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ivymarquis · 1 month

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The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#ocaptainchallenge #john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader #implied plus size reader #take a shot every time john calls the reader pretty #but dont or youll get alcohol poisoning #also I used ‘turn into a chew toy’ 3 times and I dont care :)#my writing

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vanteguccir · 29 days

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Lavender Haze | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N drowns amidst so much criticism and negative comments from the media regarding her relationship, but Matt is right by her side to bring her back to the surface and surround her in a lavender haze.

Warning: Mentions of hate, slightly angst.

Requested?: No.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This fic was written for the Challenge for the writers 2024 made by @annamcdonalds67

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

Y/N lay down next to Matt on the double bed that decorated the room. The soft gloom emanated from the corner lamp, painting the scene with orange tones. Their intertwined fingers on the mattress formed a comforting bond, a silent affirmation of each other's presence there. Together, they observed the ceiling as if they were tracing constellations on the white paint in their minds.

The silence that surrounded them was serene, and their synchronized breathing seemed to compose a soft song. Matt knew that sometimes words were unnecessary. There was no need to try to force empty conversations when each other's presence was enough.

Y/N's thoughts, however, were a whirlwind. The sudden exposure that accompanied her relationship with Matt - which they just had revealed to the public some months before - had left her overwhelmed, despite her boyfriend's advance warnings about what followed him with his career. As someone who preferred a low-key life, being dragged into the spotlight of fame was suddenly a big experience.

While her body was physically in the room, her mind felt the weight of these thoughts slowly crushing her. It was an internal battle to maintain sanity amid the media storm that surrounded them.

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

Matt, on his side, noticed the melancholy in Y/N's eyes and the way her brow was constantly frowning, but he respected her silence. He understood the pressure she faced; the crazed fans who used her words against herself and criticized every second of the videos she made a little appearance or was only mentioned, and his heart burned to be able to help her more, but he knew that trying to interpret her thoughts could only increase her distress, his own mind bringing him the mere memory of the episode from some night's before.

To the soft sound of popcorn crackling in the kitchen next door, Y/N anxiously waited for Matt on the made bed, wrapped in the comfort of the fluffy comforter. Her phone rested in her hands, and she slid her fingers across the screen to access her Instagram feed. A notification caught her attention, a tag on a photo posted by the boy.

With an anticipated smile, Y/N opened the post and found herself among the images of a photo dump posted a few hours ago. Her heart filled with warmth when she saw the picture of them together, the girl didn't know how to explain what she felt when she saw him post so openly about them, having gone through difficult situations in this regard in her previous relationship.

However, her smile faded when she swiped down and was met with an avalanche of comments. Thousands of cruel words and cutting criticisms flooded the massive list. Comments that questioned who she thought she was, insinuations that she wasn't good enough, and that Matt deserved someone better. Every word was a blow to her heart, a confirmation of all the fears and insecurities she had kept hidden inside.

Feeling crushed by the virtual pressure, a wave of anguish enveloped her. Tears began to blur her vision as she struggled to contain her overflowing emotions, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the situation, much less worry Matt.

Her head filled with questions, how could she compete with the unrealistic expectations of those who observed her life through a screen?

Minutes passed in a second for her, the sound of the door opening again echoed softly, Matt's figure entering the room following it, the tempting smell of popcorn floating in the air and a childish smile decorating his face. His smile fell instantly when he saw Y/N holding the phone tightly with one of her hands, tears rolling down her face while her other hand pressed her mouth, forcing away the sobs.

"Hey, hey, babe, what happened?" Matt ran over to her, his tone full of worry, leaving the bucket of popcorn on the bedside table and kneeling next to her on the bed.

Y/N sobs as she tries to explain, showing him the cruel comments that filled her entire screen, the device shaking slightly as a result of her trembling fingers.

Matt felt his heart break when he saw the suffering on Y/N's face and the ridiculous words in front of him. Him mind was divided between helping her or posting something obscene, full of insults, and totally guided from his emotional side.

The boy sighs, closing his eyes and wishing to take the bad things away from his girl before sitting properly next to her, wrapping her in his arms affectionately and bringing her head to his chest, sealing her hair line for long seconds.

"I'm so sorry, petal. I didn't know this was going to happen. I should have thought before posting..." He murmured, gently stroking her back as Y/N clings to him for comfort. "I'll figure it out, I promise."

I been under scrutiny (yeah, oh, yeah)

You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh, yeah)

All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh, yeah)

With that, it was known that Y/N was constantly under the relentless eyes of the fandom and obsessed fanpages, her every move being dissected and analyzed minutely by the voracious eyes of anonymous people. But that was the price to pay for dating a public figure.

While facing this incessant storm of unsolicited attention, she couldn't help but admire how Matt, despite his issues with anxiety and certain unnecessary comments left by people who called themselves fans, handled the problems of notoriety with admirable patience and calm.

He seemed so comfortable on camera alongside his brothers, so skilled at ignoring invasive situations that Y/N often found herself questioning how he did it. However, for her, this was all unfamiliar and intimidating territory, too new.

Although she passionately wanted to quickly adapt to this new lifestyle, as she had no plans to leave Matt, she also found herself racing toward an uncertain direction, trying to keep her sanity and identity intact amid the media chaos that surrounded her.

The couch enveloped them in a comfortable embrace as Y/N and Matt enjoyed the peace of the silent living room, the soft sound of a Disney movie echoing in the background. Matt's arms around Y/N were a sanctuary of calm, warming her body and bringing her a comfort that made her feel like she could sleep any moment. It was one of those rare moments when they could simply exist t the interference of the fast-paced world around them.

Matt, with a sigh of contentment, reached for his phone, curious to see how the car video they had posted a few minutes ago was doing, eager to see what the fans thought of the themes brought up.

Quickly, he opened the YouTube app and scrolled through the comments. Among a flood of compliments and kind words, however, some less favorable comments caught his attention. Some criticized the way he was quieter than usual, while others questioned why he was even part of the videos, as he had nothing to add.

Matt rolled his eyes in a dismissive gesture as he turned the screen of his phone towards Y/N, allowing her to read the comments that filled the space.

"Look at that." Matt said, exasperated. "These people have nothing better to do than criticize anything and everything. Immature teenagers who love to point out only negative things." He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Locking the screen of his phone with a brusque gesture, he left it aside on the couch, refusing to let the negative comments ruin his moment of peace. The boy turned to Y/N again, his smile returning as if nothing had happened and wrapping his arms around her once more.

"Sorry about that, pretty girl." The brunette asked softly against her skin, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Sometimes people just need to spread negativity to feel better about themselves. But let's not let that get to us, hm?" He lifted his head from where it was, smiling small at his girl before pressing small seals on the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck, eliciting loud laughter from the girl.

[...] All they keep asking me (all they keep asking me)

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see (the only kind of girl they see)

Is a one-night or a wife

Post after post from the significant number of fans who adored them together claimed that they were "endgame", as they had been in a relationship for over a year and seemed to be going strong.

But the comments that followed were always like a punch to the gut for Y/N. Some argued that she was Matt's future bride, while others insinuated that she was just a "gold digger", there to take advantage of his fame and money, like a one night stand, before eventually leaving him.

Y/N's feelings fluctuated between anger and sadness. How dare they question her true feelings for Matt? How could they judge their relationship based on unfounded assumptions and speculation? They were only 20 years old, marriage was out of the question at that moment, and they both knew that this kind of thing is something planned and thought out together, never done for the emotion of the moment or to meet the needs of others.

A feeling of helplessness invaded her when she read those things, accompanied by a hint of doubt. Y/N felt deep pain due to the lack of trust and support from Matt's own fans. She had tried so hard to be a positive presence in his life, to love and support him unconditionally, and to make the people who meant the most to him and who brought him to the top really like her.

And now, she was faced with the cruelty of strangers who were ready to judge her without even truly knowing her.

I find it dizzying (yeah, oh, yeah)

They're bringing up my history (yeah, oh, yeah)

But you weren't even listening (yeah, oh, yeah)

Y/N felt constantly dizzy with everything that was happening around her. It was as if she was in the eye of a media hurricane, where waves of curiosity and intrusion were endlessly engulfing her. Even with her social networks private, she found herself inundated by a flood of fanatical fans, eager to discover even the smallest detail of her life.

The triplets' YouTube videos, in which she participated, were constant targets of investigation by fans. Every word, every gesture captured by the camera, was analyzed. And the boys' posts, where she occasionally appeared, were scoured thoroughly for any hint of her personal life.

The simple act of even appearing on a TikTok for a brief second was enough to trigger a new wave of speculation and conspiracy theories from fans. Y/N felt like she was looking over her shoulder every moment.

This growing fear began to affect her willingness to participate in the brothers' videos and appear on their social media. She retreated into the shadows, avoiding the curious eyes that surrounded her.

Meanwhile, Matt scrolled through his social media feed, the cruel and mean comments about Y/N flashed on his phone screen at every moment. "She only wants to hurt him", "She's only with him for the money", "She will run away at the first opportunity". The words penetrated like sharp knives, but he faced them with a calm expression.

He could feel the anger pulsing through his veins. The injustice of these accusations made him want to scream. But he forced himself to remain calm, to take a deep breath and remember what really mattered.

Matt knew Y/N better than he knew himself. He knew she wasn't a gold digger, that she wasn't with him out of interest or for any petty reason. He knew that she genuinely loved him, that they shared the same dreams and fears, joys, and sadness.

So he ignored the negative comments, the people who hid behind anonymous profiles to spread venom and hate. Sometimes, he even had the small pleasure of responding to these accusations with an ironic comment or a joke, knowing that, deep down, none of it mattered.

Because he trusted Y/N. He loved her more than anything in the world, and nothing could shake that unshakable trust he had in her.

[...] Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest (woah, woah, woah, woah)

Get it off my desk (get it off my desk)

Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

But on the other side, the moments of exhaustion seemed to multiply for Y/N, like a lingering shadow that followed her with every step. Increasingly, she found herself sinking into a sea of cruel comments and venomous speculation from the media and fans.

Until a specific moment, where she finally understood that with Matt, she found the strength to fight it gradually. His arms wrapped around her with comforting warmth. His words of encouragement were like a balm to her soul. He supported her in every way possible, constantly reminding her of how much she was loved and valued and that nothing they said mattered.

Y/N slowly learned to filter the noise of the outside world, to block out the negative voices that tried to invade her mind. She no longer allowed the mean comments to get to her, choosing to ignore, block or mute them, allowing them to get everything they wanted off their chest and go viral using her name, and not giving a damn about it.

It was a gradual process, a journey of self-discovery and self-transformation. Y/N still had her moments of weakness, her doubts and fears, like in that moment. But with Matt by her side, she was able to cover her ears and eyes to them.

I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me

Surreal

I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal

The 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

And despite all the bad things, being alone at that moment with Matt in their own haven was comforting. A lavender haze enveloped Y/N gently, like a warm lilac hug amidst the darkness of uncertainty, protecting her from external judgments.

In the comfort of their room, with Matt's presence beside her, she felt as if she could close her eyes and simply let herself be carried away by the constant flow of love she felt for the boy.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts that danced in her mind along with vague memories of all the futile posts from pages that gossip about artists, demanding surreal things from her as if they had just come out of a time machine to the past, there, in that moment, she allowed herself to sink into the depths of this good feeling.

Matt's presence by her side was like a protective shield, pushing away all her fears and insecurities. His eyes, full of tenderness and understanding, met hers from time to time, conveying a silent message that he was there, ready to face any challenge alongside her. And there was nothing in the world that made him want to leave there.

With one smooth movement, Matt turned briefly to reach for the lavender air freshener that rested on the nightstand next to the bed. He activates the device with a delicate touch, releasing a fragrant mist that fills the room with the sweet scent of the flower. The soft, comforting scent envelops Y/N like a hug, calming her agitated mind and bringing an almost instantaneous feeling of serenity.

The mattress moved with Matt's movements, and he slowly turned around, now lying on his side and facing Y/N. His eyes met hers lovingly, and a smile played on his lips as he moved closer until their bodies were mere inches away.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" His voice was as soft as the cotton beneath their bodies, echoing off the walls that were surrounded by silence for long minutes.

"Uhm." Y/N murmured back, imitating him and turning so that she was lying on her side, facing him, the fog in her mind slowly dissipating.

With soft and delicate movements, Matt wrapped the girl in his arms, bringing her closer to his body, laying her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming hers almost automatically.

"They don't matter, you know?"

Y/N felt a comforting warmth spread throughout her entire being upon hearing the brief and almost insignificant words, but that meant the world to her. She snuggled even closer to Matt, feeling his arms tighten around her waist where they held, allowing herself to sink into them like a safe haven from the storms of the outside world.

Matt lowered his head and gently kissed the top of his girl's head, breathing in the soft scent of lavender shampoo that emanated from her strands. Every touch was filled with love and devotion, a silent promise that he was there.

And so, cradled by the soft haze of love that surrounded them, Y/N and Matt surrendered to the present moment, the girl leaving behind all the worries and fears that haunted her, her heart begging to stay there forever.

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

I don't know if I liked it very much, so I'm sorry if it sucked badly 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months

Text

This is the house from HGTVs "The Barbie Dreamhouse Challenge," but as soon as the show wrapped they changed it. “The investors thought it would have higher resale value being a modern, beautiful, newly renovated home,” said the real estate agent, “They obviously weren’t going for the serious Barbie fans.” I'm a Barbie collector and there are lots of us. Someone would've bought it. Here are the befores and afters.

This is what it looks like now, and priced at $2,049,995 it just sold for $1.845M. I am so disappointed. Built in 1997, the 5bd, 5ba home is located in Canyon Country, California. HGTV looked at about 50 houses and finally bought this one for $1.750M. Each designer star team did a room and the team of Mika and Brian Kleinschmidt of “100 Day Dream Home” won. When I was looking for before pics, a lot of the sites were no longer available- they didn't want us Barbie people to see the befores, I bet.

The family room before. I don't really care for the retro look.

Family room after. But, I don't like this white, either.

In the living room, the major features that the designers installed remain, like the two-story fireplace and the updated circular staircase. Everything else was changed to neutral gray, black & white.

The dining room. Man, they must've used an awful lot of white paint to cover up the deep colors.

The ’50s kitchen was stripped of the pastels and replaced with neutrals, but the retro Big Chill appliances—refrigerator, oven, dishwasher, stove, even the hood—are still in place, b/c they're very expensive. And, the pop-up appliance lifts on the island are still in place, too.

Ken's den wasn't changed much b/c it was cool, but they did remove the disco floor. Allison Victoria & Ty Pennington dancing on the disco floor.

Looks like they turned the walk-in closet/dressing room into an office.

It already had an office, so now it has two. Wow, they left the striped ceiling intact.

The new dull bedroom.

And, home gym.

The realtor wanted to buy the big brush on the wall, but was told that all the props had to go back to Mattel Toys.

And, finally, the pool. Mika and Brian Kleinschmidt won for their design on the pool and yard. Well, I see they kept the pink spiral stairs, yellow lifesaver and umbrella.

The dog elevator went back to Mattel, too.

https://www.realtor.com/news/trends/exclusive-the-barbie-dreamhouse-is-now-for-sale-but-prepare-to-be-shocked-by-its-whole-new-look/

#HGTV barbie dreamhouse challenge #barbie house #houses #house tours #before & after house #home tour

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zeltqz · 11 months

Text

hop on

pairing. bf!eren x fem!reader

word count. 1.9k

summary. you ask eren to use his controller to play a game with your friend, but he lets his jealousy get the better of him when he finds out you're playing with another boy.

tags. videogames, oral (f), exhibitionism (connie and jean are on the phone when it happens), jealous!eren

authors note. the video game trope is cool but i wanted to switch it up and make the reader the one playing the video game now 😁😎

taglist. @meuw02 @foreshadxw @neptunes1nterweb @mishueb @yourrfavzxri @

“What’re you plotting?” Eren asks as you slide yourself into his lap, nuzzling your head into his neck. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head as you sigh dramatically.

“I’m not plotting anything… can I not show you affection?” Eren can practically hear the pout in your voice.

“I mean, you can. It’s just suspicious.” He gently grabs your face, bringing it out of his neck and looks you in your eyes. “You want something, don’t you?”

“No…” you say, but he doesn’t believe you. He stares you down with those intimidatingly green eyes of his until you crack. “Okay fine. I needed to ask to borrow something.”

“Borrow whatever you want, baby.”

Your face lit up as you sat upright, almost knocking his chin with your head with how quick you moved. “Really?!” He nods. “Wow, that was easier than I thought. Thank youuu.” You grab onto his face, planting kisses on his cheeks, nose and lips.

Before he can kiss you back properly, you slide off his lap, leaning over his body to search his bedside drawer. “Now, where is it…”

“Where’s what?” He watches you slap around his messy drawer with an amused face.

“Your controller,” you mumble, continuing to dig through his belongings.

“Oh hell nah, you’re not using that.” He grabs your ankle and tugs you backwards.

You snap your head to look at him, offended. “What? Why!? You said I could borrow whatever I want!”

“Well anything but that. You don’t mess around with my games, sorry babe.” He reaches to boop your nose but you slap his hand away, frowning. “It’s not personal. I don’t let anybody touch it. Even when Armin comes over, he has to bring his own shit.”

“I’m not just anybody though,” you argue back. “Why can’t I use it?”

“Why do you even need it? Since when do you play video games?”

“Since fucking forever! My friend wants to play Minecraft with me and my phone is too laggy. Please baby,” you beg, grabbing his hands and pressing soft kisses on his knuckles to try to make him change his mind.

“Could you do that on my dick instead?” he challenges, a juvenile smirk on his face as he watches you slowly stop kissing his knuckles to glare up at him.

You groan and move to lay on his bed, staring at his moving ceiling fan as you think of ways to persuade him. Eren climbs over you and you have half a mind to kick him off. The sheer satisfaction of watching him hit the floor is tempting, but you need to get on his good side. Eren leans down and tries to kiss you, but you move your face the other way.

It’s adorable how confused and hurt he looks, so he bends down to kiss you again, only for you to move the opposite way. “Wow, so this is what we’re doing now, huh?”

You continue ignoring him, flicking your eyes everywhere but his face.

“Okay, fuck. Fine, here.” He reaches under his bed and pulls out his controller. Your eyes light up as he hands it to you. “Treat it like that’s your kid. I don’t play around when it comes to that.”

“I will I will, thank you.” You plant a wet kiss onto his cheek, smiling as he grumbles and wipes it off.

“Come here.” He pats his lap and you crawl onto his lap, between his legs, as he turns on his TV, signing into his PS account so you can play your game.

“Can I use your headphones too?” You ask him, watching his face turn deadpan as he looks at you.

“Don’t ask for too much now.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. The controller is good.” Whilst he’s setting everything up, you pull out your phone and click on Jean’s contact. As you’re texting him, asking if he’s ready to play, Eren gives your sides a squeeze and bends down to speak into your ear. “All done setting up.”

You whisper a thank you before grabbing your headphones and plugging them into your phone. Eren drowns out the sound of your voice as you keep playing, choosing between watching you waltz around the open world or texting his group chat. Time passed by and you switched your position on the bed, now laying flat on your stomach, giving Eren a full view of your body.

A shiver runs across his body and he craves your warmth, so he taps the back of your thigh once to get your attention.

“Hold on, gimme a sec,” you say to Jean, muting the call, then turning to face Eren. “What’s wrong?”

“C’mere,” he pats his lap and you smile, pausing the game as you wiggle your way back onto his lap, your back pressed flush against his chest and you tilt your head to the side so Eren can rest his face on your neck.

You continue talking and playing with Jean. Since you’re this close to him, Eren can hear the voice through the headset, then hears the familiar snorting loud laughter. He grabs the headphones and puts it in his ear, hearing Jean talking.

“Why the fuck are you playing with Jean?” He asks you, fighting back the urge to hang up the phone.

“Wha—because he wanted to play with me?” You blink at him, confused. “Is that a problem?”

Eren pouts once he notices you aren’t catching the hint. It’s common knowledge the distaste Eren and Jean both have for each other; whenever they’re in the same room, they both have to physically restrain from calling the other names. Seeing you laughing and playing video games with Jean makes Eren want to just snatch his controller back and leave Jean to suffer alone.

“Hello?” Jean questions from the other end of the line, wondering why you’ve been quiet all of a sudden.

“Eren, if it makes you feel better, Connie is coming online any moment now. So I’m technically not just playing with Jean.”

“Whatever, yeah.” He grumbles, letting you go back to playing. The entire time you play, he’s watching Jean’s character on screen move. His fingers tighten against your waist every time he sees Jean’s Steve run up too close to you, whenever he hands you an item, whenever he practically does anything.

He shifts his eyes to you, eyes focused on the screen as you build a better house and Eren licks his lips, wondering how he can distract your attention from Jean to him.

His hand slowly starts sliding downwards, subtle enough for you to not notice, until it reaches the waistband of your sweatpants. You’re too distracted to notice him untying the knot, then slipping further downwards.

“Wait, gimme a second,” you speak into the phone, then turn to face your boyfriend. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” Eren shrugs nonchalantly, licking his lips as his rough fingers glide along your panties.

You swallow hard to fight back a moan. “Are you trying to make me—” you lowered your voice and spoke away from your microphone. “If you want to have sex just tell me, I’ll hang up.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Eren manoeuvres your face back to facing the TV. You clear your throat, fingers shaking slightly against the controller as you feel his fingers peel away your panties, rubbing along your slit.

Your breath hitches when he teases the tips of his fingers inside your hole, dipping it inside just enough for you to feel something, but not enough to make you feel satisfied. Since you couldn’t use your words, you sent him a pleading look with your eyes, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Eren only smiled before dipping his finger inside bit by bit. Your breathing was shaky and you spread your legs more to give him a better angle. He pumps his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace, wanting nothing more than to hear you lose control of your voice and hear you moan into the mic.

Unfortunately for him though, this wasn’t enough to gather that much of a reaction from you. He noticed how good you were at containing your voice, clearing your throat whenever a soft whimper would leave your lips. He pulls his fingers out and lifted you up and off his lap, putting you back onto the bed, then crawled in front of you, settling himself between your legs.

Your eyes went wide as you tried to close your legs, but he kept them open with both hands, tugging you forward until you were laying down. Your yelp caught the attention of Jean and Connie, asking you if you’re alright, but you were too busy focusing on the way Eren’s tongue laved its way inside your body. His lips sealed around your clit and your back arched off the bed, legs desperately trying to close in on themselves, only to wrap around Eren’s head as it moved up and down, licking and sucking your pussy like it was his favourite meal.

“Oh my god… Eren—I—” You forgot your mic was still on and removed your headphones, tossing them against the bed as you reached downwards, grabbing his hair and tugging at it. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He hums into your pussy, the vibration making you squirm uncontrollably against the sheets as you reach your peak. His tongue flicks at your clit, stimulating it in circles until you are panting heavily, on the verge of ripping his hair out and coming on his face. His name was like a prayer on your tongue with the way you were chanting it, biting your lip in a failed attempt to control your sounds.

He parts your folds with two fingers, licking up and down until you were overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. He sat upright, licking his lips, looking satisfied and smug as ever. His hands braced themselves beside your head and he bent down to kiss you. You let him slide his tongue against yours in your mouth, moaning around the vessel as his hips rolled downwards, meeting yours.

On the TV, the sound of zombies growling catches your attention, and you peek past his lean body to see. It’s nighttime and the mobs are out. Panicking, you push him off you and grab your abandoned headphones from the bed, putting them back on your ears, ready to get back to playing as if nothing happened.

“You both are DISGUSTING.” Connie’s voice groans into the mic, making you freeze as you forgot to mute the mic. His voice was loud enough for Eren to hear through the headphones. Eren erupted into laughter, grabbing your headphones to speak in them.

“Don’t be upset because you can’t get any.”

Connie spluttered gibberish and you hid your face in your hands, shaking your head, utterly embarrassed. Eren kisses your forehead and grabs your face, giving you another long wet kiss, loud enough for Connie to hear and groan again, telling you both to get a room. Jean was quiet the entire time.

“I’m never playing games with you again, sick fucks.” Jean grumbles eventually, making Eren cackle again, even louder than before.

“It’s okay, I can take it from here,” Eren mumbles against your lips and gathers you back onto his lap, taking control of the controller as you process the embarrassment alone. “You two, hop on Val now. It’s my turn.”

#— aot </3 #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #aot x reader #eren x black reader

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wreckofawriter · 6 months

Text

Lucky Charm

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

pairing: james potter x reader

summary (request by @delusionalcancer): hello! I was wondering if you could do a James Potter fiction where he has a very important quidditch match and begs you to go but you can’t so he is really sad but midway through he sees you in the crowd and gets super happy? Sorry if requests are closed!

word count: 5k

warnings: weed, language, a tiny bit of angst, james calls you doll, no y/n (i think)

a/n: been really liking writing about quidditch recently lol. This is based on book!james who is a chaser not a seeker. its a bit cheesy but i think its cute

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

The common room was never quiet after Gryffindor had a quidditch match. Even when you lost -a rare occasion- there would be a crowd of bitter fans, grumbling about an unfair call or an unlucky miss, late into the night. Usually quidditch brought life and excitement to Gryffindor, no matter the outcome. But today as students in red and gold shuffled up the marble staircases and through the portrait hole they were silent, even in large groups there was no more than a hushed nervous whisper among them. The usual complaints that followed a loss had been discarded and forgotten.

It bothered you. It was uncanny and made you shift uncomfortably in your chair by the fireplace. A glance around told you that you weren't the only one feeling that way, an uneasy air had filled the room.

The match had been a brutal one, even now the heavy drops pounded against the windows of the tower, the winds shifting and fighting, unable to decide which way to blow. The air was just cold enough to turn what should have been rain to sleet, sharp and cold. Many had been surprised that the match had even taken place, expecting it to be canceled due to such terrible conditions. But the heads of houses refused to back away from a challenge, and the Gryffindor team hardly seemed to mind.

“Quidditch is played in any weather and every weather.” James had insisted, the morning before the match, “They won’t cancel a match for anything and I don't expect them to.”

You had stared up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall anxiously watching as chunks of hail were blown sideways uneasily, “I don’t think I even wanna go watch.”

James' face dropped as soon as you said this, “What? No!” he exclaimed, “You have to come watch. You're my lucky charm!”

And of course when he said that with his lips pulled into his signature boyish pout you couldn’t deny him anything.

Gryffindor was the favorite to win this year's cup, as they were every year since James joined the house team. It wasn’t all him of course but he had something no one else seemed to possess; raw and unbridled talent. People often joked that he was born to ride a broom, but it was hardly a joke. James’ broom wasn’t something he rode, it was a part of him. It seemed to a spectator that he could hop onto it and tell it what to do with nothing but his mind. He was graceful and precise so casually it seemed as if he were hardly trying at all. Today's game against Slytherin had been a shoe in, an expected win.

Which is why the loss had come with such a heavy silence. You couldn’t deny that Slytherin thought ahead, they too had been expecting the rain and had been a bit smarter about it, casting a series of enchantments and charms onto their players, paying extra attention to their seeker. So while your team fumbled through heavy storm clouds bogged down by drenched robes, the Slytherins had a relatively easy time navigating the skies. With this advantage they had taken the opportunity to humiliate the Gryffindor team as much as possible.

Their chasers played dirty, purposefully slamming into the Gryffidors and then claiming they simply had not seen them. Their beaters were ruthless as well, using their bats for hitting more than just bludgers, one of them had hit your new third year seeker, Aada Laine, straight between the eyes with their wooden bat, breaking her glasses in two and bloodying her nose.

James, who was so used to winning and doing it easily, took this bitter start to the match poorly. His anger had risen quickly leading to a number of unnecessary fowls that the Slytherin team took with great enthusiasm and by the time Regulus had caught the snitch right from under a near blinded Aada, Slytherin was already up 120 to 40. Perhaps it was just the shame of a horrible game but as James landed he had been angrier than you had ever seen him. His usually unruly hair plastered down across his skull from the rain, one of the lenses of his glasses was cracked and he was gripping his broom so tightly you had been surprised it had not snapped in two.

His obnoxious parade that usually occurred after a match had not taken place, in fact he had not even glanced at where you, Sirius, and Remus stood waiting for him on the edge of the pitch. Instead he marched across the mucky grass straight towards the seeker.

She was sobbing uncontrollably despite the fact that her nose and glasses had both been fixed by Madame Hooch. A few other teammates stood around the young girl attempting to offer comfort. But when James reached her he did no such thing, in fact he snatched the broom from her hand and yelled so loudly that even over the whipping of the wind and the jeers of Slytherin you had heard him kick her off the team. The rest of the Gryffidors had made to protest angry shouts and bitter words thrown at James but he had simply marched across the field and into the changing room leaving Aada wailing even louder than before.

No one had seen James since, and as you sat quietly in the common room with the other students it began to seem like you were all waiting for him. Waiting for him to show up, all smiles and jokes, and everything would go back to normal. But as hours ticked by and he never showed it became clear this was not going to be the case.

By dinner time the common room had almost completely cleared out. The die-hard fans retreated to bed while the rest of the house trooped miserably to the Great Hall preparing for the taunts and jeers from the Slytherin table across the hall.

It was almost dark by the time Remus climbed through the portrait hole looking annoyed, but he grinned when he saw you.

“No dinner?” You asked him and he shook his head sitting beside you.

“Been out looking for James.”

Your eyes widened, “You still haven't found him?”

“No we did.” He assured you quickly, “He's just acting like a prick so I decided I wanted to come in and dry off.”

“Makes sense,” you sighed, “he looked furious out there.”

“Tell me about it.” Remus groaned slumping back, his wet robes soaking onto the couch as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table, “He’s sulking like a child out at the boat house.”

“Oh, he’s very mature.” You chidded and you both grinned lightly.

There was a moment of quiet and the fireplace snapped, a portrait yawning.

“I don't suppose you could go get him?” Remus asked, looking up at you hopefully.

You sighed expecting this, “What makes you think I could bring him to reason?”

“You know how he is,” Remus said and he was right. You knew exactly how James was, earnest and genuine and proud. You thought about it for a minute, Remus eyeing you hopefully. Reluctantly you gave in. “Well I best go get him.”

You mumbled complaints under your breath on your way down towards the lake, the enticing smell and warmth of the great hall taunting you as you passed.

The trail to the boat house was muddied and steep. By the time you reached the bottom you were shivering and damp, glad for the cover it provided from the wind and rain. James was seated at the edge of one of the docks staring out across the lake.

You sat next to him and he turned, “Oh.” he said, “I thought you were Sirius.”

You grimace, “Does my hair look that bad?”

James' usual laugh didn’t follow and instead he cracked a small forced grin.

You’re both quiet for a moment, the sound of the rain pounding onto the roof and splashing onto the water.

“Congrats on the game by the way.” You say.

“What?” James looked at you bitterly, “That's not funny.”

You grin, “Yeah but you were, I’d stand out in that shit weather to watch you knock Connaham off his broom again.”

James paused, “He scored because of that.”

“Eh, whatever,” you shrug, “Totally worth it.”

You were expecting a laugh but instead James just shook his head, “You don’t understand.”

“Well then explain it to me.” You said, rolling your eyes playfully at him.

“We’ve got absolutely no chance at the cup anymore.” He says fiercely.

You shrug again, “Since when I thought we were favorites? You just lost one game.”

By the way James looks at you you can tell he's getting frustrated but you don't back off keeping his gaze lock with yours.

“Ravenclaw hasn’t lost at all, and there's no way we're beating them by 230 points. We’d have to be 80 points up and catch the snitch.”

“That doesn't mean impossible.” You point out and he glares.

“You don't understand quidditch.”

“Says who?” you say and he shoots you a look, “Okay so what if I don't understand quidditch, I do understand that you're bloody good at it.”

Your praise raises a genuine smile out of him for the first time that night.

“Didn’t know you thought so highly of me.” He said, wiggling his brows.

“Don't let it go to your head.”

There's another pause in conversation and you take the opportunity to pull a small joint from the pocket of your robes.

James grins, “Ah so this is the reason you're out in the cold.”

“What? No! I'm here purely to comfort you.” You giggle, lighting it with the flick of your wand.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye, the way your face lights up from the soft orange glow of burning hash. Your eyes sparkle and your lips pucker as you exhale. He finds it hard to look away but does so quickly when you turn to look at him.

“Want some?”

He nods and takes the joint from you grinning, “Thanks doll.”

You flush at the pet name, something he called you a bit too often.

The two of you pass it back and forth a couple times silently, watching the cold rain splatter onto the surface of the lake.

“You should really apologize to Aada though.” You mumble the slight buzz of your high making your voice sound floaty.

James doesn't say anything for a moment before he folds his arms stubbornly, “I was serious about that. She played like shit.”

You furrow your brow, “You all did James, that's not fair.”

Heat rises to his cheeks as shame bubbles in his stomach, “I don’t care if it's not fair. That snitch was four centimeters from her nose when Black caught it. She cost us the game.”

“Her broken nose.” You fight back, “And it's a team sport, she screwed up yeah, but so did you.”

Embarrassment flooded James' head in an angry red, “If it weren't for me it would have been a bloody blowout!” He snaps and you're taken aback, “I scored every damn point we had and youre saying I screwed up?”

You look at him bitterly, “Yeah I am. You let yourself get all pissed off before the game was even up and your team fell apart. You're the captain, take some responsibility.” you scoff.

James is now glowering, the softness of being high turned sharp and awkward, “You don’t even know what youre talking about.”

“I may know nothing about quidditch James but I do know that making a little girl cry over a game is a prick move.” You spit.

“It's not just a game!” He shouted at you so loud you flinched back.

Your eyes are narrowed as you stand, “That's exactly what it is James, a game. And you let yourself get all worked up over it like a child.”

He tenses as you speak, he feels as if someone had punched him in the gut when you look at him like that. But his pride takes over in a swoop and anger rises as he stands too, “What are you even doing down here?” He demands, “To smoke fucking weed and ‘comfort me’? You're not my bloody girlfriend!”

You stop dropping your shoulders, he was right of course, you weren't his girlfriend. As much as everyone always seemed to assume you were, as much as you flirted and touched, sneaking off together into the night beneath his cloak. The two of you had always toed the line of intimacy but you had yet to cross it, something you lay awake thinking about most nights.

“You're right.” You state firmly, “I don’t know what I’m doing down here.” And you turn, throwing the roach onto the ground and stomping it out. You're back out into the night grateful, as the weather hides your tears.

James doesn't follow though he bites his tongue harshly when you leave, wanting to call out, apologize and beg you to stay with him. But he doesn't, just watching you go with balled fists before he yells and swings at the stone wall.

The next morning is awkward when James makes it down to the great hall for breakfast, his hair messier than usual and dark circles under his eyes, the knuckles on his right hand scabbed.

The two of you sit on opposite sides of Sirius who carried the conversation on his back with great effort.

“Godric, what is up with you two?” He asks finally, “You’re walking around like fuckin’ corpses.”

“Nothing.” you shrug not meeting his eyes, “Just tired.”

Sirius eyes you both, and then glances at Remus who is mentally praying for him to shut up. “Sure…”

You excuse yourself to head to Arithmancy and Sirius turns to James immediately, “So you guys finally shagged huh?”

James sputters and Remus scoffs in disbelief.

“That's not while you’re all awkward?” He gaped, “What the hell else could it be?”

James grimaced, “We just… had an argument. “

“Don’t tell me it was over Quidditch.” Sirius says and James looks away, “Christ you're an idiot.”

James just nods in agreement, letting his head rest in his arms. All of the anger he felt towards you had been replaced by regret over his sleepless night and now all he wanted was for you to smile at him, but you wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Well, apologize.” Remus says, beginning to pack up his things, “Seems you have a lot of apologizing to do after yesterday.”

James stares gloomily at where you had been sitting, “Yeah I know.”

It's not till lunch when he finally gets you alone, cornering you on your way out of Herbology and back up to the castle. The grounds are wet from yesterday's weather and your shoes are covered in mud.

“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, “I didn’t mean to yell at you last night, I was just upset and tired and I… I shouldn’t have done that. I'm really sorry doll.”

You eye him skeptically, looking for a hint of anything but pure sincerity, but find none. His eyes are glued to you like he's begging you to forgive him and as usual you just can't say no.

“All’s forgiven James.” You say simply, “Though you're lucky I didn't push you into the lake.”

Neither of you mention the real reason you stormed back to the castle last night, what he had said about what you were, or more what you weren’t. The topic seemed too heavy for the bright sun that seeps through cracks in the clouds.

He grins and throws an arm around you, “See this is why you're the best.”

You raise a brow, “Why ‘cuz I put up with all your bullshit?”

“No, because you forgive me for all my bullshit.”

“That's because I know you're an idiot who only means about half of what he says.” You snicker and it feels as if the world has gone back to spinning when he leans into you.

“I'd give myself at least a good three quarters.” He smirks.

“Of course you would.”

Remus looks pleased to see you hooked under James’ arm when you enter the common room, “See you two have kissed and made up.”

You flush.

“I think we're missing half that equation.” James said slyly, leaning in to peck your cheek, “There, all better.”

“Get off me James,” You huff, heart pounding as you half-heartedly push him away to take a seat on the couch and you know everything is back to normal when he sits beside you and throws his arm back over your shoulder with a pout.

And things stay normal, well as normal as they usually are.

The weather begins to warm and the trees begin to sprout new growth, green and pink flowering across the forest whenever you look out the window. A sense of excitement has gathered in the students, even as exams approach the sun gleaming through dusty windows in the castle make everyone feel giddy.

James has been practicing non-stop now as the final match against Ravenclaw approaches. He's out late, keeping the team out till dark to run drill after drill, play after play. He's even taken to giving private lessons to the new seeker, “Can’t have them falling apart when I leave, doll,'' He explained when you asked, “Plus I need her to be prepared for the match, we’re gonna win that cup again I swear.”

It was nice to see he was nothing but optimism again, his natural state. But it all crashed to the ground when the date for the match was set.

Your eyes go wide when he tells you, “The 16th?”

“Yeah, so you better start making your ‘Go Potter’ banner now.” He says cheekily.

“James..” You pause and feel guilt bubble in your chest, “I have my apparition test on the 16th. It was set ages ago.”

His face falls, “I thought we all took the test back in January!”

You shake your head, “Wasn’t 17 yet, my mum had to pull some strings so I didn't have to wait till summer.”

“So you can't come?” He’s devastated, his heart sinking into his stomach, he doesn't just want you there, he needs you there; to glance down at in the crowd after he scores, to wink at as he sweeps past, “But youre my lucky charm.” His voice is so soft it hurts.

“I know James, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” You look down at your hands unable to handle the disappointment that was written on his face.

He doesn't say anything, just staring down at the food on his plate. Suddenly his appetite was gone, he didn’t know what to think, how to think. What was even the point of quidditch if you couldn’t be impressed by his amazing dives and dodges?, “Will you at least be there before the match?” he asks.

You shake your head, “I’m leaving Friday after classes. My mum is gonna bring me back on Sunday.”

And he wanted to cry, it was childish and dramatic but it felt like you were abandoning him before his big moment, his big match, one that he had been working so incredibly hard to win, “Oh.” is all he can muster out and you're both left looking at your laps.

You apologize again, and try not to let the heaviness in your chest drag you through the floor. You weren’t sure if there was anything worse than disappointing him, you preferred him fiery and fuming.

When James reached the Quidditch pitch for practice that day he seemed to have lost all of his energy, his feet dragging. He kept getting asked if he was okay and he kept saying yes even though it felt like someone had smashed him to bits and put him back together with nothing but scotch tape.

He played terribly, his usual charisma lost leaving his passes stale. He felt anger rising with every mistake he made, how could he let this happen? How could he let you have so much impact on him? How could one person missing from a stand of hundreds make him not even want to play? It was infuriating how obsessed he had become with you. Sirius and Remus had warned him this would happen, that his little crush would grow into a bulging monster, and they had been right. He simply couldn’t help it, you were stunning. And funny and brilliant and every other positive adjective he could possibly come up with, he would list what he liked about you for years if you asked. It was this reason he just couldn’t bring himself to confess, the only thing worse than having to keep you at arm's length was losing you altogether. And despite his friend's assurance that his feelings were returned he just couldn’t risk it, he couldn’t risk being wrong and not even being able to call you his friend anymore. Because, once again, he needed you.

So he played it up, with the petnames and the touches, he took what he could trying to make it obvious, to convince you to make the move he so desperately wanted to. But you hadn't, you had just blushed and giggled, turning his heart to mush.

And now he was sitting in an empty locker room, tears spilling down his cheeks because you couldn’t be at the most important game he had ever played, would ever play. He wiped them away desperately but they just kept coming, making his face feel hot and his head throb.

The ache didn’t go away over time like he thought it would but grew, weighing him down like a ball and chain. Everyone noticed, his friends, his teammates and worst of all you.

You kept apologizing, like it was your fault that his match had been scheduled on the one weekend you would be out of the castle. He could tell you felt terrible about it and it only made him feel worse that he wasn’t just bringing down his own performance but your own. If you didn’t pass your exam he was sure it would be his fault for making his own devastation at your departure so obvious.

The sixteenth approached with building anticipation, the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors that usually got on quite well had begun to shout obscenities at each other at dinner. Team members were taunted constantly in corridors on the way to classes, a duel had even broken out between two beaters, landing them both in the hospital wing for a short spell. But of course ever the strategist, the Ravenclaws had saved their best ammo for last.

It was Friday night before the match and you had already left giving James a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek ‘for luck’ that had actually improved his mood quite a bit. As if sensing this the Ravenclaw captain had materialized before him on his way back from dinner with a sick grin on his face.

“Heard not even your girlfriend wants to watch you lose tomorrow Potter.”

James flushed red, “Piss off, Robinson.”

He just laughed, “I mean after your horrid performance last match I bet you asked her to leave huh?”

James tried to swallow his fury but he was not doing very well, his fists bunching at his sides.

“Maybe when I win she’ll realize you're all talk and finally go on that date with me.” he taunts.

James knows this is very untrue, you had confessed to him many times that you found Robinson nothing short of annoying, claiming he had an even bigger head than himself, but he still felt jealousy rising in his gut. Would you think less of him if he lost again? Would you laugh about it behind his back? Would you give some other guy a kiss on the cheek and wish him luck instead? He wasn’t sure he could bear even the thought.

He strode past Robinson with a seething glance, “You're gonna be bloody crying by the time the match is over tomorrow.” He hissed and then marched up the stairs to a restless night of dreams involving you kissing some faceless guy in blue quidditch robes.

James felt sick the next morning, his head was throbbing behind his eyes and no matter how much bacon he tried to force into his mouth he just didn’t feel like eating. It wasn’t until Aada came up to him literally shaking from nerves that he realized he was just gonna have to pretend to be okay.

He gave his usual pep talk in the locker room, but his eyes were cold and hard instead of the usual glowing excitement that he alluded. The team was tense when they marched out onto the field, the sun was out and the sky was clear. A cold morning breeze swept across the grass as he shook hands with a smirking Robinson and he shivered.

The whistle blew and it began.

“Potter with the quaffle!” The commentator began, “Nice dodge there, oh that looked like it hurt! It’s Ravenclaw with it now.”

James growled rubbing his side where the bludger had hit him and racing after the girl who had snatched his fumble.

The game pushed on and James was surprised to find that while he was playing mediocre at best, the rest of the team seemed to be making up for it on the tenfold. Aada, who had been instructed to do nothing but annoy the Ravenclaw seeker until Gryffindor was eighty points up was doing a magnificent job, the extra time he had put into training her showing obviously in her skillful maneuvering and dives. The beaters had yet to miss a hit and twice James had been able to score with only the keeper as an obstacle.

Despite the fact that they had gone in at a significant disadvantage the Gryffindors were shockingly loud, James didn’t glance much at the crowd, afraid it would make him realize who wasn’t there more than who was, but he could hear them even over the whooshing of wind in his ears.

They were almost an hour into the game when the snitch was first spotted, but only 50 points up, Aada was unable to go for it and instead took the opportunity to run straight into the Ravenclaw keeper, nearly knocking him off his broom. She played it off beautifully, tears and all, and it cost them only one penalty shot which their keeper saved. James could have hugged them both.

When the quaffle was tossed after, Robinson had snatched it from James’ grasp and sped towards the hoops. A bludger caught him in the side and the quaffle spiraled from his grip down towards the Gryffindor crowd, James raced after it, his feet sweeping inches from the heads of his classmates when he caught it with a roll. It was then that something caught his eye.

A flag so large it was being held by four people was spread and waving mere inches from his face, the words, “Go Potter!” sprawled on it in red and gold ink that had been enchanted to send off sparks that crackled and snapped with golden light.

He looked down and saw you staring up at him, a red hat pulled over your head as you cranned up at him, waving your arms as wildly as you could possibly manage. You were grinning so wide he could see each of your teeth, your cheeks pink and eyes glinting as you cheered up at him.

When you locked eyes he felt his heart rise from his stomach and pound away in his chest. He wanted to drop into the stands that very moment, take you into his arms and kiss you stupid. But instead he sent you a wink and sped off towards the goals feeling like someone had just gifted him a pair of wings.

“Potter with the quaffle, bludger coming his way. A beautiful dodge!” The commentator yelled, “And he's looped Robinson as well, look at him go!”

James had never felt so confident in his life, and he scored with ease again and again, coming to do a victory lap round your flag each time he did.

“And Potter scores again!” shouted the loudspeakers, “He has been simply unstoppable! Gryffindor leads 160 to 80!”

The cheers were deafening around you and James once again hoovered above you momentarily, blowing you a kiss that caused your cheeks to light on fire. He was actually doing it, he was winning the match he had told you was impossible and pride swelled in your stomach. It wasn't ten minutes later when Aada caught the snitch and it was official, you had won, both the game and the cup.

The team hurdled to the ground and swarmed their seeker, but James had started in a run the opposite way, towards the crowd that was now rushing out onto the pitch.

He shoved past the first few to reach him and beelined for where you were jogging at him, arms spread.

You collided with such force that if he hadn’t lifted you into the air you were sure you would have toppled over onto the ground. His arms wrapped around your waist spinning you around with a shout, “You came!”

You nodded, smiling so hard it hurt, you looked down at him, his cheeks flushed, brown eyes glistening in the sunlight and you knew at that moment that it was meant to be. You took both hands and cupped his face pulling it into yours and kissing him feverishly.

There was a loud chorus of cheers and whoops around you but neither of you heard, too lost in the taste of one another. When you broke away he was grinning even wider, “You passed then?”

You had forgotten all about your test that morning, but he hadn’t, of course he hadn’t.

“Yeah, I disappeared as soon as they handed me my license.” You giggled, heart hammering in your chest, “Mum’s gonna kill me for missing dinner.”

“You’re a bloody treasure doll.” He laughed, and then he drew you into another kiss squeezing you tight around the middle as your hands ran through his hair. “My lucky charm.”

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

taglist: : @accio-rogers @roslea @sleepingalaska @the-natureofme @sarcasticallywitty @rosieweasley @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreams @d22malfoys @evyiione

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5starl1ght · 2 months

Text

The missing piece

Lando Norris x reader

➪ you've got everything but maybe not everything until you meet Lando

Warnings:nothing

Mesterlist

You have it all: a fulfilling career that you love and excel at, a supportive circle of friends who are always there for you and make you laugh, a wonderful family who loves you unconditionally and is proud of your achievements. You're living your best life, and you know it. You're grateful for everything you have, and you don't take anything for granted. You're happy, and you show it.

But sometimes, late at night, when you're lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you can't help but feel that something is missing. A spark, a thrill, a challenge. Something that makes your heart race and your palms sweat. Something that makes you feel alive.

You've tried to fill that void with different things: hobbies, travels, books, movies, music. But nothing seems to satisfy you. You feel restless, bored, unfulfilled. You crave something more, something different, something exciting.

And then you meet him.

Lando Norris, the Formula One driver who has taken the world by storm with his charisma, talent and charm. He's everything you've ever dreamed of: handsome, funny, smart, adventurous. He has a smile that melts your heart, eyes that pierce your soul, and a voice that sends shivers down your spine. He's also completely out of your league. But he doesn't seem to care. He's drawn to you like a magnet, and he makes you feel things you've never felt before.

He's the solution to it all. He's the missing piece of your puzzle. He's the one who can make you happy.

But can you handle the pressure of being with him? Can you cope with the fame, the media, the fans, the rivals? Can you trust him to stay faithful and loyal? Can you keep up with his fast-paced lifestyle?

You're about to find out.

You meet him at a charity event that your company sponsors. He's there as a guest of honor, and he gives a speech that inspires everyone in the room. You're impressed by his eloquence and his passion. You clap along with the rest of the audience, but you don't expect him to notice you.

But he does.

He walks up to you after his speech, and he introduces himself. He shakes your hand, and he looks into your eyes. He compliments you on your dress, and he asks you what you do for a living. He listens attentively as you tell him about your job, and he nods in appreciation. He tells you that he admires your work ethic and your ambition. He asks you if you like racing, and he invites you to join him at his next race.

You're stunned by his offer, but you don't hesitate to accept it. You exchange phone numbers, and he promises to call you soon. He kisses your cheek, and he leaves with a wink.

You're left speechless, breathless, mesmerized.

You can't believe what just happened. You just met Lando Norris, and he asked you out.

You pinch yourself to make sure it's real.

It is.

You smile like an idiot, and you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You can't wait to see him again.

You see him again two weeks later at his race in Monaco. He flies you there in his private jet, and he treats you like a princess. He shows you around the city, and he takes you to the best restaurants. He buys you flowers, chocolates, jewelry. He makes you laugh with his jokes, his stories, his impressions. He makes you feel special with his compliments, his attention, his affection.

He makes love to you in his hotel room overlooking the sea.

He makes love to you like no one else ever has.

He makes love to you like he means it.

He tells you that he loves you.

He tells you that he loves you more than anything in the world.

He tells you that he loves you more than racing.

You believe him.

You tell him that you love him too.

You tell him that you love him more than anything in the world.

You tell him that you love him more than your career.

You mean it.

You're happy.

You're happy like never before.

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 7 months

Note

I know you wrote for Kappa/Euro. Hear me out.. could you write for Euro/Dead from lords of chaos? No one writes for jack kilmer and it drives me insane‼️😭

Pure Fucking Armaggedon

Summary: In the midst of a heavy night of partying with the Black Circle, you crave your boyfriend's attention but just like so often lately, he's very much not interested, leading you to meet your needs somewhere else…

Pairing: Dead x fem!Reader x Euronymous

Word Count: ~3.7k

Content Warnings: Trve Kvlt Smvt 18+!, Talk About Depression/Mental Illness, Talk About Self-Harm, Very Angsty, Hurt/Comfort...ish, Alcohol, Smoking, Cheating…But With A Twist, Fingering, Unprotected P In V, Creampie, Pet Names

A/N: Hi, anonnie! Thank you very much for this ask <3 Before everybody jumps into my inbox about Jack Kilmer: Please don’t, okay? He’s not tickling my brain like Rory does and I’d hate to let y’all down by having requests sitting in my inbox collecting dust 🖤 However, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having a lot of fun writing this chaos!

Massive thanks to @spookyorchid for endlessly entertaining my rambles and inspiring me!

Disclaimer: This is solely based on the characters depicted in Lords Of Chaos!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

Could you stomach it anymore

Could you stand to be a breath away

Can you feel the way your face distorts

Did you think that it could be this way

- Stomach It By Crywolf

Your upper lip twitched a little as your gaze darted right into your boyfriend's chestnut-coloured eyes. In a rather stark contrast to yours, Pelle's expression was indifferent whilst he stared back at you, face smeared with a now gray amalgamation of once black and white corpse paint.

"Sorry…" He muttered, his voice lacking the depth and sympathy to really sell his point.

"No…it's, it's okay, really. It makes no sense to pressure yourself when you're not in the mood, no." You shrugged your shoulders at him, very much meaning what you said whilst you still felt that massive rock of repeated disappointment settling down in your stomach.

"I'm gonna go grab another beer then…can I get you something?" Pelle shook his head lightly.

"No, but thanks. I think I should just go to sleep now." The Swede with the long blonde hair allowed himself to slump deeper down into the old, worn out sofa, crossing his arms in front of his chest and with that not just verbally but also physically blocking you out.

"Nighty then…" You mumbled, turning away from your boyfriend to hide just how hard you fought to keep your composure.

Neither the heavy leather jacket, the edgy metal studs and spikes all over nor your trusty Darkthrone shirt hugging your torso were able to shield you from the emotional hurt raging inside of you. It's been months since Pelle last touched or so much as kissed you on the mouth. You knew just fine that something wasn't alright with him, that he was going through an episode again and the last thing you intended on doing was putting any blame for that on him but fuck was it challenging you this time. It didn't go past you how the I love you's had become more and more scarce, how he turned his back to you at night whilst you stared at the ceiling hoping for the oncoming episode to wash over him in a few, swift weeks but his current black hole of depression was unlike anything before. You hardly recognised your boyfriend anymore and felt like nothing but an accessory to the whole band persona he'd put up to cover up how much he was actually hurting on the inside.

To not come off as a soft, little crybaby to everybody else, you stifled your breath and wiped the emerging gush of tears from your lower lash line as fast as you could before making your way out to the densely crowded yard again. Empty bottles of beer lined the way whilst partially smoked-up cigarettes laid scattered all over, the heavy smell of a raging bonfire filled the crisp night breeze. Whilst almost violently looking to the ground to avoid anybody seeing you being about to burst into tears, you rushed to one of the cooling boxes to grab a beer or preferably something stronger. A sense of recklessness washed through you as you dug a deeply green, still halfway full glass bottle from the cooler. Jägermeister would serve you just fine right now.

Armed with the strong booze, you went right back into the house, hiding yourself away from all the action to simply get drunk in peace and solitude.

"Ugh…" Your whole body quivered as the herbal liquor shot down your throat, drenching your mouth in its bitter taste.

Right after the sensation eased up a little, you chased the first swig with a second, deeper one, the alcohol burning its way through your stomach before you'd even reached the corner of the house that could be described as a guest room to slump down on an array of dusty mattresses. With the intense warmth of heavy liquor washing through your body, you curled yourself up, shoving an old pillow underneath your head and before you really realized it, vagrant, quiet tears trickled from the corners of your eyes, pooling at the tear duct to eventually swap over the bridge of your nose. If you were honest with yourself, you felt sick of it, sick of being ignored and pushed away but at the same time you just couldn't bring yourself to point the finger at Per. He simply didn't choose this way of being and feeling yet it felt like he wasn't even trying anymore…which, again, would just be another symptom. You sighed in defeat before treating yourself to another numbing mouthful of booze.

Allowing the tears to just run down your face at their very own pace, you simply wanted to get drunk as fast as possible but even that wouldn't be granted to you, a gentle knock on the slightly ajar door pulling you from your thoughts.

"Huh?" You muttered, sitting up straight again and wiping the wetness from your cheeks.

"Hey…are you okay?" The familiar voice belonging to Øystein asked.

His head peaked through the open door, a messy bunch of black hair framing his face in wavy strands.

"Saw you rushing through the yard and thought checking up on you wouldn't hurt…" He slid his lean statue through the small opening, stepping towards you before crouching down to meet your gaze.

"See? That's part of the problem…you, you care and Pelle just…he just sits there." The words blubbered out of you in an uncontrolled rush accompanied by a new surge of hot tears.

"Hey now…", Euronymous quickly sat down, tucking the frizzy hair behind his ears, "What's going on, hm?"

"I'm so sick of this shit, Øystein… I can't help him, I can't fix him and he just pushes me away time and time again. I'm so done with this bullshit." It practically gushed out of your mouth in a poorly choked-back wail.

"There's a whole horde of people out there, Euro, yet I feel so terribly fucking lonely all the time. Everybody's cheering for Mayhem and for Dead, going on about how fucking cool and true he is for what he's doing to himself on stage but you know what?", You tried to stifle your shaky breaths, "It's not cool. None of it. It's actually fucking terrifying…and it's me who's got to stitch him back to gether every damn time."

With every one of your words, Øystein's eyes widened a little more, partly in understanding about just how much his friend was dragging you through but also in plain sympathy for you.

"Come'ere, yeah? C'mon…if it helps you can squeeze me as hard as you want to, okay?" Euronymous spread both his arms, inviting you in for a tight hug.

Not wasting a second thought on it, you leaned in, wrapping your shaking hands around his shoulders to squeeze and press as tightly as you could.

"There you go…that's it, right there." Euronymous encouraged you, the palms of his broad hands resting at the back of your head to soothe you with gentle pets and strokes.

"I wish I could help you but none of us really gets through to him anymore…I'm so sorry." Øystein sighed into the curve of your neck, the tip of his nose almost touching the cold, black leather of your jacket.

"I don't even know what's going on with him anymore. Everything is just so terribly wrong and I don't know how much longer I can do this shit, Euro, I really don't." You sniffled, inevitably having the vastly different scent of Euronymous right in front of you sneaking up into your nostrils.

Unlike Pelle, he smelled like stale cigarette smoke, cheap aftershave and beer…maybe not exactly a crowd pleaser but you found comfort in it.

"It's okay. I don't judge you." He whispered to you in a soft tone and it threatened to break you apart from the inside.

"Thank you…", You croaked into his hair, your voice getting weaker with every letter, "I feel so shitty for thinking about it like that but…but I'm so goddamn tired. I-...I just wanna feel loved again."

"To remind you…there's a whole horde of people out there who love you." He tried to cheer you up but ultimately missed the point.

"Not…not like that. Ugh, I sound stupid…" You felt the need to take the words straight back and to just go with Øystein's attempt of calming you.

"No, you don't, seriously.", Euronymous led his fingers to get lost in your hair, fingertips softly stroking across your scalp down to the nape of your neck, "I can't imagine how you came up with enough energy to stay this long in the first place. We both know it's not his fault, neither is it yours or mine but we've all been watching you breaking away because of him. You're not smiling anymore, not screaming your lungs out at the gigs, you're barely even here anymore…he's eating you up."

"I can't just leave, Øystein…" You gradually loosened your death grip around his torso to lean back, your face wet with slowly subsiding tears.

"I know…all I'm saying is that it might be time to think about yourself a little more. It won't help anybody if you get lost in his chaos, too." Before you could raise your own hand to wipe the sleeve of your jacket across your face, Euronymous was already on it, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Whilst taking a deep breath to steady yourself a bit more, the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. You followed how he slightly grinded his teeth together, jaws clenching, withholding something you couldn't quite decipher.

"Øystein?" You furrowed your brows a little, the feeling of something being violently off ebbing through your chest.

"I'm sorry…" That's all he offered to you before cupping your face with the full length of his palm and leaning in to press an anything but timid kiss to your trembling lips.

A part of you, the voice of reason within, practically screamed at you to pull away, to scurry back and to let this go down as nothing but an awkward, boozy, little slip-up, but you didn't move by just an inch as the pungent taste of smoked cigarettes and cheap beer swept into your mouth alongside Euronymous' daring tongue. You simply let it happen, allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth and intoxicate you with the dangerously addictive feeling of being wanted, desired by someone.

"Fuck…" You groaned into the nearly bruising kiss, hands reaching out to claw at his utterly worn out Venom shirt to pull him closer to you.

Catching the notion that he had dared to make the right move at the right time, Øystein's palm left your face, both hands roaming over your back down to your ass to simply scoop you into his lap, your legs wrapping themselves around the cold of his bullet-shell belt as the hem of your washed-out, gray denim skirt rode up generously over your fishnet-stocking covered thighs.

"I got you…just hold on to me." Euronymous muttered, trying to catch his breath a little whilst his fingers dug themselves into the curve of your behind, causing you to whine out as you arched your hips impossibly close towards his crotch.

The aching need to feel just something again practically pulsed through every nerve ending and every muscle, pulling you into his tight grasp and for your hands to slip under the soft fabric of his shirt, skin against skin leaving you to crave more. Whilst one of his hands left it's place cupping your ass to hurry down between your bodies, awkwardly fumbling with the buckle of his belt before almost violently pulling down the zipper, a short but heavy pang of guilt jolted through your ribcage, nearly causing you to flinch on the spot. Nothing about this situation at hand was right or somehow, in some crooked way, justifiable to you and yet you made not a single move to stop any of it from happening. You didn’t grasp for Øystein's hand as it hushed from his unzipped pants amidst your legs, the sound of your tights tearing and ripping thundering in your ears, right before curious fingertips brushed over thin lace panties, no. The only reaction it pulled from your body was a needy moan.

"Right there, yeah?" You heard the smirk in his tone without even needing to see it.

Nodding softly, you placed your mouth back onto his, teeth teasingly grazing over his bottom lip.

"Bet that feels even better, babe." At first you didn't know what struck you harder, the endearing pet name or Euronymous' fingers snaking past your slip, dipping right into your soaked folds to draw achingly slow circles around your entrance.

"Please…" You hummed into the kiss, your forehead leaning against his.

"Please, what?", He inquired, fingertips prodding and nudging against your cunt, "Want me to fill you up, no? Such a greedy little thing."

You choked back a whine as Øystein withdrew his hand from your slip to shove the fabric to the side, fingers freeing his rock-hard cock from the confines of his shorts right before thrusting into you with a precise rock of his hips against yours.

"Oh, fuck…" Your moan got lost in his mouth, the delicious feeling of being stretched out so harshly rippling through you.

"How long has it been, huh?" He pushed, drilling himself into you until it threatened to hurt.

"I dunno…four months, maybe five." You couldn't stop your eyes from fluttering shut, the burning heat of arousal and shame creeping into your face in equal parts.

"Yeesh, couldn't leave a girl like you untouched for that long." Euronymous huffed, his other hand steadying your posture with his palm flat against your back as he started rolling his hips, practically bouncing you on his cock.

With your entire body flush with the sensation of Øystein spearheading into you in a firm pace, the last bit of your coherent brain busy muffling and holding back desperate mewls and whimpers, you rendered completely oblivious to what was happening around you…unlike the black-haired guitarist. From the very corner of his eyes, Øystein's attention got pulled towards the semi-open door, the old, wooden floor in front of it creaking treacherously. Just by the way a well familiar pair of thoroughly worn out combat boots barely peaked across the lines of the door frame, he knew that the both of you had been caught right in the act but he didn't so much as even bother to stop from guiding you up and down his throbbing hard on.

"You at least got yourself off here and there, no?" You shook your head.

"Didn't feel right. I- I just hoped things would get back to normal…" You groaned, the sensation of Euronymous' cock stroking over that extra sensitive spot inside of you sending cold, little shivers down your spine.

"Oh, love, then I better make sure to give it to you better than Per ever could…lazy fucker." Øystein scoffed more to his friend and singer hiding next to the door frame than to you but you didn't take any notice of that, your senses way too busy with just keeping it together.

For a moment, Øystein felt actual and very real rage gushing through him. Anger towards his friend for being such an oblivious prick regarding the suffering and all-round neglect he was dragging you through. It was a terribly self-righteous emotion, that he knew for sure, however, he couldn't help himself but to let it fuel the way he rutted into you, burying himself as deep as possible inside of your wet pussy.

The rather morbid thing both of you failed to take notice of was what Dead was doing hidden away in the shadows of the hallway, the crushing humiliation not only going straight to his heart but to his awfully throbbing cock as well, the bitter-sweet masochistic rush leading him to palm himself through his trousers whilst biting down on his fist to not let just one singular sound escape from his twitching lips. The Swede was shamelessly jerking himself off to you getting railed by his closest friend.

"Gonna take good care of you, babe." Øystein groaned in a lust-riddled tone, both of his hands now closing down around your hips to hammer your form onto his cock with every jut and snap of his hips.

It had you bashfully nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, the cigarette smoke soaked leather of his jacked cold against your cheek, whilst you still clawed at his sides underneath his shirt.

Your fingers dug into his skin as you felt your walls starting to flutter and contract around Øystein's hard on, the first crushing jolts of your pent-up orgasm rippling through your body, senses being sent into blissful overdrive.

"Good girl…fuck, pulling me in so hard now, huh?" Euronymous' voice cracked and eventually faltered just like the rolls of his lap against yours.

"Issok…", He talked you through your release, shoving himself balls deep into your spasming cunt before flooding your insides with white-hot ropes of his seed, a guttural groan ripping itself free from the depths of his lungs, "Just let yourself go. I gotchu."

The earth-shattering sensation of all the pent-up sexual desperation mixed in with shame and crushing guilt washing through your system had you biting down on his leather-clad shoulder, a fresh surge of tears threatening to swap over your lower lash line at any second.

"Aw, shit." A sore croak from outside the room led both of you to turn your heads so suddenly that it nearly gave you whiplash.

"The fuck?!" You shrieked out, practically jumping from Øystein's lap whilst he was equally busy with tucking himself back in and getting off the mattress.

"I got this!" Euronymous tried to calm you, awkwardly stumbling away from you before tearing the door open and vanishing into the dark hallway.

For a split second your overworked synapses tried to get a vague grasp on what was going down. Feet were hammering down stairs, noisy commotion erupted from inside the house before the sound of shattering glass and incomprehensible screaming and shouting filled the yard.

"Oh fuck no…" You huffed under your breath, wobbly legs nearly giving out as you tried to pull yourself from the mattress.

As soon as you stood upright again, you felt Øystein's load oozing out of you, soaking the flimsy fabric of your slip with every step you took. You dreaded the scenario that was unfolding outside because the yelling didn't seem to die down but much rather escalate further.

"You fucking traitor!" Pelle's raspy voice cut through the night air, hitting you as soon as you slid out the front door.

"Fucking traitor?!", Øystein spat right back whilst your eyes scanned the scenery anxiously, "You're the spineless loser, Per!"

"You fucked my girlfriend, Øystein!" Dead yelled and with his words you noticed Metallion and Jan Axel staring right at you, nothing but drunk confusion washing over their faces.

"And you pathetic fuck got off to it!" Euronymous had to duck down to dodge an empty beer bottle being sent his way.

"You what?!" You directed the question right at your boyfriend before you noticed a tell-tale damp and soaked-through spot right around his zipper.

"Yes, please tell her how you stood outside the room jerking off to your girl breaking down in front of me, Per!" Your bewildered stare rushed towards Øystein now.

"Huh? You…you saw him or what now?!?" The guitarist shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Jan Axel tried to intervene but both Per and Øystein shushed him almost simultaneously.

"You shut the fuck up!" Pelle sneered, looking like he was about ready to throw one of the plenty empty bottles of beer after his drummer too.

"No.", You huffed, wrapping your leather jacket around your torso to shield you from the creeping cold, "He actually got a point, because…what the hell?!"

"Pumpkin, I can explain, I promise." Per raised his hands in a soothing manner but you didn't feel like having any of it.

"Don't you dare sweet-talk me now, Pelle! You've been pushing me away for months but…you get off to, well, this?" You indirectly confirmed all that had been happening between Øystein and you.

"No. Just no. You know what? Fuck you. Fuck this shit. I'm not even remotely drunk enough to deal with this shitshow right now." To undoubtedly cement your point, you took a few swift steps toward Øystein who was looking at you with wide eyes as you fished for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, drawing one for yourself before deliberately putting it to your lips.

"Yes, I fucked Øystein.", You threw your hands into the air after lighting the cigarette, "Maybe I should've done that much sooner, who knows?"

The last sentence was solely aimed to hurt Per as much as he had hurt you.

"Fucking hell, I'm so sick of all this dysfunctional shit…", You just shook your head before heading back inside, "Better none of you disrupt the date I have with a piss-warm bottle of Jägermeister now or you fucking bet I'll cut your dick off!"

#tam rambles #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #rory culkin #rory culkin lords of chaos #lords of chaos #jack kilmer #euronymous x reader #euronymous smut #euronymous #dead lords of chaos #euronymous x fem!reader #dead x fem!reader #jack kilmer smut #jack kilmer x fem!reader #mayhem fic #mayhem

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jackhues · 5 months

Note

❄️Jack hughes and ‘back and forth talking all night about the future’ ?!❤️

aww i hope you like this!!

you smiled softly in the dark, your fingertip lightly drawing shapes on jack's bicep.

this was your favourite part.

the flashy cameras, or the nosy fans, or even the post-win parties were worth nothing when they were compared to these moments. the soft moments, with only you and jack.

no one else.

jack lay on his back in the bed, you on your side next to him.

he stared up at the ceiling, a soft smile growing on his face as you continued drawing shapes.

"we're going to need four rooms in our new apartment," jack said suddenly.

you paused your drawing, furrowing your brows, "what?"

"four bedrooms," jack repeated. "one for me and you, two for our kids, and an extra just in case."

"just in case of what?" you poked him.

"just in case we decide to have another."

you laughed, playing along. "okay, but our room needs to be this greyish-blue colour. i have pictures."

"oh, and we need a dog," jack added. "a golden retriever with a name like... max!"

"max? seriously?" you propped yourself up on an elbow. "how much more basic can you get?"

"alright then, let's hear what name you've got," he challenged.

"i don't know," you shrugged. "something cool, like bowie."

"bowie," jack repeated, a soft smile on his face. "okay, i like it. we also need a garage-"

"which is obviously going to be used as a shooting setup," you finished.

"you know me so well," jack grinned.

you smiled to yourself. the two of you really did know what each other wanted. it was why he was perfect for you.

it was why you spent all night planning your future out together.

---

send a ❄️, player + prompt

#naqia writes!#writing games!#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes oneshot #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x y/n

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viandclintbarton-supremacy · 7 months

Text

Cruel, Cruel World (Crimson Mask Sequel)

*Beep*

"Cruel, cruel world, must I go on?"

*Beep*

"Cruel, cruel world, I'm moving on"

*Beep*

"I've been living too fast"

*Beep*

"And I've been living too wrong"

*Beep*

"Cruel, cruel world, I'm gone"

*Beep*

"Cruel, cruel world, I'm gone"

*Beep*

You sigh as you stare blankly to the ceiling in your hospital room. Deciding either to sing another sing off one of your playlist.

You frown at the pain in your head making you feel the bandage around your head, whilst also being annoyed of the EKG machine beeping. It's been nearly a week, since the incident. A week since your ex teammate, ex captain, your friend put you here. The thought of Millie sent mixed emotions in you, Millie always looked out for you and looked after you but that night she nearly killed you, on purpose or not!. You started to tighten the hold on your bed's support bars and breath deeply, every time you thought of Lucy or Millie you would start to shake but more violently when it was Millie. You started to violently shake a bit but managed to recompose yourself

You haven't watched it back, you didn't want to see what happened or the aftermath. All you were told was you were barged into the goal post created a very bad laceration on your head. You were taken to the local hospital while the game continued, the good news Japan won! Bad News you are out for the rest of the cup. You shook the thought as you sighed and grabbed your phone and sat up.

Ever since that night, your phone was crazy. Tweets, tags, mentions, dms, emails from fans, friends, the Barcalona Women and Men.........Keira, Lucy.....Bright. You couldn't open them, you just got so angry, sad, anxious.......hurt that you just wanted to avoid it as it was too much.

You scrolled down and read throught the messages you saw earlier that made you smile.

Yui sending you a video of the team wishing you well before it wad posted on social media.

Fran Kirby sending you clips of her pets and being goofy

Mapi Leon trying her best to find out what hospital you are in

Gundegun sending you messages of encouragement

Sam and Erin also sending you a get well video

Mentions on many of your friends and Fan stories also

One that you made you smile was Mary Earps. She posted a picture of your free kick you scored and simply wrote

"The most challenging opponent I have ever faced, Can't wait to face off again. #TheGoat"

Even though you had faced Mary countless times and never chatted except from handshakes, you both had massive respect for each other.

You then got a new tag from the Barcelona account, you clicked on the notification and waited for it too load as you clicked to video to play the sound also

The first face was Alexia making you smile to see your captain

"Hey little one! Hope you are feeling better! We are missing you, you are a strong human and have always brighten up our days. so hurry and recover so we can make more memories and goals together!"

The next was the Barcelona manager Jonatan Giráldez

"Hey F/N, we are eagerly waiting your return. The ambiance in the team can be seen, the girls and the staff are missing your presence and so am i!. Get better soon so we can have an amazing season"

Next was Mapi

"Hey F/N!!! I'm so happy to hear you are safe and recovering, i know how hard it is being stuck in a bed not being able to do what you love and help the team out. From the first day i met you till now i can say i am so proud of you! so is the team, the Barca fans and your country, Get well soon Little One!"

It would show so many of your friends, from Rolfo to Paredes to Patricia to Raphinha

then it showed the entire Boy and Girl youth teams. You always showed them support and help them when you could.

"GET WELL SOON L/N" They shouted as they cheered and some held little signs in Spanish, understanding some and some not it warmed your heart.

The next person

*EKG beeps slightly quicken

"F/N, I hope you are feeling ok"

You would start to shift a bit with a uneasy feeling in your stomach as you looked at Keira Walsh's face.

"I want to thank you for giving us the tough task of going against you and Japan, you were amazing and you should feel proud. Also i don't think you heard me on the pitch, But i am sorry if i hurt you in that tackle." You would feel the slight pain in your hip as she said it. You weren't mad at her, tackles happen but you just felt hurt on how she acted about it, that's what hurt "This season is going to be a good one and i am determined to break the number of goals and assist between us last year! Proud of you, see you soon!" You somewhat was happy but also sad thinking about her actions on the pitch.

The next person would show up

*EKG beeps quicken

Then you would start to shake and try to take a deep breath

*Beep Beep*

"Hey Little One"

You would start to feel sweat on your brow

*Beep Beep*

"I'm so sorry, i couldnt see you after the match"

Your lip started to quiver and jaw started to shake

*Beep Beep*

"But i want you to know tha-"

you closed the the app and the phone as you would cover your eyes fighting back the tears that were trying you creep out. you placed the other hand on your chest and began to breath slowly and deeply as the sounds of the EKG machine beeps would slow.

You placed your phone back down and looked out to the window to blossom leaves falling and calmed you. You then put on your ear buds and played the song "Beautiful" by Eminem

you would fall into more into your bed as you let Marshals words into your mind, comforting you and making you feel at peace.

Forgetting the face you saw on the the post a few moments ago that sent you into a panic.

The Face of Lucy Bronze

Part 2 End

Next Chapter: Pain That Shines Bright

So wow I didn't expect that reaction from part 1. I'm happy you guys liked it and got enjoyment out of it, I'm sorry this was short but next chapter will be longer I am working on more Woso stuff including Gender neutral since i want everyone to be included and looking at my requests.

I hope this chapter held up, hopefully the next part will be out soon. i will try to keep you guys updated.

But please let me know what you guys liked about it, feedback helps so much

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vanteguccir · 20 days

Text

Loving without restrictions | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N and Chris have been keeping their relationship a secret for just over a year until one day where Y/N feels ready to announce it; OR, where Y/N and Chris soft launch their relationship.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was a typical Thursday morning, with the sun shining strongly against the outside walls of the house, keeping it warm. Inside the comfort of the room, Y/N and Chris were lying on their bed, wrapped in each other's arms after waking up. The rays of warm LED lights danced softly over their skin as they exchanged caresses, each touch filling the room with tenderness.

Chris, with his messy hair and a lazy smile on his lips, watched Y/N with adoration. His eyes conveyed a mix of love and gratitude for having her there.

Meanwhile, Y/N was in deep thought. Her eyes were fixed on the white ceiling as her mind studied the complexities of keeping their relationship a secret. As she stroked Chris's hair and felt the comforting warmth of his embrace, her mind was in a whirl, revisiting the moments when they agreed to keep things a secret.

She considered the reasons that led them to this decision. The pressure of the triplets' fandom, the intense attention from social media, the invasion of privacy that comes with public exposure - it all weighed on her mind. The girl vaguely remembered the heartfelt conversations they had, the mutual concerns about how fans would react to their relationship. It was a delicate dance between the desire to share her happiness with the world and the need to protect her own privacy.

However, despite all the rational arguments that accumulated in her mind, there was an undeniable desire that consumed her. She wanted to be able to shout to the world that Chris was hers, without restrictions. She wanted to be able to walk hand in hand with him down the street without worrying about some fan seeing them and commenting on Twitter about it. She wanted to be able to appear in the triplets' videos as Chris's girlfriend, not as just a friend.

While reflecting on the pros and cons, Y/N noticed that, despite all her fears, her love for Chris transcended all worries. Despite the challenges they would face, their connection was stronger than any of it. She knew it was time to put aside her fear, despite not knowing how to deal with his fans or fame, she wanted to be able to look Chris in the eye and say with pride that he was hers, in every sense of the word.

So, between the light pecks of Chris's lips on her skin and the caresses of his fingers on her hip, Y/N felt her heart speed up, and she decided it was time to take a step forward.

"Chris..." She began, her voice soft and somewhat hesitant.

Chris's eyes met hers, a mixture of curiosity and concern reflected in her gaze.

"What is it, babe? You look serious." The boy frowned, sitting up slightly and keeping his upper body supported on the bed by his left elbow.

Y/N took a deep breath, gathering all the courage she had within herself.

"I... I think I'm ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?" Chris asked, confused.

"Ready to no longer hide our relationship." Y/N declared, her voice firm and determined. She turned her body sideways, still lying down, but now facing him.

Chris was momentarily stunned, processing her words. Then, a radiant smile spread across his face, his eyes shining beautifully.

"You mean... You mean you're ready to make our relationship public?" His voice came out high-pitched, a sign of euphoria.

"Yes, Chris. I'm ready. I want this, I want to be able to say I'm yours. No restrictions." Y/N nodded, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

"But, are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with." The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line, his heart racing in anticipation.

"I've never been so sure before, pretty boy." Y/N nodded again, a smirk decorating her face, feeling light as a feather.

Chris sat straight on the mattress abruptly, pulling her up with ease, ignoring the small scream of surprise that escaped her lips. He sat her on his crossed legs, spreading several kisses over her cheeks, nose, and forehead repeatedly, eliciting loud laughter from the girl, her heart overflowing with happiness.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sun was setting over the horizon, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink as the triplets were in their usual seats in the car, recording the video that would be posted on the following Friday.

"Her beauty is crazy, I watch her from the crowd." Chris sang suddenly, a small smile on his lips, looking at Matt sideways.

"I wrote a couple of things down that were in my brain..." Nick began, ignoring Chris's sudden singing. "I love citrus. Anytime I can get my hands on a citrusy fruit, I want it. The juice, the flavor... it's delicious." He continued, a smile on his face as his eyes went from Chris to Matt and back again.

Nick's random remark caused Chris to jump excitedly in the passenger seat. His eyes lit up, and a smile grew on his face.

"Citrus drinks?" He asked, turning his upper body to the side so that he was closer to the oldest triplet.

"Yeah, I love it! Orange juice, lemonade, anything with a hint of citrus." Nick responded, pulling out his phone to look at his notes for the video, not noticing the change in Chris' behavior.

Chris felt his heart start to beat faster in his chest as his mind raced to a single person: Y/N. She also loved citrus drinks. It was one of her most striking characteristics.

"This is awesome!" Chris exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. "Y/N also loves citrus drinks, you know? She's obsessed with orange juice and lemonade! Also, I always get her lemonade when she participates in one of our videos, remember?"

As he ramble, Chris felt his face heat up, a red color spreading across his cheeks and neck. It was difficult to control the shyness when talking about Y/N, even if it was just mentioning her preference for drinks.

Matt and Nick exchanged amused glances in the rearview mirror, immediately noticing Chris's change in mood.

"Wow, she really likes citrus, huh?" Matt commented, with a playful tone, raising his right eyebrow.

"Uhm." Chris nodded, his involuntary smile growing even wider on his face, quickly pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to stop himself from continuing his barrage of comments he could spend hours making about Y/N.

Nick planned to delete the short minutes while editing, but he ended up forgetting it, creating an intense mess in the comments.

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Comments:

"wait, did yall see how Chris blushed while talking about Y/N? 🥺"

"omg Chris talking about Y/N was the cutest thing I saw today 😭"

"Chris and Y/N? how long did I sleep?"

"omg omg omg are they together?"

"date someone who talks about you like Chris talks about Y/N 😫"

"Chris getting super excited JUST TO SAY THAT Y/N LIKES CITRUS DRINKS 😭😭"

"I really hope Chris and Y/N are together, they would be super cute together 🥺"

"there's something going on that we don't know about 🤨🤨"

"spill the tea guys 😔✋🏻"

"I think this part wasn't supposed to stay in the video LMAO"

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liked by sturniolo.triplets, yninstagram and 408,823 others

christophersturniolo oops, forgot to mention it 😬🤍

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