#it’s only been a few days without it but I can’t stand football or the commercials | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

desperate-gay · 3 months

Note

LEAH WILLIAMSON SMUT WHERE YOURE DATING ANOTHER FAMOUS MALE FOOTBALLER BUT HES CHEATING ON YOU SO YOU CHEAT WITH HER AND YOU SEND HIM THE TAPE. Is that too much😳😳😳

Sharing Is Caring

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

Mason Mount spotted kissing new girl down the streets of Manchester

Once Leah saw the photos surfacing on every social media app, she immediately began to text you. Asking if you were okay or needed anything, but you didn’t respond. You still haven’t and it’s already been a day which worries Leah, so she immediately goes to the store, grabs all of your favorite snacks and beverages, and races down to your apartment.

You scoop another spoonful of brownie ice cream and shove it in your mouth, not caring about the coldness on your sensitive teeth, too busy sulking and spacing out at the trashy reality show playing on the TV. Soon you hear someone crash in from the front door, making you turn your head swiftly.

A flustered Leah stands by the doorway with a basket full of items you can’t see from where you’re sitting. You send her a weak smile and turn your attention back to the television. Footsteps begin approaching you and the couch sinks downwards next to you.

“I saw the photos, how are you holding up?” Her tone stays soft but cautious, testing the waters to see how your emotions are at the moment.

All you do is shrug in response while stirring your spoon around in your ice cream, placing your gaze anywhere else but the blonde’s pitiful look. Leah just nods in understanding before sitting back on the sofa, allowing you to talk whenever you’re comfortable.

“I’m not even that brokenhearted about it. Mason’s been pulling away for a while so it was only time until he found someone new” You say, breaking the comfortable silence after a few minutes. The girl beside you moves closer, placing her hand on your criss crossed legs.

“That doesn’t give him any reason to cheat. If he knew it was going nowhere, he should’ve ended it, not find some rando in a crowd who is not even half as pretty as you.” Leah getting slightly irritated at the man for doing something as vile to you. Once again, you just shrug at her truthful statement and compliment.

“I’m kind of happy he did it.” Leah’s eyebrow quirks at your whisper while you let out a shaky sigh before finally looking at the blonde. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely pissed he did and is parading it all over the internet, but I’m not upset he’s not mine anymore.” Your tone slightly shifts from quiet to angry in a millisecond.

“Good because you deserve someone who can cherish you, appreciate you, and show you how beautiful you truly are.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be up for that challenge.” You joke, laughing quietly to yourself but stopping when you don’t hear anything from the girl next to you. As you look up, you see Leah with a stunned look on her face which soon turns into a smug smile.

“The real challenge would be if you could keep up with me or not.” Now it’s your turn to look shocked, noticing the cocky smirk on the woman’s face. She shifts closer to you, placing her hand on your knee while rubbing her thumb against you. “C’mon, baby. Do you think you can handle me?” She teases, moving her face closer to yours, making your eyes switch between her eyes and lips.

Right as Leah's mouth opens to say another taunting comment, you wrap your hand behind her neck and slam your lips against hers. The kiss quickly turns heated when Leah’s tongue enters your mouth, warmth flooding your body in seconds. Her hands grip at your waist and tug you into her lap without breaking the kiss. The sound of your lips colliding together is enough for a pool of arousal to make its way between your legs.

“Are you sure about this?” She mumbles against your lips, holding herself back from jumping right back in.

“I’ve always liked Arsenal more than Manchester United.” You snicker which in turn makes the blonde grin before diving back in.

The show in the background becomes muffled, your focus solely on the girl beneath you. Her hands are placed on the small of your back slightly pushing in to make your back arch and chest push into her. They soon begin to slowly slide down to your bottom as your tongues stroke against each other’s.

“Let’s go to the room, yeah?” Leah insists, breaking the kiss. Her eyes trail your face, admiring your lips swollen and red, eyes hooded, and hair messy.

“Yes.” You pant out, breaking the girl from thought and causing her to smile in anticipation. She hooks her hands under your thighs, easily picking you up as if you only weigh a pound, and hurrying into your now one-person bedroom.

Just as she’s about to drop you, she decides against it and topples down on top of your body. You both giggle at her antics before eagerly connecting your lips again. Leah’s right forearm holds herself up by your head while her other hand roams under your shirt, rubbing and scratching as she trails further up.

“No bra?”

“You wouldn’t be wearing one either if you were lounging around, sulking while eating ice cream.” You huff, impatiently pulling the blonde back in an attempt to reconnect your lips. Leah swiftly sits up on her knees, looking at your disheveled form on the bed.

“You look so pretty for me, love.” Your heart thumps against your chest at the new term of endearment. The blood rushing to your cheeks felt abnormal, never having been this flustered by someone’s gaze.

Leah’s eyes continue to roam your figure while her hand traces absentmindedly. She notices your breath hitch when it sits on your collarbone, inches away from your neck. She rotates her hand so her fingers lie against it, wanting to see your reaction. You squeeze your eyes shut while your fist grips against the sheets.

“Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, angel.” Leah chuckles, leaning down and pressing her lips onto your neck, sucking at your sweet spot. Little whimpers leave your mouth before you tilt your head to the side, allowing her to have more access.

“Lee, please do something.” You whine, feeling her hand under your shirt, palming at your breast.

“Such an impatient girl. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you to behave.” She rasps against your ear, tugging it down with her teeth. Your thighs squeeze together, trying to relieve some tension between your legs.

Leah finally lifts your shirt over your head and throws it mindlessly somewhere in the room. Usually, you’d feel embarrassed as your whole body would cower away but with Leah, it felt different. It felt good. It felt right.

Her head leans down, kissing around your chest before latching onto your nipple. The tension in your body quickly disappears as you sigh in relief. While her warm tongue swirls around you, her free hand trails down your stomach and beneath your shorts and underwear.

Your breath hitches when the pads of her fingers swipe through your folds, collecting all of your arousal and spreading it. Her mouth leaves your chest with a loud plop before she attacks your lips again, swallowing all the little noises you’re making as she rubs tight circles around your clit.

Right as you try to tug off your shorts, Leah’s hand grabs your wrist, restricting any movement. “What do you think you’re doing, love?” She rasps against your neck, continuing to scatter little hickeys around.

“Please.”

“You gotta be more specific on what you’re pleading for, baby.” The defender taunts with a wicked grin, shifting her head over yours so she can witness your pleading.

“Please take off my clothes and fuck me.”

Something in her shifts when she hears those words come out of your mouth. Suddenly she doesn’t want to make you wait because if she makes you, she’ll also have to hold herself back.

Both of her hands grip on each side of your shorts and yank them down aggressively, wanting to waste no time even if there isn’t a limit. You gasp at her change in demeanor but it overall excites you further.

“God you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Leah rasps, getting worked up by just the sight of you underneath her, naked and squirming. She moves towards the lower end of the bed, lying down so her face is close to your core.

“Leah, I need you.” You pant, feeling her warm breath against your wetness. Right when you think she’s going to dive in, she tilts her head and begins to kiss your thighs, leaving light bite marks behind. You shake your thighs with a whine which makes the blonde chuckle against your skin.

But soon your whines are replaced by moans when she latches onto your pussy with no warning. She knows exactly what she’s doing and how to do it. Her mouth switches from sucking and flicking your clit with her tongue to dipping her tongue in and out of your dripping hole.

Subconsciously your hips slowly grind against her face for more friction which she figures out quickly. She wraps her arms around your thighs and places both hands down on your pubic bone, pushing you more into the mattress to restrict any movement.

With the amount of people you have been with, no one has eaten you out this good before. She knows exactly when to loosen or tighten her tongue, where you need her, and at what pace makes it more pleasurable.

Moans spew out of your mouth consistently as your hands grip so hard against the sheets your knuckles are white. The blissful sensation shoots through your whole body like a lightning bolt, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Lee, baby. I’m close, so close.”

Leah unwraps one of her arms and reaches up to grasp your neck with her hand, choking you with very little pressure but enough to heighten your senses. While she continues to abuse your clit, she notices your eyes squeeze shut and your hips move up more slowly against her mouth.

When you finally let out a loud squeak and a string of curse words, she knows you’re cumming. Her tongue doesn’t stop lapping around until you twitch away from her touch. She lets go of your neck and kisses her way up your body until she’s face to face with you to which you pull her down, smashing your lips against hers, moaning when her tongue invades your mouth.

“That was so good.” You breathe out with a giddy smile. She sends back a dashing grin before nuzzling her face in your neck and pecking around.

“We’re not done yet. I’m just getting started with you.” Leah smirks, making your eyes widen. Her right-hand drags around your skin, fingertips brushing so lightly it’s almost ticklish. “I want you to squirt all over my fingers, baby.”

“I c-can’t do that-“

“You will, and we will show your little cheating boy toy just how good I make you feel. I bet he’s never made you squirt before, has he?” She tilts her head, eyes never leaving yours.

“No one has.” You whisper from both embarrassment and shock.

“Mmm, even better.”

She makes no other movement besides her hand continuing to wander around your body, confusing you with the sudden silence. You’re also in your head about how she means you’re going to show him.

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted by two fingers plunging into you. A whine shoots out from your mouth without even trying. Leah is so enticed by how your pussy swallows her fingers so well, almost sucking them in. She isn’t going fast, almost purposefully going so slow to torture you.

You whimper at your body feeling full but not any improvement towards an orgasm. The defender’s thumbs remain against your clit so with each thrust of her hand, she rubs it slowly.

“I thought the point of squirting was also to cum.” You huff impatiently which makes the girl chuckle at your needy state.

“See, baby. I’m going to edge you which will make you more sensitive and make you feel more built up. It might feel like torture for a bit but it will all be worth it.”

Before you can protest, her lips latch onto yours as she speeds up her fingers, causing you to moan into her mouth, allowing her to just swallow them. Her fingers are only halfway in but they move fast along with her thumb rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

She knows immediately when you’re about to come so right when you’re about to tilt off the edge, she pulls away leaving you whining in discomfort. Only after a minute or two, does she dip her fingers back into you and do exactly what she did before.

This repeats 3 or 4 more times, ending with you sobbing in overstimulation and want. You were so so so close each time but she pulled away before you could even realize it.

“Awe, baby, you did so good. Now it’s time to show that jerk what he’s missing, don’t ya think?” Leah tilts her head in fake question before reaching over your head to grab her phone she must have set by you at some time.

Your head finally wraps around what she has been talking about. She wants to record her fucking you and send it to Mason. It’s a very risky move. It’s crazy. It turns you on.

Showing off that you’re getting so deliciously fucked by the English captain. He parades on the internet him kissing some other girl, you parade to him having sex with a very familiar girl.

“Are you okay with this? I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.” Her dominant persona fades a little into concern. Of course, it would be fun for her to show the idiot what he lost and what she has gained, but she needs you to want to do it too.

“Yes.”

“Yes? Are you sure?”

“Leah, I need you with your fingers inside of me, pounding into me, recording, then making me cum so hard I see stars. I want to show him I upgraded.” You purr against her ear, having sit up slightly to reach her. The defender’s eyes flutter shut with a quiet moan, showing you how much your words have an effect on her.

“Lie down.”

When you don’t comply right away, she shoves you down on the bed, her dominant demeanor returning. Her free hand reaches down, slowly rubbing your clit while her other presses record on her phone. You coincidentally moan right when it starts.

From your nose and lower, your whole body is on display on the camera, showing off the fresh red hickeys scattered around, your very swollen clit under the blonde’s thumb, and your extremely wet pussy.

Without wasting any time, Leah slips her middle and ring finger into you. Unlike before, she goes knuckles deep into you. Your mouth lets out a high-pitched noise along with a string of moans as she drags her fingers in and out, her thumb never leaving your clit.

Once a few seconds have passed she immediately fastens her thrusts, curling her fingers up to brush against your g-spot. Your moans get louder and never stop the faster she goes, and from the constant edging, it’s not going to take much to push you over the edge.

This orgasm feels different though. It feels bigger and more intense coming up. Usually, it approaches and disappears fast, but the pleasure right now leading up to it feels amazing. More amazing than your normal ones.

“Baby, I think I’m getting close.” You gasp before moaning again.

“Say my name.”

You look up at her in confusion only to see her eyes full of lust and her phone held up right next to her. Realizing that it’s to show who she is you don’t complain.

“Leah, please make me cum.”

“Again.”

“Leah.”

“Again.”

She knows you’re extremely close. Each time her fingers thrust into you, your walls squeeze tighter and tighter around her digits. And by the way your nails are digging into her bicep and your eyes are squeezed shut, you’re holding it as much as you can.

“Leah! You’re making me feel so good, Lee. Please let me cum.” You’re basically sobbing at this point so when she mumbles the next words you crumble.

“Cum for me, baby.”

As you let go, you feel liquid run down your thighs along with louder wet noises as Leah’s hand continues to pound into you. Your mouth is wide open in silent pleasure while she carries on pushing you to the end of your orgasm.

Once a pornographic moan finally escapes your lips along with your body spasming, she pulls her fingers out and gently rubs along your clit. Your body jerks away with each swipe of her thumb so she finally stops altogether.

“Such a good girl. My good girl.” Leah praises before ending the recording and lying down next to you.

She wraps her arms around your naked form and pulls you into her. Your head finds its place in her neck while she rubs her hand up and down your arm, soothing you after the very intense moment.

“I didn’t think I could do that and you proved me wrong. You are one of many talents, Miss Leah Williamson.” You jab your finger into her chest teasingly. The defender tilts her head back with a laugh before leaning down and kissing your forehead.

Both of you lay there in comfortable silence, embracing each other’s warmth.

“Should we send it?”

“I will never say no to showing that dweeb what I can do to you and he can’t.”

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson smut #leah williamson #mason mount #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso smut #england #woso

1K notes · View notes

pelova4president · 2 months

Text

Lovey Dovey

Jill Roord x Doctor!Reader

summary~ Jill just had her ACL surgery and is still high on the anesthesia.

Jill wasn’t a fan of surgery’s, how could anyone be. She was nervous about this whole procedure. Tearing her ACL in her prime had done a number on her, not only physically but mentally too. But the surgery had to be done and she knew that.

You’ve been dating Jill for about a year now. You met through your mutual friend, Vivianne Miedema. The first few months were long distance, with you working in England and Jill in Germany. You hadn’t really seen eachother throughout the World Cup but kept in touch, texting her good morning and goodnight and recording voice notes. And sometimes you took in into yourself to make her a vlog about your day, she liked those most.

Driving was Jill’s thing, she enjoyed it and you loved that she loved it. You had certain tasks without really agreeing on them, they had just become your unassigned jobs in your relationship. Your girlfriend was a little sceptical, letting you drive in her still quite new car.

Jill had hidden the keys to her car and you were not having it. “Jill tell me where the fucking keys are.” you sighed, having searched for it everywhere by now. She simply shook her head with a childlike frown.

You simply had no other choice than to threaten her. “Jill you better tell me where they are or i won’t kiss you until you can play full football games again.”, now that got her attention. “That’s just mean, you can’t do that to me baby” the woman groaned sinking even further into the couch.

“Watch me.” you said, arms folded under eachother. “Fine, under the blue vase in the kitchen.” she finally admitted. You leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead to thank her.

Finding the keys you sigh, “Let’s go baby.”.

The drive to the hospital was rather chaotic, well it was for you. You had to watch the road in front of you and listen to your stubborn girlfriend telling you how to drive and how she thought this was just a horrible idea, she should’ve never ‘given’ you the keys.

It was a wonder Jill was still alive after that trip, she could’ve sworn she had atleast two heart attacks and went into multiple cardiac arrests. But luckily for her a docter was driving, well lucky to some extent.

You wheeled her into the big building, you knew her anxiety was spiking but you’ve talked her through the procedure multiple times. “Jilly, you’re gonna be okay. I’ll be with you, when you go to sleep and i’ll be there when you wake up.” you said, squeezing her shoulder to reassure her.

The Dutch Lioness had to change and got ready for her surgery. With a peck to the lips she let go. “I love you” she told you. “Love you too, you’re very brave Jilly.” you kissed before she fell into a deep slumber.

Waking up from the surgery you expected her to be a bit dazed out but she was more than that.

Stroking patterns on her arms you soothed her. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, a groggy groan caught your attention. “Hey, you’re with us again. I bet you’ve had some pretty weird dreams hmm?” you said getting her to look at you.

“Why’s the light so lightly?” her raspy voice sounded. Laughing at her sleepy state you answered, “Hospital lights are supposed to be like that baby.”

Jill was taken aback by that. “Why are you calling me baby? I’ve already got a liefje.” Jill frowned. You had to hold your laugh in at that.

“Jill look at me, i’m your liefje.” she finally fully opened her eyes and took a good look at you. Satisfied she hummed, “I’ve done really good. You’re very pretty and nice and pretty.” your girlfriend slurred, dragging the ‘really’ out. “Can you do a spin for me liefje? Pretty please.” she asked you sweetly.

Standing up you did a ballerina like twirl. “Good enough for you baby?” you asked her, hand on your hip. She approved your twirl and demanded a kiss. “I want a kiss now.” you walked towards her to give in but apparently you didn’t move fast enough and she started getting out of the hospital bed.

“Jill! Stay there, you’re not supposed to be on your feet already!” you yelled a bit annoyed. She probably couldn’t stand on her leg yet and definitely not now that she was still so dazy.

Quickly she let loose of the bed railing and laid back again. “Okay okay, but i need a kiss to make it better!” she was gonna be the death of you.

You got into bed with her and almost immediately she wrapped herself around you, kissing every bit of your face. “I” kiss “love” kiss “you” kiss “so so so so” kiss “much” she snuggled into you. “Jilly, i love you too” you giggled into the crook of her neck.

The two of you got to go home after a few hours but Jill was still a bit out of it. You tried to get her to sit in the passenger seat but she wouldn’t let go of you. “Jilly, you need to let go, i can’t drive us home like this.” you told her.

And even in het dazed state she caught on to the fact you were driving her car. “You don’t need to drive us home schatje. Uber and i’ll drive it home another day.” she negotiated with you.

“Oh shut up. You’re not gonna die, you baby.” you rolled your eyes at her. Jill placed her hand over her heart and acted like she just got stabbed in it. “Big baby.” you laughed.

Arriving home she still wouldn’t let you go. You had to carry her out of the car and placed her on the couch. “I’m gonna die if you won’t stay with me. You’re a doctor, don’t let me die, you signed to safe all the life’s you possibly can!” she yelled when you got up to make the two of you some tea.

“Stop saying that! You’re not gonna die.” you yelled from the kitchen. “You don’t know that until you find me dead on the couch in a few seconds.” you heard her mumble when you walked into the living room with two cups of hot tea in hand.

It was a hard day for her and you knew that so you kept her close. If you were all she needed you would be there. And after what must’ve been a tiring day for her she fell asleep next to you, holding your hand as tight as she could in her sleep.

y/n_y/l/n posted on their story

A/N i just realised that the anon might’ve meant that Jill and R met at the hospital but well.. too late now sorry

#jill roord x reader #jill roord #nedwnt #oranjeleeuwinnen #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #engwnt #man city women #leah williamson #arsenal wfc

394 notes · View notes

greynatomy · 5 months

Text

bigger than the whole sky

alessia russo x reader

based on this request.

been writing this for a while. my longest fic yet. i cried so much writing it.

thank you anon for the request, one of my favorites.

i also just reached 1k followers! thank you all for following and reading everything i’ve put out. i started writing for female celebrities then got into woso. i never knew people would read what i would put out, but i was wrong. i appreciate every single one of you who like, reblog, follow, or just read.

again, thank you! enjoy this angst!

———

In her twenty-four years on this earth, Alessia Russo can count every single event, party, or celebration she’s been to. Whether that be a birthday party, after party, or a simple get together. But the event she’s at right now is not something she ever saw herself attending for a very long time.

———

Walking to the field in her first day of practice at UNC. She didn’t know anyone and was a little shy, but you were the first person to introduce yourself to her.

During both of your time at UNC, you were inseparable. No one would see one of you without the other, so it was not shock at all when you got together a year after meeting.

~~~

“Hey! Alessia!” You get her attention, catching up to her.

“Hey, Y/n.”

“Uh, I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me tonight? Only if you’re up for it and aren’t busy.”

Alessia’s smile could not get any bigger.

“I would love to.” She kisses your cheek, walking away. “Text me the details.”

You stand frozen in your spot. You hand coming up to your face, fingers brushing where her lips touched.

A few hours later, you were standing outside of Alessia’s front door, flowers in hand. You go to raise your hand to knock, but it opens before you have a chance to.

“Woah.” You we’re speechless. Alessia was wearing a black dress, with a slit at the right leg and red bottom heels. You were in a simple black dress pants, white dress shirt with a couple buttons undone and dress shoes. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” She gives you her million dollar smile. “And you look very attractive.”

“Ready to go?”

“Yup. Let me just lock up.”

Opening the passenger door for her, she gets in, giving you a kiss on the cheek before you close it. You run to the driver side and get in. You put the car in drive and go on your way to your destination.

Alessia notices your fingers fiddling with the gear shift so she becomes very bold and grabs your hand to intertwine them, settling them in her lap.

The date went along perfectly. You talked about anything and everything, catching up on things that happened recently. Driving back home in a comfortable silence, smiles on both your faces.

You walk her to her front door, saying how you had a great time hoping to go on a second date and more after that, her agreeing. After a couple seconds of silence, you feel very confident and place your hands gently on her cheeks.

“May I?” You ask.

Alessia just nods, bringing her face closer to yours and closes the gap, lips molding together in a quick but passionate kiss. Pulling away she bites her bottom lip.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She kisses your cheek, hurrying into her door.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.” In a trance, you slowly walk back to your car with the biggest smile on your face, doing a happy dance not aware that Alessia was watching you through the window, laughing.

———

Walking around the living room, she can’t help but tear up. All the memories you made coming back to her. All that you accomplished together. She was glad to be able to play with you and start on your professional football careers together on the same team for Manchester United.

~~~

“I thought lesbians were supposed to be good at building and stuff.”

You and Alessia are in the process of moving into your new apartment in Manchester after being signed by United together.

“That’s very stereotypical of you Less.”

“I’m just saying.” She shrugs, biting back a smile.

“Would you like to help me then?”

“Nah. I think you’ve got it all figured out.”

~~~

“You’ll do great.”

“Same with you.”

~~~

“Making their debut today, Y/N Y/LN and Alessia Russo, an unstoppable duo from the University of North Carolina, subs into the game.”

~~~

“Another goal for Alessia Russo from the assist from Y/N Y/LN. The duo showing us exactly what they’re made of!”

~~~

Years later, you’ve both just signed a deal with Arsenal. The club not wanting to separate the dynamic duo the two of you became known for.

———

She makes it up to your shared bedroom, not having been since that day, opting to sleep in the guest room. Taking a deep breath, she twists the door knob, opening the door.

Everything was how it was left two weeks ago. Nothing being changed. Eyes scan the room, landing on your bedside table. A picture sat on top, one of Alessia’s favorites. Hands trembling, she delicately picks it up, thumb running over your face.

———

Walking along the water, footprints remain behind them on the sand. Hands intertwined, occasionally swinging between the two.

“You ready for tomorrow?” You ask softly, not wanting to disrupt the calm atmosphere.

“Nervous, but it’s the world cup final.”

“That’s to be expected then.”

“Come here. I wanna take a picture.”

Holding her arm out, phone in hand, you place your head next to hers into frame. She turns her head, placing a kiss on your cheek.

Later that night, she goes through the photos as you slept. Seeing as they were live photos, she watches them. She didn’t notice at the time, but after kissing your cheek, you look at her with the look all her friends told her about.

Like she hung all the stars in the sky.

———

Alessia felt numb. All of the emotions she could feel are bottled up inside her. She thought of the last moment she spent with you, still not able to wrap her head around it all.

———

You and Alessia make you way to the garage. You open the driver side door for her, letting her get in. You close the door, she rolls the window down. You lean down, resting your arms on the door, head sticking in the car.

“Now, you be careful getting to training. It’s our first one with the team.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“See you soon.”

She leans up giving you a kiss. When she pulls away, you hold the back of her head to pull her back in, kissing her a bit longer.

“Be careful. I love you.”

“I love you more. See you in a bit.”

She watched you put your helmet on, swinging a leg over your motorcycle, driving off, giving her a little wave.

Alessia arrives to training first, waiting for you at the car park. When you didn’t arrive in a couple minutes, she went ahead inside.

“Hey! Where’s your missus?”

———

The door opening snaps Alessia out of her trance. Looking up, she sees her parents and your mom. She wipes her tears hastily, sniffling a bit.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mum.”

The three parents look at each other, not knowing how to start. Alessia’s dad eventually sit next to her daughter on the bed.

“We need to tell you something.”

———

You knock on the front door, it quickly opening to reveal Alessia’s mom, Carol.

“Y/N! What a lovely surprise!”

“Hi, Carol.” You greet, returning her embrace. “Is Mario home? I need to talk to the both of you.”

She leads you through the house to where her husband was sitting on the couch.

“Hey, kid.”

“Sup, pops.”

“Y/N said she needs to talk to us.”

“Oh? What about?”

Taking a seat in between the married couple, you reach into your pants pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. You hear a gasp that came from Carol.

“Oh, honey.”

“I-I just wanted to let you know that I’m ready, been ready, to take the next step into my relationship with your daughter. Alessia is… she’s the love of my life and I hope you’d give me your blessing to do so.”

A strong hand finds itself on your shoulder, pulling you close.

“Kid. You’ve had our blessing since the day we met you.”

“There’s no one better for our Alessia than you.”

———

Your mom holds out her hand, a small velvet box sitting it it.

“She told me to hold onto it.”

Alessia let out a quiet sob, sliding off the bed, kneeling over onto the floor. Her mom follows, wrapping her arms around her daughter.

“She loved you so much.”

———

“Is this Alessia Russo?”

Alessia got a call minutes after walking into the locker room. An unknown number.

“This is she.”

“You are the emergency contact for Y/N Y/LN. How fast can you get to London Medical?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Alessia’s heart is racing, the unknowing of why she would be called as your emergency contact. She packs her things as quickly as possible, hands shaking.

“Woah. Where are you going? You just got here.” Katie questioned, seeing her stuffing her training bag.

“Uh, Y-Y/LN hos-hospital.” She stutters.

Katie realized how serious the situation is, grabbing her things for her.

“C’mon. I’ll drive. Which hospital?”

“Lon-London Med-Medical.”

“Okay. Get in the car.”

The two run towards Alessia’s car, giving her keys to Katie. After a twenty minute drive, they get to the hospital. Running to the emergency room, she goes straight to the nurse’s area.

“Y/N Y/LN. My-my girlfriend. I got a call.”

“Alessia Russo?” She nods. “I’m Kerry. I called you. If you can sit in the waiting room, I’ll have a doctor come out and talk to you.”

Not even a minute later, a man dressed in scrubs walk up to the two footballers.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Hill. This is Officer Randall. You’re here for Y/N YLN?”

“Yeah. What happened.”

“We got a call for a crash. Witnesses say it was head on. Driver was drunk and is in our custody.” The officer answers.

“What about my girlfriend? What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s in surgery right now, we’re trying to repair her broken leg, ribs, arm, but what we’re most worried about is her head. She was wearing a helmet, which is good, but with how the driver hit her, we’re unsure how she’d heal. We’ll let you know more when we’re done. Now if you’d excuse me.” With that, the doctor heads back through the double doors.

———

“Earlier this month, Arsenal signed women football’s dynamic duo, Alessia Russo and Y/N Y/LN. We’ve seen what they’ve done at the University of North Carolina, Manchester United and we’ve been excited to see what they could bring here at Emirates Stadium.

Two weeks ago, Y/LN was struck by a drunk driver and unfortunately passed away. Let’s all take a moment of silence.”

Alessia is trying hard not to break down in front of everyone. She’s done that plenty enough.

“To the families of Y/N, we are with you. Alessia Russo, we stand by you. Y/N Y/LN. You are loved. You are missed. Rest easy.”

———

It’s been four days since the accident. There’s been no change in your overall health and brain activity. Doctors have told Alessia that there’s a low chance of you ever waking up.

“Ms. Russo.” Doctor Hill knocks on the door. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah?”

“We’ve gone through her file and you make all of Y/N’s medical decisions now. When we need to do something, you’re the one to make the decision.”

“What about her mom? I thought that only if you’re married, you’re the next in line or something?”

“She listed you as her power of attorney. She trusts that you make the choice for her. Ones that she can’t.”

“What do I do now? Is there still a chance for her?”

The look on the doctor’s face says otherwise.

~~~

After talking to your mom, her parents, she’s now back in your hospital room. She never thought she’d see you like this, lifeless on a bed, wrapped in bandages, wires poking and prodding all over.

“Hey, baby.” She sniffles. “Um. It’s been a few days since you’ve been here. Uh, it’s really all up to you now.” She grabs your hand, mindful of the wires and needles. “If-uh-if you feel like you can’t go on, I pro-I promise you that I’ll be fine. I can look after your mum.”

Alessia gets up from her seat, walking to the corner, bottom lip trembling, holding in a cry. Holding herself together, she goes back to where you lay.

“I don’t want you to fight for me anymore, to-to suffer and longer. If…if you need to let go, you can. Just know that I love you. As much as I want you to wake up, and see what we could’ve been, what should’ve been, I-I let you go.”

She watches your chest rise up and down, the movement slowing down. The beeping from the monitor slows, ending in a long beep. Flatline.

You were gone.

Nurses rush into the room to try and revive you, but Alessia waves them off, not wanting you to go through anymore difficulty. She let you pass peacefully.

———

“A hat trick for Alessia Russo on her Arsenal debut! What a player!”

Alessia couldn’t hold it in anymore. She collapses onto the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her teammates surround her, Lotte gets to her first, embracing her in a tight hug. Lotte had become your best friend at UNC, so it was difficult for her too.

With Arsenal winning the game, Lotte and Alessia were asked to do a postgame interview.

“We’re now here with Alessia Russo and Lotte Wubben-Moy. What an amazing performance from the both of you. Alessia a hat trick and Lotte who assisted them all. What was going through your head?”

“Uh, well, it’s the first game of the season and there was supposed to be one more here from the UNC squad, but unfortunately she isn’t. I played for her. Y/N is-was my best friend.”

“Alessia?”

“Uh, yeah. We all started our football journey together back at UNC and supposed to be back together again, the three of us, so I just played for her. She always believed in me and was by my side, following to all the way to Manchester and now to London. So I-uh-the whole team really just played for Y/N.”

———

Walking down the path, flowers in hand, Alessia stops in front of headstone. She takes the old flowers out of the built in pot and replaces them with the new.

She takes a blanket out of her bag and lays it out in front, sitting on it. She reads the stone, for what felt like a hundred times.

Y/N Y/LN

Daughter • Footballer • Wife

you are bigger than the whole sky

Even though the two of you never got married, your mom and Alessia decided to call you a ‘wife’. It just wasn’t official on paper and it would’ve happened anyway. She now wears the ring you never got to give her on a chain hung around her neck, to keep you close to her heart.

“Hey, baby. Uh, played my first game as a Gunner. Scored a hat trick just for you. Pretty sure you were watching down on me, helping me get those goals in.” She wipes a fallen tear. “Wished you would’ve been down at the pitch with me, but, uh, yeah. I don't know what else to say. You’re usually saying something back. I’ll see you again soon.” She kisses her fingers and placing them overtop of your name. “Ti amo amore mio.”

At twenty-four, she didn’t think she’d have to say goodbye, but here she was, walking out of the cemetery, leaving you behind.

#woso x reader #greynatomy #woso #woso imagines #woso imagine #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #greynatomy 1k #alessia russo angst #engwnt x reader #woso fanfics #engwnt

555 notes · View notes

abibliophobiaa · 6 months

Text

right where you left me;

chapter two: can i be close to you?

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut in later chapters; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series (11k words).

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist | previous chapter

——

Those first few days pass in a blur.

You wake, often in Steve’s arms, your bodies coming together like moths to a flame. Like magnets. Neither of you says anything on the matter, merely brushing it off as the typical nature of your friendship.

He readies for the day, you watch him dress and go, and you take it upon yourself to clean up around the cabin in the woods. It’s odd, being that it’s the first time in a few years you have responsibilities like this. If you can call them that. Really, you only want to feel like you’re contributing something to the place you’re currently staying at.

Steve’s been kind enough to uproot his life for you, so it’s the least you can do. And when he comes home later in the evening, he cooks and you sit on the kitchen countertops, talking to him about his day. Soaking up the fact you can spend all this time with him now, without the societal pressures, parties, and social events to weigh you down.

About a week in you decide you want to contribute something. A fact which Steve laughs at, reminding you, “If you’ve forgotten, I want you here. Don’t feel like you need to do that.”

Both of you walk side by side on the sidewalk, him in a sweater and jeans, and you in a pair of newly purchased jeans and a dark knitted sweater. Wind prickles against your cheeks, the puffer vest you’re wearing doing very little to block out the cold. Leaves crunch as you walk, dancing along the streets as people pass on by, kicking them up as they go.

The Hideout comes into view, dim lighting highlighting the ‘Now Hiring’ posted hanging in one of the windows. “It’s like the universe is sending me a sign!” You giggle brightly, hand wrapping around Steve’s wrist like a bracelet, dragging him into the restaurant behind you.

It’s different than you remember. Still that darker interior — all wooden floors, wooden bar, wooden walls. Against the side wall is a sprawling bar top, with steel stools full of patrons sipping on drinks. There are some bent low in conversation, others looking like they’re on first dates, all blushing cheeks and bashful smiles. Others are cheering, wearing jerseys of whatever team they support, likely coming home from a football game.

The dining area is different than you remember too. Wooden chairs around wooden tables, beautiful lighting hanging from above, the room cast in an ethereal glow. From where you're standing you can see families and couples, friend groups and bachelorette celebrations occupying the spaces. Smiling servers and wait staff weave in and out of the aisles, before your gaze swivels to the hostess at the front booth, asking how many in your party.

“Two, please!” you say, leaning into Steve’s shoulder excitedly, giving his hand a squeeze as the woman leads you toward a table near the back of the restaurant, your mind still whirling a bit at how successful Eddie’s place has become. Once seated, you whisper, “This restaurant is insane. Can’t believe this is the same bar.”

Steve nods. “He really did a great job with the place —”

“Says the guy who put together a good chunk of the furniture here,” Eddie teases, placing menus on the table in front of you both. “Fancy seeing you two here. Thought you’d still be holed up in the love shack. Rob's going crazy.”

“I could only take off a few days for the wedding,” Steve reminds him, shoving the older man lightly. “We’re seeing her tomorrow, if you must know.”

“Good, because she’s been parked on my couch the past few nights and Abi and I haven’t had any alone time,” Eddie says with a grumble, but you know there’s no malice there. “Get whatever you want — it’s on the house. My ‘welcome back to Hawkins treat.’”

Eddie moves to leave, but you stop him with a hasty, “The door. It says you’re hiring.”

The man in question turns back around, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes travel up and down your form, a question burgeoning in his gaze, “Yeah, I’m in need of waitresses for the busy season. You keep your tips. Why? Do you need a job?”

You swallow. “I don’t want to mooch off of Steve the whole time I’m here. And I don’t really know what I want to do long term, but I figure I need money to do anything. So…yeah?”

“Then you’re hired.”

Steve grins, but you shake your head. “No, no. I don’t want you to just give me a job. I want an interview, just like anyone else.”

“Okay…” Eddie glances Steve’s way briefly. His best friend only shrugs. “Do you have any customer service experience?”

“I worked at a clothing store in Starcourt?” Before it burned down, obviously.

“How long was that for?” Eddie asks, pulling out a free chair and settling in front of you.

“Few months,” you tell him, and then blurt out, “I also babysat for the Sinclair’s for a bit!”

“You babysat the younger Sinclair?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little quieter this time, not quite sure what he’s getting at.

Erica had been nothing but lovely to you in all the time you babysat her; if not quite a bit sarcastic and oftentimes blunt, but given you’ve spent years in the company of Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson, it was never anything you couldn’t handle.

“And survived?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods rapidly. “She —”

“Quiet, she’s interviewing.” Eddie raises a hand to silence Steve.

“I…survived…” Your words are quiet, and Eddie leans backward against the frame of the chair, contemplative.

“Abi makes the schedule on Sunday usually.” Tomorrow, then. “I’ll ask her to put you on for Monday, and then we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

You swallow, a little miffed, brows knit high on your forehead. “That’s…that’s great. Yeah. Monday is good.”

He claps you on the shoulder and ruffles Steve’s hair, grinning at a server that passes by as he shoves his chair back into place with a loud screech against wooden floors. And then he’s off, leaving you to stare across the table at Steve, trying to hide the smile that creeps along your lips at the realization of what just happened seconds ago.

“So…” Steve takes a sip of his drink, grinning ruefully, “that happened. How are you feeling? First job in a few years, yeah?”

“I…I have a job.” Steve bursts out laughing as you nearly topple over the table in pursuit of wrapping your arms around his next. “I have a job!”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he chuckles, sliding a hand over the small of your back, grinning into your cheek. “I'm so proud of you. Think we should order a bottle of wine and celebrate a bit?”

That’s exactly what you end up doing.

——

In the mornings, you and Steve share coffee and breakfast. You’ll take turns cooking. Some days he’ll wake you with coffee in bed, Garfield lounging across your thighs. Others, he’ll stumble into the kitchen, eyes bleary and in search of the coffee pot, while chocolate pancakes cook on the stove.

Those mornings are your favorites, because you’ll often hear him murmuring to himself how much he loves you — and you try to deflect that feeling that crawls up from deep within you, the part of you that craves for him to mean it in the sense that he’s in love with you.

Later, he parts for work and you ready yourself for shifts at Eddie’s restaurant. Which is a learning curve, to say the least. Abi, Eddie’s soon-to-be wife, only laughs as you drop another plate filled with water cups in the back, landing on your butt in the process. A huff pours out of you, just as some of the cooks grin your way, offering condolences for your likely bruised tailbone, and Eddie’s head pops into view, all the dark curls that resist staying put in an elastic spilling around his face. He’s grinning but you’re frustrated, on day seven of utterly making a mess of things.

“It’s really not that bad,” Abi reassures you later that afternoon, your apron draped over your shoulder, punched out for the day. There’s a glass of wine in front of you, but you haven’t really had any of it. “It takes time. You’ll get it.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard.”

And yet it is. For years you’ve lived a life of luxury, shuttered away from society. Work was some lofty idea, left behind after you fled Hawkins. You want to pick up on things, want to be good at them, to make Steve proud. Yet you still struggle, still find yourself doubting your capabilities, wondering what it is Eddie saw in you when he hired you.

That night, Steve and you sit around the coffee table in his living room. You’re wearing a pair of cozy sweatpants and an equally comfortable hoodie and he’s there in that yellow sweater of his you told him to never get rid of. The one that has some holes in it now around the edges, but looks great on him all the same. A puzzle rests on the table in front of you both, the pieces scattered all around the wooden surface. Garfield snoozes on Steve’s lap, curled up onto a tight ball, his purring mixing with the crackling of the burning fire mere feet away.

“I’m proud of you,” Steve says, sipping at the beer on a coaster in front of him. The label is long scratched off, condensation dribbling down in little rivulets against the glass. Confusion pricking, your head tips to the side. “Eddie says you’re doing well at the Hideout.”

“He’s lying to you,” you deadpan, pushing another edge piece into place. “I’m struggling. But Abi says it just takes time. It’s definitely not like working at my old clothing store over at Starcourt.”

An edge of darkness flitters across Steve’s features at the mere mention. It shudders and ripples in the spaces between the two of you. Neither really talks about it all that much, especially now that he and you both had been in extensive therapy for it. And even then, the remembrance stings a bit. The reminder of what that day meant for your friend group. Hadn't then at all really to your detriments, when everything happened as it had. Instead you’d both pushed it away and hopped into Steve’s car some days later, with nothing but a map and some money pooled between the two of you.

But it had been enough. It had been everything. The road. The warmth of summer. The escape. The boy.

Steve’s not a boy now. Hasn’t been for a while, you realize, sitting there and peering into those hazel eyes that almost look like molten honey when the fire dances within their swirling depths. Your fingers reach over and twine with his. Just as they have countless other times, just as they always do. Seeking him. Craving the nearness of him. Comforting him, but also yourself.

A cheek of his twitches. Curls a bit with the softest of smiles. Steve Harrington’s smiles are your favorite. Have always been. They’re the kind that a picture can’t capture, an artist can’t form the likeness of. The only way to contain them is to see them, to bottle them up, to store them away in your heart. Sometimes, when you were younger, you imagined they were special. Meant only for you.

Still do now, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Nothing is quite like working at Starcourt,” he teases, diverting to humor. You wince a bit at it, fingers around his twitching lightly. “Not everyday someone gets possessed, and you get abducted by Russians, huh? Bet the Hideout will feel like a walk in the park soon in comparison.”

“I hope so,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else. “I just don’t want to sit around while I’m staying here. Maybe I’ll…start saving up for my own place? For the time being, at least.”

“Or you could just stay here,” Steve says evenly, free hand stroking over Garfield’s fuzzy head, “I did say you could stay as long as you like. I didn’t just say that to say it. I like having you here. It feels…normal. It feels good. Really good.”

There’s a little rasp to his voice. A brokenness that clings to the edges of his speech. Your fingers tighten further, crawling up onto your knees to settle down at his side, shoulder bumping his as you reach over to place another puzzle piece down in the proper position. He leans his head against your shoulder, forehead shaking back and forth against the fabric of your clothing, and you just know he’s smiling without even seeing his face.

“Okay, okay. But the moment you get sick of me I’m giving you permission to kick me out —”

“Won’t happen,” he assures you, chuckling a bit.

“How can you be so sure?”

“For one, I’ve known you for years already. You clean up after yourself. You’re crazy loud, but we match each other in that, so it’s fine. You’re not bad to share a bed with — although you go all starfish on me in your sleep —”

“I do not!” you exclaim shrilly, cheeks burning up at the notion.

“You do,” he laughs, dragging you closer to him with an arm around your shoulders, “woke up with your drool on my chest the other day.”

“Yeah, because you’re a human furnace!”

“Doesn’t seem like you mind, seeing as you end up on top of m —” He pauses, the puzzle piece you playfully threw at him bouncing off of his cheek and onto the floor with a clatter. Garfield scampers off to eat, likely rolling his eyes at your antics as he goes, the sound of his collar bell jingling drowning out the silence in the room. “You just threw a puzzle piece at me.”

“I did just throw a puzzle piece at you,” you repeat slowly, bursting out into loud, shrieking laughter as Steve rolls you over onto the blankets scattered beneath him on the floor, body caging yours in place.

His fingers twitch along your sides, your body writhing and rolling beneath him, a frantic jostle of your stomach that has his face crashing into your shoulder, his smile warm against the skin of your collarbone.

You’re children again, you think, as your fingers slip under his sweater and pinch at his sides, earning a loud howl from the man. “Geez, not the pinchy fingers.”

“Mercy?”

“Mercy,” he pleads, his fingers pinning your hands at your sides, chest rising and falling rapidly in a direct mirror to your own.

“You look different from this angle.”

As in, your blood heats with it. Heart clangs at the proximity of your hips in relation to his. The way your mind itches and races to know what he’d feel like if he lowered himself a bit, the cradle of your thighs a home to him. He’s breathing heavy, his laughter joyful on your ears, eyes dark as they clash with yours.

“Different how?”

“Not a bad ‘different.’”

Not at all. He looks older now — is older now. His clothes fit differently now. He’s always been fit from basketball and baseball throughout the years. But he fills out his shirts and sweaters differently now. His chest broader, the stitching on his sweater hugging his biceps as they ripple around you — as you’ve seen them in the days since you’ve come back to Hawkins. Working as a carpenter seems to have had its benefits, and you try to not dwell on the fact you’re reaping them now.

His hazel eyes slide over your form searchingly. His chest still rising and falling as your fingers pinch in the yellow sleeve of his sweater, pulling at a thread that spills free from a stitched seam. The sudden shift of your form has your back flaring, right in the middle of your shoulder blades, a wince crossing your features before you can mask it. Worriedly, Steve rolls over onto his side, asking, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

No. Never. “No. Just…not used to carrying as much as I have the past few days, it seems. Pretty sad, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes at your self-deprecating remark. Sits up against the couch so his back is against it and pats the ground between his thighs. “Come here.”

“What…?”

“Come here,” he repeats, a little impatiently.

You return his eye roll with one of your own, clambering up and off the ground and into the space between his thighs. There’s little time to worry about the proximity of your spine to the muscular wall of his chest before his fingers are pressing into the curves of your shoulders, rubbing at the tensely corded muscles there.

It’s easy to relax like this. Can’t really think of a time when you last felt so relaxed. Usually you’re under the judgemental stares of dozens of eyes. Those who think they know you, understand you, and yet don’t. Defined by a name you had no name of being born to. It was only by circumstance. But you’ve always felt like yourself around Steve. No need to put on airs, to hold yourself to a certain standard, to lift your head a certain way or say all the right things.

He’s only ever wanted the fullest version of yourself. Probably has been one of the only people to ever understand you in the way you wished others did as well. For years you wondered if people knew you, really knew you, they wouldn’t like what they saw. But sitting here, in this cabin, with this man? You realize you don’t even care. Throw away the rest of the world, and leave Steve behind, and you’d have everything you ever wanted.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, thumb swiping along the top of your spine, right at the dip below your skull, before swiping in an arch along each curve of your shoulders. “I’ll stop if it does.”

“N-no,” you sigh, languid against his frame. “Although, I’m feeling mildly jealous of all those who may have benefited from a massage by Steve Harrington.”

A chuckle rumbles against your back. “Only you, really. In case you forgot, Eddie got me a cat to keep me company.”

A part of you, a very selfish part, rejoices inwardly over his confession. A little victory dance, sending giddy sparks throughout your bloodstream. That giddiness burns molten as Steve pushes the neck of your oversized hoodie down a bit, fingers wrapping around the fullness of your shoulder, tips of them dipping below your collarbone.

It’s a not at all sensual touch — and yet it has heat pooling between your thighs, has you biting back a quiet moan that inches up your throat, reminding you of the mere fact that it’s been a couple of years since being with anyone sexually coupled with the fact you’ve spent the past few days pressed up against the only one you’ve ever been in love with at night.

That’s all it is. The only thing that has you melting further against him, humming pleasantly as elusive sleep tugs you closer and closer into its comforting embrace. After a while, you’re not sure how long really, Steve’s arms start to slide around your waist, his chin against your shoulder, the sound of his comforting breathing a welcoming metronome against your ear. Your fingers reach up and slide into the holes of his sweater, brushing along the dark hairs you know line his forearms, lulling you and him into further rest. To anyone else, you know what the scene looks like: two people, intimately knowing one another, cuddling. Broken away from the rest of the world and into one of their own. To you, you know it’s another normal afternoon with the man.

And yet, your eyes lock with the dying embers crackling in the fireplace, wondering if it could ever be different. If only one of you were brave enough to broach the conversation, to see if the feelings are reciprocated, if now is finally the time to take a chance. A leap. To dare to dream a little. A silly, childhood dream that seems so insurmountable. Still, you crave it more than anything else.

You breathe in deeply, Steve’s arms tightening around your waist. His heavy, rhythmic breathing lets you know he’s fallen asleep now. Your fingers stroke along his arm again, a comfort to him but also you, and you finally close your eyes.

You rest, that question in your mind dying with the firelight.

——

“Monster Mash” blares from a speaker somewhere in the distance. Drowns out the chatter of those downstairs as you put on the finishing touches of yours, El’s and Max’s Halloween costume.

“Wednesday Addams again?” Max muses, pointing to the costume you managed to put together in a couple of hours, not knowing until the last minute you were going to a party to begin with. You’d also been Wednesday the last time you’d been living in Hawkins for the holiday.

You’re presently smudging red lines near the bottom of her jaw, adding little droplets of blood when and where needed. El is beside her, looking very much like a mummy.

“Hey?” Steve appears in the doorway. The hottest Danny Zuko you’d ever seen. You’d never admit that, though. “I don’t mean to interrupt but, uh —”

“Just finishing up,” you tell him softly, smiling appreciatively at the way his eyes roam your form swathed in black, “we’ll be down in a minute.”

Steve smiles and jogs down the stairs, leaving you standing in the bathroom once more with the girls, chewing on your bottom lip and likely smudging the dark lipstick you’d slapped on.

“I guess some things never change,” Max adds, beaming mischievously when your fingers stutter over her jaw, “still pining over Harrington.”

“I do not pine!”

“You pine,” Max giggles, blue eyes sparkling in her mirth as they glances to El for support, “She pines, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” El mutters, a bit more shyly than her best friend, “you pine.”

“Well I didn’t take Max Mayfield and El Hopper to be gossips,” you snark, dabbing a little red lipstick on Max’s pouty lips, voice taking on a higher pitch.

“It’s been, what? Almost ten years of you pining after him?” Max wiggles her shoulders, smirking when you glare at her.

“You were practically an infant then,” you balk, cheeks burning along with your chest, “not even in Hawkins.”

“Yeah…but…” El begins, tucking a hair behind her ears, “it’s kind of…obvious?”

“You two are lucky you’re my favorites of the children.” Though now, with them graduating this year, it feels weird to call them that.

“He pines too,” Max adds. “Right?”

El grins. “Definitely.”

“Is that so…?” You grin, a little rueful, hope blooming in your chest. “Tell me m —”

“Well look at this little band of creepy folk,” Argyle drawls from the doorway, shiny hair falling down around him in a halo, his Michael Myers mask dangling from his hand. “Don’t wanna interrupt this little gathering, but you know…”

——

As the Halloween buzz dies down around work and town, the frigid streets become full of the changing seasons. Leaves fall everywhere you go. Bursts of orange, yellow, red and gold swirl around busy side streets, packed with those investigating local farmer’s markets and slipping in and out of family owned businesses to purchase gifts to get ahead of the holiday season.

The Hideout becomes busier in those weeks. Countless patrons fill your stations, back screaming and head spinning by the time you end your shifts. That day in particular, you stand behind the bar with Abi, chugging down a glass of water she poured you before stripping your apron from around your hips.

“Did well in tips, it looks like,” she points out, gesturing to the wad of cash you promptly stuff into the pocket of your jeans. “Told you you’d get better.”

It also helps that you had multiple larger parties that evening, all of which were more than happy to pay a little extra once they’d gotten a second and third round of beer in them. Though you didn’t really appreciate the way one in particular had slipped his phone number, writing ‘for a good time call.’ You’d chucked that into the garbage with a huff, making sure to toss a wide grin over your shoulder as they later slipped out of the restaurant and he waggled his fingers near his ear in the shape of a telephone, as though you were going to run home and reach out.

“I told Steve I was going to make us dinner since he’s working late on a job, so I’m going to head out.” You huff out a breath, staring up at the clock that reads seven. “Though I think I’m going to need to grab caffeine. I don’t think I sat down once today.”

“Get out of here!” Eddie shouts, sneaking over to loop an arm around Abi’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. Something like longing bubbles up in your stomach at the sight, the craving for what they have simmering with it. “Or else you’re fired. You’ve worked late every day this week. If you get sick, that’s on you.”

“Fine!” Your hands wave in front of you in defeat, waving to the two of them as you slip out the front doors of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

At this time of evening, those wandering the streets are quieter. Bags full of goodies from their excursions. You tug your jacket tighter to yourself as you slip on by, waving to those who have started to become normal faces once more over the weeks in Hawkins. They wave back, grinning like they used to. Greeting you like you hadn’t been gone for three years.

It's strange to think of being gone now.

Strange to think of leaving again.

You find you don’t want to leave again.

And fortunately, no one from home has tried to make an effort to bring you back to the city kicking and screaming. Part of that is by design — leaving no way for them to contact you in the first place. No one knows you’re staying with Steve. No one really even knows where Steve is these days, given he’s not been in contact with his family since they left in 1986 as it is.

You want to keep it that way.

Smiling to yourself, you slip in through the front door of Hawkin’s Brew, a little family run coffee shop that sits a few doors down from your job, smelling like cinnamon and spices, and the freshly brewed coffee you can see percolating over the countertop.

A new barista lifts her head up over the counter. All wavy blonde hair that reminds you of a mermaid and sparkling green eyes around a pair of thick lashes anyone would die for. Gorgeous, she’s absolutely gorgeous and you definitely would have remembered her face if she’d been there before.

“Hiya!” she greets, beaming widely, revealing a glowing set of white teeth that flash in your vision. “You look confused. My mom, Mary Jo, is usually here with my dad. But mom wasn’t feeling well, and I’d finished up at the preschool, so I’m here to help. I don’t think I’ve seen you around. I’m Lucy!”

You offer your name and a soft ‘hi,’ still a little startled by the exuberant greeting. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Sorry to hear about Mary Jo. I hope she starts to feel better soon.”

Lucy leans her elbow against the counter, and you can’t help but admire the cream colored chunky knit sweater she’s wearing with a flowing skirt to finish off the look. It looks effortless on her.

“What can I get you today?”

“A hot coffee, cream two sugars please,” you tell her, and she gets to work behind the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Steve’s truck he uses for work, the back full of leftover lumber.

“Oh, Steve’s here?” Lucy says, sounding a little faraway. Contrast to the ball of excitement she’s been since you walked in. “You know, he’s a confusing one, that guy.”

“Is he?” You laugh, watching as he rummages around his front passenger seat.

“Ever since the earthquake, he’s been giving up so much of himself. Charity, taking up the basketball team at the high school, helping out around town. Did you know he helped my parents build a shed last summer? By hand?” Her voice trails off, and that smile of hers grows once more, like she’s stuck in a far off memory. “And he’s handsome. Single. Yet he doesn’t date. Not really. It’s so…strange? But whoever he marries — they’re gonna be a lucky one.”

“Yeah…” Your brows furrow at her words.

Steve, your Steve, is something of a hero to these people. He’s your hero too, but it twinges in your chest hearing it from someone else. For so long he’d been yours, but now, it seems, he’s needed around here. Admired. Loved. And you’ve missed so much of it in running away. Time you’ll never get back.

He’s changed. You just never realized how much. An ache builds in your heart, wondering if maybe you’re too different now from who you both were years ago.

The man in question hops out of the vehicle, fingers carding through his hair as he gazes into the coffee shop, immediately lighting up when he sees you.

“Do you know him?” Lucy asks, voice raising in pitch as she hands you your coffee and you toss your bills onto the counter.

“Yeah,” you say, sipping at the coffee, “he’s been my best friend for years. I’m staying with him for the time being, actually.”

“Oh!” Lucy perks up, chewing her bottom lip. “So you’re the one he’s so —”

As your mouth opens to ask what Lucy means, Steve walks in. He immediately commands the attention of the shop, both yours and Lucy’s stares drawn to him as he slides an arm around your waist and tugs you against his side, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I was going to grab you some coffee,” he says, fingers squeezing a bit at your side. He notices Lucy then. “Hey, Luce.”

Luce.

Familiar.

Jealousy burns. You try to tamper it down, to pretend the unspoken words between them don’t matter to you. But there are a thousand new questions that burn in your mind, with no words or standing to ask them.

Lucy waves in greeting, those pretty green eyes of hers glimmering in the moonlight spilling in through the front windows of the shop. “Always good to see you, Steve.”

“You too,” he agrees, head lowering closer to yours as he then asks, “Ready to head out?”

He’s leading you to the door, and you spare a glance over your shoulder to the woman you’ve just met moments ago. There’s a look you can’t quite place on her features, a furrow of her brows, a slight downturn to her softly parted lips.

You wave your goodbye, and try to push all of whatever that might have been into the depths of your mind.

——

Steve tosses and turns behind you. A fitful rest that has you rolling over onto your side, fingers brushing along the clenched planes of his cheeks. You can practically hear his molars smashing against one another, can feel the rapid thump of his heart in his chest as your fingers splay against his sternum.

At the touch, his face softens in the slightest. A low moan pours from him, a whine of ‘no, don’t’ cleaving your heart right down the middle.

“Steve?” It’s a whisper. A plea for him to come back to you in the waking world. He reaches out in his sleep and clutches at your tee shirt, clutching the fabric tight. Another whine. A whimper of a cry. “Steve, I’m here. I’m here.”

Sweat pools along his skin, despite the chill in the air. The tips of your fingers press to his forehead, running along the wrinkles forming high up on the skin there. His name is a whisper over and over again on your lips, a soft beckoning into wherever his dreams have taken him — a tether for him to grip onto, if only so you can reel him back in.

You’re no stranger to nightmares. They plague you, too. Dark, weaving things that sneak into your mind at night, tendrils clinging to the innermost workings of your mind. That day at the mall, watching as that monster loomed, dark and imposing in a colorful explosion of light. Billy, being ripped into over and over again. The spray of black blood, the cries of Max. The moments that came after, where Steve practically demanded an EMT to look over your ribs, despite the fact there was nothing one could do if they were broken anyway. And then there had been those images on the news — of classmates fallen to Vecna. Memories of the splintered down, the gaping holes in the earth, the spaces where many had disappeared into. Endless faces of the lost, declared dead or missing.

So much turmoil. More than some kids and teenagers were ever meant to see in a lifetime.

“Let go!” Steve shouts into the night, rolling over again so his back faces you.

“Steve,” you whisper, running a hand along his spine, “it’s me. Come back to me. I’m here.”

He rolls over again and his eyes open, locking on your features. Broad palms come up to cup your face, forehead descending upon yours. He mutters your name a little brokenly, moving to press his head into the space beneath your chin, arms looping low around your waist.

“I’m here, Steve,” you remind him.

There for one another, as you’ve always been.

In a world where people come and go, where you can’t rely on anyone, he is your rock and you are his.

“Shhh.” Your fingers thread into his hair, smoothing the messiness left in the wake of his endless tossing and turning. His breathing tapers off. Slows. Starts to deepen. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

But you fear the day he may no longer need you.

——

Steve’s…liked by most. Sought after. Desired. He’s popular, in a way that you’ll never be. With his friends, with his teachers, with women. Though he was your first kiss, you’re not even delusional enough to believe he’s only saving his lips for you.

He doesn’t do relationships often. He goes on dates and you watch him from afar. Can see the glow of his bedroom window, the hurt that burns like a knife when he sneaks a girl in while his parents are gone. Your curtains always shut when they kiss, when things start to feel like a betrayal to the foolish unrequited feelings you harbor.

It becomes a thing. Wishing and wanting your best friend as he loves everyone else around you.

Luckily, they’re always short dalliances. Flings. Dates that lead nowhere. And even though it hurts, there’s some comfort in the fact these things never last long.

That is, until Nancy Wheeler steps in. And you make yourself scarce. She’s smart and lovely and beautiful. She’s everything you could ever want for Steve — and she’s not you.

Just like everyone else he sneaks into his bedroom.

Because why would Steve Harrington ever look your way like he does theirs?

And therein lies the problem.

——

A month. You’ve been in town nearly a month and things are more or less exactly as they’ve always been. Platonic and full of yearning. At least, on his part. He’s not quite sure what to make of your feelings lately — and he’s never been one to push the envelope with you.

He needs a sign. A sign from up above or something just to show him that all his efforts have not been in vain.

It comes that afternoon. Sweat pools along his chest and stomach. Along his back as it ripples with each swing of the ax, splitting piece of wood after piece of wood. The plaid shirt he wears is long unbuttoned, stomach fully on display as he pauses a moment to reach down and sip some of his water set on a wooden stool nearby.

Thwack.

He’s so caught up in the monotony of the task, the methodical way he swings down and splits the wood, that he fails to hear your arrival. Only notices your form out of the corner of his eye, hiding behind a tree.

Or, at least, it looks like you think you’re hidden.

He can see the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers covering your heart, like you’re terrified he’ll hear it. The boots on your feet are pinched tight together, likely having stopped abruptly once you noticed you could potentially be caught.

And there’s that bottom lip of yours, tucked between your teeth. Biting back any noises that might slip out.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes trail along his abdomen. How they linger on the newer muscles there, hewn by countless hours spent working as a carpenter. You look downright guilty — like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

He adores it.

“I don’t mind if I have an audience, you know?” He muses, grin growing wider as you stumble a bit in the leafy pile at your feet.

His amusement grows as you tilt your head up to the sky, as if searching for something. Unfortunately for you, it’s a cloudy day, and there is nothing to see up above other than an endless gray sea.

“Steve…” you warn, still not meeting his eyes.

You’ve always been endearing. Sweet, in a way he finds adorable. And this sudden shyness when you’re typically so sure? It reminds him of those moments when he first kissed you, all those years ago. Your heart was like a hummingbird’s wings against his chest that evening, fingers trembling against him, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“Here,” he chuckles, walking over to curl a hand around your wrist and putting you out of your misery. He walks you over to where he’s splitting wood, “wanna try?”

“I mean, sure. How hard could it be?” you tease, back stiffening as he slips in behind you, sweat-slicked skin pressing against the curve of your spine before relaxing into him.

He’s already placed a new log on the block, the rest of his split pieces lying on a rack near the side of his home. Wide palms come to wrap around your hands, sliding them into place on the handle of the ax. One near the top for grip, another near the bottom for powering through the stroke. “Grip it nice and tight. Both hands.”

“Okay, like this?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him, and his breath immediately hitches. Throat cleaning, he gives your shoulder a quick squeeze and steps back a little.

“Spread your legs a little. Shoulder width apart. Yeah — just like that.”

You’re a little sheepish as he steps over to the side, trying to put enough distance between you and him to feel safe enough. A cold breath puffs out of his lungs, the cloud billowing in the air before him as you glance down at where your hands are firmly grasping the handle, deep breaths to center yourself echoing in the forest.

“Now you’re going to pick a point on the wood and focus on it, raise the ax and strike through, focusing on that spot.”

“Sounds easy enough,” you nervously murmur, doing exactly as he instructed, the ax rising above your head.

As you swing downward, the ax wedges into the wood, and you stumble to the ground, kicking up leaves as your bottom slams against the forest floor. Steve stumbles forward to check if you’re okay, but when your sides start trembling with uncontrollable laughter, his face breaks out into a grin.

He loves you, and he aches with it. More — now that you’re living with him.

“Guess you don’t want me helping you on any jobs, huh?”

A couple days later, however, you do exactly that.

Mr. Gerry Jones is an older man in town, and in desperate need of a new paint job for his living room before he tries to sell his home. Steve agreed to help weeks ago, and when his partner comes down with the flu, decides to ask you if you want to come along. He finds you laying on the couch that morning with a book, and he hardly expects you to say yes with the amount of hours you’ve been working at the Hideout, but you quickly jump to attention with a nearly shouted ‘yes.’

Now you sit beside him on the floor, admiring the freshly painted wall, taking a moment to breathe before starting the next one. You’re wearing a pair of overalls, a ratty old tee shirt tied up beneath, revealing the curve of your side, a patch of skin that Steve’s been trying to not stare at for the past few hours.

His heart clenches as your head tips over your shoulder, a little splatter of olive colored paint across your cheek. Reaching out, he cups your cheek and wipes it away, warming as you lean a bit into his touch.

Neither of you dares to acknowledge the tension burning in the room. The way it feels like time seems to slow to a halt when you’re there, shuffling up onto your feet, moving over to the next wall. Steve only talks. Begins prattling on about anything and everything, trying to keep himself distracted from the feeling swirling in his gut — the desire that has only grown every day to see what might happen if he just dared to try. To close the gap between your lips and put to bed all the questions.

But he doesn’t. Instead he gazes ahead, mouth dropping open when he asks about what your relationship with Clark was like — in what feels like an attempt to torture himself — and you utter that you’d never really done anything with him.

“Or anyone…for that matter,” you add slowly, your bottom lip pushing between your teeth, voice a little quiet.

“Like…?”

“I’m not a virgin, Steve,” you bark out, eyes rolling a bit in your skull. “But I’ve really only been with one guy. And it wasn’t even good or anything.”

“You’re joking.”

“Steve.”

“I’m not making fun. I’m just…”

“Shocked at how pathetic I am?” you drawl, taking a step backward. Away from him.

“No — I just —”

“It’s not like the movies either. All of the explosions and fireworks.” You frown, and Steve grimaces at your words. At the sadness lining your features. “I just — I don’t know. It wasn’t like how you’d always talked about it. We barely even kissed during it and I didn’t…”

“Honey…” he sighs, taking a step forward. “Clearly, he wasn’t the right guy. The right guy would have made it extra special, because you’re special, and definitely would have made sure you finished before he did. And I’m sorry but he didn’t deserve you, because you deserve all the explosions and fireworks.”

“Yeah?” You sound so hopeful, eyes a little narrowed, mouth parting softly.

“I mean…hypothetically…” he steps a little closer.

He catches your slow swallow. The way your chest heaves on a breath, eyes trailing his form. Heat burns in the atmosphere as your eyes narrow a bit, staring at him like you had in the woods. Appreciatively, and not at all like a friend. How long had he missed those looks? How long had he not noticed the slow simmering desire beneath the surface? Suddenly he’s back in that closet and a teenager again, only now instead of your jean shorts, his finger curls into the pocket of your overalls, chest brushing yours. Cornered, your back bumps against the presently dry wall behind you.

“If it were me —” He stops. Thinks better of it.

“N-no,” you splutter out, voice a rasp, breath puffing, “go on. Hypothetically, obviously.”

“Well, for starters, I’d start by getting down on my kne —”

“Hey, kids!” Mr. Jones calls into the room, and you both jump like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be. “Could one of you help me sort through some boxes? I don’t want to be a bother, but my back just isn’t what it was, you know?”

You throw a hand up in the air. “I’ve got it.”

Steve inwardly groans, his jeans suddenly a little too tight at what he’d been imagining doing to you only moments before — what he’d been imagining doing to you for years, if he was being honest.

You glance away, rushing over to Gerry, embarrassment rolling off your form.

And you’re gone, following the older man from where he came.

Conversation…over.

——

The window next door glows with lamplight. It’s after the earthquake that you see it. The earthquake that has you hiding in the doorway, holding onto the frame as the earth shudders and groans beneath you, pictures of your family now shattered frames scattered into a million pieces on the ground.

You grab a few things. Bandages, clothes, some water bottles. You can’t really tell how many people are over there, so you grab a pack. And when you ring the doorbell and Robin answers, looking stricken and covered in an inch of dirt, your heart groans too, because the look on her face is grim.

Steve throws his arms around you when you enter his bedroom, a whisper of, “You’re safe,” against your head. Reverently. Like he can’t quite believe it, like he wasn’t sure what he would find when he came back.

Your hands slide up and along his back, his body jolting at the contact, your fingers coming back a little stained with what looks to be fresh blood. “Steve, you’re hurt. I brought bandages.”

“He’s worse,” Steve utters through gritted teeth, “take care of him first.”

And there on the bed is Eddie Munson, with Nancy Wheeler there to rest a cloth against his head, whispering to the man under her breath. Soothing him, soothing those wrinkles that line his forehead — deep set in his pain.

With Nancy’s help, you get to work. Trying to cut him out of his clothes, careful to not agitate the wounds any further, apologizing for every whimper. Every broken sob of the man who fought to save a town that would have killed him on their own had they been given the change.

And later, after you’ve scrubbed your arms raw to try and rid yourself of the remnants of Eddie’s blood, Steve slides in beside you in the bathroom. Curls a hand around your head and tugs you against him, kissing your temple. Whispering something against your skull that you can’t quite make out. Steve’s not religious, but you swear he thanks someone for keeping you safe.

“You’re next,” you mutter, wiggling out of his hold, peering up at the dirty face of the man you love. “Strip.”

“See, in a different context, those words coming from your lips —”

“I’m not joking,” you sing-song, tugging at the bloodied shirt he’s wearing. “Off with it.”

“I can’t,” he winces.

“You’re getting modest with me now? I’ve seen you half naked more times —”

“I think it’s a little stuck,” he groans, turning around and peeling off the outer jacket. It falls to the ground and you can see what he’s talking about. The injuries, freshly reopened, cling to the fabric like a second skin.

You whistle on an exhale, and he laughs darkly. “It’s not so bad. Just looks like one area got a little angry. If you get in the shower, I can run a little water on it to loosen it up.” You lift the edge of his shirt a bit, noting the swath of bandages around his waist. “Who did these? They look pretty good.”

“Nancy.”

“Good,” you say, a little softly, “now into the shower, Harrington.”

You’re trying. Trying to make light of a terrible night. But you can see the pain in his form that runs deeper than the scratches on the surface. Can see it in the tension on his form as he slips out of his jeans and climbs into the tub with nothing but a pair of boxers.

Neither of you speaks for a while. As you turn on the water and try to soak his shirt. As you eventually peel the shirt away and whisper you’re sorry over and over when he hisses and bites back against the pain. Nor as you run a damp towel over the wounds to clean them, careful to not agitate his mangled flesh further.

But then you hear it. The sniffle. The shudder of breath.

“Steve,” you whisper, threading your fingers in his hair, feeling him tremble against your touch, “what happened tonight?”

He cries. Folds his face into his hands and cries.

You toss the cloth aside and climb in to hold him, because you’ve known physical pain, but this pain hits differently. Twists in you like a knife. You can handle your own pain, but seeing Steve break, seeing your hero crumble, is a pain that cuts to your marrow. Shatters and scatters your heart into a million pieces.

But you have to stay strong.

For him. For all the times he’s done the same for you.

He clings to you, fingers fisted into your shirt, and you don’t let go.

——

You don’t talk about that moment in Mr. Jones’ home. Neither of you bring it up for days. And yet — it’s all you can think about. The way he looked your way, the timbre of his words, the way heat had crawled up your spine. How it also pooled low, throbbed in your core in a way that was unfamiliar to you.

Was this passion? Desire? Lust? All feelings that seem so foreign, and yet you don’t fear them. You just ponder the new questions that arise. The curiosity of what this might mean — if it could lead to more.

On that particular day, both of you were off of work. Decided with Thanksgiving swiftly approaching, it was about time you went pumpkin picking. Pumpkin picking turned into a whole day event, where you and Steve took turns arguing over which pumpkins were suitable for the front of his porch, and which were suitable for decoration for the potluck gathering with some friends that upcoming weekend.

And after spending half the day drinking warm apple cider, sharing donuts on a hayride while bundled up in comfortable clothing, and racing each other through a corn maze, you’d decided the last thing on your itinerary for the “full Hawkin’s experience” was to carve pumpkins.

“In case you didn’t know,” Steve jokes, his knife poking out a hole for an eye in his pumpkin, “Halloween was a few weeks ago.”

“So what? We were busy and didn’t get to do this sooner,” you bemoan, cutting open the top of yours and moving to stick your hand inside.

“You’re just going in like that — bare hand and all?”

“What’s a little guts, Steve?”

“It’s gross,” he says plainly, eyes narrowing, “and messy.”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of mess?” Your tongue pushes out between your lips as you get to work, pulling out handful after handful of pumpkin guts into the garbage pail you set up beside the table the two of you worked on.

“I happen to not mind a little mess,” he teases, coming to stand over your shoulder, the heat of his chest at your back. “What are you making?”

“A Garfield pumpkin,” you tell him, scooping more of the inside out into a trash can. “I happen to be quite fond of your kitten. Maybe more than you.”

“Really?” he asks playfully, stepping a little closer to hook his chin over your shoulder.

“Are you jealous?” you muse, circling around.

Like this, your chests nearly brush, his palms come up to rest beside your hips, caging you in against the table. Heat pools low again at the look on his face. The firm line of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the round depths of his hazel eyes. There’s a look in them you can’t quite place — a look you’ve never seen in Steve’s eyes, or anyone’s for that matter. But you know you like it, thighs bumping a bit off of the table as you crawl up onto it, legs swinging beneath you.

Fingers come up to curve along your cheek, Steve’s thumb brushing the line of your jaw with a pinky. Delicately, like you’re precious. Like you might break. “You got a little something on your face.”

“Oh,” you whisper out, swallowing as he leans in closer, as his hips slide into the space between yours. “Steve…”

He steps closer once more. Hips brushing against the cradle of yours. There’s a heat from him that seeps into you. Grows as his forehead rests against yours and you both breathe in the same space, neither of you speaking, because there’s nothing this moment requires other than a nearness. His nose glides down the side of yours, one hand of his coming to curl around your hip, squeezing the curve of it. Your mind screams at you he’s going to kiss you, and your heart leaps because you want it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, and it’s a loaded question.

You’re thinking you want to erase the space between the two of you. You’re thinking there’s a chance this doesn’t quite mean to him what this means to you. You’re thinking that you’re scared to allow Steve to see inside the part of you that you’ve kept from him all these years. But you’re also thinking if you’re going to play with fire, there’s a knowing chance you may get burned.

“I’m thinking…” you exhale, chest pushing further into his as your back arches a bit, propping yourself up onto your hands. Only, as soon as you do so, pain flares in the center of your palm, gasping breath coming out with a, “Shit!”

Steve’s there in a flash, fingers curling around your offended wrist that you show him. Blood pools up from the wound, the bloodied knife skittering beside it onto the forest floor when he shoves it out of the way. You hadn’t even remembered it was there, too caught up in the moment.

“Honey…” he sighs, thumb brushing along the curve of your wrist, glancing down at the cut, “let’s get you inside. You might need stitches.”

“No hospital,” you tell him, pinching your bottom lip between your teeth, “you’ve patched enough people up. This should be a walk in the park, right?”

“Yeah but this is you,” he says, and before you can ask him what he means by that, he’s helping you off of the table and steadying you when you land on the leaves below.

The bathroom is dimly lit by this time of day, even with Steve flicking the light on as soon as you enter. The edge of the tub is cool against your leggings, chilling your skin even through the fabric, as Steve rummages around in his cabinets for a first aid kid. And then he gets to work, sitting across from you on the toilet seat, making sure to irrigate your wound before dressing it.

“Not deep,” he says finally, inspecting the shallow cut that slices the center of your palm, “gonna disinfect it.”

A hiss pours from you as he does, pain flaring in the wound. Your free hand whips out to clutch at his pant leg, pinching the denim tight in your fingertips until the burning ebbs into a throbbing sting that beats in tandem with your heart.

“What did you mean before?” you ask as he starts to dress the wound, winding a bandage around and around your palm. “The whole ‘but this is you.’”

Steve pulls out a piece of medical tape and presses it to the end of the wrapping around your palm, his thumb rubbing along the inside of your wrist. “I can handle my pain, but I could never handle yours.”

You swallow, because you understand. You know first hand what he means — have experienced it yourself. Watching the man you love throw himself into harm's way and injure himself in the process. Having to mend his wounds, to see him hurting without a way to stop it, when all you wanted was to ease the pain.

“There you go,” he whispers, fingertips teasing along yours, before letting your hand fall back against your thigh. “No more pumpkin carving for you.”

“Thank you.” Your lip twitches as you climb off the lip of the bathtub, following him down the stairs.

“Steve, back there, I…”

“Come on, let me cook us dinner.” He pauses, stopping himself once you both realize you speak at the same time. “Wait — what were you going to say?”

You swallow thickly, the nervousness choking your words and drying them in your throat where they live and die instantaneously.

Not the time.

“N-nothing.”

——

“Don’t think I didn’t see how the two of you walked in together.” Robin twirls her drink around in front of her, brows arching as a smirk creeps along her features.

You sip your red wine, smiling to yourself over the rim. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Although you do. You arrived at Jonathan and Nancy’s new home with a freshly baked apple pie in hand, and Steve’s hand against your lower back, keeping you close to him. Clearly it hadn’t gone unnoticed, the evidence apparent in the look Robin was sending your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Lucy struggling to open a wine bottle in the kitchen, and excuse yourself from Robin’s side to greet the woman. She’s beautiful today, in a pair of black jeans, and a brick red sweater. Effortless again, with endless wavy hair and those glowing eyes of hers.

“Here — let me,” you offer, helping her to get the cork out of the bottle.

Once it’s open, you pour the two of you new glasses of wine and clink your glass with her’s, peering out over the kitchen island to take in the sights around you.

Nancy and Jonathan went all out. They lined up multiple tables around the kitchen, making room for friends and family alike. Their parents sit at one table, while Steve, Robin, Eddie, Abi and Argyle talk amongst themselves. Holiday music filters in through the radio, as Nancy and Jonathan carve into the giant turkey resting against the table covered in Thanksgiving themed plate wear.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had a holiday like this. This is warm and inviting. Back in the city your parents would rent out restaurants and have wait staff take care of your evening. You’d always resented the thought that, while you spent time in a cold environment under the guise of “Thanksgiving,” those employees missed out on time they could spend with their own loved ones.

And when Steve looks over, you almost feel like you could fit in here. Almost allow yourself to dream big — to imagine a world where when he lifted his hand and waved as he is now, it would be full of love, full of the newness of relationship.

“So you and Steve…?” you can’t help but to ask, turning so your back rests against the kitchen counter, offering Lucy a soft smile.

She returns it a little tightly. “We…dated for a bit.”

“Oh.”

You weren’t expecting that. Had witnessed a little something passing along their features when you’d bumped into her weeks ago, but never thought to chalk it up to them dating. On paper it makes sense. She’s a teacher, they work together, she’s gorgeous, vibrant, bubbly, interesting. She’s here. She’s been here. And she belongs here.

And you — you don’t know what you’re doing most days. You’re living with Steve, but for how long? You want to stay, or think you want to, but what does that entail? There’s also the lingering doubt. The fear that you don’t quite belong as you once did. Can see it in the looks from people as you pass. Those who haven’t seen you in years now regard you as a stranger.

“Yeah, we’d gone on a few dates. He was always such a gentleman…but it just…” she exhales, and you watch as her eyes trail his form, “he always seemed kind of…detached? He didn’t want to commit. Sometimes we’d be spending time together and he just…didn’t seem all there? But it all made sense when I saw you two at the coffee shop that one day.”

“What?” you splutter, red wine dribbling down your chin at the suddenness.

“He lit up when he saw you. I’d never seen him look at me that way,” she admits softly, sipping her own wine. “I kind of wanted to hate you for it, but you were so nice and he deserves to be happy.”

“Oh — we’re not — it’s not —”

“Not yet,” she teases, giving you a little eye roll. “He’s happy. And he’s present. Both are things that have changed within him since you’ve been here. I don’t think that’s mere coincidence.”

Her words settle within you as you later join Steve at the dinner table, leaning into his shoulder as he scoops your requested dinner options onto your plate. They linger even as the kids arrive for dessert and the group ends up playing endless card games, laughter lyrical and swirling around the room, growing louder as the drinks continue to pour into awaiting cups.

And later, as you sit on Steve’s couch in no more than a pair of leggings, a comfy hoodie, and knitted socks you ponder Lucy’s words again while a fire crackles in the fireplace.

“What’s on your mind?” Steve asks, fingers kneading into the arch of your foot, your head against the armrest, eyes closed in contentment.

“Lucy is really pretty…”

“She is,” Steve agrees, his fingers pushing in again, drawing a deep sigh from within you.

“She works with kids, she’s bubbly, she’s established. All things that you’d normally go for.”

“Okay…”

“I’m just…I’m — I guess I'm trying to figure out why you two didn’t work out then.”

Steve pauses in his ministrations, shifting a bit on the couch to look at you. “Honey…you know why.”

“No,” you retort, feeling anxiety bubble up within you, “I really don’t.”

“There’s always been someone else.”

“I’m not understanding…”

With a sigh, Steve scoots closer. Tugs you up and onto his lap to get you even closer, your knees thumping onto the couch cushion at each side of his hips. He grips your hips and stares up into your eyes. There’s an unspoken question. A whisper behind his stare. Begs for you to look deeper, to see him, to see his heart.

“No.” You shake your head, anger welling. Replacing that anxiety. “I’ve looked at you my whole life and you never noticed. Now? Now you decide you —”

“It’s always been.” His strangled voice breaks your heart.

“Then why didn’t you say anything? All this time, all these years —”

“I tried,” he interjects, fingers winding tighter around your hips.

“When?”

“First time I visited you after you moved away.” He sounds somber. Heartbroken in a way that’s foreign to you. “You’d gone inside and your dad and I had a drink out back. Remember?”

You nod, swallowing thickly, fingers running along the hair at his temple. He gives you a little squeeze, forehead resting against yours.

“He…I told him about my feelings for you. And he…well, he wasn’t supportive.” He exhales a wobbly breath. “He had his points. I had no money. He was right about that. I worked at a dead end job and was going nowhere. I had nothing to offer you. He…painted a picture of us in a few years from now. Asked me how I’d be able to keep you happy…keep our family happy. And I thought maybe he was right.”

“Bullshit. Everything he said to you is bullshit,” you snap, climbing off of his lap. “I never wanted any of that. If I had you, Steve, then I would have everything.”

“I know that,” he cries, jumping to his own feet, looping an arm around your hips. “I know that now. I’ve seen you here the past few weeks and you fit here. With me in my life. I want to stop wasting time pretending you’re just my best friend because that’s all I ever thought you could be. I want you here. I want you in my bed every morning and night, I want to touch you and, I don’t know, hold you while we cook dinner together. I want to kiss you just because I can. I want to hold your hand. I want all of that.”

He tugs you close, your chests thumping. His heart throbs against your sternum and you raise a palm to settle there, to push him back, but you find you can’t. He sucks the air out of the room when he’s that close — when his mouth is mere centimeters from yours, and all you want is to close the distance.

“I never felt good enough for you,” he breathes against your lips, his breath a shaky exhale. Lips graze against lips, your fingers slide up further, along his chest, over the curve of his neck, the slope of his jaw.

“You’ve always been good enough for me, Steve,” you whisper back, forehead nuzzling forehead. “I don't need all the money. I don’t want fancy dinners or cars, I don’t need the newest clothes, shoes, pocketbooks. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

He slides a palm up against your cheek. A thumb draws a soft line across the curve of your jaw. “And now? What do you want right now?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

——

sorry about the delay. i’ve basically been sick since july, and wasn’t planning on having so many of my ‘bad’ days the past couple of weeks. the next chapter will be long, and i mean long. can’t wait to hear about what you think about this one! likes, comments, reblogs — all of that is such an encouragement to creators and means the world, so please consider 🤍

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve Harrington x reader smut #steve Harrington x reader fluff

488 notes · View notes

callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Sunshine | Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

(I love this gif so much I'm not even joking)

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Wife!reader

Word count: 1010

Warnings: nothing! Pure, lovely fluff.

This was requested by @bookaholics-stuff. Thank you, honey! This was such a cute request and I just had to write it NOW. Hope you like it!

FOREVER TGM TAGLIST: @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @shrimping-for-all @abaker74

(if you want to be tagged, ask me!)

Mrs. Seresin was the only thing Jake didn't brag about. Don't get me wrong, it's not because he is not proud of you. Quite the opposite.

He's so damn happy to have you in his life that he wants to treasure you. Keep you to himself.

And there hasn't been a lot of time to talk about each other's lives during this mission. Phoenix wants to fix this matter, actually, suggesting all the members that a day at the beach could be a good opportunity to get to know each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake had agreed to meet with the rest this Saturday, have something to drink at the Hard Deck, play some Dogfight football… Just a bunch of friends spending a normal day at the beach without having to worry about the safety of the planet. But that plan is thrown out the window when you, Y/n Seresin, the love of Jake’s life, ring the bell of Jake and Javy’s shared house.

“Sunshine? Oh my god, what are you doing here?” Jake says, while hugging you tightly. It has only been a few weeks since the last time he saw you, but it feels like a lifetime away from you.

“Heard that my handsome hubby had chalked up another kill, saved the day and also the famous Maverick. I had to come here and celebrate!” you explain, covering his face with kisses, Jake scrunching his nose due to the pure happiness of the moment.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush, Mrs. Seresin”

“Where’s Javy?” you ask, entering the house and leaving your small suitcase in the bedroom.

“I don’t know, he said he was gonna meet Mickey and Reuben to buy something. Don’t ask me why because I can’t remember” he confesses, laughing.

“Oh my, Jake Seresin, aren't you a bit young to be forgetting things?” you joke as you lay down on the bed, tired from the flight from Austin. You had been staying with your sister-in-law and her two kids for a few days, not wanting to be alone when you found out how dangerous this mission was going to be.

“It’s your fault. Do I have to remind you how I forgot my own name when I first saw you?” he recalls, sitting in the bed next to you, his hand quickly moving to your hair, and moving some strands out of your face. “You still have that effect on me, Sunshine”

You smile, satisfaction running through your body as you realize that no matter how much time passes, Jake will always be completely and utterly in love with you. “I saw the beach while in the taxi. This place is amazing, Jake. And you are definitely sunbathing without me, huh? Look at that golden skin” you poke his cheek, making him giggle like a teenager.

Everyone saw Hangman, the aviator.

But only you were able to see Jake, the loving husband.

“Want me to take you to the beach, sunshine? We can take a bath and go for a walk.” he offers, kissing your forehead.

“I’d love to”

“Is that woman talking to Hangman?” Phoenix questions out loud while leaving the cooler that Mickey, Reuben and Javy had bought earlier to fill with drinks, in the sand.

“Maybe he is talking to the poor woman,” Fanboy suggests, moving his sunglasses down his nose to try and understand the whole situation. “Should we go rescue her?”

“She doesn’t seem uncomfortable, though” Payback adds, the whole squad standing there like a bunch of sentinels, ready to jump into action if the lady needed to be liberated from the blonde cowboy.

Seconds later, Hangman is throwing the poor girl over his shoulder and walking straight to the water. “Oh god, he’s gonna get smacked,” Bob laughs, opening his blue folding chair and sitting down to enjoy the show.

“JAKE SERESIN PUT ME DOWN” you yell, trying to leave your husband’s arms, only to be thrown in the water. You stand up, your sundress now completely stuck to your body. Thank god you are wearing your swimsuit underneath. “If I didn’t vow to love you for the rest of my life I would kill you”

“Did she say ‘vow’ as in ‘wedding vow’?" Rooster asks, looking at the rest of his team. “Man, I don’t understand anything”

Javy, who had been trying to get the beach umbrella from the trunk after it got stuck, walks happily to the rest, wondering why the heck are they standing there like… well, idiots. “Guys what are you- Y/N SERESIN?”

“JAVY!” the woman, who now everyone knows it’s a Seresin, runs to Javy, almost tackling him to the ground. "I'm so glad you're okay"

"What are you guys doing here?" Questions Hangman to the group, joining his wife and his best friend.

"Dude, beach day. We told you" Fanboy looks at Hangman, wondering if the pilot really had forgotten about it or was just messing with them.

"Excuse my husband, he's having trouble remembering things lately" you tease him, earning a glare from Jake.

"Husband" mutters Bob.

"Husband?" asks Phoenix.

"Husband!" confirms Javy.

"I'm Y/N. We've been married for three years now. And no, I wasn't forced to marry him, Rooster. I know you were about to say that" you say to Bradley, leaving him shocked.

"I was gonna ask that, yes. How did you know? And how did you know I was Rooster"

"Oh, cause I'm good, Rooster. I'm really good" you retort, making Jake laugh.

"Oh no, there's two of them. We're doomed" Bob says, sitting down again.

"I'm guessing Javy was the best-man?" Javy nods at Phoenix, answering her question. "Well, Mrs. Seresin, would you like to play some Dogfight football with us?"

"I don't even know what's that but teach me, and I will play" you say, taking off the sundress and stealing Jake's sunglasses from him.

He looks at you, wondering what had he done in a past life to be this lucky. Good job, good friends, and the perfect wife. His own personal sunshine.

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman fluff #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman x you

3K notes · View notes

outsideratheart · 9 months

Text

Under Pressure (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Chapter 5 of The Legacy Series. I apologise in advance, it can’t all be sunshine and rainbows.

The biggest thing you feared was that you wouldn’t be able to feel at home in Barcelona but it turns out you had nothing to worry out. After the WICC cup there was two weeks of preseason training and after a day or two you had figured out how to play for the team. Sometimes you would watch from the sidelines during certain plays then go out onto the field and play them like you had been at the club your whole life. It’s safe to say you had settled in well.

When the first game of the season came, you were calm and ready to play as many minutes as Lluis would allow. Alexia had insisted that she picked you up so you two could go over any concerns you had. The woman had been your saving grace since moving to Barcelona. She could pick up when you were starting to get in your own head and managed to pull you out before you went too deep. She understood you as if she had known you your whole life when in reality it had been just over a 8 weeks since you first official meeting.

You had gotten to the ground a little bit earlier than everyone else; the team and fans included. You followed Alexia as you walked through the building but are confused when she walks straight passed the locker room.

“Let’s go the pitch” she suggests.

Now it wasn’t your first time being on this pitch as the team trained here a couple of times but today was different, today you would make your debut for Barcelona.

Alexia let you have your moment as you walked to the centre circle of the pitch. The energy was different today and it was the type you, as a football player, lived for. You take a few minutes to yourself before hearing Alexia calling your name.

“Time to get ready”

This time she does lead you into the changing rooms and you can see most of the team have arrived. All eyes are on you but you don’t think anything of it, that is until you see your locker. There hanging in the middle of your cubby was your shirt but what came as a shock is the number that was below your name. 14.

“Aitana” you turn you face her “I can’t accept this. I told you I wouldn’t come in here and take your number”

“You’re not taking it. I’m giving it to you. This is your number”

It wasn’t your number it was his and everyone knew that. Sure part of you wanted to wear your father’s number at this club but it’s is Aitana’s or at least it was.

You watch the game from the subs bench until the 65th minute mark. Lluis’ right hand man tells you to get ready as you had already warmed up. As you stand on the sidelines you make the mistake of looking back at the stand behind you. Everybody had their phone out ready to document the moment you step foot on the pitch. It only added to the pressure you were already feeling.

When the final whistle is blown you have to take a moment to gather your emotions. You join the team in the lap around the field and stop near the ultras stand. The fans soon stop shouting your name when they realise what you are doing. There above them sits ‘Estadi Johan Cruyff’.

“He’s be proud of you” Lieke joins you and looks up. She sees the direction of you gaze change as you look up to the sky.

“Lieke is right. You made him proud today” Alexia joins in.

You didn’t know what to do so you patted them both on the back and carried on with your lap. The fans had showed you constant support since your arrival so you stop to greet as many as you can before leaving the pitch.

You had survived game number 1.

The months that followed proved to be more difficult that your first. The fans, media and the rest of the world were quick to pick up on the fact that you were yet to score. This is a stat you were well aware of and you kicked yourself every time you left the pitch without having your name on the scoresheet. You have several assists to your name but none of them seemed to matter. Your job was to score and assist. You weren’t doing what the club brought you here to do and it was eating away at you.

“Sandra” you pull the goalkeeper aside one day after training “Would you mind staying back so I can practice my shots some more. It won’t be for long, maybe half an hour”

“Claro”

“Muchas Gracias”

Alexia noticed your absence in the locker room, of course she did. It was almost an hour later when you walked into the locker room where much to your surprise Alexia had been waiting.

“What are you still doing here? Do you have media or something?” You ask.

“I was waiting for you” She has no problem with admitting her reason.

“You want to join me in the ice baths?” You already know your answer. Alexia’s Spanish blood had a strong hatred for the cold.

In an attempt to change her mind, despite her not giving an answer, you take off your shirt and throw it at her before sending her a daring look.

“C’mon Ale, I dare you”

You walk away knowing that Alexia won’t back down to a dare. You are in the ice bath all but 2 minutes before she joins you. Albeit she enters much slower than you which if you ask any athlete only prolongs the discomfort that comes with ice.

“Now that I have joined you in this hell, care to tell me why you stayed back an extra hour?”

“I haven’t scored” you ego took a hit as you muttered the words.

“You scored loads today”

“Not today, in games”

The disappointment you are feeling doesn’t come as a shock to Alexia. She first noticed it after the second game when you had 5 shots on target and none of them went it.

“They are expecting me to score”

“Who is?”

“The club, the fans, the team, you”

“This team is a hard one to settle in to, just ask Lieke. All you need is a little bit of time”

“I don’t have time. Everyone’s eyes are on me and each game that passes is proving that I’m not good enough to play here”

Up until this point, Alexia was stuck in her place. The more she moved the more the freezing cold water touched fresh skin but seeing you down on yourself made her forget about the ice as she walks towards you, slowly.

“I know you’ve been feeling the pressure Y/N and I know it’s different to the kind I get. You leave for international duty tomorrow. Take this time to reset and come back with a clear head”

Although she wasn’t ready to admit, Alexia was dreading the day you leave and go to Zeist for camp.

“I’m going to miss you Alexia” you don’t hesitate to be honest with your team mate.

“You’re going to miss the team”

“Yes, I will but I will miss you in a different way. I spend more time with you than anyone else and you’re the one I call when I have my…” you want to say episodes but it sounds too dramatic.

Just as you had thought, being in Barcelona caused feelings you once buried deep down to come to the surface. Alexia found you one day after training when you were feeling too much and she stayed with you until you had calmed down. Since then she was the one you called.

“You have your friends and I’m sure you’ll see your family but if you do need me then i’m only a phone call away”

The timer you had set on your phone goes off and you and Alexia are quick to jump out of the ice bath.

“Promise?” You ask her as you get changed.

“I do and Y/N” you turn to face her “I’ll miss you too”

You were gone for ten days and you only had one episode but you called Alexia more than once. In fact you were in constant communication with her. Whoever got up first would text the other good morning and the day would go on from there. Even in different cities, Alexia played a huge part in your day.

Whilst in The Netherlands you did as she suggested, you used the time to clear your head and it worked. You played 90 minutes in both friendlies, one against Sweden, the only against Italy and you managed to score three goals in total. You hadn’t lost your touch but you did learn that the pressure in Barcelona had taken the fun out of the game or at least that is the reason you came up with. It wasn’t until the post match press conference that you realised it could be something bigger and much worse.

“Y/N you have played outstanding in these past two games yet your performances in Barcelona seem to lack the flair that we are used to seeing you play with. You are 9 games into the season and you still haven’t scored. We are so used to seeing you on the scoresheet and this stretch is the longest in your career without hitting the back of the net”

“Is there a question in there or are you simply reminding me of my failures” your tone is emotionless but that is far from how you are feeling.

“I didn’t mean to step out of line. It’s just you come here and put on a world class performance but fail to do so there. I think the question everybody want to know is why. What is the difference between here and there?”

The journalist’s words were running on a loop ‘what is the difference between here and there’.

You hadn’t asked yourself this question but the answer wasn’t hard to come up with. You always put your career first and your personal life second. You wouldn’t answer the journalist’s question as it was clearly rhetorical but you knew the answer. The difference was Alexia.

Sure she had been a positive impact on your mental health but should you have been training more instead of exploring the city with her? Should you have been getting more sleep instead of staying up to talk to her? Should you be more focused at training instead of stealing glances at her whenever you could? These are all questions that you needed to know the answer to for the sake of your career.

On the flight back to Barcelona you make the foolish mistake of searching your name on twitter. The fans had started to come up with theories as to why you weren’t playing like you normal do in Barcelona. One article popped up and it mentioned both your name and Alexia’s. She has taken part in two press conference whilst on international duty with Spain and your name had being brought up multiple times despite it not being relevant at the time. Maybe you had become a distraction for Alexia too. Sure she was scoring but it wasn’t as much as last year.

When you landed you saw that Alexia had texted you and asked you to come round to her apartment once you had unpacked the little suitcase you took home with you. Now was the time and as you drove over to her place you started to feel guilty about the decision you had to make.

“Y/N” The brunette pulls you in for a hug, once which you wished would never end.

“Hi Ale. Did you enjoy camp?” You pull away before her warmth makes you change your mind.

“We did ok, a win and draw wasn’t what we wanted but we move on. Did you? I watched your games you played amazing” Alexia walk through her apartment towards her kitchen. It was the area that hosted company the best.

“About that. There’s something I need to te—“

“So I was thinking” Alexia says and you know that she put not have heard you “There’s a new seafood restaurant that’s just opened by the marina. I know we have been spending a lot of time together as friends but I was hoping to take you here as something more. I want to take you on a date”

“Alexia I need some space”

Those four words had hurt her, the look on her face proved that.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asked.

“No. It’s me and what I am facing. You know about the pressure but the light that has been shone on me needs to stay on me. I won’t bring you into the media scuritiny that I am facing. Everyone is questioning my ability on the pitch and I need to prove them wrong. I need to prove to the club that signing me wasn’t a mistake. I have loved spending time with you Alexia but I need to focus on my performance. I cannot be a failure”

“I can help you” Alexia tries to bargain but you have already made up your mind.

“Ale, I need to do this alone” you take a couple of steps closer to her but she holds out her hand to stop you. You deserve it but it didn’t mean you had to like it “het spijt me”

Training doesn’t start for another three days due to the club wanting their players to recover from international duty. During this time you workout out 3 times a day; a run as the sun rises, a pitch session in the morning and a weights session in the late afternoon. You kept you body busy but Alexia still remained at the forefront of your mind. You began to think that you made a mistake in asking for space.

The first day back at Johan Camper is weird. For what could only be the 4th or 5th time since the season started, you had driven yourself to training. Upon arriving there were two people you didn’t want to see each for two different reasons. One of them just so happened to arrive at the same time as you.

“What you’re not riding with Alexia anymore?” Lieke questions as the two of you walk into the facility.

“I’m going to be driving myself for a while” you didn’t look at her, you couldn’t.

“Y/N what have you done?”

Lieke saw the way your behaviour change after the press conference but only now did she realise how much that man had gotten to you.

“I did what is best”

Sensing that now isn’t the time for an interrogation, Lieke drops the subject and the two of you walk in a comfortable silence.

“Ah dios miso, Alexia. I was only asking if you has anything planned this weekend. There’s no need to snap at me” Patri slightly scolds her team mate.

You know what she had planned this weekend and it included the two of you sitting at a candlelit dinner over looking the water but you had ruined that.

“I just want to focus on training. You understand that don’t you Y/N?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to answer as she walks out onto the field.

“So that’s what you did” Lieke whispers as the two of you begin lacing up your boots.

“You’ve seen what they’re saying. I won’t bring her into this media shit show, you know she hates it and I won’t be the reason for them going after her. I never wanted this for her but I was too late”

“You’re not telling me everything” Lieke knew you too well.

“I need to focus on my career. I can’t fail this club and I can’t tarnish his legacy”

“Y/N” Lieke reaches out to comfort you but you pull away.

“You think I want this? Of course I don’t” Your raised voice gains the attention of the other players in the room but you don’t care.

During training you stick to the players that won’t ask questions which is Lieke and Aitana but Jenni does make the effort to work with you as well even though she is one of Alexia’s best friends.

You try your best to focus on the drills that Lluis sets and it seems to work. You play very well and even the coach tells you that he is impressed, so much so that he is going to start you against Real Madrid at the weekend. This was your chance to prove the media wrong and rid the fans of any doubt. You had to score and score you did, twice in fact and you were able to assist one of Alexia’s goals.

This is how you were suppose to play at Barcelona yet you didn’t enjoy it in the slightest. You dreamed of how you’d celebrate your first goal and you wanted to do so with Alexia but because of your stupidity and need to please people who didn’t matter, you ruined that chance.

Your good form continued game after game and you could have sworn that things between you and Alexia were starting to return to normal. Of course this was only during training or playing because she was respecting your wishes.

“Y/N can I talk to you for a second?” Alexia asks one evening after a game review session.

“Let’s grab a coffee”

When the two of you arrive in the canteen, Alexia goes to the table and you get the coffees. This is how is was before and you loved that it was happening again.

“How long will you need this space? I talked to Lieke and she helped me understand your reasoning, I wished you would have told me but I know now. It wasn’t in my head, I know we had a connection and I need to know if there’s a chance of rebuilding that or if I need to move on”

“Alexia I chose my career over you”

“No you didn’t and we both know it. You needed to beat the pressure and you have. You have been amazing these past couple of months but I have hated not having you around, not even as a friend”

“Alexia we haven’t been just friends for a while and you know it”

“I do. It’s why I wanted to take you on a date, I still do by the way”

“I hurt you and I want to re earn your trust. How about we start with coffee on Sunday after the game”

“It’s a date” the smirk on her face was contagious.

“Alexia” you could tell she playing but you weren’t.

“What” she says innocently “it’s a date between friends”

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #Barcelona femeni one shot #Barcelona femeni imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt one shot #espwnt imagine

484 notes · View notes

vanwritesfan-fiction · 4 months

Note

Travis Kelce: “I’m tired of always fighting!”

Travis knew tired. There wasn't a day where he didn't come home from practice sore and worse for wear, but eleven years into his career, he had come to love the feeling.

Lately, it felt a lot different. This exhaustion was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was the kind that sunk into your bones and settled there, each muscle aching, his head pounding, a sense of dread in his heart. It had nothing to do with football, and everything to do with the fact that lately, he felt you slipping away with each passing day.

It started off small, a few disagreements here and there, but you always seemed to work it out. Both of you were incredibly headstrong and didn’t know how to back down from a fight, but the love you had for each other always outweighed the need to win. Slowly but surely, the fights became bigger, and the moments of silence became days of silence as the two of you couldn’t find things to say to each other that didn’t start an argument. It didn’t even matter what the fights were about, they were unimportant compared to the fact that your marriage wasn’t working out and no amount of groveling, kicking, and screaming was going to change that.

For the third time this week, he was sleeping in the guest bedroom. It felt unfamiliar and cold, the empty space where you would lay a blaring reminder of your relationship, or lack thereof. Still, he felt that wave of fatigue wash over him, his eyelids heavy as he started to drift off to sleep.

His breath had just started to find a steady rhythm when he heard a large thud across the hall. His eyes shot open as he listened again, hearing a much larger crash that he was sure was coming from your shared bedroom. He followed the path of light teeming from the crack left open at the door.

You were in the closet tearing down any hanger you could get your hands on, piles of clothing laid out on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Travis’ gruff voice startled you, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t want him to see the tear stains running down your cheeks. “Organizing the closet”, you finally uttered out, biting at your bottom lip to stop another crying spell.

“Baby, its 2am. Go back to bed.” You felt his heavy footsteps behind you, so you stepped forward, creating more distance between the two of you. “I’m not tired.” You let out a quiet sigh, but Travis could see your ribcage expand and contract with a shake. “Sorry I woke you.” You went back to the task at hand, pulling all of your coats off their hangers and tossing them to the ground.

“Babe-“

“Just stop, stop calling me that”, you bit out. “Just go back to bed. I’ll try to be quieter.” You quickly wiped the tear that fell from your eye. The pet name used to make your heart swell, but now it just felt condescending. Travis let out a sharp breath before turning out of the room. He made it a couple of steps before he realized that he was doing what he always did- walking away in the name of avoiding conflict, but so far, the only thing it did was make things more difficult. You were still in the same spot when he returned. He watched your shoulders shake as you quietly sobbed, a lump building in his throat.

“Y/N, just stop. We need to talk.”

“Talk about what?” You tossed a pile across the room. “Talk about how we can’t stand the sight of each other? How we can’t speak to each other without fighting? I’m tired of always fighting! I’ve had enough, Travis.” Your arms felt heavy like lead, but still you pushed on.

“Y/N, stop!” Travis’ booming voiced echoed in the now empty room. You did as he said, stopping in your tracks, but only for a second. “I can’t stop. I need to keep moving, keep busy, so I can stop thinking about how fuckin’ difficult this has been for one fuckin’ second, okay?”

“Babe, C’mere.”

You couldn’t explain how badly you wanted to run to him, but your feet wouldn’t move. The only thing you seemed to be able to do lately was cry, so you let the tears flow freely, tasting the saltiness of your tears as they pooled in the corner of your mouth. “Baby, please, come here.” When you didn’t move, Travis closed the distance between you quickly, wrapping you up in his arms. He felt the wet spots pool on his shirt as you sobbed against his chest, collapsing into his hold.

“I’m sorry, I’m tired of fighting too”, he whispered into your hair, slowly rocking you back and forth.

“I don’t know what to do, Travis”, you admitted when you could finally take in a full breath. “I know, but we’ll figure out a way to fix this. We’ll do counseling, whatever it takes.” He just let you cry, knowing it was what you needed after all this time. When he felt you begin to settle down, he pulled you in for a tighter hug.

“Baby, look at me.” You slowly lifted your head as Travis cupped your cheeks in his large hands. His calloused fingers felt rough against your cheeks as he wiped away the wetness collected in your lashes.

“No matter what happens, I love you so much. That has never and will never change, okay? I will never give up on us.” You shook your head, taking in a shaky breath. He pulled you in for a gentle kiss, before pulling you into his body again, and for the first time, Travis didn’t feel that dread in his heart.

#travis kelce #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce fanfic #traviskelce #travis kelce imagine

164 notes · View notes

honeys-hotties · 1 year

Text

Just Business (Mapi Leon x fem!Reader)

Got a fabulous request about a businesswoman reader who is accused of being a golddigger by the team, and I juts kind of ran with it! Fyi the team are pretty mean in the beginning, especially Ingrid, but don't come at me please! I love Ingrid, she's amazingly talented! Anyways, I was so stressed and had a little bit of a writer's block but these requests have been so incredibly helpful, so keep 'em coming! Love you all endlessly<3

Word count; 3.5k

“Five more minutes” I groan into Mapi’s shoulder. She chuckles into my hair, her grip on my waist loosening as she reaches to turn off her alarm. “Sorry mi amor, I have to get ready extra early for the match today, Alexia is stressed and I promised I would do some extra warmups with her today, plus she wants me to come over and watch some film of the other team before we go to the stadium.”

I sigh, sitting up in bed, letting the covers fall down my body. “And there’s nothing I could do to convince you to stay?” I ask shifting slightly towards her.

She smirks, moving to stand over me at the end of the bed. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Besides, you have to get ready for work.”

I sigh dramatically, reaching for one of Mapi’s hoodies to pull on. “I run the whole company, they could survive without me for one day.”

“While I’m sure that’s true, my team needs me. Te amo, princesa. I’ll see you at the game.” She kisses me firmly, and I sigh.

“Love you too. I can’t wait for the game! Tell Alexia I say hi!” Mapi nods, smiling, and grabbing her game bag and heading for the front door. I sigh and walk to the kitchen to brew some coffee, before pulling out my laptop to check some work emails before I get ready.

I founded my company, Herstory, when I was nineteen. It soon became one of the largest worldwide media companies, focused on giving voice to powerful women who were often minoritized in favor of their male counterparts. The company had done extremely well and I, as a result, had carved out a fabulous life for myself. However, I refused to let the money take over my life and had tried to live as normally as possible. I didn’t even fully reveal everything to Mapi for the first few months of us knowing each other, and she only put the pieces together after seeing an interview I had done online.

Mapi and I had been dating for the past two years, and they had arguably been the best two years of my life. We had managed to keep our relationship on the down low, only letting our closest friends and family know, which ended up working out absolutely perfectly. Well, almost perfectly. For some reason that I couldn’t seem to fathom, Mapi’s friends and teammates seemed to despise me. I had first met them six months after Mapi and I had begun dating after she invited me to a party the team was having. She was so excited, telling me how much I would love every single one of the girls she considered family and how they couldn’t wait to meet me, her “stunning and brilliant” girlfriend. I had been thrilled that, even though we were choosing to keep the relationship private, Mapi was so happy to introduce me to her friends, and being a little bit of a football fan myself, I couldn’t wait to meet the amazing Barcelona team. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The night had started out okay, and everyone seemed really friendly. I was sitting next to Mapi, with Ingrid on my right and Alexia, Claudia and Patri across from me.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Mapi had announced to the table, before turning to me. “Mi amor, what do you want?”

I pointed to my half empty glass on the table. “A refill would be amazing, thank you baby.” She smiled, grabbing my glass and walking towards the bar. Watching my girlfriend walk away, I had missed the glance Ingrid had shot Patri, but when I turned back everything seemed normal.

“That’s a really cool tattoo!” Alexia said, gesturing to the tattoo on my shoulder blade that had been revealed when I turned to watch Mapi, the open back of my dress showing off the ink that Mapi had done a couple of weeks prior.

“Thank you!” I said. “Mapi did it a couple of weeks ago, she’s so talented I swear! Her work is absolutely stunning.”

This time, I definitely didn’t miss the looks of a few of the girls at the table, but I brushed them off.

“So, what is it exactly you do for work?” Ingrid asked, turning to look at me.

“I actually have my own business!” I said proudly. I can’t help it, I’m constantly in shock of how lucky I’ve been to be able to do what I love. However, the team seemed less than impressed.

“That’s…really interesting,” Claudia said, before whispering something to Alexia next to her. Alexia laughed quietly before, nudging Claudia with her elbow.

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” Patri said, glancing at Ingrid who had a little smirk on her face.

“You must work really hard, you poor thing,” Ingrid said in a sickly sweet voice. “I can’t imagine having to run my own business, especially when it’s so hard to accomplish much when you put in so much effort.”

The girls at the table around me snickered, and I could feel my face grow hot. “Um, actually-” I started, but before I could finish Mapi sat back down beside me. “Here’s your drink, gorgeous.” She said, setting the glass down in front of me. I kissed her cheek in thanks before turning back to the table. I started to say something, but before I could get the words out, Alexia interrupted me, asking Mapi something about their upcoming match. Throughout the night, I kept quiet, leaning into Mapi’s side and trying not to make eye contact with the girls around me. I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong, but I felt like I was back in high school, hiding from the popular crowd that would always make fun of me. By the time we got back to Mapi’s apartment that night I was on the verge of tears. She took me in her arms, sensing that something was wrong but that I wasn;t ready to talk about it. We stood in her apartment for who knows how long, me crying quietly into her button-up while she just held me. That’s one of my favorite things about Mapi (I could never just pick one). She seems to know what I need without me ever having to say anything. It’s like she can read my mind, and I hers.

Finally releasing me, she gently gripped my waist with one hand and lifted my chin to look her in the eyes. “Want to tell me what’s wrong, bebe?” she asked.

I nodded, wiping the last few tears from my eyes. “I just have this horrible feeling that your friends hate me, and I don’t know why.” I whispered, before lowering my eyes again.

She gently raised my chin again, staring into my eyes with her piercing ones. “I’m sure that’s not true, maybe they were just tired? It’s been a long week, and I don’t think anyone could ever dislike you. You’re the most brilliant, funny, wonderful, kind, smoking hot woman I’ve ever known, and they would be foolish to not see this.”

I smile up at her, my beautiful beautiful girlfriend. Her tough exterior can be misleading, but Mapi is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Maps. I love you.” I tell her, kissing her softly.

“I’m the lucky one,” she assures me. “Now go change, I’ll run us a bath, and then we can watch some TV with Bagheera.” She reaches down to grab the cat that had been threading itself through our legs, kissing his head before placing him on the couch.

I smile, walking towards her bedroom. How did I get so lucky?

I finish getting ready for work, before grabbing my keys and my bag with the clothes I’ll wear to the game. I don’t have time to come home after work, so I had packed everything I needed in my bag the night before. On the way to work, I listen to a playlist Mapi and I had made one Saturday with all our favorites, thinking about the day ahead. Work would be easy enough, I had a couple of meetings with some division leaders within the company, and a longer conference with a few of the women we were working with to get their stories into the world. I love my job, so every day brings me joy, but days like this are my favorite. Days when I get to listen to the stories of some of the most incredible women in the world and help them share their voices. Plus, I get to go see my amazing girlfriend play professional football later, which is a bonus. The only thing I wasn’t looking forward to was interacting with the team, who had continued to be increasingly passive-aggressive towards me. Mapi assured me they were just protective, but it seemed like something much more. However, I had yet to confront anyone about it, instead choosing to focus solely on my girlfriend.

The day passes quickly, and soon enough it’s time to get ready for the match. I change into my Mapi kit, the special one she had made for me that has the date we first met printed on the hem, as well as a number of small hearts hidden among the fabric. Discreet enough that most people wouldn’t notice, but we both knew where they were. I put on the necklace and earrings Mapi had gotten me for my birthday a few weeks before (she had gone all out for the celebration, despite my repeated insistence I didn’t need anything, and I honestly loved her for it), before applying some light makeup and heading to the stadium. I showed my pass at the front desk, and was led to the family and friends section in time to see my girlfriend and her team take the pitch. The game passed in a blur, Barcelona scoring three times in the first half. Coming into the second half, Barcelona hits the ground running, scoring within the first two minutes. This seems to anger the opposing team, and they start to play dirtier. Tackles are flying, and in the chaos Alexia goes for a wide shot, which is ultimately deflected by the opposing goalie. Mapi lines up near the goal for the corner, and once the ball is in motion she times a stunning header perfectly, sending the ball into the back of the net. I jump to my feet, screaming along with the crowd. Mapi blows a kiss in my direction, before being swarmed by her teammates.

The rest of the game passes quickly, Alexia and Patri both scoring before full time is called. When the final whistle blows, I cheer along with the crowd as the team takes a victory lap, stopping to chat with fans along the way. As the people in the stands start to leave, I make my way down towards the pitch. Mapi meets me at the barricade, and helps me onto the pitch. Once next to her, I launch myself into her arms, my legs wrapping around her waist as she hugs me tightly. “Amazing goal, amor” I tell her, as she discreetly kisses my neck before setting me back down.

“It was for you” she assures me, before wrapping her arm around my waist and dragging me towards the rest of the team. I greet her teammates, the women giving me lackluster nods before returning to their own conversations.

“Amazing goal, Alexia!” I tell the brunette next to me. She turns to look at me, giving me a tight smile. “Gracias” she responds, before pointedly turning back to Jenni who was standing on her other side.

“That’s a pretty necklace,” Ingrid said sweetly, gesturing to the one dangling from my neck. “Where did you get it?”

“I got it for her,” Mapi said proudly. “A gem for my gem.” I blushed, curling into her to hide my warm face, laughing slightly at her joke. I however, didn’t miss Ingrid rolling her eyes and looking sharply at Patri.

“Did Mapi get those earrings for you, too?” Patri asked sharply.

“Uh yeah, she did!” I answered, turning to face the woman. “How’d you know?”

She looked at me coldly. “Just a hunch” she said, before muttering something to Jenni who let out a loud laugh. Mapi, oblivious to everything, turned to look at the stands and saw a young girl holding out a sign with mapi’s name on it.

“Aww, babe, look!” she exclaimed, tugging me towards the sign. “Let’s go say hi!”

I pushed everything from my mind and focused on Mapi’s interaction with the young fan. She was so attentive and kind, and watching her with the young girl couldn’t help but make me think of a future with her, and maybe a little kid of our own.

“Hey, hermosa,” Mapi said to me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Would you mind grabbing my warmup from the girls over there so I can change into something after I give this chica my kit?”

“Of course not!” I tell her, smiling at the little girl who looked like she was about to pass out at the idea of getting Mapi Leon’s kit. “I’ll be right back!”

I jog over to the team, who is standing huddled in even closer than before. As I approach, I hear Ingrid’s angry voice.

“-and we have to say something! This has gone on for long enough, I can’t watch her stay with that gold digging bitch any longer!”

I freeze. Inching closer to the group, they thankfully don’t seem to see me.

“Come on Ingrid, is she really that bad?” I hear another voice, belonging to Marta. “She seems to make Mapi really happy, and she honestly seems like such a sweet girl. I think you are too harsh on her.”

My blood runs cold. Me? A golddigger? I would laugh if I didn’t feel like bursting into tears.

“I think we know exactly how she’s making Mapi happy” Jenni bites out, and the girls laugh.

“Honestly, I think we need to tell Mapi sooner rather than later, it’ll help her in the long run” Alexia says, and as most of the girls agree, I clear my throat.

It’s almost comical, they way they all turn to face me. Alexia’s face drops, as do the faces of most of the other girls.

I paste on a fake smile. “Have any of you seen Mapi’s warm up jacket?” I ask. “She wants to give her kit to that little girl over there and asked me to come find the jacket for her.”

Wordlessly, Sandra hands me Mapi’s jacket. I mutter a thank you before turning to walk towards my girlfriend. I pause for a moment, then turn back around.

“Just for the record, not that it matters, but just so you all know, I’m most certainly not a golddigger. None of you even know me, not really, but the fact that this is the conclusion that you have jumped to breaks my heart. Especially because it seems to be the reason you've treated me so horribly. If you really cared about Mapi like you say you do, you would have made an effort to get to know her girlfriend instead of jumping to ridiculous accusations and high school mean girl actions.”

Ingrid scoffs. “You are a golddigger!” she shouts. “Mapi is constantly buying things for you, paying for you, and we all know you’re just using her for her money! You’ll drop her the second you get a chance and we are not about to let that happen!”

Looking at Ingrid and the team standing around her, I break. The tears start to fall, slowly at first, then all at once, and I run off of the pitch. I run off so quickly that I don’t see Mapi, who had finished with the fan and found another hoodie to wear, walking up beside the team. Ingrid had been yelling so loudly she had heard the entire speech, and she was now standing beside the team, anger taking over every feature on her face.

“What the hell did you just say to my girlfriend?” she shouts at Ingrid, the taller girl spinning to face her.

“All of you! What is wrong with you? She is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you have all been treating her horribly!”

“We are only trying to look out for you,” Alexia says, approaching Mapi. “We don’t want you to get used or for your heart to get broken.”

Mapi backs away from Alexia. “She makes more money than I do!” she shouts. “Her business is huge! And if any of you had taken the time to get to know her, you would know that.”

One by one, the faces of everyone on the team fall. “What?” Patri asks, hoarsely.

“I can’t believe all of you. You may have just ruined the best thing in my life. I hope you’re all proud of yourselves.” Mapi says, a tear falling.

Alexia looks at her friend, then back at her team. Instantly, she knows they have to go into damage control mode. If Mapi was crying, they had really fucked up. Mapi never cried, especially not around them.

Alexia gently approached Mapi, putting her arms around the shorter girl’s shoulders. “How can we make this right?” she asked.

Back at my apartment, I changed into an old shirt of Mapi’s and a pair of shorts before grabbing a tub of ice cream and sitting down on the couch, where I planned to spend the rest of the night watching television and crying. However, my wallowing was cut short. After only two episodes of Friends, there was a knock at my door. Assuming it was Mapi, I stayed where I was. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, but most of all I didn’t want to get up. I figured Mapi would unlock the door in a minute with her key, so I stayed where I was. There was another knock, before the door opened. I sighed, pausing the television, but not turning around.

“Mapi, I’m really not in the mood to talk right now.”

“It’s, um, not Mapi.” a voice said. I turned around in shock, and saw Alexia standing by the door, the rest of the team visible behind her. I stood up, walking towards the team.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. “And how did you even get in?”

“Mapi gave us her key,” Ingrid spoke up. “She’s on her way, but she wanted to give us a chance to apologize before she got here.”

“We can leave though, if you want?” Alexia said. “We just really wanted to tell you how sorry we are. We never meant for things to end up like this, we just got carried away in trying to protect our friend. But instead, you got hurt, and we don’t know what we can do to make it up to you.”

My eyes move over the rest of the team, and I’m shocked to find tears on Claudia’s face. Patri looks just as miserable, and Marta looks furious with her team, as does Sandra.

“I, I don’t really know what to say.” I stammer out.

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” Ingrid assures me. “But we brought food and games, we thought maybe we could have a game night, or maybe a movie night?”

I sigh slightly, before smiling a little. “That sounds really nice,” I say. “Come on in!”

I can hear the sigh of relief breathed from practically everyone, and they make their way into my apartment. Alexia, Marta, Jenni and Sandra carry a number of bags and follow me to the kitchen where they start pulling out containers and boxes of food to set up. The others start setting up games in the living room, and someone obviously brought a speaker because music starts playing. I smile, looking around my house, and almost miss the knocking coming from the front door. I open it to see Mapi, holding a bouquet and looking adorable in a pajama onesie I had gotten her as a joke (I have a matching one in my closet). She peers into the apartment, and, seeing the girls behind me, breathes a huge sigh of relief. I pull her into a tight hug, and she kisses me softly.

“I’m so, sorry sorry bebe,” she says into my hair, pulling me even tighter into her embrace. “I had no idea what was going on, but I’m so happy we sorted everything out and I can spend the night with my favorite girls.”

I grin, and, grabbing her larger hand in mine, drag her into the house.

The night is amazing, and, as Alexia assures me, the first of many. She pulls me aside later to apologize, as do Ingrid, Patri, Claudia and Jenni. It may have been a rocky start, but I can tell that these amazing women will turn out to be some of my closest friends in the world, and they prove themselves time and time again in the years to come, how much they have changed and how much they love Mapi and I.

#mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #woso #futbol #espwnt #fc barcelona #woso imagine #spain #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #patri guijarro #claudia pina #fic request

680 notes · View notes

sentientcave · 3 months

Text

Part 1 - Part 2

Contains: Gals being pals, homoerotic speculation, brief mentions of alcohol and kink (conversationally)

SFW - Word Count: ~2.8k

You only had a few days to get used to living with Soap before she was gone again, but now, without her exuberant presence, the apartment feels emptier than it did when it was just you living there. You fall into a familiar pattern, running the occasional errand, but mostly just getting up, getting coffee, going to work and going home. It’s… lonelier than you expected.

You’re not sure when to expect her back. When you’d asked, she’d just laughed. “As long as it takes, kitty. Dinnae worry. I’ll have Katie send ye the rent if I’m no’ back before month end.” She didn’t explain who Katie was, and you were a bit afraid to ask. She’d probably just tell you that it’s a classified matter anyway.

The idea that she could be gone that long, or even longer, makes your stomach clench with worry. Perhaps you’ve only known Jamie for a week or so, really, but she’s already gotten under your skin and made a home for herself. There’s signs of her all over your apartment too— The big green couch, her 3 in 1 soap in the shower (That you’re pretty sure she didn’t use once during the days she’d been there, electing instead to use your products), her winter jacket in the closet, her ‘going out’ boots in the hall. A picture of her and her cousins stuck to the fridge with a Rangers Football Club magnet. It’s the only picture you have of her, and it’s many years old, featuring a gangly, teenaged Jamie that hadn’t filled out into the powerhouse of a woman that you’d met.

You’re wiling away the hours at work, when your favourite barista, Alex, comes in after her shift and chats with you while she browses the romance section. She only ever buys the ones with horny oil paintings on the cover. For the aesthetic, she says, but you're pretty sure she's just a harlequin fan. You can’t blame her. You love a good romance too.

"You ever go to those workshops?" she asks while you’re cashing her out. She gestures at the board behind you. "I've been thinking about going to the ropes one, but haven't worked up the courage to go alone."

"No! I probably should sometime. I think my landlord runs one of them. I'm not sure which though." You slide her books into a paper bag and hand her the receipt.

"Here. I'll give you my number in case you ever want someone to go with. I think it could be fun." She scribbles down her number on the back of her receipt and slides it back across the counter to you with a smile. “I’ve been thinking about—”

The door jangles. “Heya, kitty!” It’s Jamie, grinning ear to ear, a freshly healed scar on her chin and a bandage on her arm, covering half of her SAS tattoo. She sidles past Alex and comes around the counter to hug you tightly. She smells like sweat and gunpowder. She must have come straight to you after getting home. “Missed ya. Been a right slog the last few weeks. Ghost got hisself shot and ugh, he’s all fine out in the field, carryin’ on no problem, but as soon as we’re back at the safe house he’s cryin’ about how much he needs me tae take care of him. Just an absolute wet biscuit of a man.” She glances over at Alex, like she hadn’t even noticed her standing there. “Oh, hello, cutie. Sorry, didnae mean to interrupt.” Her eyes zero in on the reciept with the phone number scrawled across it.

“Oh, it’s, um, it’s fine,” Alex says nervously. “Are you— Um—”

“Alex, this is Jamie. She’s my new roommate. Jamie, Alex. She works at the coffee shop down the way.”

Jamie sticks a hand out, but leaves her other arm wrapped around you. “Nice ta meet you. Been in there a couple times but ye must work the mornin’ shift, aye? I’m always due on base early mornin’.”

“So, you’re, um, military?” Alex asks. She winces slightly when Soap shakes her hand.

“Sure am. Sorry, hen, didnae mean to squeeze so hard. Ye get used to it bein’ a bloody cock measuring contest with the lads on base. Gotta adjust for civvies.” She smiles apologetically. “What were you girlies goin’ on about before I came in? Don’t want to leave your conversation unfinished before I get to monopolizin’ our girl’s time, aye?”

“We were just talking about the workshops. On the board. Alex mentioned that she was thinking about going to the ropes one.”

“Is that the one yer handsome landlord runs?” Soap asked. “And is it like, knots for boats and whatnot, or the fun kind? Wouldnae mind tyin’ ye up, kitty.”

“I’m… Not sure. It’s kind of unclear, but there’s an email listed. I’ll get some clarification.” You give Soap a side-long glance. She looks a bit more excited than you’re sure what to do with. “And besides that, there’s no way I’m letting you tie me up.”

The light in her eyes only gets more intense. “You gonna tie me up, kitty? Have yer way with me?”

Alex clears her throat, looking a bit nervous. “Well, um. I’ll see you around. Text me and let me know about the course. Or if you just want to hang out. I’m free after one like every day.”

“I can also keep you apprised of when we get a truck-load of harlequins in, give you the first go through,” you say. “I’ll see you Wednesday, eh?”

“Yeah. Bright and early.” She smiles at you. “And, um, nice to meet you, Jamie the roommate.”

“See ye around, Alex the coffee girl.” Soap waited for the door to close behind Alex before she spoke again. “Looks like she’s got a little crush on ye, kitty. Didnae know I had so much competition.”

You roll your eyes. “She doesn’t. She’s just being friendly.”

“Oh sure, kitty. Me too.” Soap withdrew a step and leaned against the counter. “Ye want to come out for a pint tonight? It’s a tradition, with me and the lads. We go out, get blootered, captain goes home early, Gaz flirts with someone’s girlfriend, and then we have a scrap outside an’ Ghost breaks it up. Ye can help him, it’ll be good ta have another voice’f reason to balance us out.”

“I think a pint is a far cry from, er, getting blootered,” you say, laughing. “But sure. I don’t start work till eleven tomorrow. I can stand to get a little silly. So long as you’re sure the lads don’t mind. I don’t want to overstep.”

“No’ possible. They like you a lot. Maybe a little too much, if ye ask me. I’m goan to head home and get cleaned up, aye? Do ye mind if I eat the leftovers in the fridge? I’m starvin’.”

“You already ate them, didn’t you?” you ask. There was really no other reason why she would know that there were leftovers to eat.

“Weal. Yes. But yer a kind soul, kitty. I knew ye’d say yes. I’ll buy all yer drinks tonight tae make up for it.”

“Oh fine,” you say. It’s hard to even imagine being mad at her. You suspect that it’s a waste of energy, when she’s just a big puppy dog of a person. Scolding her for anything isn’t likely to change her behaviour, it’s just going to make her feel terrible during the scolding. And you don’t quite have the heart to scold Soap, with her big blue eyes. “I was going to go round to the shops tonight, so maybe you can go tomorrow? I have a list, and I can give you money for it. I just work till five and I won’t have a chance.”

“I can do tha’, kitty. When d’ye get off work today? Three?”

“Five. A couple more hours. Shouldn’t be long.”

“Hours! Aw, c’mon, kitty.” She pouted, as though that were going to get you out of work any faster. “Can’t ye close up early? There’s no one here.”

“Jamie, it’s my job. If I closed up early every time I felt like it I wouldn’t have a job for very long, and then you’d be the one looking for a new roommate.”

Jamie grumbled about how she wouldn’t let that happen, as if she had any control over the state of your finances, but headed home to shower without too much more complaining, although she rather disconcertingly mentioned offhand, as she was heading out the door, that she would go through your closet and find you something cute to wear. You really hoped that didn’t mean pull everything out of your dresser drawers and make a mess.

Things pick up at the shop enough to keep you from dwelling on what Jamie was up to— And she was uncharacteristically quiet on her end as well, only texting you once with a blurry picture of Red Herring scampering down the hallway captioned with CREATURE SIGHTING, and a second one of her and Red cuddled up on the couch, faces smushed together. You take a sneaky picture of a customer with a yellow coat and bright orange boots with Big Bird: Confirmed written across it. You’re careful to leave their face out of frame, but you do feel a bit bad about it, and elect to ‘accidentally’ not ring through one of the books, giving it to them for free instead. The return text makes your transgression against public decency almost worth it.

LMFAOOO<

Finally, it’s time to lock up the store and walk home. It gets dark early now, and the sun is already setting over your street, the shadows growing long, the gold light of dusk painting the edges of the clouds, and the buildings with a little gilt paint. It feels good to know that Jamie’s home. You feel like you can breathe properly again, like you’d been holding your breath for weeks and weeks, not knowing if she was alright. You’d been sleepwalking through your days, and you’re finally awake again, able to appreciate the colour of the sky and the half-familiar and familiar faces you walk by. You know you must be smiling, because you get plenty of smiles in return.

Happiness is an infectious thing.

You check the mailbox for the usual pile of flyers and bills, and sort through them on the way up the stairs. Mostly just junk, and your internet and credit card bills. And an envelope with so many stamps on it that your address is written off to the side in cramped letters. There’s no return address on it.

You unlock the door and drop your bag to the side, in it’s usual spot. Soap’s work boots are neatly placed beside the nearly identical ‘going out’ boots, dusty and worn in from the weeks away. Jamie is sitting at the table, scribbling in a notebook, Red Herring sitting on the table beside her, bapping at the end of her pen every time it approaches his side of the notebook.

"Hm-- Oh! Hi, kitty!" Jamie closes the notebook, tucking her pen inside, and gets up from her seat at the table. Her hair is wet, down around her shoulders to air dry, and she's wearing a tank top and a pair of black boxer shorts with a skull pelvis on them. You suspect that they belong to Ghost. The idea that he wears skulls all the way down to his skivvies makes you like him even more.

Are they dating? You're not sure what the rules are for military relationships, but you suspect that a lieutenant dating a sergeant is not allowed under usual circumstances. Not that you could blame them. Ghost is huge and actually pretty sweet, under the growly voice and mask. He was covered in cat hair by the time he'd gone home, all those weeks ago, because Red liked him so much. And Jamie was a tall, beautiful, muscled-up amazon woman. And they had their whole warriors bond thing going on. It wouldn't be a surprise for them to be interested in each other. The flirting she’s been doing with you is likely no more than just playful fun. You don’t really mind, you just have to keep yourself from reading into it too much.

“Welcome home, by the way,” you say as Soap grabs you into an even tighter hug than before. “I missed you. And I was starting to get worried.”

“You didnae get my letter?” she asked.

“Letter?” you ask. You hold up the envelope with all the stamps. “This?”

“Oh! Guess it didnae make it back before I did. No time to read it right now, kitty. Ye’ve got ta get ready.” She pulls the stack of mail from your hand and tosses it down on the counter before dragging you down the hallway towards your room.

“Do I have time to shower?” you ask mildly.

“Do ye need to?” Soap leans in and sniffs you audibly, trying not to laugh. “Smell fine to me, kitty.”

You giggle and swat her away. “I could smell better. But mostly it’s just so I can wash out the ponytail crease in my hair. It’d take ages to get rid of it otherwise.”

“Bah. Fine. I’ll wait in yer room, I found a few cute outfits for ye.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be a few, if you want to get ready yourself.”

“Psshh, it only takes me a minute. Want ye to help me with my eyeliner too, if you don’t mind. Ye do that little swooptie thing? Whenever I try tha’ I cannae get them even.”

“Of course.”

You shower and towel dry your hair, and wrap your towel around yourself. It's one of those nice extra big ones that actually covers everything. You bought it after making a mad dash across the hall when Fern's boyfriend was staying over, trying not to flash him, and made the decision immediately after to not go through that kind of stress again. He had become a too-regular presence in your home to ignore in the months before Fern moved in with him.

Jamie makes you try on five different outfits before letting you settle on a skirt that hits around the knee and a flowy yellow tank top, and she finally goes to get dressed herself while you dab on makeup and style your hair. After weeks apart, having Soap back is refreshing, even if she does have a low tolerance for personal space. Out in the field, that closeness is probably necessary, it probably keeps her and her teammates alive, but here it only serves to fluster you and set your off balance. Jamie doesn’t seem at all aware what effect she has on you, and her flippant, flirty comments don’t help matters either.

Helping her do her makeup is the trickiest part, really. She’s twitchy and fidgety, and you end up pinning her flat to the flat to your bed, one hand holding her jaw and the other holding your eyeliner pen, a knee on either side of her rib cage. The angle is awkward when you do the other eye, and you have to lean in closer, steadying your wrist against her forehead. You don’t remove your hand from her jaw until you’ve finished either, well aware that she’ll start talking the moment you release her and make it impossible to finish up neatly.

“There!” you say, sitting back to admire your handiwork. She blinks up at you for a long moment, her blue eyes made all the more bright by the contrasting band of black on her upper lid. “Actually—” You twist and grab your makeup bag, and grab her face again, adding a swipe of peachy pink lip-gloss to her mouth.

Uncharacteristically, she just lays there for a moment, still quiet, looking dazed and flushed. For a moment, you feel a rush of… Well, you would hesitate to call it euphoria, but there’s a certain satisfaction in rendering Soap speechless and pink, when she’s an amazon, and you’re just a round little woman who’s idea of a workout is stocking shelves and crating books around.

But then again, you are sitting directly on her diaphragm, and you know you aren’t light. “Oh, goodness, I’m squishing you, aren’t I?” you scramble to get off of her, and offer her a helping hand up. “We should get going.”

“Right. Yeah. O’course, kitty. Let’s go.” She pulls in a deep breath, shaking off the daze, her familiar devastating grin sliding back into place. “Wouldnae want to keep the lads waiting, aye?”

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but you think, just maybe, she does want to keep them waiting. You snag a cardigan from your closet and stop to to give Redd Herring a scritch behind the ears before you follow her out into the hallway and lock up the apartment.

She offers you her arm, like she’s some kind of gentleman (which she would not be, even if she was a man), and you take it, looking forward to the night out.

***

Image Credits:

Top Row: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 Bottom Row: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 Background

Any other graphics used are canva elements

#cave writing #cod mw #Fem!SoapxfemReader #xReader #Femsoapxreader #mostly just fluff #sorry this took me like a month to do #I was working on like anything else lmao #Jamie Mactavish could get it tbh

31 notes · View notes

chelseachilly · 1 year

Text

king of my heart - pt 4

you make me so happy it turns back to sad there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you and ben receive an unexpected visitor - your chelsea-obsessed younger brother warnings: none for this chapter :) word count: 3k

see my masterlist for previous chapters

The week after the match, despite your revelation about how deep your feelings for Ben are becoming, you continue to see him almost every night.

On Friday evening, you end up at your place, Charlotte once again out of town for work. The two of you are sprawled on the couch watching a movie after having sex the moment he arrived. You typically go a few more rounds, but you’re both exhausted from the week and clearly didn’t have it in you tonight.

You were secretly elated when Ben settled into your sofa and wrapped an arm around you even after you admitted how tired you were, choosing to stay and simply spend time together.

Your brother is coming to visit tomorrow morning for the next few days, which means you won’t have any time to see Ben. It will be the longest you’ve gone without seeing him in at least a month, and although it’s not exactly cool to admit this to your friend with benefits, you’re going to miss him like crazy.

“What time does your brother get in tomorrow again?” Ben asks, lazily tracing your arm as you lay with your head on his chest, eyes on the TV screen.

“Should be here around ten,” you tell him. “You have any advice on what to do with a sixteen year old boy for three days? Cause last time he came to visit I took him to the zoo and I don’t think he was entirely impressed.”

“Hmm…” Ben hums. “Football match?”

You laugh and roll your eyes slightly, blushing as he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Believe me, that was my first idea. I would’ve grilled you for really good tickets already if you guys were playing tomorrow.”

“I can get you Arsenal tickets if he’d be into that,” Ben offers.

“Thanks, but he really is a die hard Chelsea fan,” you say. “Like, he would have zero interest in seeing any other club play.”

“Good lad,” Ben chuckles. “And all I did at sixteen was play football, so I’m not sure how much help I can be here. I’m sure you two will have fun, though, and he’ll appreciate you trying to make it fun for him. You’re a great sister.”

You feel his gaze on you and turn your head to meet his eyes, your noses almost brushing. He’s been saying swoon-worthy things like this with increasing regularity lately, which makes it even harder to ignore how you’ve been feeling.

You’ve just leaned in to kiss him when a knock on the door disturbs you, making you pull back reluctantly.

“Is that the food already?” you ask. Ben just ordered about twenty minutes ago, but it must’ve come early.

“Must be,” Ben shrugs. He gently removes your legs from his lap and gets up, pulling the joggers he discarded on the floor on over his boxers.

His matching white hoodie is currently on you, over top of only your underwear.

Ben walks over to your front door and swings it open as you continue to watch the film.

A moment later, there’s a startled yelp that definitely did not come from Ben. And when you look over to the door, it’s definitely not a delivery person, it’s your little brother.

“Max!” you exclaim, your eyes wide as you quickly pull on some leggings to cover up before running over.

Your brother is standing completely still, his wide eyes looking from you to Ben. He remains in the doorway with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Max, uh, this is my friend Ben,” you say quickly, your cheeks flushed. “Ben, my brother Max.”

“Cheers, mate,” Ben says, awkwardly extending his hand for Max to shake. When your brother continues to stare at him blankly, he drops it. “Right, yeah.”

“Y/N,” Max says after another moment, glaring at you. “Why is Ben Chilwell half-naked in your flat?”

“Well, as I said, we’re friends and we were just hanging out and - you were supposed to come tomrorow!”

“Mum was supposed to call you and let you know I decided to come tonight instead!” Max argues. “Now, can we please circle back to the fact that you’re shagging a footballer and you didn’t tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell my younger brother who I’m shagging-“

“You do if he plays for Chelsea!”

“Alright, um, Y/N,” Ben interrupts in a considerably calmer tone, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t I grab my things and give you some privacy?”

You nod gratefully at Ben as he goes to your bedroom to grab his bag, leaving you alone with Max for a minute. You drag your brother, whose feet are still glued to the floor, into the flat and shut the door.

“Look, I promise I was going to tell you,” you say. “It just…doesn’t come up easily in conversation.”

“How about last weekend when I mentioned him playing well against Leeds?” Max demands. “Might that have been a good time?”

You sigh, burying your face in your hands.

“Max, it’s complicated,” you say, lowering your voice so Ben doesn’t hear. “We’re not, like, together. It’s just casual. That’s all.”

Max has always been fairly wise beyond his years, and you can tell by the way his brow furrows that he knows you’re bothered by this.

He doesn’t say anything, just nods his head and finally drops his bag to pull you into a hug. You return it and squeeze him tightly, realizing you needed a hug from your brother more than you thought.

Ben walks back in just as you’ve pulled away, a t-shirt now thrown on and his bag in hand. Max is still staring at him, but more in awe than pure shock this time.

“Sorry for the - erm - reaction,” Max says, scratching the back of his head. “Just wasn’t exactly expecting to see you at my sister’s place.”

“All good, mate,” Ben says with a wave of his hand. “Y/N told me you’re a Chelsea fan. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Max nods, obviously unable to form a sentence in response to that.

“You can stay if you want,” you say quietly to Ben. “The food’s not even here yet.”

He smiles at you but shakes his head, adjusting the strap of his bag. “No, you guys enjoy the food, I don’t want to intrude on your time together.”

You can tell by the way that Max is looking at you that he definitely does want Ben to intrude on your time together, as he undoubtedly has a million questions for him.

You’re not exactly wanting to beg your not-boyfriend to stay, but you don’t want to disappoint your brother, either. Luckily, Ben beats you to it.

“You know, Y/N mentioned you guys don’t have much of a plan for tomorrow,” Ben says to Max. “We don’t have a match, unfortunately, but we’ll be training until three or four. If you want to come around to Cobham then, I can give you a tour, introduce you to some of the boys. If you’re interested, that is.”

Max looks just about ready to pass out, but he manages to nod his head a few times and look to you for approval.

“That’s really nice of you, Ben,” you say, your heart thumping in your chest. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Ben smiles at you. “It’s no trouble. I can send a car for you around three?”

Your brain is playing a constant loop of the same little mantra: You’re perfect. I like you so much. I want to be with you.

Basically, everything you’re too afraid to tell him.

It’s difficult to ignore it for long enough to nod and smile back at him, but you manage.

“Thank you, that sounds perfect.”

Ben nods and presses a quick kiss to your cheek - keeping it PG in front of your brother - before heading for the door.

“See you tomorrow,” he says with another grin that belongs on the cover of a magazine before exiting.

When he leaves, both you and Max collapse on the sofa, overwhelmed by Ben Chilwell for entirely different reasons.

As promised, a car shows up outside your flat at 3PM sharp the next day to take you and Max to Cobham.

You’ve never seen your younger brother this excited in your entire life - not even when your parents surprised you with a trip to Disney World when you were kids. He’s practically shaking with excitement by the time the car pulls up to the training ground, parking among the many fancy sports cars.

You enter the building, and both Ben and Mason are standing in the entranceway to greet you and escort you past security.

“Holy shit,” Max murmurs to you while the guys are still out of hearing distance. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

You smile as Ben rushes over to you and pulls you in for a quick hug before turning to your brother.

“Nice to see you again, mate,” Ben says with a grin. He beckons Mason over, and the midfielder comes and greets you with a quick hug as well. “Mason felt like hanging around for a bit, cool if he joins us for the tour?”

Once again, Max is left speechless - Mason is one of his all-time favourite players. You know how huge this is for him.

“Chilly told me you’re a big Chelsea fan, that’s awesome,” Mason smiles. “You wanna go see the training pitch? I think a few of the boys are still out back there.”

“That would be amazing,” Max says, nodding eagerly.

For the next hour, you mostly stand back and watch as your brother’s wildest fantasies come to life. All the players still around give him a warm welcome, even kicking the ball around with him for a bit.

While Ben shows him around the facility afterward, playing tour guide and happily answering all of his questions, you hang back a bit and chat with Mason.

“This was so nice of you guys,” you say, gesturing to Ben and Max up ahead. “You don’t have to stay, though, I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

“I don’t mind hanging around a bit longer, he’s a good kid,” Mason shrugs. “Plus, Ben made it very clear to the whole team at training that anyone who didn’t have plans was to stay and give your brother the best day of his life.”

Your knees feel a bit weak and your brain turns to mush as you look over at Ben, who is showing Max some old trophies. You can’t believe how above and beyond he went today just to make your brother - and by extension, you - happy.

“That’s so sweet,” you breathe, not even realizing that you’re staring at Ben with major heart eyes until Mason nudges your shoulder.

“I know you guys aren’t official,” Mason says quietly, ensuring you aren’t overheard. “But the man won’t shut up about you. I’ve never seen him like this over a girl. Just thought you should know.”

You know you’re blushing like crazy - you always seem to be rosy-cheeked in Ben’s presence these days - so you don’t bother trying to put up a front for Mason. Besides, Charlotte seems to be really into him, so you figure he’s trustworthy.

“I do want more with him,” you admit, and you realize this is the first time you’re saying those words out loud. “I’m just scared, honestly. I haven’t liked someone this much…probably ever.”

“You should tell him how you feel,” Mason encourages you. “He’s had bad luck with relationships in the past, but I can tell how much he likes you. He just needs a little push.”

Before you can respond, Max runs over to you with Ben right behind him.

“You ready to go?” you ask Max, trying to avoid eye contact with Ben while you get your feelings under control.

“Yeah, Ben offered to drive us back to yours in his Lambo,” Max says excitedly.

As much as you desperately need to be anywhere but with Ben right now, needing some time to reflect upon Mason’s words and your burgeoning feelings, you can’t deny your brother this either.

You nod and follow Ben and Max toward the car park, Mason giving you a supportive shoulder squeeze as you say goodbye.

The drive home is uneventful - you let Max sit in the front with Ben, who you’re pretty sure is now his personal hero, if he wasn’t already.

When Ben drops you off, he walks you to your door, because of course he has to be a gentleman today too.

“You’d better hop in the shower and start getting ready,” you say to Max as soon as you unlock the door. “We have a dinner reservation soon.”

Max nods, the grin on his face showing no sign of disappearing any time soon.

“Thanks for everything, Ben, that was fucking amazing,” Max says.

You elbow your brother playfully in the ribs. “Language.”

“I’m sixteen!”

Ben laughs and nods at Max. “Any time, bro. You’ll have to come up for a match sometime soon.”

Max nods eagerly before heading to the washroom and leaving you and Ben alone in the doorway.

He’s awkwardly shifting his weight, perhaps unsure if he should come in or not, so you decide to break the silence.

“Thank you for everything today,” you say sincerely. “You could’ve just given him a signed kit or something, but you went above and beyond. I haven’t seen him this happy since our dad died.”

“Of course,” Ben says softly, taking a small step toward you. “I would do anything for you, Y/N.”

All you want to do right now is lean in and kiss him and never let him go. It’s crazy how rapidly your feelings for this man have grown - how you couldn’t see yourself in any relationship a couple months ago, and now it’s all you think about.

But you also know that you were the one who told Ben you didn’t want anything serious. You were the one who underestimated how much you would grow to care for him, how he would touch your soul in ways you didn’t know possible.

So if he doesn’t feel the same way, if this has to end, you’ll be the only one to blame for your broken heart.

“Look, Ben,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I…I know we agreed to keep things casual and breezy, and I know we’re both busy with work, but I’m not sure I can do…this anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asks, panic written all over his face. “You want to…end this?”

“No,” you say quickly. “No, god, that’s the opposite of what I want. I want to be with you, Ben. I want to be your girlfriend, I want to make breakfast with you on Sunday mornings, I want to hang on to this feeling.”

He looks at you with wide eyes, his expression hard to read, and you continue to ramble.

“I know I’m the one who said I didn’t want a relationship right now, and maybe you still don’t, so I completely understand if you-“

Before you register what’s happening, Ben takes another step toward you and cups your face in both hands, his lips descending on yours.

You kiss him back with equal fervour, your hands reaching up to comb through his soft dark hair. His body is warm against yours as his arms move to wrap around your waist and hold you tighter.

“Ben,” you moan against his lips, unable to bring yourself to pull away completely. “What are you-“

“I want that too, Y/N,” he says breathlessly, pulling back but still holding you close. “You have no idea how much.”

Your heart is beating wildly as you look into his eyes - those damn eyes that appear blue or green depending on the light and you can only describe as the colour of the ocean, that got you into trouble in the first place, that you could spend hours getting lost in.

“Really?” you ask quietly.

Ben nods, smiling and pressing another peck to his lips.

“I would’ve said something sooner, but I thought you didn’t want anything serious,” he says. “I was trying to respect that, but these past weeks have been…”

“Perfect,” you finish, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “It’s been amazing, Ben.“

“I know we’re both still busy, and I’ll have to go to the states next month for the summer friendlies, but I really want to give this a go,” Ben admits. “What do you think?”

You beam at him and lean in so your foreheads are pressed together.

“I think I really wanna be your girlfriend, Ben Chilwell.”

Ben’s smile is blinding as he leans in to kiss you again, then again and again.

“Great, cause I really wanna be your boyfriend, Y/N Y/L/N.”

When Max comes out of the shower and finds you two still making out in the doorway, he just laughs and raises an eyebrow.

“Is Ben coming to dinner then?” Max asks, making you and Ben break apart in embarrassment, Ben wiping your lip gloss off his face.

“He’s welcome to come to dinner if he wants,” you smile, nudging Ben’s hip with yours. “That is, if he’s not sick of us yet.”

Ben shakes his head and presses another kiss to your lips, making Max groan in disgust.

“Sorry mate, really wouldn’t wanna watch someone snog my sister in front of me either,” Ben chuckles, tossing Max his car keys. “You wanna drive?”

Max’s eyes light up as he catches the keys, and you turn to glare at your boyfriend.

But then you remember he’s now your boyfriend, and you can’t bring yourself to look particularly angry.

“He’s sixteen, Ben,” you reprimand him in a light tone. “He’s not driving your Lamborghini.”

“Just around the block?” Max pleads.

You take a deep breath before nodding in approval, and Max races past you and down to the car.

“You know, I think this is going to be the best day of his whole life,” you tell Ben as the two of you follow Max downstairs, his arm around your waist. “Nothing is ever topping this for him.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Ben smiles, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. “But I’m pretty sure it’s the best day of mine.”

yourusername

liked by benchilwell, charlottewright and others

yourusername so great to have the little bro in town for the weekend <3

tagged: max.yln

yourmum I hope that’s not a beer I see! Thanks for showing your brother such an incredible time dearest x

yourusername don’t worry mum it was his first and last ;)

max.yln via stories

Text Chain - Y/N, Ben, Charlotte & Mason

Charlotte 🤍 - 5:36PM omg not max soft-launching y/n and ben first lmao

Mason Mount - 5:38PM 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Y/N - 5:40PM I know, good thing he has like 200 followers 🙄

Ben ❤️ - 5:43PM It’s a cute pic tho

let me know how you liked this chapter!! :) more coming soon x

next chapter 💙

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #komh

91 notes · View notes

training4theapocalypse · 11 months

Text

Finders Keepers Ch 6. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex - F & M receiving, Face Sitting, 69

Summary: Your letters over the Christmas break are driving McLaggen mad. He wonders what you'd think about meeting up in London the day before you need to catch the Hogwarts Express?

A/N: I would very much enjoy suffocating this man.

Masterlist

Tag list: @countlambula, @lolitstiana, @ratsys, @aweidlich

Chapter 6: First Name Basis

Dear Cormac,

By the time this owl arrives, I expect you to have at least four training sessions under your belt. You’ll note that I’ve kindly given you a day off for Christmas.

It’s a shame we didn’t have more time before the holidays together. This is the first Christmas break that I’ve ever wished I was at Hogwarts. I’ve heard the castle is extremely empty this time of year. Who knows how anyone passes the time with nobody around in all those deserted classrooms?

Anyway, I hope you’re having a good break.

xoxox

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merry Christmas!

I wasn’t sure how to address this back because I think that was only the second time you’ve ever called me Cormac… Are we on first-name terms now?

We spent Christmas Eve at Rufus Scrimgeor’s party but it was different this year… I’ll tell you more in person in case this owl is intercepted. My dad, uncle and I were still extremely hungover for Christmas Lunch the next day (yes, even worse than on the train home after Slughorn’s). Mum was not happy.

You might be disappointed to hear that training has frankly been the last thing on my mind. Every time I think about Quidditch my mind wanders to the last time we were on the stands. We were having a conversation that I’d be keen to continue… if you know what I mean.

CM xx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Gryffindor’s Reserve Keeper,

I hope your hangover is less painful today.

Has anyone ever told you that you are such an unbearable show-off? I can’t believe you name-dropped the Minister for Magic in your first letter to me. How likely is it that these owls will be intercepted do you think? I’ve never really considered the possibility of anyone else wanting to find out information from my letters. But then again I’ve never written to such a big-shot with important Ministry connections before.

I told my mum and dad all about my invite to the Holyhead Harpies tryouts. They’re muggles so they’ve never really got their heads around wizard careers but they love football (kind of like muggle Quidditch) so sport is something they can understand.

I am in fact disappointed you haven’t been training hard over the break - although I can understand your preoccupation with our last conversation on the stands. My mind keeps wandering too. It was probably my favourite conversation I’ve had involving Quidditch - which is saying something.

Let me know what you think about the chances of interception. I got a Polaroid for Christmas ( muggle camera) and I have a photo I think you’d like…

With love,

Ravenclaw Captain and First Choice Keeper

xoxoxo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Holyhead Harpies Future Keeper,

I’m pretty confident that nobody else is reading our letters. And I’m not just saying that because I’m dying to see whatever it is you want to send me. Your letters have been arriving so quickly that there’s no way anyone has had time to read them before they got here. Or maybe you just write exceptionally fast because you miss me so much.

The past week has been agonisingly slow. Usually, the Christmas holidays come to an end far too quickly but another week without you is driving me mad. The last few weeks of term when we weren’t speaking to each other feel like a wasted opportunity.

I’ve been too distracted to finish Slughorn’s Potions essay. When I think about Potions, I think about you. And then I think about that dress. Fucking hell. Although it’s not a patch on the protective headgear you wear playing Quidditch. Obviously.

Speak soon.

Big Shot Junior Minister for Horrendous Hangovers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear letter inception squad,

Please be warned that I am attaching with this correspondence an explicit photo of my tits and cannot be held responsible for any serious side effects that may occur upon viewing (dizziness, uncontrollable hard-on, etc.)

My beloved boyfriend has informed me that he is being driven mad by my absence and it is my only desire to help alleviate his pain. Well, maybe not my only desire.

Cormac, if this letter ever finds its way to you without being censored by the powers that be. I need you to know something…

It’s you who’s writing quickly, not me. You miss me more.

With love,

Redacted

xoxox

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To my girlfriend (apparently),

Fuck.

It took me several minutes (hours? Days? What year is it?) of staring at your picture to realise muggle photographs don’t move. Or maybe they do. I should probably check again, just to make sure. Yep. Still not moving. I sincerely hope you didn’t need this photo back. It’s in significantly worse condition than when you sent it to me.

If I say I miss you more, will you come and meet me in London a day early? Say the evening before the Hogwarts Express leaves? It’s not like me to beg… But I’ll say anything. Do anything.

Then again, maybe I don’t need to beg as you just asked me to be your boyfriend. So you clearly miss me more.

Love,

Your unbearable showoff xx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the afternoon of the second of January, once you’ve put your things in your room at the Leaky Cauldron, you come downstairs to find McLaggen waiting for you in the pub. It’s not like you forgot during these past two weeks apart how hot he was. But in person, he’s like the quintessential English boyfriend from every muggle rom-com you’ve ever seen.

You greet him and he pulls you into a kiss, cupping the back of your head. You need to stand on your tiptoes to reach his lips - this was much easier when you were sitting on his lap. Your cheeks burn hot just thinking about it. “Maybe I did miss you after all,” you murmur. He smells sweet and spicy, just like you remember.

“Good. I missed you too,” he says simply and kisses the top of your head.

He takes your hand and you leave the Leaky Cauldron. Despite it being the day before the Hogwarts Express returns, Diagon Alley is eerily quiet. Most of the shops are boarded up and the few people who are out, go about their business in a harried, closed-off kind of way. Recent Death Eater activity has everyone frightened. Except for you two reckless idiots, apparently.

“Things felt so normal back home. Not much has changed in the muggle world. Not yet at least,” you say, as you wander down the deserted cobbled street. “Anyway, tell me about Christmas at Scrimgeour’s. Since you’re such a big deal and couldn’t put it in a letter.”

“Well, to be honest, it was pretty tense,” he tells you in a hushed voice, his face is serious. “That’s why I ended up so drunk.”

“Oh.” Your face falls. You sort of thought he was kidding. “So, were he and your dad talking about Ministry stuff all night or something?”

“No, it was me he wanted to talk to, actually. He kept asking me about Harry Potter and if I knew anything about his private lessons with Dumbledore. I had to pretend I didn’t know he was even taking lessons with Dumbledore.”

“He is?”

“I’ve just heard rumours. But Scrimgeour’s questioning pretty much confirmed it.”

“So you didn’t say anything? Even though your dad works at the Ministry?” you ask, thinking of Marietta’s mum and Umbridge.

“Nah,” he says casually. “He’s pretty high up. Got a decent bit of leverage. I’m not worried.”

Wouldn’t a position of power in the Ministry mean he was more at risk? But then again, what do you know? Your parents are muggles.

You look up at him - you’re actually impressed. Would you be able to hold your nerve if the Minister for Magic wanted information from you? “Well… you’ve got guts, McLaggen. I’ll give you that.”

He shrugs like it was nothing.

Eyelops Owl Emporium is one of the few shops open, so you go in to pick up some owl treats. “My parents found the owl thing hilarious at first, you know,” you tell him. “They still don’t really get why they can’t phone me - that’s how muggles communicate long distance,” you add when he gives you a confused look.

“And they didn’t mind you leaving them a day early?”

“Sort of. My dad wanted to watch a football game with me today. He says I’m losing touch with my non-magical roots so he writes down all the scores and sends them to me every week,” you smile fondly and pay for your owl treats. “What about your parents?”

“Dad doesn’t know, Mum was distraught until I said I was meeting you. Then she was delighted.”

“Oh?” Not quite ready for that conversation with them, you had told your parents you were meeting Cho and Marietta.

“She was worried about me coming to Diagon Alley so she tried to convince me to bring you to ours instead. But it’s a bit early to subject you to that. She and my dad met at Hogwarts, you see. I think she was anxious that I was in my seventh year and hadn’t ‘settled down’.” He rolls his eyes. “When they were at school everyone ended up married to whoever they went out with.”

You laugh as you exit Eyelops and the bell above the door tinkles. “As if the dating scene ends after Hogwarts.”

The two of you aimlessly wander around a few more of the only shops that are still open, catching up about your break before making your way back towards the Leaky Cauldron. “So… tell me about football. It’s like muggle Quidditch, right?”

You try and explain the rules as you walk down the cobbled street.

“The keeper’s the only one that can use their hands?” He looks at you sceptically.

“I promise it’s more exciting than it sounds… Speaking of keepers, any sign of you getting a game this year?”

“I doubt it. Weasley would need a serious injury for Potter to consider replacing him.”

You enter the pub and find a quiet booth near the back.

“Well, you never know.” You say, sliding into the seat opposite him. “I heard from Padma that Lavender is getting annoyed about him and Hermione spending so much time together. Maybe she’ll do you a favour.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Sorry,” you grin. “Too soon to bring up your ex?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Depends, is it too soon to ask if you’ll be cheering on your ex-boyfriend Smith at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff game? If they beat us the cup is basically yours.”

“Only if Weasley is playing.”

“Yeah? So if I play you’ll be in the Gryffindor stands?”

“Yeah, alright then.” You scrunch up your face as if you can think of nothing worse but actually, you’d like to watch him have his chance to finally play a game. “You can give me your Gryffindor jumper to wear.”

“You realise I’m going to have to break Weasley’s leg or, I dunno, poison him or something because that sounds extremely hot.”

McLaggen goes up to the bar to order drinks and when he comes back he tells you all about the Quidditch world cup two years ago while you listen to his every word longingly.

“I wish I could have gone to the final - it’s just that my parents want to see me as much as they can during the summer. And it’s not like they could have come with me with all the anti-muggle protection stuff,” you add wistfully. “I hope they can see me play a game one day.”

“What, they didn’t watch you play growing up?”

“Well, I didn’t play growing up, did I? I picked up a broom for the first time during my first flying lesson at Hogwarts.”

He puts down his drink. “What?”

“Keep up, McLaggen, they’re muggles.”

“No, I know that. I just never really thought about it. Blimey, it’s really not fair, having to learn to fly years after everyone else.”

You’re more than used to it by now. “What about you? When did you start playing?”

“My dad got me my first broom before I could walk, or so he tells me.” You smile. There’s something sweet about a tiny toddler zooming around with a miniature quaffle.

There’s something else on your mind. “Do you think your parents would be alright with you going out with someone who’s muggle-born?”

“I mean, you know Mum is already desperate to meet you. My dad is a bit more… old fashioned though,” he adds, a little awkwardly. “But he’ll come around when I tell him.”

You laugh “My dad’s the same. I haven’t told him either.”

“He wouldn’t be alright with you going out with a wizard?”

“Wizard? Fine. English? Not so much.”

He laughs like it’s a relief that it’s not just his dad’s prejudice that would be a problem. “Does that mean we’re definitely going out with each other then?”

“Oh.” You remember your letter. “Yeah, let’s say we are. For the sake of us not falling out again.”

“Very heartfelt of you.”

“Sorry, I’m really bad at this,” you admit. “I mean if I’d just told you when I fancied you that would have made things a lot simpler.”

“Easier said than done,” says McLaggen fairly. “I could have told you too.”

“When was that, by the way?” You ask coyly, leaning on the booth table and resting your chin on your hand.

He clears his throat. “I dunno…”

“Oh, come on, McLaggen.”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“Alright then -“ you take a sip of butterbeer. “- I suppose after the first Potions lesson this year. When you caught me in the corridor and I realised you smelled like the Amortentia we’d just made.”

“Wait a minute…” he knits his eyebrows together. “Do you use perfume or something that has coconut in it?”

“Yeah?”

He leans in and says quietly, so the other patrons don’t hear him. “I just realised the Amortentia I made smelled like you, when I had my face between your tits after Slughorn’s party.”

You feel your skin flushing hot. “Cormac.” You squirm a little, thighs clenching together, remembering his soft little moans as he inhaled deep in your chest.

“If that made you blush I definitely can’t tell you when I first fancied you.”

You shuffle in closer still towards the table.

“Tell me, please,” you whisper.

“Alright… it was last year when Ravenclaw lost to Gryffindor in the final.”

“Don’t remind me. Before or after McGonagall was about to expel me for threatening to set fire to Harry Potter’s broom?”

“Hah, no it was well before the final whistle. You were really anxious in goals - sort of wriggling on the seat of your broom with a kind of anguished expression on your face, watching the Ravenclaw Chasers cock it up.”

“And that was… that was what made you fancy me? That I was stressed out?” You raise an eyebrow and take a sip of your butterbeer.

“Well, yeah. I thought if you sat on my face the way you were sitting on your broom, I could get you to make those faces again.”

You almost spit out your drink. Your face is positively on fire. “Oh my god, Cormac…”

“I’d probably make you say that too,” he adds with a smug smile, and in spite of yourself, his attitude makes your lower abdomen tighten. He is so full of himself and every bit of common sense tells you that should hate it. But you don’t.

Sitting back in the booth, you look him over silently as your wet dream from weeks ago, the one about him going down on you in the Potions classroom swims to the front of your mind. Your legs wrapped over his broad shoulders, and the way his stubble had felt between your legs had all felt so real.

“Was that too far?”

You snap out of it and shake your head, realising you had been biting your bottom lip. “No, I just… I was wondering what it would be like.”

He leans in over the table towards you and so you do too. He takes your hands in his significantly larger ones and whispers seriously. “So you’ve only been with girls before, right?”

“Yeah.” You knew this was coming. At some point or another, you’d need to tell him that the closest you’ve come to touching a penis is when you felt his against you when you were sitting on his lap.

“Then I’ll probably be terrible at eating you out. You know - in comparison.”

That fucker.

You can tell from his stupid smirk that he knows he’s good. His dimples appear at the corners of his mouth as he looks into your eyes. Everything surges up in your molten hot and you swallow, mildly embarrassed by how turned on your feel just from that arrogant smile.

“Not Cormac McLaggen admitting he might not be the best in the world at something?” you tease, trying to downplay how eager you are to find out.

“Oh yeah. It’ll be awful. Really, really sloppy.” He pulls your hands towards him and kisses your knuckles slowly. You look around the bar from your deserted corner booth. None of the few patrons are even glancing in your direction.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “Some - some people would say sloppy is good.” You know from your own experience that sloppy is great. But honestly, you’re worried about telling him that you’ve got no idea what the definition of good is when it comes to giving head to a man.

“Mhm,” he murmurs and slips his tongue between a gap in your fingers. God, your pussy feels slick, desperate for him to give it the same attention that he’s so brazenly paying to your hand. He maintains eye contact with you, the pupils of his green eyes dilated in the dim light of the pub.

“Cormac, I know you’re joking about being bad but I - I’ve never… I mean, I’ve never even seen a - “ you mouth the word ‘penis’ “- before.”

Cormac stops kissing your hands and places them on the table with a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry. Mine is like this- ” He gestures with his thumb and forefinger, almost pinching them together.

You narrow your eyes. “Shut up. I felt what you were packing on the stands.”

“You don’t need to worry about it anyway. Don’t feel like you need to do anything you don’t want to.”

Oh, you want to alright. But when you asked Cho and Marietta what to do with one that night you came back from the Quidditch stands it sounded complicated - beyond terrifying. And the pressure you put on yourself to be great at everything doesn’t make it any less daunting.

But God, the way his cock felt when you were pressed up against him kissing him the last time you saw each other - it was as if your body was begging you to have him put it inside you. Your pussy clenches, imagining the feeling of rubbing up against him again.

“Are you finished your drink?” you ask, the heat between your legs aching for him now.

“Almost, will I get another round?”

“Maybe later when I’m finished sitting on your face.”

“You are something else.” He doesn’t need to be asked twice and abandons his drink, letting you lead him upstairs.

You open your room door, turn and grab the front of his jumper and drag him inside. You stand on your tiptoes again to kiss him furiously. He kisses you back, shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck,” you say between kisses. “You are such… an arrogant… git.”

“Yeah?” he lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “Well, you fucking love it.” He says, carrying you over to the bed where he throws you down and climbs on top of you. You feel the hard bulge underneath his jeans pressing into you under your skirt and you raise your hips, pushing yourself up against him, pressing your clit against the protrusion.

He lifts your t-shirt up over your head and unhooks your bra before tossing it carelessly aside. McLaggen swirls his tongue around your nipples, desperately sucking and slobbering all over your chest like a starved man.

“I mean the picture was good but fuck, your tits are perfect in person,” he groans, trying to fit as much as he can into his mouth. His neediness makes you grind harder into him - you’re practically humping the fabric seam of his jeans.

“Fuck, Cormac…” you whimper helplessly, the burning friction from your pussy pressed up against him is all you can think about. You can already feel your orgasm flickering in the pit of your stomach.

“I need you to stop saying my name like that. I’m gonna cum right here if you do.” He grips the bottom of his jumper and pulls it, along with his t-shirt up over his head. You breathe heavily, looking at his muscular chest and abdomen in the low light of your candle-lit room.

He watches you hungrily as you slip your skirt and underwear off and he lies on the bed to pull you on top of him, directly over his head. You sit on his chest, your knees bedside his ears and look down at him, biting your lip - it’s like he was made to be here like this between your thighs.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he says, running his hands along the back of your thighs and settling them on your hips.

“How do I do it without suffocating you?” You’ve never had anyone go down on you in this position.

“Do whatever feels good. If I die, I die,” he grins up at you. “Just let me taste you.”

You shimmy forward and he grabs your ass so he can press his face against you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. McLaggen sucks and rolls his tongue all over your pussy like he’s kissing your mouth. He laps up your juices, wet warmth enveloping your already soaking-wet slit, making you feel even slicker.

He pauses to kiss your inner thigh. “Play with your tits for me.”

You do as he asks, pushing them together and pinching your nipples as you keep your eyes locked with his. His technique maybe isn’t as deft as you’re used to but, oh my god, he’s enthusiastic. McLaggen’s tongue flicks back and forth over your clit but you want his whole mouth again, so you leverage your hips slightly.

He feels your adjustment and moans in encouragement, fingers kneading into the flesh of your ass. This is what he wants, he wants you to lose yourself completely like this on top of him. So you decide you will.

“You feel so good,” you whimper and lace your fingers through his dark blonde curly hair, grinding yourself on him. On his lips, his wide tongue, his stubbly chin. He keeps licking sloppily as you use his face to get off.

“Fuck, Cormac…”

“Don’t or I’ll cum,” he warns between licks and while the thought of making this huge, hulking man under you cum just from eating you out and hearing you say his name sends a jolt of electricity through your body, you want to make him feel how you feel right now.

“Can I suck your dick first?” You ask, halting your hips from moving.

He pauses. “You’re sure?” You nod. “Just keep sitting on my face. Please.”

You flip around to face the other way, sitting backwards on top of him. You undo his jeans and he pauses, anticipating your reaction. The feeling of his hot breath on your skin makes your hands tremble as you push his jeans and boxers down.

His cock springs up, hitting his toned stomach and your eyes widen. You already knew that it wasn’t what he had implied earlier but…

“Jesus Christ, Cormac.”

“Oh come on, don’t react like that. I thought you said I was arrogant enough as it is”

Fuck.

You extend your hand tentatively and grip the length of his cock. It’s prettier than what you’d imagined from Cho and Marietta’s vivid descriptions. Not that you’d tell McLaggen that - his already inflated ego really would be unbearable if you did. You could never have thought you’d actually want to suck it, from the details they’d given you when you asked them nervously how to do it. But you really, really do.

You lean forward and, still gripping him in your hand, you swirl your tongue around his head. There’s a pleasant vibration as presses his lips against you again to moan against your pussy.

“Is this okay?” You pull back to ask tentatively.

“Fuck… Yes.”

The shakiness in his voice encourages you to open your mouth wider and swallow as much of him as you can. He’s so tall that you can’t reach the base of his cock without moving forward and when you try, he clamps his hands down on your hips to stop you from moving away from his face.

And then you feel his mouth devouring you again, his lips and tongue attacking your clit without mercy. Fuck.

You try to whine but your mouth is full. From the way his fingers dig into your hips, you can tell he appreciates the noises you’re making all the same.

You bob your head up and down, gliding your tongue around his cock. His own tongue moves in firm circles round and round, bringing you closer and closer to the brink. Pulling your head back, you gasp for air but keep jerking his length, now slick and wet from your saliva with your fist. “Fuck, Cormac… I’m…”

Bliss floods your body and he groans loudly but keeps pace as your cunt twitches on his face. Your orgasm rips through you, white-hot and tingling. You can’t help yourself repeating his first name over and over until it becomes a babbling stream of words, feeling his face pressed right into your pussy, his tongue dragging all over your clit and his nose between your folds.

Cormac tries to keep licking through the aftershock but you wriggle away from the overstimulation. You move down his body and this time swallow his cock as far as you can, lips almost reaching the base.

“Wait, I’m… fuck…” He grits his teeth. “Careful, baby, I’m gonna cum.”

Baby. It’s the first time he’s dared to call you that.

And you like it.

You feel his thighs tense under your grip. He makes a conscious effort to stop his hips jerking upwards, letting you continue to take the reins at your own pace.

“Mhmm,” you hum in encouragement - ready for it.

He stares at your beautiful pussy in front of him - all flushed and rosy and wet in the low light. He did that. He made you a mess like that. It drives him over the edge as the sounds of you sucking and swallowing around his cock fill the quiet room.

“That’s it. That’s - Oh, fuck -” He swears incoherently and it’s your cue to take him as deep as you can. Cormac empties his load directly down your throat, and you suck, draining him of the hot, salty liquid. You swallow and gasp for air. You had needlessly braced yourself for it to taste much worse.

Exhausted, you slide off him and cuddle into his chest, practically glowing with pride. The two of you lie there, your hearts still pounding as you listen to each other breathing raggedly for a few moments.

“You’re… fuck. Unbelievable,” he pants eventually, interrupting the silence.

You smile, tracing your fingers along his chest, silently adding 'sucking cock' to your list of achievements. It feels like you’ve passed an exam with flying colours.

“Well, for the record, you weren’t awful at that.”

“Compared to your comments about my flying, that’s as good as praise from you.”

“Don’t get used to it.” You tilt your head up to look at him as he stares at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat under your hand slowly returning to normal. “What is it about your own name that gets you off, by the way?”

He laughs. “I know I can be a dickhead but you don’t think I’m that bad, do you?” You run your fingers through his tousled hair, a bead of sweat glistening on his brow. “It’s not just my name, it’s when you call me Cormac. You only call me that when you’re turned on.”

What? “I- I do not!” You splutter.

“Yeah, you do. You did it on the Quidditch stands, then in your letter and then again tonight.”

He’s got you there. “Or maybe I only call you McLaggen when you’re irritating me… McLaggen.” You laugh and kiss the crook of his neck.

He squeezes you tighter and presses his lips to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo.

“Yeah, that makes sense too.”

Chapter 7: Fine

#freddie stroma #cormac mclaggen #cormac mclaggen x female reader #cormac mclaggen x reader #harry potter and the half blood prince #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fic #hp fanfcition

77 notes · View notes

possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

Note

I'm already laughing at any social media posts ava and bea might have, the internet woso gays would go so wild for them

[little ch4 preview]

you’re at dinner, sitting by yourself because you’d gotten there a little late. you don’t mind it: you like the quiet, and you’re reading a new series of essays in german you’d been waiting to dig into since ava gave it to you a week ago, when your phone dings.

instagram: avasilva has tagged you in a post.

you take a deep breath — shaky, and so sure — and then click on the notification. it’s a carousel of pictures of your time in the alps: the field in early morning light; the view of the lake from your deck, the mountains glittering double in the distance; a pile of pastries ava had come home with one morning; ava with her favorite regulars at the bar you’d dance at. the seventh picture is of the two of you laughing, a ball between you, your foot up on it and your hands on your hips, ava in a sports bra and your shirt faithfully tucked in. hans had taken it, one day, just before ava had convinced him to turn the sprinklers on so you could run through them after you’d finished training, barefoot and free. it doesn’t mean anything, really, if you weren’t paying attention, but you had shared your home with her. you’re looking at her like you’ve never wanted anything else in the world: ava silva and football and the hazy summer sun.

avasilva had the best off-season convincing @beatricexin to take a break from running around with a ball & instead try every croissant in the alps 💅 i can’t wait to play for everyone soon, lfg!!

it’s funny, and endearing, and you did in fact eat a lot of croissants. you like the photo and ava sends you a text with a string of emojis that are mostly hearts and smiley faces, a random planet and dog thrown in, and a few mountains.

i love you too, you text back. in bed that night, you think of how ava’s unabashed joy had turned your life on its head: you want and want and want, now, without remorse, something other than football. something bigger than football.

bea <3 <3 <3 (9:06 pm)

Hello, is it okay if I post something? I can send you a draft.

Ava (9:08 pm)

yeah!!!!!!!!! of course :) as long as it’s not a nude do your thing ;) those stay between us

you roll your eyes but don’t let your hidden folder of nudes ava does enjoy sending you distract you from the soft pictures you’d taken of her one night, as the sun was setting. she’s wearing a hoodie — one of your hoodies — and shorts, her cap on backwards, barefoot, doing silly tricks in the small patch of grass behind your lakehouse next to the deck. you had asked her how, after all the complaining she did during training, she still wanted to be playing football right now, and she had laughed and flicked the ball over her head, then trapped it deftly. ’training is football,’ she’d said, ‘but this is fun. the beautiful game, bea. don’t forget.’

you pick your favorite: ava smiling at her own trick, standing still with the ball balanced on her foot, the hydrangeas around the same purple as the dusky sky. your instagram really is only pictures of you playing or sponsored content, most of which zuri posts herself or sends you copy for. there’s the occasional picture with your teammates after you’ve won something, but — your life has expanded far beyond your carefully pressed kits and the six foam rollers in your home gym, the stack of tupperware in your fridge.

beatricexin Jogo bonito @avasilva

ava calls you laughing, delighted, and then tells you all about her day; you turn off all of your instagram notifications and fall asleep to the sound of her voice.

#wn #footy au #just a little snippet!#avatrice fic

175 notes · View notes

lunatic4toji · 1 year

Text

YALL SAW TOJI IN THE NEW TRAILER???

his va is the same as dio’s i’m going insane

made me think some thoughts abt my man…….. minors dni

cw: dbf!toji x f!reader, tried adding some plot so it wasn’t straight up porn but i don’t like it, age gap (reader early 20’s, toji late 30’s/early 40’s), unprotected sex (wrap it irl), pet names (sweetheart, baby, princess, pretty girl), praise, fingering, vaginal sex, size difference, creampie, abrupt ending because i said so, this is definitely ooc toji but i don’t care it’s my smut my toji.

your dad was having another barbecue with his work friends today. you always hated them when you were younger, but it’s your first one since you’ve graduated high school, and you’re on spring break from college, so you’re kind of excited. your dad has been talking about how everyone was excited to see you because you were always so nice to everyone and they’ve missed you.

day of the bbq, you wake up, take a shower, and put on a tank top and some shorts. you don’t bother with hair or makeup because you’ve known these guys your whole life, so what do they care? right? wrong. the second you walk outside to say hi to everyone, your breath hitches in your throat when you see a man you couldn’t even conjure in your dreams. you certainly would’ve remembered him. even in the spring heat, he’s wearing a black compression shirt and grey sweats. his scar going down his lips moving as he talks is becoming increasingly attractive. he glances at you when you walk past and raises his beer bottle to say hi, then goes back to talking to your father. you continue around the porch saying hi to your dad’s friends, but you hesitate walking over to the grill where your dad and the beautiful mystery man are.

“hey, kiddo!” your dad says, and you say hey back and nervously look over at the man standing beside him. “oh, hell, where are my manners?” he says, his black hair glistening in the sun. “i’m toji. i don’t believe we’ve met before, but i might as well have from all i’ve heard about you from your dad and everyone else here.” toji. toji. you were already thinking about how you’d moan his name. once toji finished his introduction, you introduced yourself to him and your dad left the grill to check out what the other guys were doing and left you alone with toji. “they said you were a cute little thing, but i wasn’t expecting all this.” he looks down at you, and you somehow keep your composure and say, “my dad didn’t say much about you either.” you wanted to go on about how much you wanted him to take you inside and fuck you right now, but you could save those comments for after everyone left. toji downs the rest of his beer, and while he does so you can’t help but stare at his jaw, his neck, his adam’s apple, his veins. oh how much you wanted to bite him. he throws his bottle in the trash can beside the grill, which snaps you out of your trance. “i’m going inside, sweetheart. catch ya later.”

it wasn’t until now you realized just how many people were here. you couldn’t find toji the rest of the day (4 long party hours) and you thought you had gone so long without romantic or sexual interaction that you thought you made him up entirely. you went to sleep dreaming about him and all the things you wanted, no, needed him to do to you. that was until you woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. you were only in a t-shirt and underwear, because that’s what you normally sleep in when you’re home. you walk into the kitchen, turn on the faucet, fill a glass with water, and take a few sips before peeking in the living room. no fucking way. he’s just sitting in the couch and watching football like he doesn’t know what all he did to you in the few minutes you were together. you faintly choke on your water but recover quickly. toji looks over, confused, but his face rests into a soft smile when he sees it’s you.

he says “hey, you,” and beckons you over to him with two fingers. i know a better place for those. you smile back, sit your glass on the table, walk to the couch, and sit down beside him. “i was just thinking ’bout ya. how pretty you looked earlier.” you can’t do anything but smile. you’ve never felt like this over a small compliment, especially not one of your dad’s friends. well, none of dad’s friends are ever this hot. “what’s got you all shy, pretty thing? haven’t said a word to me since ya sat down. somethin’ wrong?” he looks over at you. “uh, no, just.. uh,” fuck. this is the worst time to trip up on words. he looks at you, worried. “uh, what? you alright?” you smile at him, “yeah, it’s just i’m not used to seeing a guy in my living room when i go to get some water.” toji chuckles and you wish you could take a picture of his smile right now, his face illuminated in the glow of the tv. “that’s fair, sweetheart.” he sits his cup on the coffee table and turns to you.

“i meant what i said. about you being pretty and all.” you smile again at the compliment. he could say it a million times and it would never get old. “you, uh,” you both laugh before you can finish your sentence. “you think i’m pretty too, huh?” you laugh again, and say, “yeah, i do. very.” the room gets quiet and toji looks at your lips then his eyes meet yours. all in one second, he grabs your hips, places you on his lap, and kisses you. finally. you just notice how you’re absolutely drenched when you feel toji’s tongue trying to pry into your mouth. you let him in and deepen the kiss. he pulls away and you whine. “shit, sweetheart. should we.. be doin’ this sorta thing?” you look at him with needy eyes. “probably not, but we’ve already started, so it’d be no good to stop now.” he smiles and kisses you again. you feel the grip of his hands on your hips tighten, and you realize he’s trying to feel you on his bulge. you allow him to move you, and he groans into your mouth when he feels how wet you are through your underwear. “good god, baby. gotta feel you, please.” you quickly nod, and he takes your shirt off while you fumble with the hem of his sweatpants. “we’ll get to that in a second, baby. wanna mark you a little first, yeah?” you nod again. “good girl, sweetheart.” you feel your clit throb against his bulge and grind down a little. toji groans against the skin where he’s leaving marks on your stomach, and you moan softly with him.

“shit, only made a few marks on ya, but we can get back to that later. gotta feel you now.” you take off his shirt while he deals with his pants, but keeps his boxers for now. he slides his hand between your thighs and toys with your clit through the fabric of your soaked underwear. “gotta prep you a bit, baby.” “no. need all of you now, please toji.” he takes a deep breath and considers it for a second, thinking about how hard he is under you right now. but he doesn’t want to hurt you. “i know, sweetheart. but i can’t just yet. let me fuck you with my fingers first, yeah?” you look at him and reluctantly nod, because you want his cock and not his fingers right now. but this’ll do. he hooks his fingers onto the side of your underwear and plunges them into your wet heat. you both hiss at the contact. he starts with his middle finger, going slow while he rubs your clit with his thumb. “so tight, baby, fuck. doin’ so good for me.” his praise makes you clench around his finger tighter, and he smiles. “you like that? like when i tell you how good you feel?” you moan, and toji adds his ring finger and speeds up his assault on your clit. you bend your head down and start kissing and biting his neck. he groans and grabs the back of your head with his free hand. he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you to his face and kisses you deeply. you start fucking yourself on his fingers and he focuses on your clit, wanting to make you cum sooner rather than later so he can fuck you. “love the way you sound, princess. want you to cum for me.” he’s fucking you with his fingers at what feels like the speed of sound, and it’s all too much. he keeps praising you because he knows you like it, “good girl. cum for me, princess, so i can feel you how we both need.” your eyes roll back and as much as he hates to do it he clasps his hand over your mouth while you cum, to make sure you don’t wake anyone upstairs. “gotta be quiet for me, baby. i wanna hear you, but you can’t be loud, okay?” you nod. “you all right, sweetheart? breathe, just relax. did so good f’me.” he pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean. this makes you impossibly wetter. “mm, tastes so good. you gotta taste too.” your mind is still foggy so you do whatever he tells you. he brings his soaked fingers to your lips and you take them in, swirling your tongue around his digits. “shit, if i didn’t need to fuck ya so bad i’d have ya suck it.” you laugh and look down at it cock restrained in his boxers. you know you wouldn’t be able to take it all in your mouth, much less in your pussy.

toji catches you staring and brings his hand to your chin to tilt your face back up to him. “you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” “yeah, just.. i don’t think it’ll fit.” his mouth forms a small smile at your comment. “we’ll make it fit. don’t worry.” he pecks your lips. with that, you do still worry. sure, you’ve fucked guys with girth before, but none like this. you’re still eager to get him inside you. “i’m ready.” “good girl.” you tilt back a little so he can free his cock. the angry red tip is leaking pre and you notice it has been for a while based on the wet spot on his boxers. he’s beautiful everywhere. you go to slide off toji’s lap to take off your underwear when he grabs your hips and rips them off himself. “hey!” “sorry baby, can’t wait any longer. i’ll buy you as many more as you want.” with his formidable strength, he grabs your hips again and hovers you over his cock. you grab on to his shoulders and he lets go. you look at him, puzzled. “you’re a big girl, right, princess? wanna watch you fuck me.” he laces his fingers and puts his hands behind his head. you whine at him, “toji, ‘s not gonna fit, you gotta help.” he clicks his teeth at you. “no, no. you can do it. know ya can.” you whimper at him because you need him to guide you down his cock, but you’re throbbing so bad you try yourself. you slowly start to sink down onto him and he’s just so thick. toji throws his head back in pleasure and you cover your mouth so your moans don’t wake up your parents directly upstairs to you both. “s-shit, baby,” he groans, “feel so fuckin’ good.” he takes his hands out from behind his head and grabs your face. “i can’t get over how beautiful you are, sweetheart. so beautiful- fuck, and so tight.” you make a small noise at him and he kisses you again. “my pretty girl, yeah?” “y-yes toji, ‘m your pretty girl.” he puts his hands back onto your hips and guides you up and down his cock. it stretches you out so good, you wanna stay like this forever.

“then you can take more f’me, can’t ya?” “w-wha-“ is all you can get out before he puts one of his hands over your mouth and slams you down on his cock with his other hand. you scream, out of pain and pleasure, but it’s muffled due to his hand. “j-jesus fuck, need both hands, baby. can ya be quiet?” you nod, and he takes his hand away and you quickly replace it with biting down on his shoulder. toji starts to fuck up into you simultaneously while slamming you onto him. you feel warm tears go down your cheeks from how good and how full you feel. if you two were alone, you’d both be moaning like pornstars. but, due to the situation, toji settles with you biting him and he breathes heavily into your hair, occasionally letting out a groan when you clench around him. “not gonna last much l-longer, princess. where do ya want me?” you’re not on birth control and he’s clearly not wearing a condom, but you’ve never wanted someone to cum inside you so bad in your life. “inside, fuck, please toji, please,” he lets out a small grunt and says, “you sure? don’t wanna- mfh- get ya knocked up or anythin’.” “‘s okay toji, i don’t care. please, just-“ you bite down onto him to control your noises again. you feel your release creeping up on you, but you pay it no mind. you only care about him. “feels s’good toji, pleasepleaseplease-“ “alright, alright baby. insi- fuck, inside it is. want’cha to cum first though sweetheart. s’the least i can do.” he picks up his pace rocking your hips back and forth and you feel your clit rubbing deliciously on his pelvis. you’re so close, if he could just- “cum for me, princess. i gotcha, c’mon, been doin’ so good for me all night.” you come undone instantly, and feeling your walls close around him sends him directly behind you, almost at the same time. “good girl, baby. so, so good. fuck-“ you feel him fill you up, so warm and so much. you’re glad the couch is leather so it won’t stain, because some is definitely falling out under you. toji kisses you again, hungrily but lovingly as you both come down.

“we gotta do this again.”

#toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu toji #i am feral #my man looks so good

89 notes · View notes

yellowkitkieran · 1 year

Text

To Have and To Heal (Part 5)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Martin loves his teammates, he really does. They're his brothers in every way but blood. They'll lift him up if he hits a rough patch and keep his feet firmly on the ground when praise from the press threatens to inflate his ego. There's a few of them that are acutely tuned into his moods too, which generally he doesn't think twice about.

Today however, he'd rather be left alone than have Kieran hovering over his shoulder. The Scotsman has been in Martin's shadow all day, a constant presence that he cannot shake. Today is an individually minded training day, each boy following their own tailored regime in the weights room for the first few hours, meaning Martin expected to be able to work off his mixed emotions. But having Kieran so close is grating on his nerves, until finally he can't stand it.

"Mate, can I help you?"

Kieran pauses on his machine, brown eyes wide. "Erm, no? I mean I don't need a spot for leg presses so…" Kieran maintains his mask of innocence despite Martin's hard stare, which only further aggravates him. When Kieran flashes Martin a smile that's all teeth, Martin swears under his breath and resets his machine so he can turn to face his friend.

"Why have you been shadowing me all day? You're like a- a…" Martin searches for the English word, his brain short circuiting. "A flea on a dog's back! I'm trying to work through something here-"

Kieran snaps his fingers and leans forward, "there! That's exactly what I've been waiting for- an admission! All week you've been off mate, everyone can tell. I'm just the unlucky one that got nominated to figure out why!"

Martin rolls his eyes. His lads are busy bodies. If they could mind their own business, Martin wouldn't feel so shitty because he might actually be able to process his things properly. Instead he's ended up more frustrated, because Kieran won't give him an inch to breathe.

Yes, it's true. Martin has been quiet lately, keeping to himself more than usual. He isn't surprised that the team has picked up on it. He hasn't done anything to hide it. He's allowed Kieran to take over team talks instead of himself; anyone with half a brain would recognize his out of character behavior. That doesn't mean he's about to pour out the contents of his wilted heart to Kieran in the middle of a training session though.

"I'm fine Kieran." Martin's response is a touch too firm, causing Kieran's eyebrows to shoot up. Martin draws a deep breath and dials it back, forcing a smile, "really, I'm fine mate. It's nothing I need to discuss, I'm working through it on my own."

Of course, being Martin's best friend means Kieran can see straight through his cheesecloth lie. It also means Kieran can read Martin like a book, thus knowing when it's best to leave an issue alone. So Kieran simply nods, murmurs a soft, 'I'm here if you need me' and continues on with his day.

Once Kieran moves to another machine, the rubber band around Martin's chest eases enough for him to breathe properly. It allows him room to think and reflect. He needs to clear his head… which is part of the issue.

Martin's head is a mess because you muddle his thoughts. It's gotten to the point that he can't walk outside and see the sun without thinking about you, and that terrifies Martin.

He hasn't felt this way about anyone since the day he met Maria. She became the center of Martin's world from the moment he laid eyes on her, only shifting to make room for Atla when she was born. For three years his girls shared equal space in his heart, until fate stepped in and ripped one of them out of the picture.

It took Atla a long time to understand what happened. Martin honestly isn't positive she understands now, actually. The weeks immediately following Maria's passing were the hardest. Each night Atla would ask for her mummy to tuck her in and listen to a story that Martin would read, and each night Martin had to gently remind her that mummy wasn't there. Martin lost count of how many times he'd told her 'Mum's in the sunset now søta, she's watching over you even if you can't see her'. Through it all, Atla rarely cried, thank god- a three year old doesn't truly know how to process grief after all. If Atla had shed tears, Martin isn't sure he would have survived.

For two years, Martin has thrown all his energy into being a father. Anything he has to spare goes into being Arsenal's captain, and he thinks he's doing a pretty damn good job of balancing both. The learning curve was steep, and he still discovers new nuances about being a better parent nearly every day. The fathers on his team have been his backbone, though none of them understand the full weight he bears on his own shoulders. At the end of the day, they have partners to lean on. Martin only has himself.

The scary part is, he's beginning to wonder if he's meant to be a single parent forever. He's found himself caught between a rock and a hard place: continuing to remain a loving, loyal widow, or chasing his own potential happiness. It feels like a betrayal to even consider letting someone new occupy his heart the way Maria had, but at the same time he wonders if it's fair to Atla to allow her to grow up without a maternal figure to guide her. He's not stupid; one day Atla will have questions he can't answer himself, ones that only a woman can answer properly. No matter how much research he conducts or how much he prepares himself, he will never experience the world the same way a woman might.

Is he robbing Atla of a fundamental right, the right to grow up with a mum at her side? Everything he does is for Atla, for his daughter- is he being selfish by cutting himself off from the chance to find love?

"Oi Martin! Come on, we're headed to the pitch!"

For now, his questions will remain unanswered. He has a job to do, and he takes that job seriously. Martin quickly cleans up his mess and wipes down his machine before following the rest of his team outside for some small group drills, which is one of his favorite activities.

Martin leads a round of keep away, passing back and forth in a small circle whilst Saka tries to intercept. It takes his mind off of anything you related, which comes as a welcome realization. Martin laughs with his friends, doubling over to clutch his stomach when Saka falls flat on his back after tripping over the ball. It feels good to be his normal self again, not having to worry about anything except the task at hand.

The end of their session comes sooner than Martin expects. He showers and organizes his cubby, preferring things to be neat when tours come through. Then he makes his rounds to chat with the staff to ensure everyone knows they're an important part of the team in his eyes. Eventually he can't stall any longer and he is forced to head out to pick up Atla from school.

There is a pit in his stomach as he pulls up to the limestone building. Pick up is simultaneously the part of his day that he dreads and that he looks forward to most. On one hand, pick up means he gets the rest of the night with his family. On the other hand, he has to see you, which is both a blessing and a curse.

The gymnasium is on the opposite side of the school but he always parks out front, preferring to walk the halls and chat a bit when he can. Today he chats less, intent on seeing his daughter as soon as he can. He whistles quietly as he walks, smiling when he hears Atla clock his tune.

"Papa's here!"

Martin is already crouched when she comes barreling over to wrap her little arms around his neck to squeeze him in a bear hug. At last Martin feels the remaining bits of his troubles melt away thanks to his daughter. She is the center of his world, and being with her makes him feel at home.

"Hallo søta, did you learn lots today?" It takes everything in him to not immediately look up and meet your eyes. Martin still isn't sure how to act around you; he'd extended an olive branch in the form of chocolates and tulips and he is patiently waiting for you to reciprocate his energy. Until then, he is determined to leave you be.

"So much! I had a fun day- David tried chasing me on the playground but don't worry papa, I made sure he knew I wouldn't let him!"

"She was very adamant," you say, your sweet voice drawing Martin's attention. Your smile is the first thing he truly notices. The next is the way you fiddle with the badge hanging around your neck, and the third is the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

Martin tips his head and speaks before he can filter himself. "Those boots are new, they look nice. I feel like I've seen those in the window at Harrods, no?"

"Oh, um- yes actually, they were an early birthday treat to myself actually. I saw them and couldn't resist!"

Martin would love to unpack that, so he smiles at Atla. "Go clean up your coloring things, lille venn, okay? Go on, don't make Miss. Sunshine clean up your mess!"

Once Atla is out of earshot, Martin stands to his full height and smiles. "Happy early birthday. I suppose I'll have to get you something, seeing as you do so much for Atla."

"Oh, you really don't need to Martin! I appreciate you just wishing me a happy birthday. That's really more than enough."

Martin's heart sings when you address him by name. It amazes him how something as simple as hearing you speak his name can set a flurry of butterflies loose in his stomach.

"I'd like to get you something, if you're alright with that? I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. From one friend to another?"

There it is, another try with the olive branch. Martin silently prays you'll accept it, because in honesty he still isn't sure how he feels about this whole thing and he wants some sort of confirmation that he isn't committing a match-ending foul.

It takes you a minute, but Martin exhales when you nod. "I think that's fine, friends give each other presents all the time… friends also come to birthday parties, yeah?"

Your voice is soft as clouds and your eyes are tentative as they search his face. Martin is certain you pick up on his amazement. You must, because you've stunned him into silence. Martin isn't a man who is silent often.

"Mar?"

Oh, faen. Not that name.

It's as if you reached into his consciousness and plucked out the one surefire way to sink yourself into his heart. He hasn't allowed anyone to call him Mar since his wife had passed because it never felt right. But now? Martin finds himself smiling despite the twinge of bittersweet memories.

"Yes. I'll come if you let me know the details. Friends… friends attend birthday parties, that's a friendly thing."

Martin is falling hard. Guilt gnaws at him despite the excitement that washes over him when you grin, clearly feeling much the same as he is. Your smile quiets the war in his head temporarily, reducing the cacophony of noise to a whisper in the background.

Amazing. Absolutely amazing that you have such an effect on him. He's lived with that noise for years and in seconds, you've dulled it to nothing.

"I'll see you there." You bite your lip and tuck your hands behind your back, which is somehow the most endearing thing. "It's at that same bar you saw me at last month, this Friday. You don't have to drink or anything I promise, I know you have a match on Sunday!"

"I'll be there, I promise." It's as if Martin is seeing you for the first time. The way the sun filters through the skylight and illuminates the gentle planes of your face mesmerizes him. He notes the little curve of your lips that grows the longer he stares. Beautiful with a selfless soul- that's how he'd describe you.

"Papa, I'm all done!"

Atla shatters the moment when she tugs on Martin's sleeve. She's too adorable to be upset with, so Martin gives her a pass and offers you an apologetic smile which you accept with a wave of your hand. Martin scoops up Attie with little effort, propping her on his hip and kissing her rosy cheek.

"Say goodbye to Miss. Sunshine," Martin prompts, smiling when Atla does just that. "I'll see you tomorrow," he adds, that same smile playing on his lips.

"Tomorrow for sure, and then Friday evening."

"Wouldn't miss it, søta."

**********

"Kieran, I need you to watch Attie on Friday."

"Uhh sure mate, what for? It's pretty short notice, but you're lucky I don't have anything planned."

"Shut up mate- if you had plans you wouldn't let any of us hear the end of it."

Kieran drops his weights to the padded floor. The resulting thud rumbles through Martin's bones, "Okay, for one, that's harsh even if it is true. And second, why am I watching Attie? I mean I love her and I have no problem doing it, but what's so important that you'd leave her with me?"

Martin knows he can be honest with Kieran. He's probably the one person who won't ever judge him. Regardless, Martin wants to keep this secret for a little longer, at least until he sees how Friday goes.

"I'm just going out with some friends. You're sure you can watch Atla? I can make you up a list of what to do."

Kieran chuckles, "Mate, it's not my first time watching my goddaughter. I got this! Bedtime is eight on the weekends, no television an hour before bed, and… Friday isn't a bath night so that makes my job easy! I'll plunk her down with a set of coloring books and some blank pages and we can go wild, it'll be fun!"

"Alright yeah, that seems fair. Just don't let her have too much-"

"Sugar, yes Martin I am aware!" Kieran waves a hand flippantly, "I know what I'm doing like I've said! Just have some fun doing whatever secret mission you've got, you need to loosen up a little."

"I do not-" Martin begins to snap, but then notes Kieran's amused smile and stops himself. Martin forces himself to breathe and unwind before finishing, "I do not need to loosen up, I'm doing just fine thank you."

"Sure mate if you say so- you're just going out with 'friends' that aren't at Arsenal, nothing odd about that!"

Again with Kieran being annoyingly perceptive. Martin is beginning to think having a best mate is more trouble than it's worth. Kieran is lucky Martin loves him because in the end, having Kieran around is more beneficial than it is a nuisance.

Once a time for drop off is agreed upon, the two part ways. Martin only has two days to come up with an outfit that's acceptable for a night out but also doesn't scream 'I'm trying to show off in front of all your friends', which is a struggle. Considering his closet is filled with basic t-shirts and designer jackets with no real in-between, he'll have to head out after training and buy something.

The only issue is Martin has no clue what's what when it comes to fashion. Kieran at least has some sort of idea of what's trendy and looks good…

Martin sighs and heads back over to Kieran, "Mate, are you free tonight to help me shop?"

"Shop for what?" Kieran feigns innocence as he finishes up his set of curls. "Food? Because I'd think you pay someone to do that for you. At least that's what most of us lads do!"

"Don't make this hard for me, you know what I mean Kieran." Forcing Martin to voice things he isn't ready to is like pulling teeth. Not only is he reluctant to do so, but it's also incredibly painful and Martin would prefer to keep it to himself. And for some reason, Martin feels oddly protective over you, as if letting Kieran know it's you he's going on a pseudo-date with will allow Kieran to sweep you out from under him. For now, Martin feels safer with a cloak of mystery to protect him.

Kieran clears his throat and drags Martin into the present. "Right, sorry mate. I'm free and I'd be happy to help you shop for something to wear- you'll have to give me some details though? What sort of place you're going to, as a bare minimum. I can't have you showing up to a steakhouse in Dunks, you know?"

Martin nods. That much he is comfortable sharing. "It's just a club, so nothing fancy. I just don't normally do casual? So I only have really casual, and I don't think that's appropriate. I'd like to impress the people that are gonna be there."

Kieran nods, thinking for a minute. The grin that lights up Kieran's face has Martin's head racing with thoughts of what the Scotsman might be up to.

"I know just the place, mate. Bring your credit cards cause it's gonna be expensive!"

**********

"Babe! What did I tell you?! Don't get involved with him- and you just straight up went against everything I said!"

"I know I did Jen!" Your pacing is nearly wearing holes in the circular orange carpet in the center of her room. You've walked the perimeter of your self-imposed prison cell at least a dozen times in the past ten minutes whilst enduring a well-deserved lecture from your friend. "Look, why can't I be friends with him? There's no rule against that in the ethics handbook is there? I'm just fostering positive relationships between myself and the parents of my students!"

"Oh, that reads like a textbook. Babes, you know why you can't do that. You'll catch feelings! Hell, you caught feelings for that writer at the Starbucks down the street for your flat and you never spoke a single word to him. You think you can be friends with Martin 'I'm the best looking single dad ever' Ødegaard and not feel a thing?"

Was it a foolish decision to invite Martin to your birthday gathering? Obviously. It isn't your fault that he's too damn charming and irresistible. You hadn't expected Jen to be over the moon with your idea, but you had crossed your fingers in hopes of her supporting you.

"Okay, maybe I made a mistake-"

"You think?!"

"-but realistically what's the worst that could happen? Technically Attie isn't my student, so there's nothing that says Mar and I can't be involved."

Jen rakes a hand through her hair, her blue highlighter leaving a streak behind. "I mean technically you'd be fine, but if the other parents found out, who knows what they'd do? The entire school is filled with Mum's constantly lusting over that man- all it takes is one of them getting a touch too jealous and spreading some terrible rumor for things to go ass over tits."

You hate it when Jen is right. The fantasy you cooked up in your head is much more favorable than the reality she's just whacked you upside the head with. You deflate, finally ceasing your feet long enough to sit cross legged on the carpet.

"Look Jen, I don't even think he's interested in me like that anyway. He's got this trauma, I can see it in his eyes- he just feels… broken hearted. I think he needs a friend to lean on, someone outside of Arsenal. Like a new perspective, you know? Maybe I can be that for him."

At this point, you're grasping at straws to invent a reason why this is a semi-acceptable idea. In truth you're being selfish, wanting to see if you can sus out how Martin feels beneath that steely armor he wears. You can chalk it up to your teachers instincts; seeing people struggling silently isn't something you can sit by and tolerate without trying to help. You don't have it in you to watch Martin continue to come in and paint on a happy face for his daughter when you've noticed flashes of something much more troubled beneath the surface.

"For the record, I hate this idea."

"I know you do, Jen. But you going along with it is exactly why I love you." You hold up one finger, pleading with your eyes for her to hear you out. "One outing, that's all I ask. You'll be there the entire time to keep me in check, totally supervised and everything."

Jen shakes her head, taking her time in answering to ensure her discontent is well noted. "I'm only doing this because I love you. One outing- and I'm not letting you drink until he's gone. You get all touchy when you have tequila and I know that's what you'll wind up having."

You break into a cheek-splitting grin that is impossible to hide even if you wanted to, "that's a deal. Have I told you I love you?"

"Not nearly as often as you should, considering how much I risk for you on a daily basis. Now go home and pick out an outfit, let me grade in peace."

"Trust me, I've got just the thing in mind."

#martin odegaard #martin odegaard fic #martin odegaard fanfic #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard fantasy #arsenal fc #footballer fic #footballer fanfiction #footballer fluff #footballer imagine #jac writes #alt timeline lover

142 notes · View notes