#Kiss Me (Under The Light Of A Thousand Stars) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eveningepiphany · 9 months

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welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

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bahrtofane · 25 days

Text

promises under the stars

It's strange. When kisses under stairwells and behind his parents house turns to no more than passing gazes. To hatred. But this is the life you live, the life you have chosen. So you live. You will live.

Jude x fem!reader

Word count - 6.3K+ (yikes !!)

Watch it - angst with minimal fluff. enjoy ?

p.s. - i took a few creative liberties with the time lines an what not so plz take it with a grain of salt and dont think too deeply about it thank u

you can read Judes pov here !

—-----

“Jude, “ you sigh. He doesn't look at you, he's afraid of what he’ll see and you know it.

It's a warm summer night, and you sit side by side on the bleachers of his training field. You waited for hours for him to be done, all for just a few moments together. In full honesty, you're not even supposed to be here, you've been threatened from both sides. And even family overseas have joined in. it's a mess. You think you told them you were off to the library, something like that.

You pulled so many strings just to be let inside to watch training, likewise for Jude. But you're here, he's here. That's all that matters.

Only the lights on the field illuminate you, but you have memorized his face to need no light to see him. Your fingers grab into the seat under you, knuckles turning white. You're afraid. Oh so afraid.

“Please,” you try again, soft and steady, patient.

He finds the courage to face you, ripping himself from the doubt that surrounds him.

You are what plants him to reality, keeps him steady. Your smile is enough to calm any worry, wave away any woe. He hates what he has to do.

“You know this is the last time I’ll see you,” he mumbles. He can't keep risking things the way they are. There's so many eyes on you as it is. He won't put you into harm's way, even if it means parting ways to do so. He wrings his hands together. Breathe, he tries to remind himself. Breathe.

You nod, swift and curt, “I know.” oh how you know. You've been dreading this day to come for a while now. And now that it's here, what can you do?

He picks at the cuffs of his training jacket,“I told them I would marry you, but my agent said it would be unwise.”

“You would marry me?” you whisper, eyes wide.

“A thousand times over. “ he finds your hand, gently lacing it together.

“I wish things were different.” a knot in your throat forms, and tears well in your eyes.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently bringing you snug against him as you sob. You will never understand why your families are so adamantly against you two all of the sudden. Your whole childhood was filled with teasing and jokes of marrying one another, giggles when you would be forced to stand in pictures, but now that it was to be true suddenly the jokes faded and anger took its place.

He is good for you as you are good for him. Jude is a man like no other, patient, caring, kind, soft and easy to you yet firm to all else. He holds each door open, never forgets flowers, even when he's away. Surprises you with your favorite sweets, never misses a good night or good morning text. Buys you things you mentioned casually in a fleeting conversation, all because it comes from your lips. If you were to wish for the world he would buy it all, tied neatly and delivered to your window sill.

He takes each burden off your mind with a smile, carries your things, sends a ride to any place you wish to be. (he's working on the actual license).

You fully expected your families to be static, jumping for joy and diving straight to wedding planning. Instead you were met with a brisk, “no.”

No? No to the man who has overtaken your heart and mind? No to the man who wishes to see your flourish and bloom in every regard, every aspect, every part of life? It's cruel in a way. You once used to grimace at the idea when you were younger, fake gagging and instead choosing to wrestle with him in the grass. And now you beg to be allowed to see him.

To ban your union is one thing, but to see him at all brings too much weight on your heart.

You fought every step of the way, every step until now. It gets to be too much at a certain point, when you have to watch your very move in fear of being caught, of being seen with him. When eyes wash over you with lips upturned in sneers and whispers soon following.

The delicate facade you've built is beginning to crack at the seams. Soon there will be nothing left to keep you together. You fear going mad.

So you choose to let him go.

Your phone buzzes, prying the two of you apart. Your heart leaps to your throat. Have you been found out ?

It's just a twitter notification.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. He rubs gentle circles on your knee. His hands are warm. Just like you remember, just like you dream of. In the gentle quiet of your room you close your eyes and wish for him.

“We can't see each other but I want to keep in touch. I'll wait for you. If you'll wait for me.” he whispers.

You see the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Ever thoughtful Jude, waiting for you to finish crying to allow himself to do so.

“I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. “ you nod, leaning on his shoulder.

And you do just that.

Youre forced apart when a teammate tells him to get going.

He scowls, “hold on.”

The teammate, whose name alludes you, shrugs and jogs back inside.

You stand, watching him shake the tension out of his shoulders.

“This is it then,” you mumble, lip quivering.

“Yeah,” he takes your hands in his, “guess so.”

You bit your lip to stop any more cries. He unlatches a hand from yours, brining it to cup your face gently, wiping the streaks of dried treats left on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he leans down, pressing a single kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” you nod, chasing his lips. He gives them to you. Soft and easy. You screw your eyes shut. Oh you're crying again.

You part when you can no longer breathe, foreheads pressed together while your chests heave.

“My angel,” he sobs.

“Ill find a way back,” you kiss his cheek.

He nods, here,” shaking his training jacket off and putting it on you.

Someone yells his name and he sighs. One last kiss to your forehead.

You watch him sprint down the stands, giving you one last smile before disappearing in the tunnel.

—--

Dortmund is kind to him, you watch as you flourish on the field, never missing a game. You know it's too much to go in person so you stay tucked into bed, laptop out and always always waiting for his name to be announced. Giddy as he looks at the camera. Some days you even convince yourself he's looking right at you.

He calls when he can, facetime you when he's at the facilities. Obnoxiously flexing to the camera while you laugh. You treasure these moments. The few minutes a day when the time difference allows for an overlap. Just enough to get you through to the next day. He always blows a kiss to the camera, and you alway catch it. No matter how cheesy.

“I stubbed my toe.” he whines on the other end.

You laugh, “and whose fault is that.”

“Yours.” he decides.

“Uh huh.” you shake your head fondly, raising a brow at your phone that sits on a window sill. Today you're at a cafe getting some work done. And he just finished dinner.

“Think you'll be able to come to a game soon?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

You stop typing, frowning, “Jude…”

He shakes his head, “I'm sorry. I know. We can't.”

“Maybe in a year or so? Things should be cooled down by then.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “they still giving you a hard time?”

You blow air through your nose, “hard time is an understatement, they've practically banned sports.” making light of the outrages situation helps you feel better some days. Jude joining in helps. He always helps.

“So dramatic.” he tuts.

You nod, “so dramatic.”

—--

The year comes and goes. The texts slow down till they are few and far inbetween. You can't blame him. You watch him dominate the field in each appearance, breaking records and showing the world what you've always known, showing just how special he is.

His following count skyrockets and he gets a blue check. You feel special to be one of the few he follows. No matter how silly. Even when he doesn't reply to you and posts on his story you try not to take it too hard (you let it get to your head on bad days.)

You wait for each reply patiently like a lifeline nonetheless, connecting the two of you together. You drop everything the moment his name flashes on the screen. You try to ease the butterflies that float and twist in your stomach, the jitters that make it hard to type out responses right. But you can't help it.

He wins the German cup. And you get a call late into the night, bleary as you reach for your phone, groaning while you put it to your ear. Skipping over his face that illuminates the screen, smiling. Cheeks flush and eyes blown wide.

He giggles, “hi.”

“Hi,” you mumble back.

He giggles again, “m in your ear.”

You squint, bringing the phone in front of you and getting your first good look of him of the night.

“Hey Jude.”

“Hey love.” he sighs dreamily.

You come to your senses soon enough, scooting to sit upright, pushing your pillows around getting comfortable.

“Are you drunk?” You laugh.

“Shhh…” he puts a finger to his lips, “secret.”

You raise a brow, “you’re not doing a very good job at keeping it that way.”

Bursts of laughter bubble from his lips. Swaying side to side while. He blinks, hard, mouth open while he stares.

“ ‘M fine.” He nods. Proud of himself.

You frown, “Are you going to be okay? Are you alone?”

“Erlings with me. My best roommate.”

“Okay good. Be safe.”

“You’re so pretty.” Is what he manages to get out.

“Thank you. You should go to bed.” You smile. He’s sweet, no matter how drunk.

“But I missed you.” He pouts, bottom lip quivering and for a second you think he’s about to cry. Instead he blows a kiss to you. Of course you catch it.

“I missed you too. But it’s late, for both of us.” You lean against your pillow, blinking against the dark of your room.

He hums, tapping his finger against his chin. “I won the cup.” He blurts.

“I know love. I watched.”

His eyes go wide, “you watched me.”

You nod, “the whole game.”

He scrunches his nose, “wow.”

“You did amazing.”

“Wow.” He repeats.

You yawn, squinting against the time in the little corner of your phone.

“Jude.”

“Hm?”

“Head to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

He sighs, shoulders sagging, “fine.”

“I love you. “

He perks right back up. “I love you. You. You.”

You give him a little kiss to the screen and he manages to fall back on his bed sighing happily. You hear erling come in and decide to hang up. You hope he manages to get out of his kit for the night.

——

Things start to calm down on your end. It's almost like everyone's choosing to forget about the hell they've put you through. But you don't make a fuss, you are happy to have peace of mind, no matter how fleeting it may seem. It's just one step closer to being able to have him. Fully and wholly.

He calls you early into the morning. He's sitting in his house, shirt off, smiling.

“Uh oh. What's this about? “

He only smiles wider, bringing an ipad out of nowhere and showing it to you.

You squint, “jude i can't see that. “

He huffs, “here,” picking up his phone and flipping the camera to where his ipad now sits on his lap.

On the screen reads flight information, for about 2 weeks out, destination is to you. Your eyes go wide and you hear him chuckle on the other end.

“No way. No way oh my god.” you all but squeal.

He flips the camera back around, “Can't wait to see you again,” he beams.

“I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” he mumbles, lips curling in a smile.

——-

You greet him at the airport, flowers in hand. No you don’t care how cheesy it is. Even if you have to wait in the most obscure place, car parked and nerves rising. Playing with every button and switch on your dashboard, picking at every spec of dust you can reach. You got it detailed yesterday and you’re already nitpicking.

You check and recheck your phone, picking at the petals of the flowers that rest in your passenger, until his contact illuminates your screen.

You frantically answer, “hey.”

“TSA was being a bitch.” He groans.

You chuckle, “that bad.”

“The worst. Where you at?”

You look around for signs, “arrivals, right next to the luggage cart return thing. It says door D5. “

“D5. Okay okay I’m coming.”

You hum, hanging up and drumming your hands on the wheel.

He calls you again, “okay I’m walking out the door. Can you help me with the luggage?”

“Yeah-“ you unbuckle your seatbelt, putting your hazards on and stepping out of the car. You see him walk out the door and you almost drop your phone while rushing up to him.

He lets go of his carry on, opening his arms and you slip right into them.

“Hey,” he hums into your hair.

You laugh,“hey.”

You unlatch far too soon for your liking out the sounds and rush of the airport pushes you to get him in your car and outta here.

You grab his things, one carry on and one checked bag, clicking your keys and opening your trunk. He doesn’t let you do much else, lifting the suitcase and sliding it inside. Your little 4 door sedan manages to fit the checked bag in your truck. With not enough room for the carry in, it slides into your back seat.

You close the door, patting the top of your car affectionately, “there. All good to go?”

He nods, opening the door to your passenger and gasping, “flowers?” Eyes going wide, eyebrows shooting in and looking at you. Lips parted.

Oh yes. You forgot about those. “Haha. Yeah. Flowers.”

He picks them up gingerly, setting them into his lap as he gets into the seat. “Are these for me?”

You hop to the driver's side, buckling your seatbelt, “duh.”

He giggles,”they’re sweet.”

“Smell them.”

He does, putting his face in the petals, “woah.”

“Best flowers in town.”

“Smells like. Fresh laundry.” He nods.

“Laundry. You called my flowers laundry.” You sigh.

He swats your arm, “it’s a compliment jeez. Just landed and you’re giving me a hard time.”

“Yeah yeah buckle up.” You flick his arm.

The ride home is one filled with animated stories to catch up the time between you two. Completely oblivious to anything else as you drive with one hand, and the other plays with his fingers.

You get to your little apartment, parking and getting his things out. Sliding your key card over the sensor and you guide him to the lobby.

You roll over to the elevator and hit the button. Sniffling while it heads up.

“Are you sick?” He narrows his eyes at you.

“Nah.”

“Mkay.”

The elevator dings and you find your way to your little home, unlocking the door and motioning him inside.

“Ta da!”

He snorts, “I’m excited.”

“You should be. Best house this side of the equator.”

He rolls his things inside, shaking his head, “so there’s better on the other side?”

You shrug, “there might be.”

He collapses on your couch the moment he sees it. Closing his eyes and sighing deeply.

“Shoes off at the door Jude.” You slide yours off and set them next to your shoe rack.

He groans, kicking them off and trudging back to set them next to yours.

By the time you put his things in your room, he's out like a light, snoring softly.

—--

You let him sleep, by the time he comes back to it it's dinner time. Groggy and cranky he pads over to your dining table, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but reaching for you.

He finds you eventually, plating the last bit of food while he wraps his arms around you, leaning into your back. You stifle a laugh while he mumbles something about you being mean. You only roll your eyes, unlatching his grip.

“Time to eat baby.”

He only purses his lips, leaning against yours. You give him what he wants. Pressing a gentle kiss and guiding him to his seat. A sleep Jude is a clingy one you've learned.

He eats all you make, complimenting and praising you after every bite.

“You're so good at this.” he sighs, taking a sip of his water.

“Anything for my favorite boy.”

He preens at this, smiling wide.

He's only here for the next three days but you'll take anything you can get.

——-

Jude worries for you.

Even in the gentle lull of your ac that fans his face while you're fast asleep against him.

He wonders who much longer he can keep doing this. Holding onto hope that down the line he will still have you.

His time is running out with you. It feels just like the day you parted at the stadium. Crying. He noticed you kept the jacket, neatly tucked in your closet.

It makes him frown. Making you waste your youth waiting for him.

Part of him wants to keep you for him and only him. Keep waiting and hoping things will work out. Another part of him, much less excited, wishes for you to look him in the eye and tell him you don't love him anymore.

One of you has to do it, he thinks.

Even if you move in with him and you get married. Is it worth the fall out? His mother hates you. His father cant stand hearing your name at the dinner table on the few days they eat together.

He knows the sentiment is shared on your end.

But he loves you. Oh how he loves you.

—--

After he leaves you don't hear from him for months on end your worry rises, and when the replies also shorten, your fear takes a hold of you. Sensibility out the window and in comes every insecure thought.

He's found a hot shot model to be with hasn't he. Or better yet a female player. Reporter perhaps? You're not dumb or blind, you know you're not the only one who sees how handsome he is. He's growing into his features beautifully. But does he see you?

Is he leaving you behind now, as his life and career continue to accelerate at speeds you can barely keep up with, is he no longer waiting for you ?

—--

Jude finds his routine once again. Training playing, training playing. It's a little dull, he thinks.

Much better if you would be here.

But he can't have that.

He stops himself from talking to you. It feels wrong. He can't shake off the feeling that he's only doing you wrong by making you keep up with him. So he slowly distances himself.

—--

He cant stay away. Not even if he tries.

He surprises you near your birthday. Completely unannounced while you're in the middle of cleaning.

You open the door to a jittery Jude who grabs you close, pressing his lips firm to yours.

“Hello to you too,” you giggle in between kisses.

Peck! “You're so-” peck!, “beautiful.”

You shoo him away, getting his things inside as he takes his shoes off at the door.

“I missed you so much, “ he mumbles against the crook of your neck.

“Me too,” you sigh, clutching into his hands like a lifeline.

“I got you tickets?”

You look up at him, “okay. Ill go.”

He attacks you with a hundred more kisses, bursts of laughter spilling from the both of you. You dont think youve ever been happier.

—--

You do go. Sitting in the fancy VIP section while watching him warm up. You almost forgot he’s at Madrid now. Big leagues huh.

He sends small waves your way in between exercises. And you only watch fondly.

When it's time for the actual match, you can't believe you get to watch him score. And he points right to you.

You love him. Oh how you love him.

He finds you after it's all set and done. Kissing you silly while he ignores the hundreds of notifications that make his phone buzz and sputter on the table.

You frown, “who is that.”

He chews his lip, “prolly just the guys,” leaning back into your lips.

You're forced to part ways when the calls flood in, promising to see you soon when he takes care of things.

He doesn't come back to see you, instead leaving you to head back to your hotel alone. You try not to think too deeply into it. But you fear you are already starting to lose him. After everything really has passed and fizzled out to nothing but memories. You fear it's all too late.

—--

You see him only once more during your stay in madrid. When youre all packed and leaving. He presses kisses to your skin whispering promises. And you believe him.

When you land back home you go back to your routine of watching him from afar. And again the replies shorten. So much so you only get the odd text every few weeks. Until it turns to months. And you're back to radio silence.

It's almost a self pity party, trying to keep up with him. Even now that you can go see him, he can come see you, does he even want that anymore?

You crave to talk to him, to know him, to go back to the closeness you once shared. You know that's no longer your place in his life. You were someone he once treasured. Now you're another unanswered dm that lays in his inbox.

Does it hurt you as much as it does him? You don't think so. Not when pictures of him on vacation with his “friends” surface. Who even are these people? You don't recognize a single face. It fills you with rage.

Almost like he's trying to erase his past life with this new squeaky clean image of the perfect player with the perfect life. Friends and all.

Is he ashamed of you?

You fight the urge to call his mom and stir up trouble from the past. So instead you hunker down in your room and try to keep yourself busy and mind off of Jude. This turns out to be much easier said than done.

—--

Jude finds himself in another after party, wearing clothes much too expensive to be getting champagne sprayed all over them. But what else can he do?

He crafted this image delicately. Can't turn back now.

There's a woman who keeps whispering into his ear. She's not you. No matter how much his teammates howl and egg him on. He can't bring himself to do so much as face her.

He's not interested, gently moving her aside while he nurses his drink.

She scoffs, calling him a slew of names. He frowns, excusing himself and making a beeline for the bathrooms. Locking himself inside a stall and leaning on its walls.

He calls you. Of course he does. And you pick up.

“Hey Jude.” he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Hey love.”

“What's up?”

He sighs, long and drawn out, “I just miss you.”

You snort, “really because it seems like you've been having a blast on beaches with people i've never heard of.”

Oh.

“It's not like that-”

“Jude. don't lie to me. If you've found someone else, tell me now.”

“I havent I swear. They really are just friends.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going?” you whisper.

There's a beat of silence. And Jude can't find the answer. Looking at the ceiling of the club like it will magically come to life and give him just the right combination of words to make both of you happy.

You sigh, “if we are going to make anything work I can't be out of the loop this much Jude. I can't know things after paparazzi do okay?”

“Okay,” he replies, meek.

“Where even are you?”

He licks his lips, “this after party thing.”

“Its in a club isn't it.”

He doesn't answer but it's confirmation nonetheless.

“Dont be stupid and start calling me more.”

He opens his mouth to answer, but you've already hung up. He rubs his eyes and head out the stall. Washing his hands and splashing some water on his face.

When he gets back out there, he decides to call it a night. Ignoring the groans and frowns he gets.

When he's back in bed. He's looking at flights to see you again.

—--

Jude gets a call a few weeks later.

It's right after he gets back from training. Hasn't even changed yet.

The number is unknown and he ignores it the first time. Setting his phone on the dinning table and kicking his shoes off.

When it calls back two more times he picks up.

“Hello?” he scratches the back of his head.

“You know why im calling.” its your father.

Jude scrambles to take a seat, chewing his lips. What does he mean know why. He hasn't talked to you in a few days.

“Um, I really don't know-” he gets cut off.

“This will be my last warning to you. You are not going to ruin my daughter's life i dont give a damn how old you are, how old she is. None of this player nonsense. She has a proper education. You aren't going to ruin that for her, do you understand?”

Silence.

“I swear if I hear you coming around her or talking to her I will sue you and your whole family.”

The line goes dead and Jude sighs. Great. Just great.

He calls his lawyer, seeing if it would be legal to sue.

His lawyer hums, “well they can come at you from any angle really. Emotional distress possible defamation. Id lay low for now.”

So he does just that. Yet again going silent on you.

—--

He hears wind that people have put two and two together. Your instagram has been flooded with requests. You've always had it private but you've been forced to change your user name and picture.

You don't know how but pictures from when you saw him in Madrid have resurfaced.

And have gone more than just viral. It's all people are talking about.

Your work life has gone from just pleasantries and work only talk to people crowding around you begging to know more. You've had people show up to your workplace for god's sake. Begging to be let in so they can see you.

Jude calls you, worried. “I'm so sorry I don't know how pics were even taken. I'm so sorry im so sorry.”

“I don't know what to do Jude i've never dealt with this kinda stuff.” you mumble.

“Hey, hey its okay. Ill get you in contact with a security company dont worry leave it to me.”

“Okay.”

“For now. I dont think ill be able to see you anytime soon.”

“Thats okay.”

“Be safe yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—--

Your family is in a complete uproar. They blame Jude. of course they do. Your father talks about suing him but you turn it down.

“He didnt mean for this to happen.”

Your mother shakes her head, “this is why we told you to stay away from him.”

You dont regret any moments with him.

It takes a while. A grueling few months for your life to finally go back to normal. But Jude rarely comes back like before.

You watch the months turn to years flashing by. Facetimes become a luxury of your past self. Calls are reserved for special occasions like an aged wine. Only brought out sparelily. You get one on your birthday but it feels forced. Heavy and filled with all too much silence.

You've tried calling, texting. Rarely receiving the time of day. Who is Jude to you anymore?

“Hey, “ he smiles. A picture perfect rehearsed one. You almost forgot what he sounded like when speaking to you. How long has it been now?

“Hi.” You mumble.

“Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

You shrug, “it’s okay.”

Silence while you pick your nails.

“Any plans?”

“I don’t know, maybe dinner with friends.”

“Oh Emily?”

You want to roll your eyes. You haven’t spoken to Emily in years.

“No Jude. We’re not in touch anymore. New friends I’ve met”

He mouths a silent “oh”.

He wants to tell you why he's been gone for so long. But unfortunately he's caught up in a legal battle. Your father actually went ahead with it. And he's stuck trying to make sense of it.

The maniac got good lawyers. And he's using every last bit of the law to win it. Using the leaked pictures that caused you so much trouble as his main leverage.

He's been advised not to talk to you. But it's your birthday. And now seeing you moved on, new friends, new life. It feels like it's time to let go.

For your sake. He's only brought problems into your life. And you live a life now without him. He just hopes you're happy.

—--

You see him once, passing by through the city center. You want to run after him, grab his shoulders and shake him awake, scream and yell, beg for him to remember your promise. But you do none of that. The second your gaze meets his, your heart leaps to your throat, you blink and he's gone.

You get a text from him a few days later, first since your birthday.

Was nice seeing you.

You want to cry. What did he see? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It wasn't nice. Not at all. It was awful. It ripped any piece of sense out of you and made you sick.

You dont reply.

—--

You wish you had. He gets called to the national team, and suddenly your family begins to boast of your connection to him. And that's just it. Your connection. Not theirs. Yours. You know him, you love him. Or you knew him.

After so many years of cursing his name now they all but sing it.

The local community is hosting watch parties, you refuse to go.

You know the gossip around you as is. You don't need it said to your face. These people are unforgiving on their best days, cruel on their worst. More so the older generation who seems to hold not an ounce of basic human decency.

And somehow you find yourself in a room painted in blue and white, you look away at the stares you get when you walk in. You're regretting coming at all. You're wearing a blank jersey you've had for a while, slumped in the corner of the room, watching. Waiting for the comments to pour in sooner or later.

But they don't, not for now. Instead, the room erupts with cheers and applause as Jude scores a goal, you smile. Not bad for a midfielder huh. The air is electric with excitement, but you feel detached, as if you're watching the scene unfold from a distance, picking at the plate of sweets that rests on your knee.

As the game progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Jude on the screen. He looks different now, more confident, more assured. He's cut his hair, clean and precise. And yet, there's a sadness in his eyes that mirrors your own.

You wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promise he made all those years ago. Has it really been years? But the thought is fleeting, lost amidst the chaos of the crowd and the weight of your own heartache. And soon I have a headache.

When the final whistle blows and England emerges victorious, the room erupts into celebration once again. But you slip out quietly, unnoticed, lost in your own thoughts.

Outside, the night air is cool against your skin as you make your way home. You're not waiting on anyone, and it's a short walk away. The streets are quiet, the sounds of celebration fading into the distance.

You pause for a moment, taking in the stillness of the night. And in that moment, you make a decision.

You may not have chased after him when you had the chance, but you refuse to let this be the end of your story. You refuse to let fear and doubt hold you back any longer. There is no use to let yourself be defined by what ifs.

With a determined step, you pull out your phone and type out a message to Jude.

Watched you play tonight. I'm proud of you.

It's a small gesture, but it's a start. And as you hit send, you feel a glimmer of hope stir within you.

Maybe, just maybe, this isn't goodbye after all. Maybe there's still a chance for the two of you to find your way back to each other, to rewrite the ending of your story.

But for now, all you can do is wait. Wait for his reply, wait for the future to unfold, and wait for the day when you can finally be together again, without fear or hesitation. In a way he'll always be your Jude.

——

News reaches you in the form of an instagram post on a summer day. Not family, not friends, not him. It’s your explore page that plasters it on your screen, in the middle of your morning routine you see him all tidied up in a suit, facing away from the camera, the side of his face illuminated by soft light. Next to his side is a woman in white, you only see a peek of her face but you call tell shes smiling.

“Just married.”

Married. Just. Married.

Oh.

You don't register it at first, the words looking more like a foreign language than any coherent sentence. So you finish brushing your teeth and your hair. Moisturizing your face, slipping back into bed and rereading it over and over and over again till it finally does click for you.

He gave up on waiting.

You keep going back to the picture. He's grown into a proper man now. His features are full and bright. He's gotten a different haircut. Leaving behind the one of his youth. You read through the comments of teammates and old friends congratulating him.

You realize the tie he's wearing is the one his dad got him when he first left for dortmund. You think you're gonna be sick.

No one bothers to ask why you've been crying all day. It's safe to assume everyone knows by now, hell the whole population probably does.

What changed his mind? What made it that he couldn't even bother to let you know beforehand?

And yet there's a stupid prick of hope that can't seem to go away. You're still waiting for him aren't you.

—--

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, the reality of his marriage settles heavily on your shoulders. You can't help but wonder if he thinks of you, if he remembers the promises made under the stars, if he regrets the choice he made. But you push those thoughts aside, burying them deep within you, because what good would they do?

A sick twisted idea of wrecking his home blooms in your mind, but you know you can't. You just can't. Not to him. You can't take away something like this from him.

Life goes on, as it always does, but the ache in your chest remains, a constant reminder of what could have been. You try to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything that will keep your mind from wandering back to him. Yet, he's always there, lingering in the back of your thoughts like stardust.

You hear snippets of his life through mutual acquaintances, through social media posts, through the grapevine of gossip that always seems to find its way to you. He's thriving, it seems, his career reaching new heights, his personal life seemingly content. Apparently he has a kid on the way, would you look at that. And you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. To top it all off you still have no clue on who this woman is. Not who she is, what she does, where she's from. Absolutely nothing, it drives you mad to say the least.

He hasn't spoken to you. Not since that day in the city center.

Maybe if you would have known all that was to come you would've gone after him. Chasing him endlessly through cobblestone stress and crowded walkways. Would he have even stopped? Given you a moment of his day?

The same man who spent his days off in your apartment kissing your worries away and promising you a tomorrow you still cling to.

You're a foolish foolish woman. And for some reason, you don't hate him. You don't think you ever could. Even after everything, every single year that's passed. A part of you will always love him.

—--

#jude x you #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #bahr footy #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham blurb #jude x y/n #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fluff

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sinwcrthyarchive · 2 years

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↳ @hybridafterdark asked: Ever in his playful nature, Volt took to sneaking kisses lightly against his partner’s neck while they cuddled the way they were. It always felt so perfect when Arrow’s back was pressed against his chest. Mismatched arms settled around his waist. Yet they moved gently and carefully in the way they touched.

Not completely encouraging any activity between them, but also not discouraging it either. His purr rumbled in his chest and throat regardless, only becoming audible whenever he would part his lips to lay another kiss where they could reach.

————

{➹} – THERE WAS CERTAINLY no complaint from the hero as the kisses continued, sending the slightest shiver down his spine. Because it was usually covered by his quills, the back of the hero’s neck wasn’t as used to affection as other places and, thus, any touch got a somewhat stronger reaction than most. The same could be said for his back in general, but he took a certain joy in being cozied up to his partner as they were, scarred hands resting on the mismatched ones around his waist.

Truthfully, the hero was on the fence about takings things too far, but he didn’t stop the hybrid’s lips from gracing over where they did. He found that purr too beautiful to stop, enough that he hardly noticed his own growing to meet it until he went to speak.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

#secrets of the night | queue #kiss me under the light of a thousand stars | arrow and volt #hybridafterdark #fanmail | asks

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zanarkandskylines · 1 month

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₊✩‧₊ ⇢ midoriya never thought he'd have a pop star for a girlfriend.

『 ♡ 』 midoriya x pop star fem!reader (18+ under the cut!) -`✧ izuku midoriya masterlist

✩ out of high school, you were scouted by a local talent agency on a whim. you'd desperately sent your demo tape to thousands of places, both in and outside of japan. you'd almost given up hope until your current agency called you one week after graduation.

✩ izuku was ecstatic for your chance to be a star. you sang every single song for him - he was your best friend and you trusted him with your life. he adored your voice and encouraged you to break out of your shell. you never told him which ones were about him, harboring your secret crush like a sacred treasure.

✩ two years of hard work and you signed your first record deal! going into the studio for hours at a time, constantly surrounded by various musicians, producers and directors. your first album was wrapped and ready for release in no time at all.

✩ izuku was the first one to buy your album and asked you to sign it for him. he bought two - one to save and one to play. he knew you were going to be popular and wanted to get ahead on his upcoming collection. he promised you, way back when, that he’d always be the first person to get your albums or merchandise.

✩ you would drag izuku to the mall and fashion district to shop alongside you, asking his opinion on every outfit you planned for shows you'd be performing. he'd mentally keep note of what he loved seeing you in...maybe it was a little selfish on his part, but you looked stunning regardless. dresses, mini skirts, crop tops, bodysuits - the works.

✩ your first concert was at a small venue booked by your manager - it held no more than 250 people but still sold out! it was a club with neon lighting, usually not your scene, but a gig is a gig. izuku was one of the VIPs, standing front row the entire night. you couldn't help but keep smiling at him as he took countless photos of your show as you danced and sang the night away. during your encore, you kneeled down and sang to him, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek.

✩ high on the adrenaline of your first show's success, you invited izuku to join you backstage in the dressing rooms to wind down...at least, that's what you told him.

✩ izuku heard the lock click on the door after you shut it, secluding the two of you from the world. he was confused until you sauntered over to him, straddling his lap on the obnoxious neon pink couch.

✩ his hands roam your body and settle on your ass as your tongue invaded his mouth, handfuls of his curls in your grasp. "you really think i never noticed, zu?" you mumble between kisses, each one more intense than the last. "the way you look at me?"

✩ the grin that crosses his lips is devilish. the confidence he's exuding in the moment makes your stomach cartwheel. "can’t help it, i’m your number one fan," he moans into your mouth, grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against him.

✩ clothes are discarded as the two of you tornado through the room, moving from the couch to the wall, to the stylist chair and back to the couch. you can’t get enough of each other - lips bruised from the excessive make out session.

✩ the black lace bra and underwear set that adorned your body drove izuku absolutely insane, pinning you underneath him on the couch as he nipped at your collarbone. you couldn’t help but whine when his clothed erection met your soaked panties.

✩ your hands slide to the hem of his boxers, hooking your fingers in the band and yanking them down his thighs, cock springing out and bouncing off your stomach. he reciprocates by sliding your panties down, shuffling your legs over his shoulders. they stay hooked around one of your ankles.

✩ izuku slips a hand between your bodies, relishing in the skin on skin contact. he brushes over your clit and slides a finger directly into your drenched cunt, a gasp falling from his lips as your slick coated his finger instantly.

✩ you’re biting your lip, trying to keep quiet as he fucks you into the couch, panting into the crook of your neck. his name echoes throughout the dressing room, breathless and growing higher in pitch as the thread in your core snaps. your nails are dragging down his back as your release coats his shaft with every thrust. he follows you soon after, pulling out and painting your stomach white.

✩ in the afterglow, izuku kisses you like you’re the only person in the world. once you part, you can’t help but jokingly say, “my number one fan, huh?” he smiles, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “always.”

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — something about midoriya with a pop star girlfriend is so cute to me! he really would be your number one fan, flabbergasted after every show that he gets to go home with you. ✨ i know this may seem a little ooc for izuku, but i honestly think a 20 something version of him wouldn’t be as shy and nervous around someone he’s loved for years. so when you make the first move, he’s all about it!

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x y/n #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya smut #deku smut #my hero academia smut #my hero academia izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya headcanons #mha deku #my hero academia deku #deku x y/n #☆.rei writes

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meidnightrain · 17 days

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YOUR BEST AVGIN BOY❞ - aventurine

summary: sometimes he can’t help but wish, to be a better person worthy of your love

warnings: reader is gn, angst, hints of spoilers for 2.1 penacony quest

notes: inspired by the song your best american girl by mitski because honestly ever since aventurine came out, i keep thinking of him whenever that song plays.

taglist(open): @akutasoda , @ryuryuryuyurboat , @toorurs , @yvnaology , @tragedy-of-commons , @staarri , @rainswept

you have so much to do in this world, you live, you learn, and you grow towards the sun like a seed sprouting from the earth. but AVENTURINE had nothing ahead of him, it seemed. to be haunted endlessly by his past, to gamble everything he had on the line and wish for his luck to run out eventually, to be nothing more than a reminder of his family that were now gone.

you hold him in your embrace tightly, so tight that the thoughts that gnaw at him cannot grasp his shoulders. he can be protective at times; you’ve noticed that self-destructive and self-sacrificial side of his, and you’ve hated it for as long as you remember.

you’ve once asked why his favourite suit were spades—why not hearts or diamonds? his answer had been because they symbolised luck, and you had not bought his answer without hesitation. spades were commonly tied to death—the balance between creation and destruction.

if he could, he’d be your little spoon, held together by your arms that would wrap around his waist. and he’d kiss your fingers forevermore, slender and soft, unlike his calloused and sly ones, his fingers that were stained with blood and used for trickery. you run them through his hair, caressing his cheeks. you’ve memorised every nook and cranny of him, from the curve of his hip to the shape of his jaw.

he shivered under your touch, sending chills down his spine and willing him to pull your body closer to his so that you’d envelop all of him, even the bad parts that he hated.

your hold on him tightens ever so slightly, willing yourself not to waver when you speak, to be strong, and to protect him like he always did for you. “there have been moments where you’ve been more than not fine, but fine itself is the best way of describing how you feel without getting me to worry about you. so tell me, what can i do to make you stop hurting?”

“i think if you kissed me more than once, i’d be alright.” his voice is low, muffled from where he had burrowed his face into your chest.

he can hear the rumble of your laughter from where his head lay over your heart, feel the gentle and steady beating of your heart, a lullaby that lulls him to sleep. AVENTURINE has always been vulnerable in your arms; when his mouth meets yours, you both melt into each other almost instantly.

your mother wouldn't approve of how his mother raised him—alone in the ruthless sands and learning to survive with sharp wit and cunning. in fact, he knew that your family hated him, for he was an avgin. sweet as honey, twisted into something more sour by the ipc who spread falsehoods and lies to promote their agenda in the galaxy.

and some part of him couldn’t help but try to be the best he could be for you and dispel that idea people perceived of him, even if he himself didn’t believe they were wrong.

his desire had always been futile, for you had the options and the freedom to become whoever you wanted to be. he had always been nothing but a remnant of an extinct race, a miracle survivor amongst the thousands of his people lost.

you are the sun, a glimmering star in the sky that is adored and praised by many. you've never seen the night; why would you when all everyone needs is you? but you hear its song from the morning birds, one of sweet symphony and of the refreshing glow that is its moonlight. he is not the moon, AVENTURINE is not even a star. he wasn’t flashy; he could not even compare to the light you brought. but awake at night, he’ll be singing to the birds, weaving tales for them to bring back to you, even if he knew that you’d never spare a glance at him, even if it mean that he’d never be able to see your smile.

he is the one; he is all you have ever wanted, even though you knew that loving him would ruin you. how does one heal a broken heart, one too far shattered beyond repair? you build him up again, like piecing a puzzle and filling up his missing pieces using fragments of you. and he could never be unloved by you, for his is too well tangled into your soul. every bit of you screams for him, for his love, for him to be yours, even if you know that it will be lost in the void.

and you’d wait for him to return from the abyss, even though you knew that some part of him didn’t wish to come back to you.

#🗞️ - honkai star rail fics #—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #honkai star rail angst #hsr angst #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine

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sinwcrthy · 11 months

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↳ @hybridafterdark asked: Careful claws danced against the hero’s chest, one hand slipped underneath the red scarf while the other skirted a blue hip and thigh. There was an audible purr as lips kissed and nibbled along his partner’s neck and shoulder. Someone was in a teasing mood.

{➹} – THE HERO HAD RECOGNIZED something in his partner's eyes that evening, as he often did, but was more than willing to play the sitting duck to the questing fingers and hybrid's lips. For a time anyway, because it wasn't long until his own purr joined the mix and he was sneaking in kisses where he could get them.

And plenty of nuzzles before a sultry chuckle rose in his chest.

"Y'know...we do have the house t' ourselves tonight."

#kiss me under the light of a thousand stars | volt and arrow #hybridafterdark #fanmail | asks

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delfiore · 6 months

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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY (5/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: barcelona sets its sights on the champions league; things between you and ona unfold in the way they were always going to.

word count: 5.9k

a/n: LAST PART LAST PART WOOOO ALSO THIS GIF IS KILLING ME

PART I, PART II, PART III, PART IV

Barcelona won its first game back from winter break. It wasn’t the first one this season, but everyone was glad the team managed to hold onto the momentum over break. Though you didn’t score, you felt like you started to understand how to pass, how to move, how to bring the ball forward effectively the Barça way.

Things were finally starting to look up for you at your new club.

In training one day, you were paired up with Aitana for a short passing drill, and she quickly took the opportunity to inquire about you and Ona.

“No.”

“What?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“¿¡Por qué no?!” Aitana exclaimed, earning a few turns of heads from several teammates around. “I was the one to tell you to say something, no?”

You blew raspberry and looked down at the ball rolling between your feet. In truth, you haven’t talked to Ona about that night. Unlike the last time, though, there wasn’t an air of animosity around it. You wanted to kiss her really badly, but you also knew starting something then wasn’t the best idea. You and her both needed to concentrate on getting the team through this slump, and it was more crucial than ever that you did.

“You make it really hard for me, you know that?” You had told her, a quiet confession.

You remembered her smiling. “You don’t make it easy for me either. Every time I see you, I try so hard not to pull you to me and kiss you.”

You chuckled and dropped your head, hiding the warmth creeping up your neck. “Well, try harder.” You brushed her nose with the tip of your finger and stood up. “Our team needs us. We can’t . . . be distracted.”

“Can’t we be selfish just once?” Her tone was light and teasing, but when she leaned back against the bed, there was a darker sincerity in her eyes. Her elbows supported her weight, as her toned legs dangled off the bed. You had almost scoffed at how good she looked, and how much you wanted to pounce on her.

Swiftly, you snatched a pillow and threw it at her, earning an offended gasp from the girl. You watched her face shift, then, when you leaned down and kissed her cheek. Pulling back, you smirked. “Happy?”

Grabbing your pajamas which were draped over a chair, you quickly got out of the room and headed to the shower where, under the running water, you repeatedly told yourself to snap out of it. That night, you still fell asleep in the same bed as her. In the morning, your head was nuzzled in her neck, and your arm wrapped firmly around her waist.

You asked how long she had been staring at you, watching you sleep. Ona couldn’t resist a smirk, telling you she didn’t want to wake you up.

You had hoped she couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating, but then again your chest was pressed into her side. You felt the overwhelming urge to pull away, alarm bells ringing in your head to sober up from your slumber and pull away. You were controlled by an invisible fear. In all of your nightly interactions with the many people that have warmed your bed, you had never felt so vulnerable than in that moment before, or since.

You could see her freckles so clearly from here. There were plenty, like a constellation of stars, but the only difference was you would lay there and count each and every one of them. Slowly, you brushed the pad of your thumb over them, and she let you, closing her eyes.

“Stardust,” you whispered quietly, feeling her skin under your finger.

Ona’s heart burned like a thousand fires watching you as you admired her, three heavy words weighing down on the tip of her tongue.

They went unsaid when you got up to go brush your teeth, over the table at breakfast, when her mom hugged you both goodbye and even when she dropped you off at your place a few hours later.

The team was playing away in Valencia on Saturday night. Right after that, on Wednesday, you would be playing the second Champions League quarterfinal leg in London. It was going to be a stressful week, but you needed to get your head in it because this week would determine the rest of the season in the league and in the prestigious European competition.

When Valencia led 1-0 at halftime, the more the clock ran out the more the team was desperate to win, or at least get a point back.

Alexia was holding the ball, as everyone moved over to Valencia’s side of the pitch; the latter was now only concerned with defending their three points. You waited for the defenders around to get distracted and made a run for it. Fridolina received the ball and fed it to you, but the angle was too narrow and the ball bounced off the net.

Chances were coming, and you were getting much closer to an equalizer.

A corner ensued, and you were at the near-post. The ball was sent in straight towards the goalkeeper, but you thought you could manage it. The goalkeeper was beelining for the ball and headed straight towards you with her fists out ready to punch the ball away, but you were faster. 1-1.

The adrenaline rushed to your head as you ran to celebrate with your teammates.

Only when the ball was rolling again did you feel lightheaded, and were on the ground before you knew it. The referee’s whistle rang out, and several of her teammates rushed over to you, as did Ona.

She saw the way your steps slowed as you were walking back to the middle, your head hung low. The way you fell to the ground, Ona could only compare it to a jet running out of fuel and free-falling. It was as if your legs gave out under you.

“Y/N? Joder, Y/N. Fisio!” She knelt beside you, yelling to the sidelines.

Thankfully, you were able to move, turning to your side, and hiding your face in the grass.

“It’s okay, Y/N. They’re coming,” Ona breathed heavily and squeezed your shoulder.

You have had collisions that knocked the air out of you before, but this time you knew it was much more severe than that. You suddenly didn’t quite know where you were, or why all these people were gathering around and peering down at you. All you knew was there was one face that made it all okay, one that you reached for and never wanted to let go.

There were physios coming to check the reflexes in your eyes; you were fine, it was just really, really bright. You were helped to sit up, seeing stars as you did, like cartoon characters when they suffer concussions. You looked over to that beautiful face, the one that appeared in your dreams like a plague, and you were okay. Though you didn’t know what was happening, Ona made you feel brave.

You regained clearheadedness after a few minutes, the symptoms had seemingly subsided. You signaled that you could continue (you really thought you could) but Esmee was already getting ready on the sideline to come in for you.

“Y/N, you did well today,” Ona approached you and wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “You were brilliant. We’ll take care of this.”

She said and gave you a kiss on the side of your head before sending you off with a pat on your back. You smiled gracefully at her and walked towards the bench. The unheard of happened then, as you made out applause ringing out from the Barcelona section of the stands, as people stood out and whistled for you.

You spent the rest of the game in the dressing room, watching the game from a TV. The lights had been dimmed for you to lessen the side effects of the concussion. When the rest of the team returned victorious, you cracked a smile. Your teammates surrounded you to check on your well-being, one in particular was the quickest to sit next to you.

“They clapped for me when I came off,” you said with a smile. “The fans.”

“Yes, they did,” Ona grasped your hand. “Because you deserved it.”

Barcelona came back from a deficit to win 3-2, earning a crucial three points in the title race.

“Arsenal is a very different team now than when we met them last, girls,” Jonatan stood at the front of the conference room. He played the next clip. “The one thing we’ll have to keep in mind is that they prefer passing and progressive carrying. They’ll have holding midfielders that will transition the formation from defending to attacking, so Williamson, Little, Wälti. Whoever that pivot player ends up being, if we cut her off on the high press, we cut off the supply going forward.”

As Coach was explaining tactics, you quietly turned around toward where Ona was sitting. The moment her gaze landed on you, the corner of her lips lifted. You mirrored her smile, and looked back at the projector, pulling your hoodie up past your lips to hide your cheeks heating up.

After the briefing, you walked towards the dining room to have lunch when your phone buzzed with a notification. You had just received an Instagram DM from an account that you hadn’t looked at in a long time, mainly because there would be nothing to see, as you were blocked.

Hi! I heard you’ll be in town this week for a game. Any chance we could go grab a coffee and chat? Sent 11:04am

“Hey, you coming to lunch?” Ona asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll be there in a second,” you said quickly and typed a reply.

On Tuesday, a couple of hours after you landed in London, you made your way towards the little café the address of which you had been sent. Just before entering the coffee shop, you exhaled sharply and wiped your palms on your pants before pulling the door open. Leena was already seated at a table, a cup in front of her.

“Hey,” you hugged her. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Y/N,” she wrapped her arms around you and squeezed you tightly. “You look good.”

You let out a snort. “Yeah, Barcelona tends to do that to ya.”

You sat on the opposite side of the table, after going to order a small coffee.

“I heard you got a concussion last game,” Leena asked, concerned.

“Oh, that.” You waved it off. “I’m fine. I’ve seen better days, but it’s all a part of it. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good,” Leena smiled. “I . . . I had to step away to . . . put things into perspective.”

You nodded slowly and sighed. “Leena, the way I handled things, I’m just so deeply ashamed of it. I’m really sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I should have known better than to pursue someone who isn’t ready yet. I tend to do that.”

“Still, I mean . . . That’s not who I am, and I never meant to hurt you or lead you on like that.”

Quickly leaning forward to grasp your hand, she whispered, “It’s okay”. You nodded and smiled gratefully. Leena never made you feel less than whenever you bore your emotions to her, and it was no exception this time.

You started chatting about work, learning that Leena wanted to go back to school for a master’s in cinematography. You told her about your new club, and how much harder it was to live up to expectations than you thought. By the end of your little meeting, you had told her pretty much everything that was going on within the past year.

You said goodbye about an hour later, but not before asking if she wanted to come to the game the following night. “Sure,” she said. “Should be fun.”

Leaving the café with a smile, you called an Uber back to your hotel just in time for dinner with the team, where Ona was already waiting for you in the lobby.

“Hey,” you said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you.” The girl quickly ascended from her seat on the couch. “I texted but you didn’t answer, so I got worried.”

“Oh,” you pulled out your phone to see said unread messages from Ona. “I’m sorry. I was meeting up with a friend, and I usually put my phone on silent for stuff like that.”

“I see,” Ona chewed on her lower lip. “Well, it’s dinner time. Come.”

As you walked, you looked down at your joined hands that she nonchalantly initiated, and blushed. You ignored the knowing look a couple of your teammates sent your way when you walked into the hotel dining room.

“Hey, good luck out there today,” you found Ona in the dressing room before the game, and decided to offer your support.

“Thanks. Are you cleared to play today?”

“Yeah, later though. Just to be sure,” you explained.

Though you were cleared by the physios to travel to London with the team, Jonatan wanted to be sure that you weren’t overexerting yourself by playing the 90 minutes, but you were assured that you would be subbed on in the second half.

Ona nodded tentatively. “Hey, Y/N. I just wanted to say—“

“Y/N!”

The voice outside the dressing room made you turn around.

“Leena, hi! You made it!”

Then you were gone, walking out and greeting the woman she saw with you in Ibiza. Ona clenched her jaw, listening to your animated conversation in the hallway, not she had no right to infringe upon your other relationships. But she didn’t know where you stood with Leena, nor where she stood with you, and it made her nervous.

She had spent the last few months trying to make you feel her love, hoping that you would answer her and give her your heart.

You were you, though, and maybe she would never be enough to make you commit. She had messed it up before, and while you had forgiven her, you had made no effort to progress past a friendship.

She had been ready to take on Arsenal mere minutes before, now she felt dejected and beyond embarrassed.

It was an easy win for Barcelona. You managed to score again, a screamer from outside the box, and the fans went wild for your seemingly return to form.

After the game walked towards where Ona was near the stands, greeting fans, and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Nice work today,” you said.

Ona only glanced at you shortly with a small smile before turning back to the fans to sign their shirts.

Your smile faded for a split second, but it returned when Leena approached you. You didn’t realize Ona was sneaking glares at the back of your head, wishing you would just notice how desperate she was to get you alone.

That night, you were back in the hotel room you shared with Patri when you heard a knock at the door.

“Hi,” you couldn’t hide the slight inflection in your voice when you discovered that the person on the other side of the door wasn’t Patri coming back from Claudia’s room where she said she would be, but Ona.

“Hi,” she mumbled, her hands hidden in the pockets of her hoodie. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you said, stepping aside to let her in. You caught a whiff of her shampoo as she walked past you, and the comfortable way in which she dressed suddenly made your heart beat wildly.

“Are you feeling well?” You rubbed your hands together nervously, an impending question already burned into the back of your mind. “You were just quiet after the game, and I wasn’t sure whether you’d hurt yourself.”

Ona pulled on her sleeves, and timidly sat at the edge of your bed, swinging her legs back and forth. “Just wanted to come see you,” she shrugged.

You hated not being able to read her, not knowing what she was thinking. You guessed your relationship has always been like that, hiding how you really felt and continuing this façade you both had decided was the only thing that could work.

You didn’t know, but what you knew was you were tired of pretending.

“What are we to each other?” Her question tore you from your thoughts.

Well, that was certainly one way to do it. You were still standing in the middle of the room, unsure of where to go or sit.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” You answered. “We support each other, we have each other’s backs.”

“That girl you were with, are you seeing her?” Her quiet voice, in addition to the slight frown she sported made her so endearing. You hadn’t seen her so open, so vulnerable ever since the night you spent with her after Spain lost out on the Euros. But maybe then you might have missed all the signs.

“No,” you shook your head. “We’re friends. She helped me a lot after everything went down between us.”

She nodded, looking away. You still didn’t know what she was thinking, and it was driving you crazy.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You smirked, wanting to lighten the mood, but the despairing look on her face remained.

Feeling bold, you took a seat next to her on the bed. “What is it, Ona?”

She drew a breath, still refusing to look at you and opting to look at your hands instead. “I don’t want to be just friends.”

You let the silence hang because you weren’t sure if those words actually just left her mouth.

They did, because she followed up, “I want to have you to myself. I want you all the time. Every time I see you, it’s like I can’t function until you talk to me. I don’t know where we stand and it’s honestly tearing me apart. I know I sound clingy and pathetic, but I think I’m in love with you.”

You heard her repeat the last part under her breath, as if affirming to herself, as if finally saying it out loud was the hardest thing to do.

Your heart was hammering in its cage. You held her gaze when she looked up, her eyes were dull and sad and lost, despite having just won a Champions League match.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words?” You cracked a tiny smile. “Almost five years. That day when we played against each other for the first time in Manchester. I singled you out, I pushed your buttons because I wanted to get your attention from the moment we met. I wanted you to notice me because I liked you.”

You knew it was a selfish thing to do, but it was the only way you knew for sure that her eyes were on you. And on you they were.

Ona perked up, grinning softly. “Really?”

“Really.”

Her pinkie was hooked with yours at your side. “I want to try us. I promise I won’t let you down this time,” she said quietly, and instead of looking away, she held your gaze firmly.

“Okay.” There was nothing else.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded and brought your hand up to glide over her cheek lightly.

Her lips parted slightly. You could see the way her chest rose and fell before she lunged at you, cupping your jaw and pressing her lips against yours.

You let out a quiet groan at the sensation of her bruising kiss. You let her do whatever she wanted, even when she shoved you down on the bed and got on top of you, kissing, touching, and feeling everywhere, you let her, because it had been too long.

At some point, you had managed to flip her over, keeping eye contact as you kissed down along her body. She always liked it when you took your time worshipping her as you did now, holding your gaze and encouraging you to keep going. Once in a while, she would throw her head back and mumble breathless profanities in her native tongue, giving you a good look at her defined jawline.

You might have known her body inside and out from the time you spent with her, but this time it felt different. There was love in every tug, every kiss, every look she gave you. You found yourself in a trance and let your body tangle with hers in ways you were too afraid to have done before; afraid it was too affectionate, too intimate, too personal.

By the time you were done, she was whimpering, her eyes closed shut, and her skin was damp and hot to the touch.

Resting your chin on her stomach, you watched her come down. When she finally opened her eyes, it took one look for the both of you to burst out into laughter.

Your laughs died down, and suddenly you felt shy again. As if having read your mind, Ona pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“When we’re back in Barcelona, I’m taking you out on a date,” she whispered.

A couple of hours later, Patri, upon entering the room, decided to grab her charger and return to Claudia and Ona’s room. She found the both of you sound asleep, tangled up in bed together, and decided to leave you be.

“But why do I have to do the press conference? Why can’t Caro or Alexia do it?” You groaned. “No one cares what I have to say.”

“Of course they do,” Toni responded. “Y/N, I might be biased, but you are one of the best players of this half of the season in the team, if not the league. You’re Barcelona’s new gem.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you muttered.

“People will want to hear from you. Plus, it’s good—“

“—publicity, yeah, I know.” You hunched over and adjusted your position on the couch. “Ughhh . . .” You groaned loudly and dragged your hands down your face. “Fine.”

Toni proceeded to run you over things you should say, things you shouldn’t say, things you should absolutely avoid at all costs. You half-listened to the rest of it because you felt the couch dip beside you, and a sneaky hand creeping up and down your back.

You ended the phone call with another sigh. The hand that calmed you proceeded to inch towards your nape, caressing the skin there.

“I thought you liked doing press.”

“No one likes doing press,” you grumbled.

You looked up from your moping and over your shoulder, and the sight of Ona made you smile. She always managed to make you forget about everything wrong in the world, and crave the warmth of her touch. When she wore one of her snuggly hoodies as she did now, the heat under the fabric made her chest and embrace extra warm.

“You’ll do great, hermosa,” she held you close to her, giggling at the feeling of your face buried deep in her neck. “Besides, what is it you always say? ‘All in a day’s work’?”

You grinned and kissed her cheek. “I hate it when you use my shtick against me.”

“No, you love it,” Ona kissed you quickly, but you held her by the collar of her sweatshirt and savored her lips a little longer.

“I was thinking,” you said slowly. “Since you already know the code for the front door, and you’re always here anyway, why don’t you move in?”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. For a split second, the silence caused a familiar pang in your heart from all the times she had turned you down. There was a moment when you imagined the worst to happen, that she would run for the hills again and leave you to pick up the pieces by yourself. But it was different this time; the circumstances were different, you both were different.

“No pressure at all. I just—It was just a suggestion—“

“Okay,” she breathed quietly. “But after the season is over.”

You let a wide grin spread across your face. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Ona smiled and tapped your nose lovingly. “Now, come on. I’ll help you practice for your big press conference.”

You groaned and sunk back into the couch, but you knew you would be able to distract her from putting you through this torture if you picked your moments right. There were no more barriers between the two of you, and kisses were expendable.

“Hello, Y/N. My question to you is, ‘How do you judge your opponent coming into this match, and are you confident that you’ll be walking home with your first Champions League after tomorrow?’” “I think that Chelsea is a formidable team, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind about that. As for if I think we can win; yes, I think so. I’m confident in my teammates’ abilities, and I know that I’ll be giving 110% into tomorrow’s match. So, yes, we are going into this match to win.” “Obviously, you’re surrounded by World Cup finalists at Barça. What is it like playing with some of the more experienced and decorated players on this team in particular?” “It’s a wonderful environment for me as a young professional in this sport, to have that support system in my own club. I enjoy every second that I get to play alongside and learn from my teammates. No matter who it is, finalist or not, I’ve been able to learn from everyone I play with.” “You’ve had an admittedly rocky start to your spell at Barcelona, but have since improved a lot from what we’ve seen in the return leg of the season. Do you think you have fully integrated yourself into the Barça system?” “As a player, I’m very fortunate to have had the club’s, the coach’s, and my teammates’ trust as I familiarized myself with the system. I will say, I’m much more confident in my role at the club now than I was at the start of the season, and I just hope to continue to do well with the team, and we’ll see how it goes.”

All 50,000 spectators of the Estadio José Alvade roused into cheers as the whistle blew. Chelsea got the ball rolling in motion, and, already, some of its finest attackers planted themselves deep into Barcelona’s defense, waiting for their moment to reap their rewards.

It was a long back-and-forth for the next 20 minutes, and both teams were not willing to risk it in the opening minutes of the game. But then a wild attempt by Lauren James from outside the box left the ball unattended after Sandra pushed it out. Sam Kerr did what she always did best, and tapped it in. 0-1.

“Shit,” you muttered, seeing Jonatan shouting to Aitana and Patri to change tactics.

You hoped Chelsea couldn’t pick up on the franticness at which Barcelona picked up the ball again. All four players of the backline were on Chelsea’s side of the pitch, Irene, being the deepest, also just barely skirting above the halfway line.

The possession paid off though, as after a long period of tiki-taka, you found an opening for Mariona, who took the shot and sent it past Zećira Mušović into the net. 1-1.

If you could choose, you would always prefer counterattacks over possession plays, in which you could use your speed and dribble to explode; your opponents always feared it when you did. But possession was how Jonatan wanted the team to play then, and Chelsea must have anticipated that. Ève Périsset won the ball back inside the box and lobbed it across the pitch to Guro Reiten, who made the run far before anyone could catch up to her. Mapi was fast, but at her fastest she was still trailing behind her, watching powerlessly as Guro glided past Sandra coming out and passed the ball into an empty net. 1-2.

You could see some of your teammates’ spirits crumbling. Mapi was cursing under her breath as she hid her face under her shirt.

Your eyes landed on Ona walking back to the halfway line, hyping your teammates up. There was a time when she would be doing to her own teammates after you scored against her. You thought it was selfish of you to feel glad that she was doing it for you now.

“Come on, Y/N,” she clapped her hands a few times. “We got this. We’re almost there.”

She was right, you’ve suffered worse deficits, and you wouldn’t be where you were if you didn’t help your team emerge victorious from them.

The dressing room was still as the night at halftime, only the sound of cleats shuffling and the occasional water bottle caps closing were heard.

You sat in your designated spot, taking deep inhales to catch your breath, slapping your teammates’ hands as they walked in. You low-fived Ingrid before she made her way over to where Mapi sat, her head hanging low in her hand.

The team hadn’t been playing well since the beginning of the match. Maybe it was the underestimation of Chelsea’s abilities or their opening goal that caught everyone off-guard. Whatever it was, the team hasn’t recovered.

“Come on, girls,” Jonatan said in the dressing room. “We’re down by one. One. We’ve come back from worse.”

He proceeded to go over tactics again, this time using the wingers as the main force of attack. Since Chelsea would most likely park the bus now that they were in the lead, he wanted to take initiative and penetrate the defense, only the one thing you were very good at.

Ona sat down next to you, huffing a breath and leaning back against the wall. Her eyes fluttered close, and her cheeks were flushed. You thought about running your hand along her face down her neck were you in private, instead, you squeezed her knees and offered her a smile when she opened her eyes again.

“You okay?” How selfish of her to ask if you were okay when if anything, she was the only person holding this team together at this point. Out of everyone during the first 45 minutes, Ona had done her job to the very best of her abilities, and it was a lifeline to the team.

When it was time to return to the pitch, you walked to her with your heart in your hands. “Ona,” you touched her arm, “I love you.”

Your heart hammered as the corner of her lips pulled up, her brows twitching with a sympathetic look. “I love you too,” she leaned into you, “very much.”

You hoped no one noticed how wide you were smiling too, but you also hoped they did. You wanted to shout it out loud for all 50,000 people in the stadium to hear how much love you had for Ona.

“I wish you had told me that earlier, so I can kiss you,” she said.

“Later,” you grinned. “You can kiss me as much as you want.”

Summer never lasted as long as you wanted it to. Gone were the days of sunny beachside margaritas, and bonfire nights at local bars. Ona had taken you to a secluded spot off the coast of Morocco, and for two weeks straight, it was beach, drinking, the occasional sightseeing, and lots of sex. It was the first time the two of you were able to truly be alone without any distractions after you started seeing each other officially, and you couldn’t be happier that it happened the way it did.

You had been back with the team for a couple of weeks, and as much as you missed your much-needed summer vacation, you missed playing more.

“Behind you! Here, here!”

“Body language, girls! Let’s go!”

You sat on the grass, catching your breath after your first successful practice of the season.

“Getting up any time soon, partner?” You heard Ona call next to you before a water bottle was tossed onto your legs.

You grabbed the bottle and squirted some water onto her legs, but she remained unfazed with that stupid smirk on her face. “Ooh, recreating last night’s activities now, aren’t we? You know it should be more than that.”

You let out a laugh and pulled her down next to you. “Since when do you make the dirty jokes?”

“Since I started spending way too much time with you, apparently.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” Ona’s voice lowered as she leaned in, “not in the slightest.”

“Ey, tórtolitos (lovebirds)!” Aitana’s voice rang out. “Coach has an announcement to make. Vamos!”

You sighed. “Remind me why telling the team that we’re dating was a good idea again?”

“For one, it would stop all the pestering,” Ona pecked your lips and stood up before offering a hand. “Come on, tórtola. Time waits for no one, not even for new Champions League winners.”

You didn’t expect things to turn out the way they did when you first saw her across the pitch years ago, but you were glad that they did, and better than you could have ever hoped.

You took Ona’s hand gingerly, swinging it back and forth, getting used to the feeling, because you intended on having it with you forever. If Ona came with it too, that's fine by you, you supposed.

The Athletic: A Star Is Born — Y/N Y/L/N’s Barcelona Start and Road to First Champions League “Y/N Y/L/N is the kind of player every club would benefit from having,” said former Manchester City captain Vincent Kompany in the summer of 2020, days before news of Y/L/N’s signing was announced. “She is a star in the making.” Y/L/N came up within the ranks of Portland Thorns before getting picked up at Man City, helping the club to its first-ever WUCL participation. But it was at Barcelona that she was able to realize her potential. And then, in the 94th of the Champions League final, she scored and sealed a third European championship for Barcelona. After a tumultuous season which sees Barcelona barely clinch the league title for the sixth year in a row, Y/N Y/L/N emerged a key player at La Blaugrana, a sure-fire Ballon d’Or contender in October, and one of the most prolific forwards within the game—and she’s only 23. […]”

a/n: WOOP WOOP!! we made it guys, we've reached the end. if you've read everything up until now, i sincerely thank you for coming along on this journey of self-indulgence lol. we'll say goodbye to y/n and ona and let them ride off into the sunset and continue to slay at barcelona. once again, thank you for reading, more woso fics coming soon! for now, delfiore over and out 🫡

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics #ona batlle #ona batlle angst

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sintied · 24 days

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↳ @hybridafterdark asked: "Which do you prefer?" When stepping out of the closet, the thigh-high socks and arm warmers brought out his eyes in their magenta color, but he held up a stunning red pair. "I can't decide..." His smile gave away the fact that it was totally intentional to get Arrow's attention like that.

{➹} – HE HADN'T HAD the faintest idea what his partner was doing in there, but it didn't stop the hero from going about his own business in the meantime. Though he had to wonder why he bothered as his quills, per usual, refused to stay where he put them. Always a losing battle, that one.

He had been in the middle of just tying them up, but stopped halfway upon seeing his partner come out of the closet. Naturally his eyes were drawn to the choice of clothing, and he wasn't exactly subtle in the way he took in the hybrid before meeting their eyes.

"Reckon I can't say both in this case, huh?" Arrow smiled, but still took another moment to look the other over, feigning the deep thought but not the adoration. It was a tough choice, but he was partial to one feature on the other, and that's what he went with. "Purple."

#kiss me under the light of a thousand stars | volt and arrow #hybridafterdark #fanmail | asks #// last one; bedtime for me~

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silverjetsystm · 10 months

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"I don't know what you're doing but it's not sleeping.”

He's locked the bedroom door, MP3 player playing low enough to hide the frantic clatter he was making. Why didn't he unpack sooner? Articles weren't going to read themselves.

Plain clothes are shoved haphazardly into the dresser with a slam. Books are tossed on top of the bed. Toiletries are already in the bathroom. He shakes the empty duffel bag, hoping there was a false bottom. "I'm. Fine." Steven began to pace. "Did I leave my laptop in the safe?"

#asked and answered #grant | gentle dr jones #wild dog days #v: kiss me under the light of a thousand stars #lt-ghxst

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alldevilsarehere90 · 7 months

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Title: It's all tears Pairing: Daryl x Reader Summary: ‘This ain’t working’ are not the ideal words to hear in regards to your fairly new relationship. Setting: Alexandria Genre: SFW, Angst, Fluff, Ever so slightly suggestive if you squint and close one eye, Drabble. Word Count: 800 A/n: This was just a cute little idea that I had to get down and wrote on the way to work.

“This ain’t working.”

You heard the words, you'd taken them in and now they just bounced around aimlessly inside your head, while your eyes stayed trained on the tiled floor of the kitchen.

He continued talking but you couldn’t listen, you didn’t want to hear the excuses, so you focused on the only thing in front of you.

The grouting could really do with a clean, you’ll have to get the mop out later and run it over the floor once everyone’s in bed. It’s shocking really, the amount of dirty boots that trek their way through this kitchen with no concern over who cleans it. Everyone is probably waiting for Carol to volunteer.

“Did ya hear me?” Daryl’s voice smashes through your attempt at ignoring the current conversation, causing you to forget all concern over the dirty floor.

You nod in response, hands wringing in your lap, unsure how to respond and unable to swallow the lump you feel thick and heavy in your throat.

As far as you were concerned, Daryl walked on water; he was the sun, the moon and the stars and all that lies in-between, he was your everything. To say that this shocked you was an understatement, you simply had not seen this coming. You had believed the feelings between you to be mutual but now, as you sit here repeating those words in your mind, you find a thousand memories rushing through your head, looking at them in a completely different light.

Did you perhaps have the wrong idea this whole time? Did you read all his actions completely wrong just to give yourself false hope of something real between you.

“y/n,�� he said into the thick silence.

You fidget on the dining chair you sat in and clasp your hands together so tight your nails were leaving deep crescent moons in your skin, the pain gave you a distraction from the tears filling your eyes. “I-I thought that things between us, were-were going well, I-”

“Shit.” he mumbles, crossing the space from his place by the doorway and closing the distance between you. Slotting himself between your legs, his knuckle hooks under your chin and forces you to look up at him. An errand tear escapes and runs down your cheek, which he quickly wipes away with his thumb.

“Yer weren' listenin ta me?”

Frowning not understanding what he could mean, you repeated the words he’d said back to him. They sounded foreign coming out of you, knowing they would never leave your lips of their own accord.

“And wha 'bout after?”

You shook your head, a question in your gaze.

He squats down in front of you, his hand slides down to hold yours and big enough to contain them both, “I said, this ain’t working, I-I need ya ta come home ta me…every night,” he clears his throat, cheeks tinged pink, “I can’t sleep without ya next ta me no more.”

You felt like an idiot, how could you have assumed the negative so quickly after lecturing Daryl not to do exactly that. “What are you suggesting?” hope blossomed in your chest, knowing the words you wanted but praying to hear them from him.

Looking self consciously away from your gaze, his hold on your hands tighten. “Move in with me? In ma room, " his cheeks flush a deeper shade of red that you just want to lean over and kiss. "if yer want ta.”

Your chest erupts, heart thrumming a love song of its own as you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his neck. He wobbles under the sudden movement and his arm shoots round your waist at an attempt to steady you both. It fails however and knocks him off balance, sending him falling on his back and pulling you along with him.

A burst of relieved laughter exits your body along with your breath as you slam into him, your chest flush to his. He laughs, watching your face and your giddy expression.

“That a yes?” He asks, tucking hair behind your ear to stop it from concealing your face.

Nodding eagerly, his hand finds anchorage at the back of your neck and pulls you down to him, your mouth meeting in passionate exchange. You relish every moment of it, the softness of his lips, the way he tastes and the feel of him holding you so tight and secure. The reality hits that he is all yours, everyday and night; you can have this.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl dixon drabbles

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sherwees · 2 months

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i need more of manipulative yangyang, just gaslighting u and u falling for absolutely everything he does

I put it as first person at first bcs it helps me write better so if you see an I or my anywhere,pls ignore it.. and tell me.

THIS IS CONNECTED TO THIS

cw: manipulation, forced breeding, the smallest daddy kink (literally mentioned once), rough sex, yangyang has a breeding kink, dumbification, baby trapping, DEGRADATION, dubcon elements.

Your toothbrush laid discarded in the sink, veins sprawled and protruded through your hand gripped on the sink for dear life. Yangyang's thrusts were quick and relentless, chasing his own pleasure as his cock never left within 3 inches of your cervix. You were drooling and murmuring curses and pleas under your breath, going dumb to his advantage and liking; your finger tips turned pale as your mind melted away to pure bliss.

“yang–” you attempted to hiccup but his unyielding hand found your poor scalp. Your teeth clenched, an electric shock sprawled from your scalp to your neck, your walls clenched and unclenched around his rushed thrusts. The ridge of his tip kissed your cervix, pounding and abusing it. There was an illusioning (? forgot the word) popping sound of his length tearing through your narrow passage and the slick that provided the easy slide, caked around your two holes.

“yang– plea–” his thrusts halted. His cock stayed nudged deep inside of you, your hole tried to size up around his wide base. The humidity of the bathroom that clung to your skin was a big contrast to the wind from the opened window, showing a view of the bustling city of Taipei.

“I give you everything you want but you can't take a simple fuck? no wonder why he couldn't fucking deal with you.” his eyes, for the first time meet yours. His glare sent alarming butterflies to your stomach. “you don't fucking care about me, huh?” he pushed your dizzy head over the sink, birds and stars flew above and around it.

“s’ too early–” you slurred, the saliva bubbling up in your mouth once his hand yanks your hair even harder; spine strained as your head tried to meet wth his hand. His eyes widened, eyebrows furrowed in absolute rage; protruding a slight whimper from your lips at his newfound aura. “I spend thousands on you everyday and you treat me like this?!” the tip of your nose burned before unwanted tears brewed and fell into the sink, blending in with the running faucet water.

“you're so fucking annoying when you cry. well guess what, you can't get everything you want sometimes, pretty face.” his sharp canines glinted through the clean, white light of the bathroom, more butterflies started to bloom in the pits of your stomach.

You felt nauseous knowing that this was the words coming out of the mouth of the male that bought pendants and took you out shopping whenever he could, the same man that you were even willing enough to leave your friends and family for to a foreign country was just as willing to trap you.

You scrutinized the taunting jade gem ring on your finger, it looks dull. The said finger folds unconsciously; tucking the shame away but the slight burn of the intricate silver swirls and details of the ring only stung into your knuckle.

You'll never forget.

“'m sorry, you just caught me off guard and you scared me..” you mustered up a small mumble before he slammed his hand on the sink. You flinched away with a yelp; pushing his cock out of your leaking hole slightly with a clench.

“you're fucking overreacting again, stop that!” nodding your head mindlessly, but you won't even bother to look at the reflection. It'll just shove that guilt deeper down your throat, seething and burning. You sniffled, chest heaving painfully as tears fell relentlessly from your red, irritated waterline; if it wasn't disgusting enough, snot lined the top of your thick lip.

“fucking disgusting–” his hand pushed the back of your neck, maneuvering your head rather aggressively towards the sink; your shoulders at a strained angle. His hips met with your ass once more, your walls ached pleasurably once his tip knocked into your cervix and your nails scratched against the marble. The warmth of his cock now feeling more intruding than pleasing to a point but the line between the two was blurred and unknown.

Your hipbone became rashed and abused against the counters edge, mind starting to mush into nothing again. You found yourself muttering and blabbering all sorts of things, having no fucking idea what you were doing.

You were an incoherent mess, screaming, whimpering, moaning, thighs clenching and unclenching along with your plumate walls.

But in reality, the thought of children terrorized you. Being too young to even be a mother, barely even living your life to the fullest before you were trapped with him.

“m’ gonna cum inside ya, yeah? gonna be stuck with me forever..” he said, one of his vacant hands travels to the lone ring before sliding it off without you even knowing. “please.. I want it– I want it so bad~” yangyang snickered at the pleads, his hand travels to your neck; pushing your back flush against his clammy torso.

Your tits bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts, clit throbbing consistently; “mmf– fuck!” he grunted loudly, his balls slapping then slipping into your passage. You screeched at the tense feeling of being practically torn as you tried to accommodate to his harsh gyrations and the new incursion of the two flesh.

you could only emit a guttural cry, thrashing within his grip but his arms wrap around your mid waist, circuits of pain and nirvana ran through your body.

“you're gonna take it, sweetheart.. I know you could..”

He suddenly stuck his salty thumb past your lips, drool accumulated around your lips and at the back of your throat. “suck.” he demanded lowly, you obviously obliged; wrapping your lips around it.

“you're prettier when you obey..” he stuck the digit slightly further, causing your gag reflex to recoil and his cock to twitch, releasing bits of precum at your pure submission.

“daddy's gonna fill you so well, princess.. gonna be plump and m’ gonna walk around with you like a prize. everybody's gonna know what we've done, some will even look at you in disgust because you were willing to open your legs for me..” he whispered into your ear, breathless but managing to keep his eyes on your half lidded ones. Your gaze weary and unfocused, the usual whites of your eyes red from crying.

He grinned whilst sliding your hand to your navel, feeling his cockhead protruding under the digit's tip and you slightly winced at the feeling of his slimy canine brushing against the lobe of your ear. “don't you feel me baby?” his thumb finally leaves the back of your throat, brushing against the tonsil, causing your throat to recoil.

“can't wait to finally have control, baby. the first time didn't work, but it'll surely work this time..” he remarked, before he stilled and marked your walls with his warm seed. Inhaling and exhaling, exhausted; your own weight became your own enemy before you collapsed onto the counter but slid into the ground eventually. Your toes curled with discomfort as you shriveled against the corner, both of your releases leaked out of you.

Your mind was dazed, your body wasn't your own. You looked up at yangyang, vision blurry from the aroma of unconsciousness that'll soon sweep over you.

“yangyang– why'd you do that..?” was the last thing you said before everything went pitch black.

Yangyang was mesmerised in full awe at the scene, your pretty lashes wet with tears and his seed dripping out of you and your hole fluttering with every breath and heave.

Yangyang grabbed your waist, lifting&carrying your limp body bridal style before laying your battered body on the bed.

Your body was like a painting of the pretty night sky, the stars being the bruises,marks and scars from today and times before.

He believed you were beautiful like this and he'll keep you like this forever, his eyes stayed on your stomach and his neck crawled with warmth.

He giggled knowing that soon enough, you'll be truly his.. not kunhang's.. definitely.

You'll bare his kids and he'll make sure that you'll definitely forget about him.. even if it meant beating your memories out of you. he wanted the best for him you.

You wouldn't even mind to utter his name in this house.

He opens the drawer, finding that miniature velvet box, his thumb caresses it lightly before popping it open. He admires the ring before sighing with content triumph before pulling it out, the gem was a ruby. red, his favorite color.

This'll be the new beginning for you both.

You'll soon forget about him.

Especially with the new ring he finally slid on your finger.

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