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mrpenguinpants · 1 year

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Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

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steveyockey · 5 months

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Measuring purely by confirmed kills, the worst mass murderer ever executed by the United States was the white supremacist terrorist Timothy McVeigh. On April 19, 1995, McVeigh detonated a massive bomb at the Murrah federal building in Oklahoma City, killing 168 people, including 19 children. The government killed McVeigh by lethal injection in June 2001. Whatever hesitation a state execution provokes, even over a man such as McVeigh — necessary questions about the legitimacy of killing even an unrepentant soldier of white supremacy — his death provided a measure of closure to the mother of one of his victims. “It’s a period at the end of a sentence,” said Kathleen Treanor, whose 4-year old McVeigh killed.

McVeigh, who in his own psychotic way thought he was saving America, never remotely killed on the scale of Kissinger, the most revered American grand strategist of the second half of the 20th century.

The Yale University historian Greg Grandin, author of the biography Kissinger’s Shadow, estimates that Kissinger’s actions from 1969 through 1976, a period of eight brief years when Kissinger made Richard Nixon’s and then Gerald Ford’s foreign policy as national security adviser and secretary of state, meant the end of between three and four million people. That includes “crimes of commission,” he explained, as in Cambodia and Chile, and omission, like greenlighting Indonesia’s bloodshed in East Timor; Pakistan’s bloodshed in Bangladesh; and the inauguration of an American tradition of using and then abandoning the Kurds.

No infamy will find Kissinger on a day like today. Instead, in a demonstration of why he was able to kill so many people and get away with it, the day of his passage will be a solemn one in Congress and — shamefully, since Kissinger had reporters like CBS’ Marvin Kalb and The New York Times’ Hendrick Smith wiretapped — newsrooms. Kissinger, a refugee from the Nazis who became a pedigreed member of the “Eastern Establishment” Nixon hated, was a practitioner of American greatness, and so the press lionized him as the cold-blooded genius who restored America’s prestige from the agony of Vietnam.

Not once in the half-century that followed Kissinger’s departure from power did the millions the United States killed matter for his reputation, except to confirm a ruthlessness that pundits occasionally find thrilling. America, like every empire, champions its state murderers. The only time I was ever in the same room as Henry Kissinger was at a 2015 national-security conference at West Point. He was surrounded by fawning Army officers and ex-officials basking in the presence of a statesman.

#THANK YOU ACKERMAN VERY COOL #worth reading the whole thing obviously

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ilovepedro · 5 months

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just married | frankie morales x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2k

Summary: You and Frankie just tied the knot. Half way through the reception, your insatiable husband whisks you away for some much needed privacy.

Warnings: fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering, exhibitionism (sex in a private bathroom), unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: happy frankie friday! this is based off this post, i could not for the life of me shake this from my head. literally wrote this in an hour, i’m telling y’all i’m actually going insane. the brain rot is actually concerning. FRANKIE NATION RISE! 🫡 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! 🫶🏼 i loveeee me some frankie 🫠 not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika

“Come on, hermosa,” Frankie rasps in your ear, moving his hands from your hips and grabbing your hand, a small smirk playing on his lips. Music booms from the DJ’s speakers, the dance floor lively and vibrant.

“Where are we going, baby?” You ask, your gown flowing freely as your new husband swiftly maneuvers you through the crowd. “You’ll see,” he shouts over the thrumming music. Your body buzzing with excitement and a smile, so big it hurts, adorns your face.

Leading you out into the hall and racing up the stairs, giggling like a couple of school children. Frankie drags you to the bathroom at the end of the hall, flinging the door open and guiding you inside.

He grips your hips and crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your dissipating giggles as he presses you up against the door and locks it. You whimper softly as his hands begin to roam your body.

His hands roam your backside, making his way down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Frankie!” You squeal, breathlessly, laughter bubbling over your lips as you pull back for a bit of air.

A toothy grin breaks out into his face. “I’ve missed you, hermosa,” he pants, the both of you breathless from running and desperately kissing each other.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Not having had a moment to yourselves this whole day, you two bask in this brief moment of privacy.

He brings you in for another insatiable kiss. Your hands tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan into you. Snaking his hands down your waist, he cups your mound in one hand. You moan into him as your brows scrunch in pleasure, grinding against his hand.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day, baby,” he groans, guiding you to the sink, pressing your backside up against it as he peppers kisses to the column of your throat. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby, this goddamn dress is driving me crazy,” he whispers, nipping your neck.

“You’re driving me crazy, Frankie,” you gasp. “Look so fucking sexy in that tux, baby.” He smiles into your skin, working his way back up to draw you in for another kiss. You moan into his mouth as he slips his tongue inside, arousal pooling in your panties and sticking to your sex. Swallowing every moan that pours into his mouth, he pulls back, your lipgloss staining his lips.

Crouching to his knees, he bunches your gown up over his head and moans at the sight of your lacy panties paired with your garter.

“Fuck, baby. So fucking wet for me all fucking the time,” he whispers huskily as his large, warm hands run along your thighs. He slides your garter down your leg, tucking it into his back pocket.

Propping you up onto the sink, he spreads your legs and presses a kiss to your sex. You moan at the feeling, aching for more. One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance, parting your lips and allowing your husband a view of your glistening pussy.

“Please, Frankie,” you plead breathlessly, tossing your head back.

“Yeah? My pretty little wife wants me to eat her pussy? Huh, mi esposa?” You moan, eagerly nodding as you clench around nothing. Frankie doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze together.

“What my wife wants, my wife gets.”

Without warning, Frankie dives in and licks broad stripes up your folds, gasping as you bite back a moan with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, attempting to be quiet.

“No no, baby. I wanna hear you. They can’t even hear us with the music, it’s just us, baby - just me and you,” he says before diving back in and licking through your folds, his strong nose nudging your clit and your eyes flying open.

“Oh fuck, Frankie!” You moan loudly, eyes squeezed shut as you toss your head back, caution blown to the wind. You snake a hand into Frankie’s curls, tugging at them and eliciting a groan from your husband. The vibrations against your cunt send a new wave of arousal seeping from you, Frankie lapping up every drop as he drowns in your slick.

His tongue prods your entrance, fucking into you. He groans at the way you clench around him, chest rumbling in satisfaction.

It’s sloppy, and hungry the way he laves at your weeping cunt. His tongue circles your clit relentlessly, your cries filling the air. His lips wrap around your swollen bud as his grip on your thighs tightens. Your hips involuntarily buck up into his face. He snakes his left hand up to your stomach, ring-adorned hand pushing you down and holding you in place.

“So f-fucking good, F-Frankie, oh my god,” you keen above him, legs wrapping around his back as you try to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. His relentless pace creates a cloud of stars in your eyes.

“I’m close, Frankie! So close, don’t stop! Please don’t stop, baby,” you yelp, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as the coil in your belly tightens.

A sudden intrusion pulls a sharp gasp from you. Two of his thick, long fingers crook into that spongy spot with every stroke as he sucks on your clit.

His fingers, his mouth, the ring on the hand which pins you down overwhelms you - he’s all-consuming.

Your vision flashes hot white as the coil in your belly snaps, cumming all over your husband’s face and his fingers. Frankie laps at your juices as you grind your cunt into his face, thighs trembling while riding out your high. He groans as he slurps you up like the sweetest nectar, not wasting a single drop. Your whines fill the air along with a squelching sound as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you.

He pulls back and rises to his feet, his patchy beard glistening with your slick. Slamming his lips onto yours, the two of you moan into each other. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes your head spin.

Frankie ruts his hips into yours, his clothed cock brushing against your exposed cunt and a loud cry pouring from your lips at the sensitivity. Wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer, you buck your hips against his, seeking more stimulation.

“Lean back for me, baby.” he rasps as he pulls back, gently pushing you back against the mirror. He makes quick work unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants to his ankles. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, mouth watering at the sight of your husband’s angry, leaking cock. Unable to resist, you palm him in your hands, smearing the dribbles of precum along his throbbing length. Frankie stifles a moan, moving your hand away and lines up his cock at your dripping hole.

Swirling small circles around your entrance, gathering the new wave slick that pours from your cunt on his length.

“Frankieeee,” you keen. “No teasing, please, amor,” you huff, on the verge of tears as your desperation grows.

“I got you, amor, don’t worry,” he whispers in your ear. He slides in slowly, but smoothly in one go, your slippery folds allowing him easy access. Both of you moan in tandem, Frankie’s brows pinched together and your lips parted.

You’re so full, relishing in the dull sting as he stuffs your wet heat to the brim. “Move, baby. Please move, mi amor,” you plead, breathless and desperate, seeking some relief.

“Shh shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m gonna take care of you, I always will,” He says, voice hushed and husky, placing a kiss to your forehead.

You know his words run deeper than just the matter at hand, having promised to love you eternally just hours ago.

He slowly drags out of you ever so slightly before snapping his hips into yours, his tip punching your g-spot. His hands rest on your waist as he picks up his pace. The room sounds pornographic - filled with the sounds of your squelching pussy, skin-on-skin, moans, and pants.

“I’m the lu-luckiest man ever. Got the prettiest girl ever to m-marry me. Knew you’d make a beautiful bride, hermosa. Most beautiful f-fuckin’ bride in the world, my pretty little wife. Get to, shit, get to love you and fuck this tight little pussy every goddamn day for the rest of our lives. Fuck,” he rambles, hips canting into yours.

Clenching around him at his words, more slick drips from your weeping cunt and onto the counter. An endless string of moans tumble from you and into the air.

“S-so fucking good to m-me, baby. So l-lucky to be your wife,” you keen, pressing your forehead against his. He hungrily captures your lips in a ferocious kiss, teeth clashing together as neither of you care how messy you two will look after.

“My wife. You’re mine, baby, you’re mine forever,” he moans as his tip kisses your cervix. Your walls flutter around him, your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Come on, baby, come on, baby. Let go, hermosa. I know you’re close. Let me feel you, I got you, baby,” he babbles almost incoherently. You wail as your orgasm washes over you, convulsing under his grasp, twitching uncontrollably as slick endlessly streams from your cunt. “There we go, baby. Good girl. So fucking good, hermosa. Always feel so fucking good,” Frankie groans against your lips, his thrust growing sloppy as your slippery cunt sucks him in.

“Love you so much, Frankie,” you gasp. “Love you too, hermosa,” he grunts. You can feel him throb inside of you.

“Cum, Frankie. Fill me up, please, baby,” you beg, still riding out the high of your climax.

“Yeah baby? Want my cum? Want me to stuff you full and walk around our wedding with my cum dripping out of your tight little pussy?"

A high-pitched moan escaping your lips, you squeeze tightly around him. “Yes, Frankie! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs under my dress,” you squeal, overstimulation starting to sink in.

"My dirty fucking girl,” he rasps, punctuating his words with every thrust as he shoots warm ropes of cum into your cunt, coating your walls with his seed. A guttural groan rumbles from deep within his chest. Slowing his pace, you whimper as he fucks his cum into your used hole.

He rests his clammy forehead against yours, breath fanning each other's faces. Post-coital bliss settling amongst you two, the faint humming of the music from the reception rings in the air.

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” You ask, panting. A deep chuckle rattles his chest, making you laugh. “I’m pretty sure they have, hermosa.” You pull him in by his tie, kissing him languidly. He pulls back and presses a playful tap to your thigh.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go before the guys start talking shit,” he says, helping you to your feet, and wiping his spend from your mound and in between your legs. He settles your gown into place as you fix your makeup in the mirror. He fixes his hair while you adjust his suit and tie back into place. You beam as you lock eyes with his, love shimmering in the corners of them. He entwines his fingers with yours as he leads you out the door and back downstairs to the reception.

It seems nobody has noticed you two were gone, or just don’t question your absence, as you two mingle your way back into the crowd.

“Hey! Where the hell were you two?! It’s time for the bouquet toss!" You best friend, and maid-of-honor, screeches.

"And the garter toss!” Santiago, the best man, chimes in. They drag you both to the dance floor. Women crowd the dance floor as you toss your bouquet over your shoulder, your best friend catching it and eyeing her partner.

Music blares as Frankie leads you to a chair in the middle of the dance floor. He teasingly lifts your dress to remove your garter, to be met with nothing. Your eyes bug out of your head, heat coursing through your veins.

“Where’s my garter?” You ask him. Santiago appears behind Frankie, taking something out of his back pocket and holding it out to Frankie. “Here it is!”

Laughter erupts amongst your guests as you hide your face in your hands, an embarrassed smile plastered on Frankie’s lips, meekly waving to the crowd. He pries your hands from your face, playfully rolling his eyes as he brushes off the embarrassment while helping you to your feet. Cheering and whooping fills the hall as you smile apologetically to the crowd as they roar, Frankie cupping your face and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

Frankie is rotting my brain today obvi. this one's for all my Frankie girlies out there, shout out to y’all 🩷

thank you for reading! 🫶🏼

tag list: @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @jenispunk @amanitacowboy @bastardmandennis @nostalxgic @tinygarbage @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @harriedandharassed

#happy frankie friday #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales

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gunnerfc · 2 months

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Replacement? | Steph Catley x Matildas!Reader (18+)

Summary: You get called up to the national team for the first time after making big waves in the women’s A-Leauge. After hearing just how good you are, Steph feels like her position on the team is threatened.

Warnings: age gap (R is early twenties/close friends with Kyra), fingering (r receiving), oral (steph receiving), pet names for R (“good girl”, “pretty girl”), Steph being called ‘captain’ during sex, Steph being kind of mean, thigh riding (Steph)

WC: 3.4K

AN: in honor of Arsenal's win in front of 60K! 🤪

Steph ignored the notifications from Instagram and Twitter, knowing it was the squad announcement for The Matildas’ upcoming friendlies against New Zealand. She knew her name was on the list without having to look. It was Kyra’s voice that pulled her from her thoughts as she was eating.

“Y/N finally got a call-up! It’s about time,” the midfielder all but shouted. Steph’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Y/N? She hadn't heard your name before but you were seemingly close with her younger Arsenal teammate.

Before Steph could ask who you were, Caitlin beat her to it. “Who’s Y/N,” the forward asked in between bites.

“Y/N Y/L/N, we played together in the youth teams! She’s a left back just like you Steffy,” Kyra explained, directing her last statement towards the defender.

“Where is she playing now? Back Home,” Caitlin asked, more interested in knowing about you than Steph was.

“Yeah, for Perth I think,” the midfielder responded as she picked up her phone again to text you ‘congrats’ on getting called up for The Matildas.

“She’s really good, I’m surprised it took this long for her to get called up,” Kyra added after sending her text. “Might have to watch out for her, Steph,” Kyra joked as she stood to go join Alessia and Vic at their table.

Steph lightly chuckled at the younger girl’s words, trying to ignore how Kyra was singing your praises about how good you were. The thought of you, who she didn’t even know, plagued her thoughts the rest of the day.

Steph would be lying if she said Kyra's words didn't affect her. She knew the young midfielder was just joking but her words sent her into a spiral. The Matildas’ captain spent the next few days before they had to leave for Sydney watching any and every video she could find of you playing.

And Kyra was right, you are good. Normally she would be excited for new call-ups, wanting to see everyone get the chance to represent Australia and bask in that feeling of getting their first cap. But something was different with you, something Steph couldn't place her finger on.

After a long flight from London to Sydney, the three Arsenal players were finally headed to the team hotel. They were some of the last to arrive, having a later game than some of the others. A staff member met them in the lobby with room assignments and keys for the stay and Steph thanked god when she was given a room to herself this camp. It meant she could be deep in thought about you without having someone question if she was okay.

It was late when they arrived, most of the team had already eaten and retired to their rooms for the night knowing tomorrow would be full of nonstop training. It wasn’t until the next morning at the team breakfast that Steph saw you in person for the first time. The defender couldn’t spot you right away but she heard your voice that she immediately recognized from the numerous post-match interviews she watched of you.

Steph subtly looked around the room as she fixed her plate, following your voice to a table with Kyra and Mary. The three of you were deep in conversation about something Steph had no knowledge of and she had to force herself to look away from you to find her seat at a table with Caitlin, Hayley, and Alanna.

“Why do you look so pissed this morning,” the Man City player questioned almost immediately after Steph sat down.

Steph’s eyes were wide at the accusation, having thought she was keeping her expressions under control. The defender went to answer but her Arsenal teammates beat her to it. “Her replacement is here,” Caitlin laughed, receiving a glare from Steph.

“Who? Y/N,” Hayley spoke, nodding her head in your direction. Caitlin answered, telling her she was correct which drew a laugh from both Alanna and Hayley.

Steph ignored the trio making jokes about you taking her place, hoping to get on the field as quickly as possible. She was determined to show Tony that he didn’t need to consider someone else for the friendlies, that she had it covered.

Steph opted to sit by herself on the bus ride to the pitch, tuning out her teammates and thoughts about with music. During all the warm-ups the training staff had the team doing, Steph’s eyes never left you. You caught her eye a few times, sending her a friendly smile each time but only getting a glare in response.

You weren't sure why Steph was seemingly annoyed with you, you hadn’t even officially met her yet. Tony had split the team into different groups based on positions to run through different drills and you took this opportunity to introduce yourself to Steph.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, you’re Steph right,” You had a bright smile on your face as you spoke to her while some of the other defenders ran through the drill.

“That’s nice, but you should be focusing on what we’re doing,” Steph gave you a pointed look, nodding toward your teammates. Steph didn’t look at you long enough to see the confused look on your face and it didn’t help that you could hear Alanna snicker behind you.

You shook off Steph cold attitude and did exactly as she said. You focused on what the staff were saying and how your fellow defenders ran the drill. You noticed slight mistakes they made that allowed for a goal from the forwards and took it upon yourself to correct them when it was your turn.

You did exactly that as you tackled the ball from Hayley, allowing Lydia to safely collect the ball. As your foot connected with the ball, you could hear encouraging shouts from Kyra and Mary on the sidelines, cheering you on. You were the only defender that kept one of the forwards from scoring.

“Good job, kid,” the Real Madrid player praised as she offered you her hand to help you up. You took her hand, sending a small smile as a thank you before joining the other defenders.

Steph had a scowl on her face as she watched you successfully tackle Hayley. She knew you were good, she spent the last few days analyzing everything about your style of play. What pissed her off was that you seemed to not realize how good you were, that everything you need always worked out in your favor without you really having to apply much effort.

“Still think she’s going to take your place,” Alanna quipped from behind her, laughing at the captain’s face.

For the rest of the training, Steph tried to ignore you. Each time you did something well, the staff and players were cheering you on and it was getting to her. Training finally came to an end a few hours later and everyone was ready to get back to the hotel for showers and to relax. Throughout training, you got closer with Alanna and Ellie, and from Steph’s point of view, she saw it as a connection forming that might translate on the field.

Steph found her seat on the bus but before she could get her headphones out, Caitlin joined her in the seat next to her. “Y’know, if you weren’t being so closed off, you would see just how nice she was,” the forward teased, earning a laugh from the two who sat with them at breakfast.

“Fuck off, Caitlin,” the defender growled, hitting play on a song to tune everything out. Caitlin laughed at her before getting up to sit next to Alanna. Steph was pissed at the idea of you starting over in the first game and considering how well you did in practice, that seemed like a possibility.

Returning to her hotel room, she quickly headed for the shower, needing to wash away every thought from training. You had gotten under her skin without meaning to and it was driving her crazy. Steph quickly got dressed before heading to the conference room for dinner, ignoring everyone who tried to speak to her. Though it wasn’t many given that they could see the anger on her face.

She didn’t want anyone to question her so she bit the bullet and sat down at the same table from this morning, though this time Ellie had joined the group. This time she had to listen to the four of them talk about how good you were, which she knew they were just trying to mess with her.

From your table with Kyra, Mary, and Charli you kept looking in Steph's direction, hoping she would look up from her food and make eye contact with you. She might have brushed you off the entire day for no reason but for some reason, you felt drawn to her. You watched as she finished her food, not bothering to stay after she was done as she quickly stood up from the table to dispose of her plate.

You watched her quickly leave to head back to her room and you took this as an opportunity to speak to her alone. You told your friends goodnight and were out the door just as quickly as Steph was. You found her room and stood outside, debating whether or not you should knock.

The part of you that wanted to confront your captain won out as you lifted your hand to knock on the door. On the other side of the door, Steph groaned at the sound not wanting to face anyone again. Without looking through the peephole, Steph jerked the door open, coming face to face with the one person she couldn't stop thinking about.

“Hi,” you mumbled as you locked eyes with Steph. Her jaw was clenched and you'd be lying if you weren’t a little turned on at the sight of her pissed off, especially with you.

“What do you want,” the defender huffed, annoyance lacing her words as she spoke.

“Um, I just… I just wanted to say I was sorry if I did something during training to make you mad. It wasn’t my intention to do so,” you stuttered, finding the carpeted floor much more interesting.

Steph watched you fiddle with your hands as your eyes stayed locked on the floor. Steph lightly scoffed at your words, of course, you came to apologize for something you weren't even sure you did.

“Look at me when you’re talking to me. I’m your captain,” Steph had never pulled the captain card with anyone before, but something about this was different.

You quickly looked up at the older woman, your face heating up from your slight embarrassment. You nodded your head, letting her know you understood. Steph’s eyes scanned up and down your body, before her eyes locked with yours again. Without saying anything, Steph pushed her door open further and stepped to the side, allowing you into her room.

You felt excitement fill your body at what might happen once you stepped through the threshold. The door was closed quickly behind you and you were roughly pushed against it. Lips were on yours before you could realize it, kissing you harshly. You moaned into the kiss, your hands coming to rest on Steph’s neck as hers kept your hips pressed against the door.

Your lips moved against each other roughly, lightly biting each other’s lip as you made out. Steph pulled away first, her eyes dilated as she took in your dazed state. Your breathing was heavy as you locked eyes, letting her dictate what happened between you.

Steph pulled you further into the room, stopping at the foot of the large bed. “Be a good girl and strip,” the older woman instructed, eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded as you quickly undressed, throwing your clothes off the side. Steph’s eyes took in your naked form, licking her lips as she did so. You could feel that you were already wet and Steph hadn't touched you yet. The defender took her time undressing herself and it was your turn to check her out.

Steph pushed you onto the bed, nodding her head up to tell you to scoot up the bed. You listened as your breathing picked up, watching as Steph climbed up the bed before straddling one of your thighs. You both shuddered at the contact, the room growing warmer as the seconds ticked by.

You felt yourself growing wetter the longer Steph went without touching you, attempting to rub your thighs together out of instinct but failing as Steph’s thigh was in the way. “You listen well, pretty girl,” the defender teased watching your chest rise and fall rapidly.

“Please,” you croaked out, needing her to touch you, to make you cum. The pet name makes you feel weak.

Steph smirked down at you, raising her pointer ringer to your lips, pushing in on the for you to suck. You did as she wanted, sucking on her finger as you held eye contact with her. Steph’s brain short-circuited as she watched you suck on her finger before adding her middle finger as well. Steph pulled her fingers from your mouth with a quiet “pop,” a string of saliva connecting your lips to her two fingers.

She trailed her fingers down your torso, leaving a wet trail in their wake. When she reached your dripping cunt, she smirked to herself at how wet you already were. Tentatively, she pushed both fingers into you, groaning at the feeling of being inside you. You moaned at the feeling, your head falling back onto the pillows that were propped on the headboard.

“Faster, p-please,” you whined below her, needing more from her. Steph loved hearing you beg her to fuck you and she listened to you, speeding up her fingers slightly.

Steph watched from her place on your thigh as two of her fingers thrust into you, feeling herself grow wetter at the sight of her fingers glistening with your cum. You could feel how wet she was against your skin, wanting to make her feel the way she was making you feel but your mind was preoccupied with the pleasure she was giving you.

The wet sounds of her fingers fucking into you mixed with your low moans filled the room, driving the defender crazy. Her fingers sped up again, needing to hear you get louder, she needed to see you fall apart. Her two fingers that were pushing inside you hit that familiar spot, drawing a loud moan from your lips. Steph's fingers continued hitting that spot as a familiar coil tightened in your lower stomach, you were so close to cumming for the first time.

"P-please, Steph. I've been a good girl, please let me cum," you croaked out in between moans, your eyes welling up as the pleasure. Hearing you beg became one of Steph's favorite sounds in that moment and she was determined to make you beg again.

"Are you sure you deserve it, pretty girl, I don't know if you've been good enough," the defender husked, fingers curled inside you.

Steph took in the sight of you spread open for her as her fingers fucked into you. Your back arched as you threw your head back against the pillows, hands gripping the hotel sheets beneath you. Your hips bucked up to meet her thrusts, helping her fingers go deeper.

You locked eyes with your captain and she could see the desperate look in them. "I've been good, I promise! please let me cum, p-please" you choked out, eyes screwed shut as a few tears escaped from the sides. You weren't sure you could hold out for any longer.

"Cum for me pretty girl," Steph instructed as she drilled her fingers into you.

You came on her fingers hard, your eyes tightly closed as your hips bucked. Steph watched as you fell apart, keeping her fingers moving inside you, helping to ride your high. You could feel a second orgasm quickly approaching.

Steph's hips were grinding against your thigh as she placed her free hand on your lower stomach, pressing down on your skin as she thrust her fingers. You came again around her fingers as you chanted her name, filling the hotel room with your moans.

Steph pulled her fingers out of you as her hips moved against your thigh, chasing her own high. She brought her fingers to her mouth, tasting you on her fingers as she moved against you. You opened your eyes slightly and watched the defender fuck herself on your thigh as she sucked her fingers clean. You let go of the sheets to place your hands on her hips, guiding her to her first orgasm. Steph fell forward, catching herself with one hand beside your body, the other holding yours that rested on her hip.

The feeling of her clit hitting your flesh was almost enough to make her cum. You watched as she chased her high and flexed your thigh to help her. It was Steph's turn to moan loudly as she made a mess all over your thigh.

Steph kept her hips moving slightly as she came down from her high, not wanting to lose contact just yet. You sat up so you were face to face with your captain, pulling her into a deep kiss. You moaned at the distant taste of yourself on her mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. Steph's hips came to a stop on your thigh as you broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily.

"I think that's two to one, pretty girl. Care to make it even," your captain teased, a smirk on her face. You matched her smirk as you flipped the two of you over, leaning Steph against the pillows that rested against the headboard.

You left harsh kisses down her torso leaving marks to form in your wake, pulling away as you reached her bellybutton. "Is that order from my captain," you looked up at her with hooded eyes, seeing a deep look of arousal in her eyes.

"Yes," the older woman husked, watching as your smirk returned to your lips. You placed a quick kiss right below her belly button and a few nips on her hip bone before sliding further down the bed to face her still dripping core.

With your right hand, you held her thigh open, stretching her out for easier access. Your left held her thigh that was now placed over your shoulder. You blew lightly against her, the cool sensation making her jolt and her jaw fell open with a quiet groan.

Steph moved her hands to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pushing your head closer to her. You gave small nips to clit before sucking the bud into your mouth drawing a loud moan from the woman above you. Her hips were moving again as she moved against your face in an effort to gain more pleasure. You pulled away from her clit with a loud noise before quickly thrusting your tongue inside her.

With the way she was fucking herself on your face and holding your head against her cunt, you hardly had to do anything. The taste of her made you moan, sending vibrations through her that made her bite her lip to quiet herself. The sounds of you fucking her echoed off the hotel walls, driving you to go faster.

Steph could feel herself getting closer to her orgasm and she fell over the edge when you looked up from between her thighs through hooded eyes. She could see the teasing glint in your eyes which was enough to let go. The defender came all over your face, soaking your mouth and chin.

You would have stayed there longer but the sensitive feeling was too much for the captain as she pulled your head back with the makeshift ponytail. The sight of you with her cum coating your mouth and chin drove her crazy as she sat up to pull you into a searing kiss.

You both moaned at the taste of her, before pulling away when air became a problem. Both of your breathing was heavy as you stared into each other's eyes.

"Looks like we need a tiebreaker, captain," you teased with a playful smirk, knowing it would get under her skin. Her eyes darkened once more as she flipped your positions.

This was never how you pictured your first call-up to the national team would go. But as you and Steph went back and forth, pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other, you weren't complaining. You weren't sure what this meant for you and your captain but every part of you hoped that it was something that would continue whenever you saw her next.

#woso x reader #awfc x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #steph catley x reader #steph catley #arsenal wfc x reader

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alotofpockets · 8 days

Text

Written in the stars | Reneé Rapp x Lioness!Reader

Where Reneé is dating England's star striker.

Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1.3k

-----

You and Reneé decided from the start that you weren’t going to publicly address your relationship, and you would just be and do your things. With the both of you living in different continents, and both having a big online presence your comments were often filled with people trying to figure out what Reneé was doing in England so often, and for you to be in America when you had a couple days off.

With you playing for Arsenal and England, there wasn’t much time to travel. The same counted for your girlfriend, between her acting and music career, there wasn’t always time to see each other, but you always made the best of it. She had spent some time with you in London while she was recording her album, it was nice having her around so much, and her coming to see you play.

Of course, the first time that Reneé was able to come see you play at Emirates Stadium, a fan spotted her in the crowd.

-----

reneerappupdates just posted

reneerappupdates: Renee spotted at Emirates Stadium supporting Arsenal WFC. Source: @wosofan1

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wosofan2: My two worlds colliding!

reneefan: this can't be a coincidence

-----

People were now definitely convinced that Reneé was dating someone on the team, and the rumours continued. Neither one of you was bothered by the rumours though, the people you both cared about knew about your relationship, and the people that found out along the way, just did.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” You whispered into your girlfriend’s ear, as you held her close. She was starting her tour in a month, and was flying back home for rehearsals with the band. “I know baby, I’m going to miss you too. It has been amazing having you so close.” You were basking in the cuddles for as long as you could. “You’re going to come see me play here right?” You nodded with a smile, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I wish I could come to more shows.” Reneé shrugged, “You’ve got a league to play and a cup to win with Arsenal, and camp with the national team. They can’t miss their starstriker.” While the distance was hard sometimes, you knew you’d make it work, because the both of you were very understanding of the other’s careers.

Once you said goodbye at the airport, you poured everything into football. Arsenal was in the top three of the league, and ended up winning the cup final. Reneé was the first one you called when you headed into the locker room. While everyone was partying around you, you wanted to see the proud look on your girl’s face. The team teased you for it, but were also happy you found someone to share these moments with.

The next day Reneé was performing in London. Between her rehearsal and the show, you and Reneé caught up on some well needed cuddles. A bunch of your teammates joined you to see her perform that night. You loved being able to support her before you had to head to England camp. Seeing her in her element, and watching her enjoy the performance and the special moments with the crowd. Of course, you and your teammates were spotted amongst the crowd.

-----

reneerapp just posted

reneerapp: LONDON, UK

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reneefan1: best day of my live.

gooner4life: Is no one going to talk about half of the Arsenal girls being here?

↳ awfcfan: first renee at the emirates, and now the girls at her show

↳ gooner4life: she has to be dating one of them right?

-----

After the concert the two of you parted ways again, as you were headed to England camp, and Reneé had to continue her tour. The two of you facetimed as often as you could, and when times wouldn’t line up, you’d sent voice notes back and forth. When you got back to the hotel after your first match that you tied, Reneé was the first to reassure you. Her tour had started, and she was performing all around Europe, but she watched your match online. She had seen the disappointment in your eyes when the match had ended. “I shouldn’t have missed those shots.” You say in annoyance, while trying to tell her what was going through your head. “You played an amazing game, baby. Their keeper blocked your shots, true, but you were getting all of your shots on goal. This was just the first game, you can prove yourself against Ireland next week.”

What you didn’t know was that Reneé had planned to take her two days off between shows to fly to Dublin, and surprise you.

-----

reneerappupdates just posted

reneerappupdates: Renee arriving at Dublin airport. Source: Reneé's story

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reneefan1: Does anyone know why she's in Dublin?

↳ lionessesfan: Maybe the England-Ireland match?

↳ awfcfan: @gooner4life this narrows it down to only a few players!

wosorenee: I need to know which footballer she's dating!

reneefan2: Wait, isn't her Dublin show in a few weeks?

-----

Reneé’s surprise visit meant the world to you, and you promised yourself that if you managed to score against Ireland tonight, you would dedicate the goal to her. Time and time again goal scoring opportunities were handed to you, but you didn’t seem to be able to hit the back of the net. You were getting frustrated, but you weren’t letting it affect your playing. Another 1-1 score wouldn’t be the worst, but you wanted to win this match to be amongst the top two of the group.

It was the 93rd minute when the ball found your feet again. This had to be it, it was the last moment of the match as the clock was ticking down the last minute of play. With one defender shrugged off, you looked up to see which teammate you could give the assist to, but they were all being guarded by Ireland’s defence. You had gotten yourself in a tight angle, but you had to take the shot yourself. With one look back at your teammates, hoping to trick the goalkeeper into thinking you were going for the assist, you kicked the ball in the direction of the goal. You watched as the goalkeeper jumped to keep it from going in, but it was just out of their reach. The English side of the crowd erupted in cheers, as your teammates ran in to hug you.

While you were being congratulated by your teammates you looked into the crowd to find your girlfriend. When your eyes locked on her’s, she was looking back at you with pride as she was cheering along with the crowd.

Ireland got to kick off one last time, but after one pass the final whistle blew. While you were celebrating the win with the team, you felt the pull to celebrate with your girlfriend. You found her eyes again in question, with a nod of her head, you climbed into the stands, ignoring the chaos around you from the fans.

When you made it to her, you knew that there would be camera’s on you, but you didn’t care. You wanted to celebrate with your girlfriend, so you did. She wrapped her arms around you and held you tight. “You played so well, baby. That goal was incredible.” You smile into the crook of her neck. “That was for you.”

-----

Celeb News just posted an article

Reneé Rapp and Y/n Y/l/n hint at romance

Celeb News: After fans of popstar Reneé Rapp and star striker for Arsenal and England Y/n Y/l/n noticed that the pair was constantly in the same country, the rumours started. Neither one of them ever commented on the rumours, and let the fans do their thing.

Let's take this back in time a bit. Rapp was pictured at Emirates Stadium first, making fans believe that she had to be dating one of the Arsenal girls. Then Y/l/n and a few of her teammates attended Rapp's show in London, confirming to the fans that Reneé showing up at the match had not just been a coincidence.

Fans finally got confirmation of the player that Rapp has been spending her time with, as Y/l/n ran into the crowd to hug Rapp after scoring the winning goal.

While neither Rapp nor Y/l/n have officially addressed the speculation, their public displays of affection have left little doubt in the minds of fans about the nature of their relationship.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp x you #renee rapp imagine #lionesses x reader #lionesses #england lionesses #england women #woso

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nanamikeento · 3 months

Text

the rooftop.

Every girl in school likes Tsukishima Kei. Everyone knows he's the popular tall boy who helped take the school volleyball team to the nationals. Naturally, he's the target of various confessions per week. He's certain at least of every class has confessed to him. And then, there's you. The mysterious girl that silently hangs out with him on the rooftop of the school building. All he knows about you is that you're in the same classmas Hinata and Kageyama. That is, until you come up with a proposition he finds it hard to deny.

w.c.: 6.7k

hi. fake relationship. high school. feelings. sorry if this feels rushed towards the end, ive been writing this since januray 2023. crossposted on ao3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sky is a nice blue, and you enjoy the view as you lean on the rails of the roof on your lunch break, basking on the sunlight and the cool wind breeze mother nature decided to bless you this afternoon. Despite your friends having lunch in the classroom, you like being alone at this time of the day. It's the only time you have to yourself. After this, you'll have classes and club activities, and then you'll have to get home and have homework to do and study and won’t have even a single thought to yourself.

This is why you sigh silently when you hear a stranger's voice coming from behind you. Right at the corner of the roof, where they can't see you, there's a girl confessing her crush to the same tall boy who hangs out silently on the same roof as you. You look over your shoulder and see her handing him a pink envelope, bowing and leaving. The boy just stares at it, in silence, adjusts his glasses and walks over to the trash can by the rail where he tosses the envelope.

You scoff at him.

“Shut up,” Tsukishima tells you.

“I didn’t say anything.” You protest and look back at the sight the school building provides, “Although, that's what? The third one this week?”

“Tch.” He joins you on the railing and doesn't say anything for a moment. “I tried coming here for a break, but they keep finding me.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, the struggle.”

The mocking tone makes him sigh, irritation coursing through his veins. You're one of the few girls that haven't had a crush on or haven't confessed to him. That he knows. And it's not like he takes pride in it, being one of the popular guys in school and having girls falling for him daily. Sure, it was fun in the first year of high school, but now, in his last, he just wants to focus on graduating and getting into a nice university, moving on with life.

Then, there's you. The mysterious girl he met on the roof of the school's building that he knows nothing about. All he knows about you is that you're in the same class as Hinata’s and he'll be dead before he asks him about you. For now, he'll just hang out silently with you and bask on the unspoken agreement that you two have.

“Why don't you give one of them a chance?” You break the silence and Tsukishima exhales sharply as he remembers Yamaguchi saying these same words to him once. He ducks his head for a moment, then pushes himself off the railing.

“Don't you have better things to do?” He asks, looking straight into your eyes.

“Nope,” You smirk at him, knowing you're getting on his nerves. A laugh escapes your lips as he clicks his tongue. He has pretty eyes, though.

“What about you?” He asks, leaning his forearms on the railing again, “Surely there must be someone—”

It's your turn to click your tongue, irritated. The subject annoys you too much, especially when the creepy boys from your club come to mind every time, and Tsukishima falls silent, knowing it's dangerous territory. The both of you fall into a comfortable silence again, once more enjoying what you came in search of: peace of mind.

Except your mind is not at peace at all. You barely know this kid, just that he's on the masculine volleyball team and that they went to the nationals once and it was a pretty big deal at the time. And that he's tall. And handsome. And that pretty much all girls in school fall for him because of all that. You're not so sure why so many girls tend to confess to him anyway. Tsukishima is a bit rude and harsh when you meet him. At least he was when you met him. At first, it made you back away from him as far as possible. How could a girl even want to be his girlfriend?

And then a thought hits you.

“You know...” You pick at your nails, eyes down to the other students far away from you, “I could pretend to be your girlfriend to keep those girls away...”

Tsukishima's eyes bore to you, but you're still looking down. At first, he thinks you're joking, but the look on your face tells him you're serious about it. Still, he can't help but be sarcastic about it because, well, that's just who he is.

“You'd do that for me.” The cynicism is clear on his voice, and you end up rolling your eyes, but smile as you look back at him, shrugging.

“You'd keep the creeps away.”

This, he wasn't expecting. He tries to hide the surprise on his face but fails to. Then, he falls into his usual Tsukishima face and scoffs, pushing himself out of the rail and turning his back to walk away. You sigh deeply and lean your chin on your forearms, enjoying the last minutes of your lunch break, knowing the bell will ring soon and you'll have to get back to your classroom.

…

It's not until two days later that you hear of Tsukishima again. You're doing some homework in advance on your break, since it’s pouring outside and you can't go to the roof today, when one of your classmates calls your name and tells you he's looking for you. The hallway is packed with people, and it annoys him that his earphones are out of battery so he can't listen to music like he always does, so when you meet him outside your classroom the frown between his brows is almost popping up a vein, you're sure of it.

“What's up?” You say, pretending not to notice the large vein on his forehead. Oh, he's pissed at something and you're dying to see it.

“C'mon,” he simply says and turns his back. When you don't follow, confused at his command, he sighs sharply and pulls you by the wrist. You try to protest, but you're very aware everyone is watching as he pulls you through the hallway towards a more private place. When he's sure no one is around, Tsukishima stops by the stairs between the first and second floors, where Hinata swore to him he once saw a ghost there.

“Damn, what happened?” You ask, frowning at the strong grip on your wrist.

“I'll do it.”

You pause, looking way up at his height that towers you. It should intimidate you, it should make you back away, especially after you saw the way he treats people... but you don't.

“Do what?”

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Are you really gonna make him say it? Fine, so be it. What's a little pride anyway? He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes.

“I'll pretend to be your boyfriend... to keep the creeps away.”

“Oh. That.” You had forgotten about it already. So, he wants in, then? “O-okay.”

“Okay.” He parrots and his eyes travel through your shoulder to your arm and notes how he's still gripping your wrist like there's no tomorrow. Tsukishima quickly lets go of you like you have the plague, then clears his throat, a faint shade of red painting his cheekbones, “S-so, how do we do this?”

You shrug, “We spend time together on breaks, go home holding hands, all that couple stuff, you know.”

On the outside, your behavior is nonchalant, but your hands are shaking with nervousness. You’re about to fake an entire relationship with a guy you barely know.

“Right.” Tsukishima nods, “I have club activities until six, though.”

“Me too. You can wait for me outside gymnasium five, the one with the pool. Just make sure you're seen.”

A groan bubbles up in his throat, but he swallows it down. Isn't being seen the main objective here? So, he just nods and exhales softly as he closes his eyes.

“Don't worry,” you say, realizing he looks worried about your plan, “I won't make you kiss me or anything... unless you want me to.”

Tsukishima opens his eyes and blushes furiously, a frown growing between his brows. You let a laugh escape your lips, genuinely having fun with his reaction. That until someone starts descending the stairs, interrupting their moment. It's the girl from that day on the roof, the one that handed the letter over to Tsukishima when you were there. She looks at him and then looks at you, a small frown between her eyebrows. For a moment, you think she's going to say something, but she just walks past you both and quickly makes her way to the first floor. When you look back at him, his skin is bright red, and his eyes are everywhere but on you.

“Well, you gotta do better than that if you want to convince people we're together.” You actually smile at the view.

He just huffs and walks away from you.

…

The rain has stopped by the time you're done with your club activities. You make sure to leap out of the pool and power walk to the dressing rooms.

“No running around the pool!” Your professor says and you apologize, but don't stop, ripping the goggles and swimming cap from your head.

“Someone's in a hurry today!” You hear a remark, probably from one the first years, and ignore them as you quickly enter the dressing room and start undressing.

You don't even bother to wash off the chlorine from your hair, just a quick douche and you're already putting your uniform on again. Almost knocking a second year down, you bust out of the dressing room, making your way outside.

No sight of Tsukishima.

All that work for nothing. You sigh, deciding to wait a couple of minutes, but he doesn't show up. Did he change his mind? He would've let you know if that was the case, right?

As you start walking around the school to make your way to the volleyball gymnasium, you feel embarrassed to be that excited to see him. Maybe you should’ve washed your hair, maybe it was stupid to rush like that.

Trapped in your own thoughts, you don’t see the tall presence in front of you as you turn a corner to reach the gymnasium. The strong body collides with you, and it sends you back, your feet tripping on each other making you almost fall on your ass.

His hands reach for you, holding you in place.

Tsukishima’s eyes look down at you, honey colored pupils staring at you confused. For a second you think your heart skips a beat with the way he holds your upper arms, the warmth of his hands radiating to your own skin.

“I thought you said to be outside gymnasium five,” he says, pulling you back from your thoughts.

“Y-you didn’t show up.” You manage to say.

He sighs, letting go of you. “Sorry. Coach held us a bit back there.”

Tsukishima pulls his phone out of his bag and only then you notice he’s wearing his club’s uniform. He didn’t have time to change and was going to see you right away.

“Oh.” You say, watching the way his eyes scan whatever is on his phone. He looks at you and you feel heat on your cheeks, looking away. In the distance, a boy with brown hair and a blonde girl are looking puzzled at the both of you. You take a deep breath and look back at him, the corners of your mouth curving into a smile. “It’s okay! Meeting here is better anyway.”

Tsukishima then remembers he didn’t give an explanation to his teammates on why he wasn’t going to change, saying he just needed to be somewhere else. His ears turn pink when he realizes they’re still lingering outside the door and witnessing this interaction.

“Walk me home?” You smile at him.

He just nods. Walking you home is probably the best way to be seen together. Side eyeing Yamaguchi and Yachi, he walks by your side as you guide him towards the exit.

He'd have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.

…

“Are you and Tsukishima from class four together?” It’s the first thing you hear when you enter the classroom the next day. Your friend grabs your shoulders and looks right into your eyes.

“U-uh…” you clutch your bag and swallow hard, thinking of what to say, “Yeah, we’re–“ you swallow hard again, “We’re together.”

Her eyes widens and she opens her mouth, but you interrupt whatever she is about to say.

“Don’t scream.” You manage to get free from her grip.

“Wait, but Yuuki from class two confessed to him yesterday! She said he said he wasn’t interested.” She follows you to your seat.

“Oh, really?” you say as you sit down, watching as she pulls a chair to sit beside you.

“And Maki saw you two in the hallway at lunch and started crying, ‘cause she also confessed to him this week.” You think back to the moment a familiar girl ran into you two by the stairs. You kinda feel bad for making a girl cry, but you’re sure Tsukishima will like that the girls already fell for your fake relationship. When you don’t say anything, your friend keeps talking, “Maki said he seemed interested in her, though.”

“Oh, trust me, he wasn’t.” You laugh, remembering how he immediately threw her love letter in the trashcan when she left.

“What?”

“What?” You look back at her.

“You’re acting so weird…” She frowns at you.

Swallowing, you shrug, “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Luckily, the bell rings and you silently thank time for being so on point. Your friend goes back to her seat, and you sigh relieved.

Who would’ve known lying would be so hard?

…

“So, is it true?” Yamaguchi asks as he approaches the net to block a spike from the other team.

Coach made them split into groups of three to play against each other and Tsukishima was stuck with a freshman and Yamaguchi.

“What is?” He asks after jumping and blocking the spike successfully.

“That you’re with that girl from class one.”

He looks at Yamaguchi and understands why he’s been acting weird all day. Ever since he saw you together, he’s been acting as if he wants to say something.

Tsukishima says your name.

“Yeah,” he then says, “It’s true.”

He doesn’t see it, but he knows Yamaguchi is smiling at him, that hopeful, shit eating grin he hates so much.

“I knew someday–“

“Save it.” Tsukishima interrupts him.

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?”

Yamaguchi had been saying for weeks that the girl who sits on the roof during lunch time and Tsukishima would end up together someday. Something to do with spending too much time with her, ‘specially if she hasn’t confessed’ like he said. Yamaguchi was actually so wrong about it, but he let him have it by grunting a response.

He felt bad enough lying to his best friend already.

“So who confessed first?”

…

“He did, obviously,” you answer your friend’s question.

A day later, in P.E., she asked if it was you who confessed to him. She couldn’t let go of your – fake – relationship with Tsukishima, asking you questions about him and how it happened, if you both had kissed and went out on dates already.

It usually wouldn’t bother you, since you don’t really like Tsukishima that way, but the number of questions she’s asking makes you think she’s the one who has a crush on him. It makes you feel weird on the inside, as if something is wrong.

“You must’ve really impressed him,” she says as you both complete another lap around the soccer field, “I heard he’s…”

“He’s what?” you ask as she trails away. You both come to a stop, panting and sweating and you wait for her response, but she just shrugs.

“What?” You insist.

“Just… that he’s cold towards girls.”

You stare at her. It’s not like you’re offended by her statement, she’s actually right. You’ve never seen Tsukishima acting differently with any other girl, or boy, or anyone. It’s just the way he is. But why would that be a problem? You’re not really together.

…

“Rumors sure do fly fast.” You mumble as you walk down the street, Tsukishima by your side. He hums an answer, “Have any girls bothered you yet?”

“No, but it's only been a week.”

A chuckle leaves your lips. Crossed arms, you shiver as a cold breeze rushes past you.

“Any creeps bother you?”

You side eye him, smirking, “It's only been a week.”

The silence that follows walks on the line between comfortable and awkward. You want to say more, have a conversation with him, but it seems Tsukishima was comfortable with the silence between you two. And it's not like you have to be friends with him for this plan to work.

It's only been a week, but you've learned that Tsukishima is a quiet, reserved guy. Always listening to music, always in his own world. You don’t want to force him much.

Another cold breeze rushes past you and the shivers on your skin make you tremble. A sign the cold weather is about to come. Tightening the grip on yourself, you take a deep breath, trying to control the involuntary shivers, until you feel something warm around your shoulders.

His school club jacket.

You pause your steps to look at him, now sporting just his shirt and shorts. It takes him a second to realize you've stopped, so he looks back at you and raises a brow. The corners of your mouth pull into an amused smile, and he rolls his eyes at you, resuming his walk.

“We're supposed to be pretending, aren't we?” he says, shrugging. The smile on your face grows bigger, but you don't mention that no one from school is around, “Also, you're gonna get sick with your wet hair.”

You want to thank him and say you won't, but you're too afraid it'll scare him off. For now, you just bask in the warmth of his jacket as he walks you home.

…

Two weeks later, you don't show up at school for three days. On the fourth day, a shy girl approached Tsukishima saying she was the class rep for class one and asked if he could take you some homework you missed. He tried saying he had practice after school, but she insisted, since he was her boyfriend.

He thought about just showing up at your house after practice, but his guts told him he should check on you.

You live on the way to his house anyway, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt. At the end of the day, he tells Yamaguchi he’s going to skip practice, and, to his surprise, he just smiles at him, giving a knowing look.

“What?” Tsukki stares at his best friend.

Yamaguchi just shrugs, “Nothing.”

Tsukishima suspected something was on his mind, but he said nothing as he kept that look on his face.

The walk to your place is pleasant and quiet, just the way he likes it. He missed being able to be with his own thoughts, listening to his favorite band and just... being alone. But at the same time, walking by himself feels strange now. In the past week, he’s grown so accustomed to your presence that, when you missed classes, he...

He missed you.

Halting his steps at the realization, he notices your house at the top of the small hill. His heart does something that he doesn’t recognize. A feeling deep inside bothers him to the point he thinks it’s just a stomachache.

He also didn’t stop to think about how to introduce himself to your parents. The feeling only gets worse as he approaches your front door and rings the doorbell, expecting an adult to come to get him.

‘Just hand them the homework and leave’, he thinks to himself as he hears footsteps approaching and the door being unlocked.

To his surprise, it’s you who opens the door.

Pink colors his cheekbones as he notices you’re in your pajamas: sweatpants and a tank top that reveals much more than what his imagination can go. Your hair is a little messy and your face... You look so sleepy that he feels his heart skip a beat.

“Tsukki?” You say with a rough voice, bringing him back to reality, “What- what happened?”

“I-I...” He stutters and then clears his throat, “I brought your homework...”

Tsukishima digs through his backpack to get the stack of papers and hand it to you.

“Homework?” You say, frowning, “Isn’t that the class rep’s job?”

“Yeah, but she gave it to me instead.”

You scoff, taking the papers from him, which causes a coughing fit. At this moment the wind passes through you and you shiver.

“Get inside,” Tsukki tells you, “you’ll get worse.”

“Well, come in then.”

You give him space to walk inside your home. He does without thinking much nor hesitating. It’s like he’s always been here, like entering his best friend’s house.

“Are you alone?” he asks, taking in the living room. A blanket lays on the couch and the TV is paused on some movie you were watching.

“Yeah, my mom is working.”

You guide him to the living room, bunching up the blanket on a corner and giving him space to sit.

“And your dad?” he asks, carefully.

“On a work trip.”

“Oh.”

The silence that follows is definitely awkward enough for Tsukishima to be uncomfortable. He’s never been in a situation like this, alone with a girl in her house. It makes him nervous. Especially because it’s you.

“Would you like some tea?” Your offer comes right before another cough fit, followed by a sneeze.

Tsukishima sighs and reaches for the bunched up blanket beside you — trying to ignore how close you are —, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Told you you’d get sick.” He mumbles, pulling the blanket so it gets right around you.

“Sorry.”

“Tch- don’t be sorry. I’ll make some tea.”

He stands up and goes toward the open kitchen, leaving you staring at his back as he walks away. Tsukki acts like he’s been at your place a million times: fills the electric kettle, looks for the tea in the cabinets and takes some honey from the counter. It’s only natural, he wants you to feel better.

And here you are, sick as a street dog, watching his movements with attention. His shirt rises when he stretches to reach the tea at the top cabinet – after you tell him where it is – and you see some hair on his lower abdomen. Your face immediately burns, but you can’t look away. You can’t help but stare. And you hate to admit it, but you like what you see.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, and you snap to reality.

“Uh, yeah, yeah.” You clear your throat and finally look away.

Tsukishima pours one cup for you and one for him. You watch his hands as he settles down on the couch again, his slender fingers hugging the ceramic of the mug as he hands it to you. When you take it, his skin brushes against yours gently. You feel your skin heating up again.

If he notices, he says nothing. You take a sip from the tea and almost burn your tongue at the temperature, but your eyes are fixated on his hands. The protuberant veins on his pale skin and the size of his palms, his fingers. One of them catches your attention, his pinky finger is different from the others.

“What?” his voice brings you back to reality and you look at him to find him staring back.

You don't know why you decide to go with the truth.

“Your pinky.”

He gives you a puzzled look. Clearing your throat, you speak louder.

“Your right pinky. It's different.”

Tsukishima raises his hand to show you his crooked finger. “Oh. I broke it in the finals for the Spring tournament in my first year. They just taped it together and it never healed right.”

“Oh...” without thinking much, you reach for his hand, your finger pads rubbing against the curve of his pinky. The warmth from his skin radiates to yours and you like the sensation of his hands on yours.

“I thought the whole school was there...” He mumbles and you let go of his hand. The warmth for your tea isn't sufficient to warm the lack of his touch.

“If it was in Spring, I wasn't.” You sigh, “Swimming trials start in April. I was trying to get into the Summer swimming competition.”

“Did you get in?”

“No,” you say with a smile, “but I watched the Nationals.”

“Oh?” His eyes light up a little and you think it's adorable.

“Yeah, on the TV.” You see him visibly deflate. You don't think he knows he's doing that, but you don't mention it anyway, “It was pretty exciting. You guys deserved it.”

Tsukishima looks at you as if he discovered a new star. It's not written on his face, but you can see it in his eyes, and you don’t know if it’s the fever or something else, but your chest constricts and your stomach churns. There’s a silence, tense seconds pass by.

“Can I ask you something?” Tsukki asked and you nodded, encouraging him to do it, “Who are the creeps you always talk about?”

Your smile fades away and your eyes tear the gaze from his. Sighing, you consider giving an evasive answer or just lying, but you decide to tell him the truth.

“Just some guys from the boys swimming team. Sometimes they watch our practice and make comments about me.”

“What kind of comments?” He breathes, trying to control his anger. Tsukki didn’t want you to realize he felt protective of you, but with his flushed face and inflated nostrils, he couldn’t hide much.

“Just some nasty comments about my body.”

A tense pause hangs heavily between you both. Tsukishima is thinking of all the ways he can beat up those creeps. It's weird that he feels so protective of you, you’re not really his girlfriend, but hearing you talk about this and not doing anything about it feels wrong.

“It’s not just me, though.” you continue, “It’s all the girls.”

“Your coach doesn’t say anything?”

“We tried to tell her once, and she did talk to their coach, but it only made the insults worse...”

He says your name, making you look at him. You see something in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.

“If you want, I can—”

“No, it’s fine, I—”

“Hey.” Tsukishima grabs your shoulders, with the intention of forcing you to look at him and listen. His touch burns on your skin, and you grow hot as his amber eyes stare intensely into yours, “This is why we’re doing this, right? You said it yourself, I'd keep the creeps away.”

You pause for a second wondering why he’s suddenly acting like this. “Y-yeah, but you don’t have to do anything... I... I thought that if they saw I had a boyfriend, they would stop, but...”

“They didn’t.” He finishes your sentence. You just shake your head, looking away.

Tsukishima suddenly feels the urge to kiss you, to make your pain go away. His eyes stare at your lips for a moment as he wonders if they’re as soft as they look. He wonders how they would feel against his own lips, against his skin, against—

You look back at him, eyes meeting his, a curious expression on your face, as if you know what he’s thinking about. Then, he suddenly stands up from the couch, startling you.

“I-I should go,” he says, clearing his throat, “but once you feel better and you go back to school, I’ll deal with the creeps.”

You stand up from your spot as well, meeting his eyes, “Tsukki, I—”

“It’s not up for discussion.” His voice sounds lower, darker even. It lights a fire in you that you don’t recognize. “Text me if you need anything.”

With that, he leaves your house, leaving you to feel confused and puzzled.

…

The following week, you finally feel better enough to go back to school. The flu has gotten better, but you’re still not able to swim – medical orders – until you feel one hundred percent well. So after classes, you just hang out at the library until Tsukishima is done with practice. You miss swimming, but the peace and quiet of the library is a nice break from your hectic days. Or at least it was. As soon as they entered the place, you knew you were going to have a hard time.

Their comments about your swimming abilities, your body, your hair and even your – fake – relationship with Tsukishima, come to your mind and you quickly slip out of the place before they can notice you. You hate that they have such an effect on you like that, you want to admit you don't care, but you do. Of course you do, when they're calling you names and laughing at everything you do.

Walking around the school, you find yourself at the volleyball gymnasium, staring at the open door. Inside, Tsukki and his friends are doing serving and receiving exercises, and, before you can think too much about it, you cross the entry, passing through the protective net used to keep the balls from escaping.

A ball flies over your head and hits the wall beside you, making you gasp and jump in your place. Everyone looks at you. Swallowing, you quickly remove your shoes and offer them a small bow before running to the bleachers.

Tsukki looks at you with a puzzled face, and then jumps at the sound of the coach barking some orders. The rest of practice goes like it usually does, except there's a tiny voice inside his head telling him that you're watching. Deep down, he feels like he has to practice harder, do better, just because you're watching. By the end of the practice, he's sweating, overheating and catching his breath more than usual.

He avoided looking at the bleachers during practice, but now, when he takes a peek, he catches you staring at him. You quickly look away, heat creeping on your cheeks. He can't help but smile.

Days are getting dark sooner now, so when you leave the gymnasium to meet him, it's already dusk. The sky is a mixture of bright oranges and blues. You wait for him to get changed into his uniform as you watch the sun go away. A cold breeze rushes through you and you shiver, wishing you'd brought your uniform jacket instead of just a sweater.

A warm fabric falls on your shoulders, the familiar scent of fabric softener and Omnigel immediately invading your nostrils. Tsukishima's large hand rests on the top of your head, catching you by surprise. There's no one around to show off your fake relationship, so the affectionate gesture confuses you.

“Hey,” you say, forcing a smile.

“What's wrong?” He asks, noticing your glassy eyes.

“Nothing,” you respond too quickly.

He stares at you, amber eyes studying you with suspicion, “You have a weird look on your face.”

“It's just my face.”

Tsukki says your name, making you sigh and close your eyes. How is he able to read you so easily like this?

“Was it the creeps?” He asks, and you cringe, “What did they do?”

When you look at Tsukishima, you notice the anger and his eyes. Heat creeps on your cheeks at the thought of him protecting you.

“N-nothing.” You stutter, “I was at the library and they came in… They didn't even see me though!” You quickly add, “I just– I just didn't want to face them…”

He keeps quiet for a moment until he takes your hand in a bold move.

“Tomorrow we're going to face them,” He says matter-of-factly, dragging you away from the gymnasium.

“Tsu–”

“This is why we're doing this.” He interrupts you, “I don't care what you think they're gonna say, we're gonna show you're mine now.”

As quick as the words leave his mouth, he freezes, eyes wide, cheeks red in embarrassment. He doesn't look at you, as he stops walking, hand squeezing yours harder.

“Kei…” you say, stomach doing somersaults, breath quickening.

“Shut up.” He pulls you away, walking faster.

The rest of the walk home is spent in silence.

…

Tsukishima couldn't remember the last time he rode a bike to school, but here he is at your doorstep, hands on the handlebars tightening their grip. He wasn't sure if you'd want to see him after what he said last night, but when he knocked on your door, the look on your face changed from surprised to amused. You asked for a minute to finish getting ready and left him waiting outside.

The tension between you two is palpable, as you walk side by side to school.

When you walk through the school grounds hand in hand, Tsukishima avoids eye contact, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

The morning is a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Tsukishima's determination to confront the creeps is evident, and you find yourself caught in the whirlwind of his protective stance. The rumors about your relationship spread like wildfire, everyone knew you were together, but seeing you holding hands just adds an extra layer of complexity to the situation.

He rests a hand on your head when you reach your classroom, “See you later.”

Nodding, you feel your cheeks burning as you enter the classroom. All eyes are on you when you take a seat. Your friends tease you all morning.

This agreement certainly took an unexpected turn.

…

“You ready?” Tsukki asks you, taking your hand again. Lunch break was cut short when he approached you. Nodding, you swallow hard, confused by the swirl of emotions that hit you.

As you approach the library, you notice the creeps already there, smirking and whispering among themselves. Tsukishima tightens his grip on your hand, a silent reassurance that he's by your side. With a confident stride, you both enter the library, facing the unwelcome attention head-on.

The creeps pause their conversation, their eyes widening at the unexpected sight of you two together. You can sense the shift in the atmosphere as Tsukishima directs a stern gaze towards them. Your heart races, unsure of how this confrontation will unfold.

Unexpectedly, Tsukishima speaks up, his voice cutting through the library's silence. "Enough with the comments and disrespect. Keep your opinions to yourselves. She's not interested, and we're not tolerating any more of your nonsense."

The creeps, taken aback by Tsukishima's assertiveness, exchange uneasy glances. You stand there, witnessing a side of him you hadn't seen before. The library, once a place of discomfort, transforms into a battleground where Tsukishima defends your honor.

As the creeps mumble half-hearted apologies and disperse, Tsukishima's grip on your hand relaxes. He looks at you, his amber eyes softening. "Let's go," he says, leading you out of the library.

You're not sure they'll stop their nasty comments towards you, but for now, an easy smile spreads on your lips and warmth blooms inside you.

…

The following days bring a surprising calm to your interactions with Tsukishima. The fake relationship begins to feel less like a facade and more like a shared understanding. The library incident becomes a turning point, and the creeps keep their distance, realizing the futility of their attempts.

As weeks pass, the dynamics between you and Tsukishima evolve. The protective facade turns into genuine concern, and you find solace in his company. The popular, mysterious boy on the rooftop becomes a reliable presence in your life, and the unspoken agreement transforms into a connection that goes beyond pretense.

One day, as you both sit on the familiar rooftop during lunch break, enjoying the peace and quiet, Tsukishima breaks the silence. "You know, this fake relationship thing has its perks. No more creeps bothering you, and I get some peace too."

You chuckle, appreciating the humor in his words. The genuine laughter resonates in the air, and in that moment, you realize that what started as a charade has woven the threads of a unique bond between you and Tsukishima.

As the school year progresses, the fake relationship becomes less about keeping up appearances and more about navigating the complexities of your emotions. The rooftop meetings turn into genuine conversations, and the agreement transforms into a shared understanding.

As graduation approaches, you can't help the bittersweet feeling that grows inside you. Uncertainty about your future makes its way to your mind in the form of anxiety and dreams about Tsukishima ending things with you. It makes you feel stupid, there's nothing there to end.

You can't deny there are some feelings for him inside you.

“I got in.” He interrupts your thoughts, making you look up from him from your egg sandwich. It's a breezy February afternoon, and you're on lunch break, back on the rooftop. He's leaning on the railway and you're sitting on the bench as usual. “Sendai University.”

The sandwich is soon forgotten as you get up and wrap your arms around his shoulders, smiling widely at him. “Congratulations!” You mumble on his neck, your soft lips touching the skin of his neck.

Tsukki takes half a second to hug you back. In the past few weeks, physical contact has become more common between. Although he's still not used to it, he welcomes you gladly as the warmth of your body radiates to him.

“Seems like we're going to the same university,” he says with a smirk. Looking into his eyes, you remember, just last week telling him you've been accepted at Sendai University as well.

“Yeah…” you breathe, fully aware that your lips are centimeters apart.

He would've kissed you. You swear, if it wasn't for the bell ringing just in time for you to pull away and him clear his throat. A blush stained his cheekbones pink as you smiled to yourself. Your story with him isn't over yet.

…

The day before graduation is filled with tears and poignant laughter. You say goodbye to your friends you know you won't see until graduation, swim at the gymnasium pool for the last time and wait for Tsukishima by the volleyball gymnasium, sipping strawberry milk you bought from the vending machine.

You don't turn around when you hear him and his friends leaving the gymnasium, or when you hear one of them point you out. You don't turn around when you hear his footsteps approaching you. When he stands in front of you, your eyes meet his. He's smirking, sweat glistening on his skin.

You don't care.

The strawberry milk box falls on the ground as his lips press against yours.

His skin is soft as you wrap your arms around his sweaty neck. Gasping when his tongue brushes against yours in a messy kiss, you pull him closer.

In the end, what started as a simple plan to ward off unwanted attention becomes a chapter in your high school story—a chapter filled with laughter, unexpected connections, and the realization that sometimes, the most genuine bonds are formed in the most unconventional ways.

#gabiwrites.txt #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #tsukki x reader #kei tsukishima #tsukishima kei

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nbaoracle · 2 years

Photo

#reaction #sports #funny #sport #basketball #nba #hand #hands #ja #nba playoffs #four #national baske

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taiyaki-o · 29 days

Text

HI NEIGHBOR!

synopsis: your new next door neighbors are…interesting, to say the least.

gojo x gn!reader, non curse AU

You live next door to a strange pair.

Not strange in a bad way, but strange as in they seemed more like brothers or distant cousins rather than father and son. Their attitudes and personalities were polar opposites, not to mention they looked nothing alike.

You’d met Gojo Satoru and Fushiguro Megumi the day they’d moved in, your doorway having been blocked by a couple boxes belonging to your new neighbors.

“Um, excuse me?” You tap the white haired man on the shoulder as he’s rummaging through a box, his back turned to you. He whips his head around, peering up at you over his round sunglasses with a questioning look on his face. You chuckle awkwardly. “Sorry, could you just move these out of the way? They’re yours, right?” You point to the boxes.

A look of slight embarrassment crosses his face and he laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, they’re ours. Sorry about that, uh…”

You figure that he’s pausing for your name, and you give it to him with a smile.

He extends a hand out with a smile of his own. “Gojo. Gojo Satoru,” he says, and you shake his hand. “Here, let me get these out of your way.”

You try to help as he starts moving boxes, only to be met with what you could only assume to be an entire set of Olympic weightlifting equipment with how unbelievably heavy it is.

“Jeez, what do you have in here?” You ask in a slightly incredulous tone. “And how are you picking that up so easily?”

Gojo laughs at your bemused expression.

“Been going to the gym recently. Guess it’s paid off,” he says with a confident smirk.

As he opens his mouth to speak again, a small, monotone voice interrupts him.

“Did you get my books yet?”

You turn around to see a spiky haired kid with a slight scowl standing in the doorway. Gojo jumps as he’s startled, before quickly clearing his throat and recollecting himself with a laugh.

“Just wait a bit longer, Megumi. I’ll get them as soon as these boxes aren’t blocking the nice person’s door,” he smiles, but the kid continues to scowl at him.

Megumi then looks at you: his face doesn’t soften, but you can see in his eyes that he simply doesn’t know how to talk to new people, especially adults. You greet him with a smile and a polite wave.

“Say hi, Megumi. Be nice,” Gojo scolds him lightly. Megumi bows his head, averting his eyes.

“Hi,” he finally says softly.

“Hi Megumi,” you smile at the boy softly. “You like reading?”

The boy nods shyly after a moment.

“Well, I’ve got some books you could borrow if you want. What kind of genres do you read?” You squat down to his eye level as Gojo continues moving boxes.

“…I like science books. And history.” Megumi twiddles his fingers, still not making eye contact.

“That’s so cool! You must be really smart,” you chuckle. His cheeks flush a little. “Wait right here,” you say, disappearing into your apartment before returning with a stack of National Geographic magazines, science books, and a number of other genres that Megumi hadn’t mentioned. You catch the way his eyes light up a bit at the stack, and you smile.

Gojo lets out a relieved huff, having moved the final box into the apartment and away from your door. He walks back out, but the scene in front of him makes him freeze, his jaw going slightly slack.

You and Megumi are sitting on the floor, open books scattered around the two of you, a gentle breeze from the still open door gently stirring the pages. Megumi’s expression shows the most emotion Gojo’s seen since meeting the boy, as his eyes widen in amazement as he reads over the words on the books. His gaze eventually lands on you, and he swears time stops.

The sun hits your face at just the right angle, the glow of your skin damn near angelic as he basks in the light and warmth of your soft smile. He thought you were pretty when he first saw you, but here? You laugh, and all he hears is a choir of the gentlest bells and the sweetest music. He could look at this forever, he thinks.

“Gojo! You’re back!” You notice him standing farther down in the entryway. He snaps out of his trance, the tips of his ears turning a shade darker.

“Y-yeah. Um- what are you- what’s going on?” God, he hates how you’ve reduced him to this. You haven’t even done anything!

“Megumi likes reading, so I thought I could let him borrow some of my books!”

“Really? Cool, yeah, very cool-“ Come on, Satoru, get it together!

You bid farewell to Gojo and Megumi eventually, and Megumi clutches his new hoard of texts as he watches you go back inside your own apartment. He waddles away, dumping the books on the recently set up couch and burying his nose in “A History of Greek Sculpture”. Gojo lingers at the door.

Was that your perfume he smelled? Or was it just the flowers blooming outside? What’s your favorite color? Your favorite food? What do you do in your spare time? What are your hobbies? Are you single? Can he be your boyfr-

“Oi. Grandpa.”

Gojo whips his head around incredulously. “Who’re you calling grandpa, you little brat?!”

Megumi, stoic as ever, looks at Gojo dead in his eyes. “Close the door. You’re letting bugs in.”

Gojo shuts his mouth and then the door.

pt 2?

as of 3/23: pt 2 here!

#jjk #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk x you #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #taiyakiwrites

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kamotecue · 3 months

Text

you caught me staring ✾ a. putellas

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

a little blurb, it’s part of the blurb series. based on something i saw on tiktok, “you caught me staring, but i caught you staring back.” - enemies to lovers.

you knew as the ref brought her hand to her lips, everything was over—the whistle she had clenched in her hand signaled that the game had ended.

you had fell to the ground as your teammates had celebrated, running to the center of the pitch to celebrate. england has won, they had gotten the gold medal that you’ve dreamed of.

as you sat on the pitch, your knees were brought to chest, as you covered your eyes, basking in the win—the captain’s armband was worn around your left bicep. your body shook as you cried, you did it—the team did it. the hard work you’ve done, was worth it.

georgia and keira broke away from the huddle, as they looked around—confused on why one of their skipper’s weren’t there. a teasing grin came from georgia’s mouth, as keira chuckled knowing you were alright.

georgia ran straight for you, tackling you to the ground with a small oof. as you gave her a small smile, your eyes were undoubtedly puffy and red.

“alright, skip?” keira teased, as you chuckled at her words. the team looked at the three of you with soft smiles, as well as celebrating with the fans.

“just a tad’ bit overwhelmed.” your voice had cracked, as georgia snickered at it. of course, always the mischievous and fun one of the team.

“we did it.” keira said, as she stuck her hand out for you to grab, you gave her a little nod—as you reached out for it, quickly standing.

it was time to do the lap around the field, the english team went clockwise, while the spanish team went counter clockwise. you didn’t know it, but a certain glance had changed everything.

as the two teams met, you were caught staring at the barcelona captain—alexia putellas. the two of you did not get along, but it made sense—you played on barcelona’s rival team, real madrid. not only that, but you captained the team alongside ivana, alexia’s national teammate.

despite the rivalry, you had always been interested in her. maybe, it was the way she led her team, something you inspire to do. or, the way she played, her playing style was something you were amazed at, despite being a defender.

but as her eyes found yours, you quickly averted your eyes to the crowd thinking you were in the clear. but you weren’t, as you turned back—a little smile was shown on her face, something you returned.

a start of a great relationship, as you had made the move to ask the shy captain out on a date.

she caught you staring, but you caught her staring back at you.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #espwnt x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso one shot

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trulyhblue · 4 months

Text

MISS AUSTRALIA (PART ONE)

Katie Mccabe x Aussie!Chelsea! Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, praise kink, angry sex, dom! Katie, sub! Reader, enemies, coarse language, Chelsea mentions, little age gap.

A/N — I know Mackenzie wasn't at Camp but let's just skip past that :)

Masterlist

___________________

The game against Arsenal had been a complete disaster. No one could've prepared you for the monstrosity it turned out to be.

Two days before the long-awaited London Derby, you were in Canada alongside your fellow Australian teammates, basking in the double defeat against your Chelsea teammates Jessie Fleming, Ashleigh Lawrence, and the Canadian National Team. To be fair, it hadn't been all that bad. Some Canadian fans were dubbing it ‘revenge’ after the World Cup, but a friendly was hardly much vengeance in your eyes. They had beaten your B team with their A team, and you had only played the second game alongside the usual starters like Steph, Hayley and Alanna.

By the end of the second game, you had swapped shirts with Jessie, who smothered you in forehead kisses and walked alongside Ashleigh for the lap around the stadium. Steph and Caitlin joined shortly after, both of their jackets covering their sports bras; they had given their jerseys away.

Soon enough, Kyra filtered over. You poked your tongue out to the girl, who giggled and reciprocated the actions before hugging your waist. Dozens of fans banked against the barricade, holding out signs and jerseys to sign. Phones stacked on top of hands reached out as the group of you travelled around the loop. You still had a firm hold on Kyra as you peeled your shirt off, handing it to a little girl with big, bulky glasses. You signed her poster, took a photo, and thanked her before waving goodbye. Your boots had been cuffed and peeling after a nasty tackle by your opponent, so you didn't waste any time in unlacing them and passing them over to a pair of twin girls, who hugged each other and cried at the notion.

Steph and Caitlin mingled with their respected fans while you and Kyra continued to use markers and pens to sign anything that was within arm’s reach.

“Oi, y/l/n!” Caitlin called out, your head turning toward the girl who stood a few feet away. “C’mere, look at this.”

Kyra waddled beside you as you made your way over to where Caitlin had pointed. You couldn't help but notice the slight huddle of fans that had accumulated in that spot, several cameras filming the interactions with cheeky smiles decorating everyone’s faces.

You caught sight of the massive poster, reading it with a blank expression, knowing the cameras were trying to catch your reaction. The sign was coloured in red and blue, with a photo of you on one side, and none other than Katie McCabe on the other. You tried hard to conceal the scowl on your face, hiding behind a sly smirk. You ran your hand over the writing: ‘YELLOW CARD DERBY’

It was no secret that both you and McCabe had a notorious reputation for receiving yellow cards from referees. It was a running joke in the Football community, starting from when you had your debut for the Matildas at fourteen, against Ireland. Katie had gotten a card that game too, both of you receiving it for tackling one another. You played for Sydney FC before you moved to Chelsea, playing your debut match against Arsenal six months after your seventeenth birthday.

Katie had been sent off that match for nearly breaking your ankle, a red displayed in the air before she stopped off with a heated scowl across her face. You knew of her reputation from International games, recalling the older woman as an aggressive little shit that hated you for no reason.

London Derbys started to become all the more heated. After a while, both sides tried their hardest to not put you on at the same time, pressured into thinking that they’d end up being a player down due to your rivalry.

It got so bad that people started picking sides. Dividing the two London teams and causing hate to spread. You were younger than Katie by six years, which seemed to be the leading factor in why people believe that Katie is too harsh. On the other hand, Arsenal supporters reckon that you are immature on the pitch. In prior matches, you had been called a whinger, especially when you were around your sister-like teammate, Hayley Raso.

It is safe to say that you and Katie were not on agreeing terms, even off the pitch, with mutual friends to keep you at bay. You both competed for everything. You were neck and neck in the Ballon d'Or, scoresheet, heat maps, everything. It didn't matter if you weren't playing against one another, you were always compared.

But it didn't seem to bother either of you. In fact, you were certain Katie enjoyed it.

You did too.

“Do you agree with it?” Steph laughed beside you, swinging her arm around your shoulders, pointing towards a printed photo of you pushing Katie to the ground, blood smeared across your nose and lips. Beside it was another photo of the referee pointing towards both of you with red cards. You were looking at Katie with utter turmoil; your Australian Jersey was covered in mud, hers had streaks of dirt covering her socks, and a testing smirk written across her face. Behind the pair of you was a younger-looking Steph, her hand covering the shock on her face.

“None of those were my fault.” You answered, watching as the huddled crowd around you chuckled at your response. You didn't want to say the wrong thing, you didn't know if what you said was that funny. “I promise I don't do it on purpose.”

“Oh, yeah, right, Little Miss Goody-Too-Shoes.” Caitlin scoffed, poking your side. “I've seen you play, you're a ride-off.”

Kyra giggled like usual, swaying her hips into yours. She pointed towards the red card photo. “I don't remember that being an accident.”

You don't exactly know why, but your cheeks are stained a solid red, staining your freckles with a tint of embarrassment. Katie had pushed you over, laughing when your face met the cold, wet mud. It was not a pleasant memory you look back on fondly. “Shush, Ky.”

You felt a presence behind you lifting you up by a grip around your waist. You were pulled onto the shoulders of Macca, earning a yelp to sound from your lips, the interaction leaving fans laughing even more.

“Oh, Baby, what's wrong?” Macca said teasingly, holding your thighs with her hands. You looked down at her and frowned, the team’s nickname for you left you feeling a tad humiliated considering it was in front of people who didn't know of the handle. Kyra took out her phone, taking a few shots of the sight with the intention of putting it in her photo dump.

When Macca caught sight of the poster, she cracked up. “Oh God, that's good.”

“Put me down, Mackenzie.” You groaned, kicking your feet half-heartedly into her side. The Keeper did as she was told, but made the show of huffing and puffing as she let you off her shoulders.

“Do you want me to sign it or something?” You said to the boy holding the poster, watching as his eyes lit up as he nodded.

“Are you a Chelsea or Arsenal fan, mate?” Steph asked him, waiting as the boy shook his head.

“West Ham.”

This made Mackenzie’s head snap towards him. “Really?”

“Yeah, who the fuck supports West Ham?” Caitlin questioned, yelping when Steph whacked her in the chest. “Language, Cait.”

“You're a real one, mate,” Mackenzie said, walking up to the boy and hugging him, making him smile like it was Christmas.

“Who do you think’s gonna win on Saturday?” Kyra egged on, shoving past Macca and grinning at the boy, indiscreetly pointing towards herself and the other Arsenal girls.

The boy looked between them and shrugged, folding his sign back up when you finished signing it. His eyes landed on you. “Well, you're my favourite player, but Chelsea are always too cocky.”

“No lies said.” Kyra said, yearning you to push her playfully.

“What if I score a goal, will you go for me then?” You asked, holding out your hands.

The boy nodded. “Yeah, but that's if you get past Katie.”

You couldn't help but scoff, shaking her head. The girls around you smirked at your competitive nature, sharing knowing looks.

“I don't remember the last time McCabe scored against me.”

***

You were glad that at least you kept that statement true.

The video of you reacting to the poster had gone viral, and everyone found the interaction utterly hilarious. Not only did you have a reputation for cards, but you also had one for being a sub in important games like this.

But that assumption didn't seem to make an appearance today, as you waited in the tunnel beside Jessie, holding the hand of a little girl, waiting as you caught sight of Caitlin in front of you

“Are you alright?” Sam muttered, turning to face you with an inch of worry apparent in her eyes.

You looked back at her, nodding. “Yes, just tired.”

You said this in truth. You hadn't had much sleep over the past week due to the different time zones you were living in. Sam had an injury during the Friendly, therefore not being able to compete alongside your Matildas team. But the fatigue was apparent in everyone’s eyes. You even noticed it in Kyra when you saw her on the bench as you walked towards your starting position.

The fans were screaming at the tops of their lungs, but you slowly drowned them out as you honed in to concentrate. You looked to your left, finding Jessie throwing a thumbs up towards you. You smiled back at her, gulping down the last of your anxiety before the whistle blew.

You knew this would be a hard game before it even started, but Arsenal’s level of aggression was completely unexpected.

Fouls were handed out left and right, followed by a bit of push and shove from either side. You fought your way up and down the wing, waiting for an opportunity to surpass. Both teams were angsty with the ball, throwing easy chances away as the crowd grew in volume.

Sam hadn't come down to defend like she usually does, instead waiting past the halfway mark as the midfield continued to pass to and fro.

You grew annoyed at the lack of ball time you were receiving, even when you made a point to be out and open near the corner. Your breathing was ragged and tested, your patience running thin when the crowd of Chelsea players swarmed Victoria Pelova and leaving Beth Mead to shoot in the open.

“There were four of you, for fuck’s sake.” You muttered, dragging your hands over your face as you sighed, returning to your starting position once more.

It started to become ridiculous when you still hadn't received the ball, yelling out on the wing as the minutes passed with Arsenal in front. You hadn't been in the midst of any tackles or gameplay until the thirteenth minute when one of your teammates crossed the ball to you over the halfway line.

You dragged your feet across the ball, feeling the grass hit your feet as you sprinted toward the goal. You stepped past Lotte Wubben-Moy, leaving an open space to slot it through toward Kaneryd.

The ball had left your feet with a concentrated pass before your balance was cut short. A potent force left your legs to crumble beneath you. Your body collided with another, leaving your lungs without any air. Your head spun with nausea, the speed at which you were taken out leaving you heaving for breath. It took you a few moments to register the figure you had landed on, and how the crowd went wild at the shot that had passed Zinsberger.

“I’d never thought you liked being on top, y/l/n.”

The voice made your stomach churn even more.

“Surprised you have enough brain cells to think, McCabe.”

You rolled off her with a groan, your legs aching from the impact. You felt the hands of one of your teammates soothe the distant pain in your head, causing you to roll onto your back.

Instead, you were met by a red jersey. “You alright, Baby?” Steph asked, helping you up.

You didn't have time to answer Steph. She was bombarded with a shove from Lauren James, who turned to the ref with her hands in the air. “That’s a red, ref! The ball left her feet!”

“James, do not yell at me.” The referee fired back. “McCabe, this is your first and final, am I clear?”

McCabe shrugged her shoulders. “I slipped.”

Lauren looked like she was about to pounce. “Oh, you little-”

“What, eh?” Katie walked up to challenge the girl back. “Can Miss Australia not speak for herself?”

Kim Little, Arsenal’s captain, appeared in the mix. “Katie, that's enough! Walk away.”

“Can't handle a tackle, what a baby, shouldn't be on the field—”

“McCabe!” Kim snapped, which shut up whatever rant Katie was about to begin.

The ref turned towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder. The action was met with Arsenal boos. “Y/l/n, are you alright?” Looking concerned at your pained countenance. Lauren rubbed a hand across your back, eagerly awaiting the card Katie deserved.

“I’m fine.”

Maybe you shouldn't said no — maybe that would've landed Katie with a card. But you knew you’d be sent off if you did. You had just scored an assist to level your team. Katie McCabe of all people was not going to ruin that.

The game continued, your left ankle feeling tampered with as more tackles progressed.

It was clear that Arsenal were hungry for this win, leaving Chelsea left and right with calculated footwork and sprints across both their defensive and attacking lines.

When an Arsenal corner arrives shortly after, you run back to defend the post alongside Jessie. Steph is walking to take the corner with the ball in her hands, giving both teams time to find their spot in the box. Pelova was in front of you, Russo to your right. The majority of your midfielders banked against the goal in an attempt to stop the chances of Arsenal moving up two-one.

Steph was about to kick when you felt someone against you. Unknown hands grip your hips tightly, maneuvering them with ease that your body was stuck to them. Your breath hitched when you were pushed forward, forced to leave your place by the post.

“Miss Australia bent over for me?” The voice whispered, pricking the alcove of your neck. “With all these people watching? Guess she's not as innocent as everyone thinks.”

You weren't watching Steph’s long shot into the box, too angered by Katie to care. You didn't notice Amanda Ilestedt’s header into the middle of the goal, hitting the back of the net with a swoosh, met by North London cheers. Hell, you didn't fucking notice anything except Katie falling to the ground, your arms propelling her with so much force you fought to hide the flame that hindered your cheeks.

The whistle blew, causing celebrations to halt when both teams found the two of you glaring daggers at one another.

“Get off her, Y/l/n,” Wälti called out, running towards you and pushing you backwards.

“Nah, what a fucking ride-off.” You heard another Arsenal player say, making you stomp in the opposite direction, huffing in annoyance when the referee called you back.

Kim Little and Sam Kerr were standing by their respective players when the referee was scolding the two of you. It was obvious that you were painted as the immature one since it was made out that you needed to control your emotions more.

“I won't have you manhandling each other like idiots on my pitch. You play fair or you don't play. Understood?”

The four of you mumbled your understanding, filing back into place begrudgingly. Sam was ordering Jessie to swap with you, but you found yourself shaking your head, promising her you’d pull it in.

Turns out, you didn't.

The same circumstance of you pretty much skin-on-skin with Katie happened after Alessia Russo’s chip against Berger. 3-1 for an undefeated team was embarrassing, and no matter how many times you fed the ball well enough to become an assist, the communication just wasn't there.

“Get the fuck off me, McCabe.” You seethed, trying your best to squirm your way out of her grip, but to no avail.

“You need to stop all that wriggling, Y/l/n,” Katie responded, the smirk on her face was evident even from behind. “Those red cheeks couldn't have been from running.”

“I’m not red.”

“Ha, yeah, you and London both.”

Katie and you both got your yellow cards in the second half.

You knew people would find it funny online — the fact that you both got it at the same time — but the game felt like it had gone on forever, and at this point, all of Chelsea’s players were defenders.

You had a clear shot of the goal after Niamh Charles curled the ball to your wing, leaving you and Katie battling for possession near the sideline.

You couldn't help but notice how high her hands had gotten on your waist. Your knees were bending slightly so you could attain more balance, but maneuvering past Katie was a challenge, and proven extremely difficult.

You let out a struggled breath, angered at the lack of options your teammates offered due to their attacking absence. The ball beneath your feet went back and forth between the women in front of you. The two of you were complete mirrors of each other, both trying to nutmeg the other or humiliate them in some way. It was as if minutes had gone past when everyone was watching the two of you battle it out. It wasn't until Jessie came up behind the two of you, threading the ball out from beneath McCabe’s feet and dribbling it away that it seemed to have stopped.

You blanked when you saw Katie stretch her leg out, tripping Jessie onto the floor; leaving her limb on the grass.

“You’re such a cheat!” You exclaimed, pushing Katie with your hands. “You’re a fucking cheat, McCabe, and you know it!”

Katie surged towards you, her breath thick against your face. Your shirt was taken into her hand. She was so much taller than you. “Imagine needing your girlfriend to win your battles for you.” She spoke, her tone condescending. “The score says it all, Miss Australia. If only you weren't so distracted by me, you’d realise.”

She was looking down at you now, holding your shirt so tightly you knew that if you moved, she’d pull you right back in. Her accent was coarser than usual, sending you into a frenzy of disarray and warmth. She was towering over you, her build similar yet broader. Her smirk was minuscule, but prominent all the same. You knew you had lost the game, but you weren't going to lose this fight.

“And where’s your girlfriend, McCabe? Is she somewhere in the stands?”

You were pulled apart but Kim and Sam, the referee tramping over at the sight of the pair of you bundled up. The presence of the yellow card was something you expected, but not rewarding whatsoever.

“Get off my player, McCabe,” Sam ordered, holding a protective arm over your shoulder. Somehow, you knew what she was thinking, peeling your Captain’s arm away from you and marching off. In the distance, you could hear Katie speaking. “She's a big girl, Kerr. I promise it's never on purpose.”

Of course, she was mocking you, you thought. Of course, she saw the video.

You were replaced by Guro not long after that. The Chelsea cheers did not seep through your irritated exterior. Your head was pounding from the fall you had at the start of the game, and you winced at the tinge in your ankle as you ran off to hug Guro.

Emma Hayes strolled up to you, placing a stern hand on your shoulder. “I want you to cool off before you come back and sit down. You're going to shake each of those girls’ hands before you go home tonight.”

Without a second thought,, you stomped down the tunnel, making a point to let your metal studs echo all the way to the changerooms. At twenty-two years old, you had the most yellows in the WSL for your age. If the stats were compared, people would argue that you were higher than most of the older girls.

It was nothing you were proud of, despite the effortless compliments you gained for being potent in your determination to win. But you had been told by almost every coach that you could be too aggressive.

You kicked off your boots, peeling off your shin pads and socks to reveal the nasty bruise that was already blossoming on your ankle. Removing your clothes, you engulfed the hot spurs of water that left the shower head in Emirates Stadium. There was still half an hour of the game left when you were subbed off, so you made sure to take your time washing yourself from head to toe, soaking in the warmth that relaxed the tension in your muscles.

You replaced your game kit with some Matilda's trackies and a fitted tee. Combing your hair into a pony, washing your face with freezing cold water, you waited for your team to arrive from the game, feeling defeated and unprepared for the beating they were about to receive from Emma.

The changing rooms blocked out most of the noise from the game above, except from the thundering rumble of Alessia Russo chants that boomed after five minutes of waiting. You knew that had scored just by the sinking of your gut. The jetlag and fatigue were starting to hit you now, and you had half a mind to just pack up and go home. But you remembered Emma’s words to you before you stormed into the changing rooms. You knew she’d have your neck at training for the next three months if you didn't do as you were asked.

So you stood up, slotting your phone into your pocket, making your way back through the tunnel. The volume of the crowd was starting to get louder, and with each step you took, the less you felt inclined to follow through with the orders you were given.

You were about to turn the corner that led to the field when you were pushed back against the wall, your arms pinned above your head, your body caged in by someone tall and firm.

“Are your cheeks always so red, Y/l/n? Cause every time I see you, you look like you're on fire.”

“Piss off, McCabe.”

Katie was towering over you, unpinning your hands from their place above your head, leaning down so that you could see every detail of her face.

“You're free to go.”

“You're a right pain in the arse.”

She was laughing at you now. “Am I bothering you, Miss Australia?”

“Stop calling me that!” You knew your cheeks were flaming now but you couldn't help it.

Katie grabbed your face with her hand harshly, pulling you closer so that you were forced to look her straight in the eyes. “No, you don't like that?” Her hips met yours, and you squirmed. “What about Baby, eh? Everyone seems to call you Baby. You act like one so I guess it suits.”

“Katie—”

“Oh, so you're calling me Katie now, are ‘ya? I call you Baby and you call me Katie, is that what's happening?”

“No.”

Katie scoffed, placing her knee in between your thighs, keeping you planted between her. You had nowhere to put your hands, so you decided behind your back was appropriate. You felt the subtle movements of her knee in between your legs, her eyes watching for your reaction intently.

“No?”

You watched her head move down to your ear, her breath fanning across your neck. Her lips gradually grew closer to your pulse point, where goosebumps poured over your skin. When the warm sensation of her lips met your neck, your body subconsciously relaxed on her knee, making you jolt at the sudden friction applied to your core.

“Yes.” You ushered, pulling your hands out awkwardly as your neck reclined against the wall, your face etched to the ceiling. You were so, so stupid. What were you thinking?

“Yes… what?” You heard her say, her tongue swirling across the harsh mark she just made below your ear. You hesitantly fell back down on her knee, holding in the groan that yearned to leave your lips. This time, as you tried to regain the dispersing shards of your dignity, lifting your heat off her knee, her hands moved to seize your waist, pushing your hips down to roll against her knee.

The motion made you whine. “Yes, Katie.”

The woman chuckled as she coerced your hips back and forth, sucking and licking down your neck and across your collarbone. Feeling a slight ache from the game she just played, the sensation of the majority of your body weight rubbing against her knee made the Arsenal Victory even more triumphant.

“Is this okay, Baby?” She asked, leaving your neck cold as she waited for your response. You were so tired from the past few days that you slumped on Katie’s knee, waiting for her to continue kissing and moving you as she pleased.

“I need to shake people’s hands.” Your voice was meek but clear.

Katie looked at you, taken aback. “What?”

You wrapped your arms off her shoulders, holding them together in front of you. “Emma told me I need to shake everyone’s hands after the game is finished. She’ll be really angry if I don't.”

Katie’s smirk was back. “Will she now?”

You, too exhausted to realise she was egging you on, nodded. “Yes. So I have to—”

“Shake my hand?”

“Yes.”

Katie leaned in, raising her eyebrows. “What if I don't want to shake your hand?”

You were evidently stumped at the question, pursing your lips as you struggled to find a response. Katie's smile grew, and you grew bitter.

She moved to kiss your neck again to silence your upcoming retort. “What will Hayes do if you don't shake my hand, hm? She’d be so disappointed in you, wouldn't she?”

You tried to focus on anything but her lips led closer to your breasts. “McCabe, I need to—”

“What are you going to tell her, hm? When she asks you if you shook my hand, are you ‘gonna tell her that you tried to get off on my leg instead?”

You were at loss for words. Was she wrong? Of course, she wasn't. Katie McCabe was never fucking wrong, and here you were, pathetic on her knee, about to get off to your enemy calling you Baby, when you tell her you need to shake her hand. You really were a baby.

“Is that what you're going to say to her, Baby?”

“N-no.”

“Why not? It's the truth. You wouldn't want to lie, would you?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“I'm not going to tell her that.”

She must've caught onto your honest dispute, slowly dragging her knee directly onto your clit and rubbing circles over it. You didn't expect her movements, so you moaned, pulling your head into her neck and breathing heavily.

You were so out of breath it wasn't funny. “I’m- I told Jessie I’d spend a night at her house.”

“I didn't take you for the cheating type, Y/l/n.”

“She's not my girlfriend.”

Katie slowed down her movements. “I ‘spose you weren't thinking you’d get off with her knee tonight, would you?”

“No, we were just going to watch a movie.”

“How ‘bout this?” She whispered, pushing your hips against the wall. “You go and shake everyone’s hands like a good girl and I’ll treat you like one afterwards.”

You groaned when she pulled her knee out from under you, feeling your inner dread grow when you heard the full-time whistle and a tsunami of cheers.

“We won 4-1.”

“Still second on the ladder.”

“You have bite for someone who was just moaning fully clothed.”

“Goodbye, McCabe.” You snapped, trying to act Almighty and unbothered by the longing in between your legs. You had to double-check that nothing had leaked through from how wet you were, trudging up the tunnel without a second glance back.

When you found yourself on the pitch, you made a point to shake each of the Arsenal player's hands, including the ones on the bench, which had been nothing short of mortifying. Almost all of them looked at you strangely, trying to push past the obvious awkwardness and reciprocate the sportsmanship, except for the Aussie girls, who hugged you and offered warm conversation with the buzz of their victory.

“Is your ankle okay?” Caitlin asked, pulling you out of an embrace with worry smeared across her features.

You nodded, showing her the bruise by moving your sock. “Yeah, just some bruising. You guys played really well.”

Steph did the same: hug and condolences, while Kyra was completely opposite.

“LONDON IS RED!” She screamed, laughing when she mounted your back from behind.

“Get off, loser.” You retorted, pulling her into a hug as the two of you met in the middle of the field. You knew heaps of people were waiting for signatures, but you didn't care.

“What’s all over your neck?” She asked, grabbing your jaw and observing the fresh marks.

Shit, you thought, recalling the sensation of Katie’s lips tugging at your skin.

You pulled away, hoping distance would lessen the stringency of them. “I think it was from the grass. Y’know, when I fell.”

“Oh, don't worry, I know.” Kyra giggled, seemingly too full of energy to remember what she said two seconds ago. “You need to take a chill pill, Y/n/n. I’ll be sending you all the TikTok edits of you and Katie when I get home, don't you worry.”

“Please don't.” You muttered, holding out your hand to interlock it with Kyra’s. “Are you going straight home or?”

Kyra chuckled. “After this win? No fucking way.”

“You're still second on the ladder.” You reminded yet another Arsenal player.

Kyra poked her tongue out. “Boo, you whore.”

Kyra left you to celebrate with her teammates, marking her as the last Arsenal girl you needed to shake hands with.

You walked back into the changing rooms with an impassive frown on your face. Lots of the girls were already in the showers, Jessie among the few that had already finished and changed.

“We still up for tonight?” You asked, hoping your prior plans that you made before the game were still available after the thrashing they had just endured.

Jessie nodded, pulling you into a hug. “Sam, Millie, and Erin are all going to the pub to have a drink. They want us to come with them, you in?”

“Why not?” You replied, kissing the girl’s forehead before packing your bag.

You were glad that you were going out with your teammates instead of caving and finding Katie. But something deep down made you ponder whether what just happened was a one-off thing.

Spoiler: it wasn't.

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