

He doesn’t like the guy - Hoseok - getting a weird vibe from him that he blames on the fact that he knows you masturbated to the sounds of him and Shelly having sex a few days ago. It’s made him all too aware of you, as if he wasn’t enough already, and he doesn’t like that you’ll be with the guy in just a moment.

You reach his car, getting in, and Jungkook clenches his jaw as you choose to sit on the backseat with Hoseok. He meets your gaze in the rearview mirror, almost wanting to tell you to come sit with him in the front, but he refrains, not wanting to make a fool out of himself.

When he deems the car hot enough to drive, Jungkook starts driving, heading back home. He puts the radio on, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, up until he notices Hoseok getting closer to you on the backseat.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Hoseok tells you.

Jungkook’s fingers stop drumming on the wheel.

“Please don’t judge the state of the apartment,” you say, leaning closer to Hoseok. “This idiot doesn’t know how to -”

Jungkook almost bursts out laughing, because he’s always made sure to keep his living space clean but instead, he slams on the breaks, smiling contentedly when you and Hoseok both sit back in your respective seats.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, though he doesn’t mean it at all.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence, as Jungkook tries his best not to think about what you’re about to do. It’s sinful, to think of you that way, yet he can’t help it.

Especially not as, about twenty minutes later, he has a front row seat to the sounds of the action in your room, and his dick goes rock hard in his pants.

He curses, ignoring his erection, instead putting on his earbuds, turning up the volume until he can’t hear you anymore. It doesn’t do anything to his imagination, which still runs wild with thoughts of you, but at least he doesn’t have to hear you anymore.

He sighs, lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, focusing on the fixture that he’s almost never turned on since he moved in because he prefers using his LED lights. It does nothing to distract him from his arousal, so he curses again, rolling on his side.

This night promises to be a long night.

Read chapter one here!

☆☆☆☆☆

hope you guys liked it!! jk's not much a loverboy in this one but that's bc he's in deep denial haha :') let me know what you thought about the drabble!

#chasing cars ch 1.5 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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cinnamokittykat · 3 days

Note

Roomates! Soap x Ghost x Konig 🤭🤭???

Oh boy

Like, all of them as roommates for each other? Or with the reader? I'll try and write both but just a disclaimer, I'm not great at MLM content for various reasons lol, if that's what you were looking for :/ So, disclaimer, I'm not poly either so please forgive my mistakes here.

Room mates w/o reader:

- The first thing that comes to mind for me is that the grocery bill would be insane. 3 big, buff men living in an apartment, or more likely a house together.

- Also in my experience guys don't tend to shop very well for themselves so the fridge would be a bachelor situation.

- I do think that Soap would be the one to keep the food situation in check the most? He would at least try to make the groceries balanced

- If this isn't gay polyamory, then I feel like König would get yelled at once or twice for walking around naked

- IF IT IS GAY POLYAMORY‼️‼️‼️ then they most definitely like to walk around shirtless.

- Ghost and Soap cuddle each other on the regular :3

-They all cuddle, they had to get custom big furniture to fit them all together comfortably.

-Soap cooks for his boyfriends the most. Ghost burns things every time somehow.

-They have a tiny little black cat who loves all of them dearly. Koenig sat on a black shirt once, but everyone else thought it was her and he almost got kicked out of the giant bed that night.

-Thankfully she walked in the room right after. She was profusely cuddled. She is also just generally a very spoiled cat since no one really wants children.

Room mates x Fem! Reader

- The boys all had different reactions to you moving in. Soap was excited, he was all for having a new friend, and a cute girl like you around the house

- Ghost, on the other hand, wasn't that for it. A strange girl moving in with 3 strange men? Is she insane?

- König was in the middle. As nice as having a female roommate sounded, he also felt as if it was a less then smart decision on your part.

- It doesn't take long for them to all come around to your presence.

- As the weeks go on, they catch themselves sneaking glimpses at you while in the house

- Sometimes when the stars align them and it's just you and one of them home alone, you often find yourself cuddled up to Ghost or König on the couch more often then not. Soap has already been openly flirting with you at this point, so he does more overt things like taking you out or making food for you.

- As time passes by, you find yourself being taken out to more fancy places, you start receiving nice gifts, all thanks to their lavish mercenary salaries. Eventually, it all comes to a head and you come home one day to them sitting in the living room together.

- "We need to talk." says Ghost. You sit down nervously in an armchair. Johnny clears his throat. "It seems like I'm not the only one who's been treating you, lass." König stares silently with his arms crossed.

- "I wasn't aware it was anything serious..." you stutter out. "Oh, it doesn't have to be, we'll help you move out and everyone can forget each other." Koenig replies. "Wouldn't want to make you choose, you can't date all of us."

-Your heart ached upon hearing that statement. You came to love all 3 of them over the course of living there, but he was right. "Well hold on there, who says she can't?" said Johnny. "You haven't even asked her yet!"

-The men turn to look at you again. "Well, lass?"

-"I... I suppose we could give it a try. If you all are good with it."

#konig #konig mw2 #cod konig #konig cod #konig modern warfare #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost rider #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #poly x reader

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hanni-bae44 · 20 hours

Text

Title: Secret Admirer (Mark)

Pairing- Mark x fem!reader

Genre- high school au, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count- 3.2k

Summary- You had a secret admirer who kept leaving notes in your locker. And thanks to all the clues he left behind, it didn’t take much to figure out that the culprit was your friend— Mark Lee— all along.

A/N- For the sake of the plot, this fic takes place in an American high school, you guys will see why as you guys read :) Anyway, have fun reading, love you all <3

Another love note.

You stood before your locker dumbfounded. It had been two weeks of finding a note in your locker everyday. Sure it was flattering, but what if they were not your type? Or worse, a creep? Rejecting someone was just as hard as getting rejected. Okay, maybe not as hard, but it was still difficult.

What if it was someone you knew?

A friend?

So far all the clues you had about the secret admirer was that they were a boy, owned pink post-its, knew where your locker was, and in one of your classes. You also knew some irrelevant details of the secret admirer but it wouldn’t help you to crack down on the suspect, so you pushed it to a corner in your head.

For the past week, you'd been observing everyone in your classes but you still couldn’t determine who the culprit was. There was no lingering stare or anything unusual that made you suspect anyone.

“Another one?” Chenle beamed, interrupting your train of thought. It was as if he came out of nowhere, making your heart drop from his loud voice. He pulled the note out of your hand as Mark stood beside. “So who do you think keeps leaving you these cryptic notes?”

“I have no idea.” You turned, leaning against your locker. “Part of me thinks it's a joke, maybe someone’s messing with me. Maybe it’s Haechan, he’s always messing with me.” Yeah, it had to be him. He was always the prankster.

“Haechan messes with everyone, I doubt anyone would go this far just to mess with you,” Mark assured you. “The notes look genuine to me. Maybe they like you but they’re just shy.”

“I guess.” Looking back at Mark, you felt deflated at the nonverbal rejection. A part of you hoped it was him but you supposed not. Mark didn’t seem too bothered that you had a secret admirer either. Any thought of him possibly reciprocating your feelings flew out the window. You refrained from frowning.

“Hey Mark, read this,” Chenle nudged him with a grin, “Roses are red, violets are blue, I wish I could tell you how I feel, but for now I’ll just write my heart in this note with a seal,” Chenle read out loud in a teasing tone, “Isn’t that cheesy?”

Mark shrugged, pouting at the boy. “I think it’s romantic.” Then he looked at you. “Don’t you think so, Y/N?”

“It would be more romantic if I had a face to match the words too,” you droned.

You checked your locker between every class. Some days the notes would show up early in the day while other times, it wouldn’t be there until your last period.

Today, it was the latter.

B- Before I met you I didn’t know I could like someone so much. E- Eager to express my feelings, a friend suggested I be your secret admirer. A- Afraid of rejection, I started leaving notes for you. U- Upon being near you, I can feel my heart beat. T- The thing is, I never thought my feelings would progress this much. I- I wonder what you think of me. F- For now, I hope these notes are okay. I’ll tell you one day. U- Usually, I’d just suck it up and say it, but you're special to me. L- Liking you is too easy, saying it out loud is the hard part.

Love, your secret admirer <3

Another acrostic poem, this time instead of your name, it was of an adjective. And instead of a post-it note, it was on a bigger piece of paper. You scanned the ink again and again, hoping for some clues that would reveal the culprit. But so far, nothing.

“Whoever this dude is, he has game don’t you think?” Jaemin smirked as he stood beside you. He had been reading the note over your shoulder while breathing loudly at the same time.

“If he actually had game, he would flirt with her right to her face and not hide behind a paper and pen,” Chenle insisted, taking the paper out of your hand to read himself.

“It’s nice. I just wish I had a face to think off when I read it,” you sulked. “Am I that intimidating?” you asked your friends.

“Not particularly. You could ease up on that resting bitch face though." Jaemin said while shrugging. Chenle stifled a laugh while you scoffed. “Anyway, update me later on who the lover boy is, I gotta go,” Jaemin added quickly before jogging towards the direction of the buses with his other friends.

You supposed you should start walking to the buses too before you were stuck walking home. Chenle and you both began to move your feet.

“You still haven’t told Mark yet have you?” Chenle whispered as he nudged your side.

“Don’t say his name,” you angrily mumbled, eyes scanning the crowd in the hallway. “People could be listening, and no I haven’t. If I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same, it’s going to be awkward, we’re literally in the same friend group.”

Chenle was the only one in your friend group that knew about your crush on Mark. You never wanted to tell anyone, especially Chenle since he was a blabbermouth but you were dumb. You left your diary at his house while doing homework together and he read all your private thoughts. Chenle could keep a promise but he also often spoke before thinking. The amount of times he accidentally spilled a surprise or a secret was too many to count.

You stared solemnly at the concrete sidewalk ahead.

Chenle snapped you out of your thoughts, placing a hand on your shoulder as encouragement. “Things only get awkward if you let it be. Plus, I doubt he’ll push you away if that’s why you’re hesitant to confess. You should tell him how you feel before it’s too late. The next thing you know we’ll all have graduated and he’s with someone else and you’ll be wondering ‘what if’ for the rest of your life.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoffed. “Don’t you like that one girl in our first period? If you don’t tell her, you’ll be stuck wondering ‘what if’ for the rest of your life,” you repeated his wise words back to himself.

“That’s different,” Chenle narrowed his eyes.

“Not really,” you deadpanned.

“Whatever. Don’t tell him then. He has girls lining up to confess. He has options. Can’t say the same for you though.”

“You suck." You lightly smacked his arm.

I rewatched the Spiderman movies yesterday. (The ones with Tom Holland) And it made me wonder if Peter Parker hates watermelon as much as you do. I promise it’s so refreshing if you get past the texture. You’re just like a friend I know, he hates the texture of fruit too. Except it's only cute when you hate it :’)

Another note.

You found it weird with why he randomly mentioned watermelon— a topic that came up in the cafeteria yesterday. This had to be someone within your proximity during lunch. You’ve only ever mentioned your distaste for that watermelon with your friends. Was it an eavesdropper? Or was it someone at the table?

You weren’t sure, but at least that lowered the possible suspects down.

At lunch, you brought up the topic of movies but no one mentioned Spiderman. Your friends were all too fixated on some new video game to care. Frustrated that your effort became fruitless, you began to chug your chocolate milk before taking a bite of your burger.

“Why do you care so much about what movie everyone is watching anyway?” Mark asked from beside you as he took a bite of his sandwich.

You took the folded note out of your pocket and showed Mark. “My secret admirer just watched the Spiderman movies. He also likes watermelon apparently,” you sighed, watching as Mark read the note.

“Oh.” Mark handed the paper back to you then fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Well, I’m sure when he’s ready to reveal himself, he’ll tell you.”

“That’s not reassuring,” you deadpanned. “I want to ask everyone here right now if they're my secret admirer but what if I confront them and they’re too shy so they say it’s not them and the notes stop? Then I’ll have to graduate without knowing who the admirer is. It’s driving me crazy, I just want to know who it is, hell, I might even like him back, this is all just so annoying.”

“Trust me, you’ll know before graduating,” Mark smiled weakly.

“How are you so sure?”

“I just know."

The blue dress you wore yesterday looked so pretty on you. The colour brought out your eyes. I tried to tell you in person but the words didn’t come out. For now, I’ll just admire you on paper. I hope you have a good day today.

You reread the note over and over again, then you notice it.

The spelling of ‘color’ was in UK English and not American English which your school taught. You didn’t know anyone from the United Kingdom at this school. Could it be someone from Australia? They used mostly UK spelling but you didn’t know anyone from there so no. Could it be someone Canadian then? Canadians used a hybrid of American and UK English spelling to your knowledge so it was definitely plausible.

Come to think of it, some of your past notes had common words spelled differently from what you were used to too. You initially thought it was the cursive-like writing but then it hit you, it wasn’t misspelling it all, it was just the way Canadians spelled certain words.

“The secret admirer has to be Canadian don’t you think?” you asked Jaemin, leaning against your locker with your arms folded over your chest.

“It makes sense.” Jaemin reread the note again. “Well we know Jacob Bae, Keeho Yoon, Mark Lee. Kevin Moon. Who else?”

Could it be Jacob Bae? That didn’t make any sense since though you weren’t close to him at all. He also had the second lunch break. There was no way he could’ve known about your dislike for watermelon.

Keeho also had second lunch.

It couldn’t be Mark though right? He sat near you during lunch but there was no way he liked you back.

Maybe it was Kevin Moon?

You had Kevin in your musical theater class but you rarely talked to him. He was also close with your friends and sat at your lunch table. But could he really be the secret admirer? You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you or care enough to start a conversation. He wasn’t a shy dude either, he just had tunnel vision, only talking with the people he was close with.

“Maybe it’s Kevin,” you confided to Jaemin. It had to be. If not, who else would it be?

After lunch, you pulled Kevin aside from the students rushing out of the cafeteria.

“Hey, so I know we don’t talk so this is a bit weird. I was just wondering if you were the one that has been putting these notes in my locker?” You pulled out the notes and showed him.

Kevin looked genuinely surprised. “Oh no, this wasn’t me. It does look like Mark’s handwriting though.”

You took the note back and examined it. “Do you really think so?”

"Yeah, I borrow his notes all the time and he writes his 'q's weird."

You nodded. “Thanks. Can you also do me a favor and not tell anyone about this?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Kevin said.

Later that day, you had economics with Mark. He sat beside you, being your only friend in this class.

“Can I borrow your notes?” you asked your friend, trying to see if the handwriting matched. “My handwriting is too messy and I forgot what the teacher had on the powerpoint yesterday.”

“Sure,” he handed his notebook to you, then went through his bag for his other supplies.

You hovered over him as he dug through his bag, trying to line up more similarities that would prove Mark was the secret admirer. You watched as he reached inside his pencil pouch for a pen then you saw it. The pink post-its. The ones the secret admirer used. Your mind stopped working for a bit. Mostly because you couldn’t believe it was actually him all along. And that he actually liked you back.

“Mark?” you muttered, brows furrowed.

You wanted to confront him. You really did. But then he looked at you with those soft eyes and you couldn’t. Your mouth opened then closed again.

Maybe it was just a coincidence?

He wasn't the only Canadian you knew and pink post-it notes were common. Right? You didn’t know what to think. When it came to Mark, you were always scared of crossing the line hence why he was just a school friend and not a close friend.

But then you thought about it. Your secret admirer seemed to like Spiderman. And Mark Lee loved Spiderman. He even dressed up as it for Halloween last year. The realization hit you like a truck.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly as the bell rang.

“Nothing,” you smiled weakly. “Thank you for the notes, I appreciate it.”

“You still don’t know who the secret admirer is?” Chenle asked as you walked alongside him to the buses.

“I think it’s Mark,” you whispered.

Chenle dramatically covered his mouth in shock. “Really?”

“Yeah, his handwriting matches the one on the notes.” You began to tell him the whole story from beginning to end of how you found out that the secret admirer was Mark, not leaving out a single detail.

"Did you confront him yet?"

"No."

“Why not? You like him too."

“I don’t know, I guess I was starting to like the notes in my locker.” You sulked.

Chenle chortled. “Man, you're like a broken record. Him too.”

“Can you blame me— wait what? What do you mean him too?”

“You know what? I’ll just tell you since you already know. That poem your secret admirer wrote to you? The one where it said his friend suggested he write notes to you? That was me. I knew Mark liked you so I gave him a little push. But don’t worry, I didn’t tell him you liked him or anything.”

Chenle had to be kidding. He knew all along yet kept entertaining you as if he didn’t. Who knew he was such a good actor?

“I can’t believe you kept this from me! You knew who it was all along and just played dumb?!” You lightly slapped his shoulder.

“Hey! You should be thanking me for being a good friend. Without my smart brain telling him to leave notes in your locker, you'd probably be crying right now just because you saw Mark talking to another girl.”

You lightly smacked his arm. "And that's exactly why I am not thanking you." It was just one time that you cried watching Mark attempting to flirt with a girl last year. And Chenle would never let you live it down.

Wanting to have some fun, you decided to be a secret admirer for Mark. You even disguised your handwriting and slipped the note into his locker during class to avoid suspicion.

The bell had just rang, and from afar, you watched as he opened the note then approached him.

“Looks like secret admirers are popular these days,” you said singsongly as you reached his locker.

Mark folded the note, then looked up at you. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What does it say?” There was a bright smile on your face as you watched how he seemed so confused.

“Nothing.” He tried to hide the note behind him, but you managed to snatch it anyway.

You look gorgeous today Mark. I wonder how we would look together. Have you thought about me lately? Because I couldn’t get you out of my head. Love, your secret admirer <3

“No way,” you beamed, “Who do you think is your secret admirer?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.” He frowned.

“Of course it does,” you teasing him. “It’s a lot of fun to guess who is writing to you. Imagine if it was a stranger talking about how good looking you are! Trust me, I spent all my free time just watching the people around me, hoping it wasn’t a creep saying he liked my clothing choices. It was thrilling!” you rambled in a sarcastic tone.

Mark looked tense, a bit guilty at that. “About that,” he sighed, hands running through his hair. “I know who your secret admirer is.”

“Mark, I know you’re my secret admirer,” you finally said, tired of dragging this on any longer.

"Oh." Mark looked so cute as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you liked me? Instead you watched as I stressed over who it was.”

“I’m sorry. I really never meant for it to get this far. I honestly thought you would’ve figured out it was me within the first week… Are you mad?”

“No, it was just annoying because I thought this guy was going through a lot of effort just to be rejected. But I’m glad it was you instead. You know how relieved I felt?”

“Relieved?”

“Yes, because I like you too Mark. And according to Chenle, you liked me too?”

“He told you?” He whined. The tips of his ears turned red too and he looked so cute flustered. “I can’t believe it, he promised me.”

“Well to be fair, I already knew before he told me. I guess I just liked knowing you were the one behind the notes so I wanted to pretend for a while longer.”

“So you’re really not mad at me?”

“No, I just wish you would’ve told me yourself. And by the way, that note you’re holding, I wrote that. I just disguised my handwriting.”

Mark relaxed as he looked at you with betrayal. “You’re so mean,” he pouted. “I thought it was from a stranger. It would’ve sucked to reject them.”

“Oh come on, you watched as I pulled my hair out trying to find out who my secret admirer was, and I’m the mean one? I just wanted to have some fun too.”

“What I did was cute and romantic, not revenge... I really didn’t mean for it to last for a whole month though”

“It is cute and romantic. Once I figured out that it was you and not some weirdo.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. Without the secret admirer thing, I don’t even know if we would have our feelings out right now. You’re too shy to say anything and I’m too awkward. So I guess we have Chenle to thank.”

“I guess so.” Mark smiled.

“How about we meddle with his lovelife too?” you beamed, eyes sparkling with mischief. It was time for payback. “You know how he likes that one girl in our first period? He’s always encouraging us to confess yet he’s even more hopeless than us. How about we give him a push too?”

“Oh I like that,” Mark smirked, impressed with how your mind worked. “Let’s do it.”

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