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vcnillazelda · 1 year

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Hi! ^^ I don't know if you're still taking requests. I'm kind of new around here.

So If you can, I'd like to ask for headcanons or a scenario where Ghost / Soap / König has a crush on a recruit girl who is a very skilled sniper, but is constantly underestimated and even excluded by other military personnel for being short and mute?

ghost, soap and könig crushing on mute! recruit! reader

tags: pining, eventual relationship/getting together, confessions, protective! simon, könig’s is really long i’m sorry 😭

johnny and könig under cut

a/n: aaaaa this is adorable

✞———————❖———————✞

ghost

he’s nervous around you ngl

full on like palms sweaty and mild stammering it’s so cute

the fact you’re mute is kind of appealing to him, he likes your company because you don’t bother him like johnny does, you’ll listen if he speaks and offer some communication sometimes albeit his sign language is rusty

the moment he realised he’s in love with you is the first mission you went on. he’s seeking you out, knowing he can’t ask your location because you couldn’t respond. he gets a little anxious due to the lack of communication, it’s what keeps him sane, knowing his colleagues are okay.

he gets you a special radio so you can communicate better, putting an extra button on so you could beep it. one for yes, two for no, three for ‘i’m in danger’, yet simon’s the only one to know about that last one

is extremely impressed by your aim, the moment he saw a sliver of a man in a window you took him down.

back on base, he notices other rookies leaving you out of training, so you’d have no one to train with.

pulls you from that training session and offers private training with him (1. because he wants to help and feels bad you’re being ostracised, 2. because he wants to spend time with you and be close to you).

when he confessed to you and asked if you felt the same he thought it would be the end of everything, but you gave him a kind smile and nodded- simon has never been so happy

he’s nervous about dating, it’s been a long time and he’s not exactly a model lover or a ‘good man’, so you’ll have to be a little patient with him

soon after dating, he sticks around you all the time, hovering in your space whilst you’re practicing longer distance shots

no one dares to leave you out of anything when he’s by your side <3

johnny

he immediately befriends you, happily chatting away- he does enough talking for the both of you

doesnt realise you’re mute at first, he starts to think you don’t like him until you give him a note explaining your situation, he’s so relieved

people leaving you out? not when johnny’s here! he’ll argue with people before pulling you from that training group and into his own- he convinced price pretty easily due to your file being full of good comments from higher ups + your aim was incredible

is literally your best friend when you join 141 and then ghost team, he’s all smiley and talks for you

he doesn’t even need to communicate with you anymore to talk for you, he’s got a sixth sense for that type of thing it’s crazy

the moment he realised he loved you was when he was done arguing with someone about excluding you, then when he walked back to you, you had a sweet smile on your face, thanking him

because you’re short, he’ll 100% use your head as an armrest btw

he confesses in a pretty old-school way, a note, flowers and a sheepish grin on his face

when you hug him tight and nod he’s over the moon, scooping you into a bear hug and kissing your cheek

he’s much more straightforward and quick than simon, so if you feel your relationships moving too fast you’ve got to tell him lol

adores you and always praises your aim on missions

will always stick up for you, no matter what.

will want you to meet his family- and he comes from a large scottish family so be ready for that 😭

will get slightly jealous when you befriend his baby brother, agreeing to play games with him- this wasn’t meant to happen, you two just clicked and now johnny’s stuck between you two

gets all clingy afterwards, asking for your attention back- he’s so childish sometimes aidjdifjdfkdien

loves going out to places with you, so 100% your first date is in a nice restaurant tucked away in a nook in his hometown :)

könig

when he sees you being openly left out of things he genuinely feels for you, considering he was heavily bullied in school

he even gets left out of things now, and he’s one of the top snipers on the force

approaches you, hoping he doesn’t look to intimidating, and asks if you want to train with him

he’s dreading you saying no, but when you smile and accept he’s quite happy

he’s used to training alone, so there’s not much conversation as the two of you work on your aim

eventually, after a few training sessions, he strikes up a few conversations.

gets extremely anxious when you don’t respond, because he’s too busy looking down his scope to look at you, and drops it

you catch on that he’s put off and give him a small note explaining you’re mute

he’s so happy you don’t hate him because deep down he wants to be friends

soon after becoming friends, you don’t care that you’re being left out of things because you just blow them off and go hang out with your extremely tall austrian friend :)

the height difference between you two is very noticeable so some other operators start calling you two ‘big and small’ 😭

you’re the first person he tells his name to, he wants you to trust him and also wants you to know he trusts you

takes time out of his day to learn sign language so the two of you can talk easier, it’s really sweet to peer into his room and see him slowly practicing hand movements

the moment he realised he loved you was when the two of you were in his room, some soft music playing as you wrote something in your journal- you looked perfect in the lamplight and he wanted to kiss you

gets extremely anxious over the idea of liking you more than a friend, he doesn’t want to lose this friendship and has never actually dated anyone before considering he’s such a loner

he asks you out in a completely different way. leaves a note on your bed but isn’t there at all, doesn’t want to face rejection.

it’s easier on him because if you do reject him he can just pretend it never happened because he wasn’t there

when you sign the note saying ‘yes :)’ and leave it on his bed he’s so happy, immediately running to the practice range and hugging you

people ask what happened because it’s so out of character for him to hug someone, and he’ll just state that something good happened

is a very hands on, clingy lover. he’s never been in a relationship before and he didn’t realise at the time how starved he was for any type of affection that wasn’t maternal (he’s a mommas boy come on now)

speaking of which, if you agree to meet his mother he’s gonna kiss you immediately. is so delighted because off base his mother is the most important thing to him

she’s lovely too, never pressures you to talk despite not entirely understanding why you’re mute. gives you plenty of austrian food you’ve probably never had before and gives amazing hugs, she’s so happy her son found a girlfriend :)

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trulyhblue · 1 month

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INAPPROPRIATE

leah williamson x arsenal! reader

warnings — tiny angst, annoyed! Leah, Emma Hayes, Chelsea, sorta fluff, coarse language, mention of injury scare.

A/N — in light of Lee’s birthday!!!! short one today, sorry! Thought I would add some spice to this. Emma Hayes needs to realize that pretty much all of woso have dated each other, including her own players lol. there is a mention of Bug, which is a character in one of my stories. Just for context, that is Caitlin Foord’s daughter.

___________________

After hearing Emma Hayes yap on about her opinion on footballers' relationships, you found yourself subjected to a pretty pissed-off Leah Williamson.

Today was the London derby, a long-awaited revenge for Chelsea, it seemed, as the Arsenal bus arrived outside the stadium. Seas of blue and red treaded the stands — you caught sight of a couple of jerseys with your number plastered on the back. Leah was holding your waist as you wandered through the mob of fans reaching for autographs and pictures, a cold facade planted across her face.

Leah was always solemn before games. She was a serious contender, North London bred, with a serious competitive nature that no one could break down.

When you moved to Arsenal from your childhood club, you instantly caught onto Leah’s prominent soberness. Every player knew that if they didn't show up for a game and give it their all, their position would falter. It wasn't like any player with a job as a professional ever thought to underperform, but Leah was an exemption from sincerity. You couldn't joke with her the same way you could during team bonding. You would be stupid to slack off during training or talk to an exaggerated extent when Leah was running beside you. The Lioness Captain copped none of it, and there was no exception for you, her girlfriend.

The woman had woken up with an eminent frown playing on her lips. This was arguably the most important game of the WSL season, and with Leah starting after a long time away, there was a newfound angst set in your shared apartment.

Not only that — the stress Leah had put on herself to perform exceptionally — but the media spotlight Chelsea’s Emma Hayes has put on herself after a certain interview regarding coach-player, and player-player relationships.

From your viewpoint, it didn't really affect you. Everyone had their own opinions based on who dated whom. There was no stopping someone for sharing what they thought, so you simply shook it off as soon as you watched the clip. You did feel bad for the select few of the Blue’s team that were dating players. To not have the personal backing of your coach wouldn't be the most relieving sensation. You knew that the fans were in upheaval regarding her comments, but to be honest, there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

But, it seemed that Leah did not share the same insight as you.

“She can't just go ‘round saying that.” She barked, hiding the Emirates logo as she crossed her arms in disapproval. “It's barmy, that's what it is.”

You were side by side in the change rooms. Leah was already in her kit, the Chelsea socks sticking out like a sore thumb. You were tugging up your shorts, your shirt yet to cover your sports bra. You sighed, having been hearing Leah go on for the best part of the morning.

“You shouldn't let it worry you, Lee.” You muttered, sorting through your bag, ignoring your girlfriend’s huff. “I don't think she meant any harm—”

“Well she did, didn't she?” She retorted.

You pulled your jersey off the hanger, slipping it on. “Leah, c’mon.”

“Why does she feel the need to talk about us, huh? She should be more worried about the amount of injuries on her team, not about what they do in their free time.”

“Leah, that's enough.” You snapped, your hands planted firmly on your hips. The blonde in front of you looked subtly started by your sudden change of demeanour. “Don't worry about it. It's not worth your time.”

You were currently faced with the nerves of the game, on top of other things like international duties, and the Olympics. To have Leah in this mood, in such a critical time like this, was not only overwhelming but downright anxiety-inducing.

Leah didn't answer you. Instead, she tied her laces and crossed the room, exiting into the tunnel for kick-off. This gave you a few minutes to breathe, to centre yourself. You weren't starting, but your nerves were rising by the time you took your seat next to Alessia.

As soon as the game started, it was clear that Chelsea had it covered. Alessia joked that it was the socks, but you could see by the look on Lee’s face that she was fuming from something other than the odd black that covered her shin pads. You warmed up along the sideline, carrying Caitlin’s bug by your side when you saw her growing restless near Frida.

Unlike the rest of your teammates, you bit their nails at the painful game in front of them, you tried to hone your focus on keeping Bug’s hood down, making her giggle instead of wince at the tackles Caitlin was receiving.

You had been benched for the past few games, your hamstring giving you grief over training. But you were anticipating Jonas to call you over. You waited for the flick of his hand, wanting to make things right on the pitch.

The second-half whistle couldn't have come slower. The starting eleven were frustrated, angry, and quiet when entering the changing rooms, an eerie aura lingering inside. You held onto Bug all the way until Caitlin took over, trudging over to Viv, who happily took the girl up to the stands to watch. Jonas had told you and Emily that you’d be put on, so you were preparing yourself for what was to come.

You tried not to interact with Leah. It was an unspoken rule that unless it was personal, it was not to be said directly, especially when you were losing. But the blonde was leaning nearer to you the closer you were meant to be out on the pitch once more. She made the effort to tug at the hem of your shorts, and hold both your shoulders as she stood behind you, listening to the plan for the rest of the game. You pushed your back into her chest, letting her hug you from behind. She squeezed affectionately, and you noticed the subtle unravelling of her tense shoulders. Her features smoothed when she found out you were replacing Victoria in the midfield, and she made sure to hold your hand as you walked back into the stadium.

“You're doing great, Lee.” You managed to say, hoping that your substitution would be before the sixtieth minute. “Just be careful near the wing. It's very congested and you should wait for the midfield to sort it, alright?”

Leah cared deeply about her career and strived for greatness in all that she did. There was nothing that she couldn't achieve without perfection in her eyes. Many people said that you would bring her down to Earth, and remind her that mistakes are human. But there was only so much you could do, and you found that simply telling the girl that she was making the right decisions, treating her softly, was a tactic no game plan could ever beat.

You were about to find your way down the sidelines, getting ready to finish your warm-up before you were subbed on. Both teams had started filing out of their respected halftime seminars, Chelsea looking as confident as ever. Arsenal were sauntering out with much determination, the spite and inherent desire for justice spewing from the gunner’s crowd. Leah and you were near the entrance of the tunnel, standing on the edge of the field in what seemed like your own personal bubble.

Jonas had taken a seat near the rest of the officials, but Chelsea’s Emma Hayes was standing not far from where the two of you stood, skimming her surroundings vaguely without giving too much away. You could feel the irritation radiating off Leah as soon as the woman was in your sight. You both knew the coach was trying to look at you, without it being bitterly obvious, but it seemed to make the tension rise all the more. Your girlfriend found solace in kissing your forehead, running her hands down your sides painstakingly slow. You felt your cheeks go red, the blush filming over your face when Hayes’ eyes darted away.

“Leah.” You warned her wandering hands, squirming in the taller girl’s potent grip around your hips.

You pulled taunt against her, sighing when she loosened. She ignored your scolding look. A smirk was aligned on her lips, threatening to spill the cocky remarks relieving her lips. You watched her run over to the rest of the team, a meek smile matching hers.

God, you couldn't wait to go home.

_________________

A/N — again, sorry it's really short but I wanted to put something out xxxxxx

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platinumshawnn · 4 months

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IT’S A BAD DAY | jburrow

A/N: lol i just tried writing a blurb to ease back into writing and had no ideas, someone help or send requests or ideas

Warnings: none — just fluff involving baby daddy joe being disappointed following his injury in November

word count: 2.2k

“IT’S A TERRIBLE DAY FOR BENGALS FANS AS ZAC TAYLOR ANNOUNCED TONIGHT THAT JOE BURROW WILL BE OUT FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE SEASON,” The sports anchor stated over the television in the living room, his tone exaggerated and more over the top than the average person — scripted and unnatural as the words rolled off his tongue. The lock on the door beeped as it released from its latch, allowing Joe to step into the warmth of their shared home with a sigh, head down as he dragged his feet against the rug in the entranceway to wipe any moisture from the soles of his shoes. He used his elbow to push the door closed behind him as he then turned to lock it, eyes being drawn to the tv as the anchorman continued his report, “The head coach confirmed during a press briefing tonight that following an MRI, Burrow was confirmed to have torn a ligament in his right wrist during tonight’s game against the Baltimore Ravens.”

Joe turned his head, a blank look scanning the foyer around him as he listened for some sort of greeting from within the house; his eyes attracted to the pictures that were hung up on the walls as he stepped further into the house. His gaze was particularly drawn to a picture of his girlfriend and him their first Christmas together, blinking a couple of times.

“Hello?” He finally called out. He was met with silence as Joe turned on his heel to look further into the living room, scanning before his gaze stopped on the couch.

He could see the top of her head over the end of the couch from his position in the doorway as he set his duffle bag down by his feet, where from his spot he knew she was asleep; her blue throw blanket pulled over her and up to her chin, unfazed by the tv that had been left on while she slept — he could only assume she had nodded off during the game, maybe even some time during the recaps after their loss that night. The anchorman’s voice was filled with enthusiasm as he broke down some game plays, though the sound and his words were a smear of sounds that he couldn’t comprehend in that moment; he was tired of hearing about the game today, tired of hearing how screwed the team was for the season and his injury — his wrist throbbed at the thought of Zac’s earlier words to him.

“You’re going to bounce back from this one,” he said as the physician carefully turned his wrist, gloved hands palpating and careful as they danced around his wrist; pinching his fingertips, occasionally speaking up to ask Joe where the pain came from, describe it, can you feel when I squeeze your hand? Any numbness or tingling?

“You always bounce back, Joe, don’t worry.”

The side of his left hand was still sore from slamming into the wall in the change room when he returned from the medic office while Zac had stepped out to speak to the physician more, frustrated that he had thrown away another season. That kind of deep, throbbing pain that radiated down his wrist and into his forearm, sore and stiff from clenching his fist so tight his knuckles had turned white. He was drained. His cheeks were flushed with a mottled pink appearance, nose blushed a deep red from the cold as he used his left hand to pull off his hat and clenched it — she was asleep. His head tilted, blue eyes straining in the dark to make out her figure, curled up on the couch even with the dim light from the tv and the table side lamp that he didn’t even want — they got it because she adored the hideous thing when she found it at a thrift shop with its multi coloured, red, blue, white and yellow base that was painted with misshapen flowers; it wasn’t bright but it did the job.

Joe disregarded kicking off his shoes as he quietly walked into the living room, the quiet hum of the reporter still in the background as he circled the couch, eyes on her as he moved like a man on a mission, never leaving her as he stood back a few feet. She remained still and quiet, unaware of his presence as her eyes fluttered in her slumber as her shoulder rose and fell with slow, deep breaths; curled up on her side and hugging the decorative pillow underneath her. The tension in his features was released as he fully stopped in front of her, his jaw unclenching for the first time in hours and eyes softening with admiration as he paused, a mental image being captured of this moment only then before he quietly shuffled forward to crouch at the foot of the couch, his hand pressing into the cushion by her head and turning his head right to align with hers. His right hand, clad in a thick cast, cradled in his lap as he took a moment just to relish in the peace of the moment before he would have to wake her and urge her to come to bed — he couldn’t leave her there, as much as he hated to wake her. His left hand rose to gently brush over her hair, her mouth pinching into a pucker in her sleep as she seemed to respond to the simple touch and furrowing her eyebrows as her disoriented gaze shifted to scan her surroundings for a moment; landing beyond him before they landed on his face, yawning.

“Hi.” He quietly greeted, the hand over her hair brushing back strands from her cheek as she rolled on her back and turned her head to look up at him as she tugged the blanket away from being tangled around her feet.

She yawned once more, “You’re back already.” She stated.

Joe nodded, watching as she slowly moved to sit up, his hand reaching out to support the transition by her shoulder. The blanket fell from her chest to stop at her waist, snug around the bump that had increasingly grown over the past few months, prominent even in the baggiest sweaters these days despite her best efforts; there was no hiding their boy these days. His hand dropped from her shoulder to her belly, fingers splayed out over the firm bump, his eyes following the movement, “Hi to you too.” He quietly added, leaning over the couch to press a kiss to her belly, the fabric of her t-shirt rough under his lips as he withdrew to sit back on the balls of his feet.

Her left hand came to rest over his at her belly, sitting upright and shifting to lean back against the arm rest as she blinked away the sleep from her eyes, her eyes shifting to the tv. A silence passed between them as she seemed to register what had just conspired on tv a few hours prior, bearing witness to the end of his season as she sat up straighter, anxiously awaiting some kind of news; her eyes turned to look back to him. His head turned, shoulders moving with the turn as well as he glanced back at the tv then turned away as he caught the vague mention of his name, gaze dropping to the carpet beneath him.

“What did they say?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the frustration creep back up his chest and up the back of his throat as he inhaled, sucking in a deep breath that he held for a few seconds, “Torn ligament.” He replied.

She nodded as her hand moved from overtop his to reach out and grab his shoulder to pull him forward so he rolled onto his knees; the cradled hand awkwardly planting on the edge of the couch as his head fell forward and pressed his forehead to her stomach, her hand immediately raking through his hair, “We can work with that.” She confidently replied he sat in silence, “You should just need a surgery— they can go in and repair it, rehab, and you should bounce back.” She added, her eyes focused on the back of his head as his shoulders rose and fell with a sigh.

“Another surgery.” He replied, his voice muffled as he spoke in a tone that was laced with defeat; the tension in his shoulders evident as her fingers worked to fix the hair atop of his head. The blonde locks were moved into a smoothed over fashion, as it had previously been done by gel before the game, stood in front of the mirror for all of twenty seconds before he had blown her a kiss goodbye over Facetime and left, optimism and determination in his step.

He lifted his eyes, “Another surgery.” He echoed, her eyes searching his face.

He watched as her mouth pressed into a fine line, the faintest trace of a frown on the corners of her mouth as her gaze took in the sight of him before her — the lines that had settled themselves between his brows, surrounding his mouth and the circles underneath his eyes that held a bluish hue to them, the result of exhaustion.

“You’ll play again, though.” She pointed out, watching as he crumpled against the couch again, his shoulders slumping forward with a slight shudder. “You will, Joe.”

“I know.” He grumbled, his voice small like a child.

“This could be good for you— you could use the rest,” She tried to reason with her boyfriend who was quiet apart from a sniffle in response. “You can spend more time at home with me and the baby, rest and you will be back before you know it.”

Her gaze drifted towards the ceiling, absentmindedly playing with his hair as he sat quietly, soaking in her words; feeling as her belly rose and fell underneath his head with each steady, deep breath she took. That damn reporter was still talking. “Is that all, Doc?” He asked, his voice still quiet but trying to make the effort to follow her attempts to guide him back to the bright side of things — the optimist. He could feel the shake of her body as she laughed underneath him.

“Yeah, I think so.” She replied, taking a deep breath. “Rest and some good quality time with your beautiful, intelligent girlfriend and your baby boy.” She added.

Joe hummed, eyebrows furrowing as he took a deep breath that mirrored hers before sighing it out and raising his head to look at her again. She turned to look at him as though she had sensed his eyes on her, a small smile on her face, “I just hate the recovery process of these things.” He admitted, earning a nod in turn.

“I know.” She said, her tone almost holding a hint of amusement as if to echo his earlier response to her attempts to reason with him. A tired smile appeared on his face, letting out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff as he sniffled and used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe his nose.

“We should get you to bed.”

Her gaze followed him as he moved to stand and held out his hands to her — an instinctive offer of assistance as he stood in front of her, watching as she struggled with a grunt to sit back up and swing her legs off the couch, bracing her feet against the hardwood floor beneath them. Her eyes shifted to glance at the cast, watching as he reluctantly dropped the right hand, before looking up and reaching out for his left to grip as he aided in pulling her with ease to her feet — and without pause, her arms extending up to wrap around his shoulders as she exhaled a deep breath once she was up, a sound that resembled a content sigh.

“You know we love you regardless, right?” She asked, half-lidded eyes tiredly scanning his features with a look of love and affection in her eyes as his arms encircled her waist and rested his hands at her hips; the cast awkwardly inhibiting the action — he towered over her, his shoulders slouched to accommodate the height difference between them. “James and I love you regardless of how broken you are, you’re amazing — with or without football.” She softly said.

His left hand rubbed up and down her side, having to swallow down the emotion that crept up his throat once again as she spoke, his eyes squeezing shut as they stung with oncoming tears, “Yeah.” He whispered, nodding.

“You will overcome this, you always do.” She said, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. There was a certainty in her tone that he admired — she never seemed to second guess herself and he adored that confidence, his eyes opening and blinking rapidly a couple of times before he nodded. She awkwardly wobbled to reach behind him and gather the remote, turning off the tv behind him and setting the remote back down on the couch with a toss. Her arm linked with his while her other hand rested against her hip, inhaling and rolling her shoulders, “Come, you look like you need some sleep.” She encouraged, her eyes down on her feet as she began to lead the pair towards the stairs to the second floor; his gaze on her with a look of adoration, grateful for the grace she possessed even when he lacked it.

#joeburrow #joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow gifs

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cherrieflavouredheadcanons · 3 months

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hi luv! i hope you're doing great. Saw your recent post and i do have a hc request (since im having a haikyuu brainrot rn 👀), what would you think of making papa!haikyuu hcs 😩. How would these volley boys make as a father! (especially kenma, tsukki and noya) and you can add your favs too 💕sjsjjsjs hope you have a great day ahead!

I'm doing okay, I hope you are doing good and that you have a nice day! I hope you enjoy this post and it is to your liking

Them as fathers

Characters: Kenma, Noya, Tsukki Gender neutral reader, it is not mentioned whether the children are adopted or biological, Kenma’s is longer than the others because i had way too many ideas for him

Kenma Kozume

First things first: I don’t think Kenma would have more than one kid, if you really wanted to have more he would relent but he is perfectly happy with just one, he thinks 3 people is the perfect number for your little family.

You may think he wouldn’t be that involved in his kids life, but that is a big misconception,

No matter how much work he has to do he makes sure to spend time with you and your kid.

Kenma would never show his child on the internet in any way, he wants to keep his private life private and keep his child safe, he knows how cruel the internet can be, no way in hell will he put his young child into that kind of situation.

Once your child learned to crawl he brought the three starters of Pokémon black and white (gen 5 best games I don’t take criticism) to see which one your child would choose.

Based on what they chose he will be sulky or proud. (I nearly made this into Oshawott propaganda but I didn’t you’re welcome). But at the end of the day he knows that they just choose one based on colours and shapes, he would teach them once they are older how to perfectly choose a starter.

Best believe that as soon as your kid is old enough to understand things he will show them all kinds of (age appropriate) video games.

You enter his gaming room with some snacks for him and you can just see him play Slime Rancher as your kid sits in his lap, eyes glued to what their father is doing.

He already has started a Stardew Valley coop farm for you three to play together one day, he is just waiting for the day your child is old enough.

Now enough video game talk, (though I have so many more ideas about this lol) your child loves it when Kenma reads to them before they sleep, his voice is very soothing to them.

Once they are asleep Kenma stays at their side a bit longer, watching them sleep a serene smile on his face.

Kenma can’t say no to your kid, he will buy them anything they want. You sometimes wonder how he can be so responsible with his money in any other situation, but your child just needs to point at something and he will buy it for them unless you intervene.

Lastly, be prepared for Kenma and your kid to team up against you. Board games? Yeah they are a team even if the game isn’t a game for teaming up. (Monopoly is a nightmare with them, Oh you need a red? Too bad your kid and Kenma are trading it between one another instead of giving it to you) But you can’t really seem to mind when you see the way Kenma and your kid smile. (Unless you are like me and are fiercely competitive in games then you may want to strike Kenma down)

Yu Nishinoya

Noya would take longer to have children with you, at least until he is done travelling, he does want kids but is aware that travelling the world with them wouldn’t be ideal, he wants them to have a stable home.

Once you two do have kids, he wants at least 2 or 3. Noya wants a big family.

I feel like he is the type of Dad that throws his kids in the air and then catches them (he won’t do it high) and it always gives you a heart attack.

Instead of reading them good night stories he always tells them (embellished) stories from when he travelled the world, for example he once exclaimed to one of your kids how a mermaid vied for your attention but he fought them heroically off.

This does bite him in the ass years down the line once your kids are teens, they will bring these stories up whenever they can to tease him.

Asahi is basically an uncle to your kids, he often visits you and brings the kids many gifts. He loves to spoil them.

And yes Asahi designs the clothes for your kids as well, it often leads to many people asking you and Noya where you got the clothes for them from since they are such a high quality.

Yes, he will teach your kids “Rolling thunder”. No you can’t stop him. Even if your kids don’t play Volleyball they will still know the move.

This leads to your kids looking for his old jersey’s from highschool, putting them on and pretending to be their dad. No he is not crying, he just got dust in his eye.

Vacations and holidays are important to Noya, while he can’t travel the world with your kids, he will take them on memorable vacations across the country when they are old enough to remember them.

He wants them to have a happy and fulfilled childhood with as many experiences as they can have.

Kei Tsukishima

When you first brought up having children with him he asked “Are you sure you can take care of a child? Don’t you wanna practise with a pet rock first?” You lightly punched him in the chest for that and he had his signature smirk on his face.

He is honestly neutral on the aspect of having kids, he is not against it but also it was never his dream of having them, so he is fine with whatever you want.

Just like Kenma he would probably only have one kid, with his Job as a Volleyballplayer and everything he isn’t home that often, so if you had more than one kid he would feel guilty leaving you home alone with them.

Tsukki is probably the first one from Karasuno to have a kid, so he is smug about the fact that he is ‘better’ than the others in that regard.

The first team reunion after you two had your child will have him holding his child proudly, while he tells all the others how slow they are for not having kids yet, which has everyone rolling their eyes. He is very proud of his kid so that he will hold it up Lion King style so everyone can admire it.

Unluckily though he miscalculated the height of the ceiling and bonked your kids head on it, which left everyone in the room in a stunned silence (True story from my infant days, my dad did this exact thing with me)

You had made him change every diaper for 2 weeks for the heart attack he gave you with that, even if your kid was fine and wasn’t hurt.

Tsukki and you switch every night who is going to read your kid, while you pick different topics every time, he only ever chooses dinosaur stories to read to your kid.

Speaking of dinosaurs, Tsukki once claimed he had to educate your kid on certain things while you went out grocery shopping, when you came back you saw that the thing he was educating your child on was “The land before time” which made you smile.

Now no matter if the child is biologically yours or adopted, it somehow interhits his sass, which means you will be surrounded by two sassy little pieces of shit (affectionate).

Though you get both of them to calm down their sass by offering them some strawberry cake if they stop, it surprisingly works better on Tsukki then on your kid, who would have thought?

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goldenwilliamson · 6 months

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winners and losers | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

summary: bit of an angsty one where leah and matildas!reader play against each other in an england v aus friendly (based on that one in april this year) where england lose. leah blames herself. reader takes on sam kerr's position lol. the goals and the game is based on this game if interested

word count: 2.5k

When you found out that a friendly had been scheduled between Australia and England, you and Leah had initially felt excited. It wouldn't be the first time you two had come up against each other in your national teams, and it sure wouldn't be the last. Something about playing against each other lit a fire in your belly. It made you both want to be performing at your highest level, almost showing off to the other about how well you can play for your country.

You had also recently been made the captain of the Matildas, something that made Leah immensely proud.

"I can't believe we get to do a coin toss together," you had told Leah when you first found out about the Australia v England game.

"That's what you're most looking forward to? The coin toss?" Your girlfriend laughed at you.

"I've never done one with you before!" You defend yourself.

"You're a bit cute you know?" Leah poked fun at you.

"I'm also looking forward to seeing you in your England kit with the armband on," you said.

"Mm, do you have a thing for captains or something?" Leah said.

"I do when it's you," you told her, which made her laugh.

"Well I for one can't wait to see you as captain, baby," she kissed you as she said this.

—

People often asked about how you deal with playing against your girlfriend, and you always said the same thing: "In football there's got to be a winner and a loser, and we both know that."

You and Leah were well equipped to deal with losses and to support each other no matter the outcome. You were professionals, and you loved each other enough to not let the result of a 90 minute game impact your relationship.

The day rolled around that the Matildas would be playing the Lionesses, and you and Leah hadn't seen each other for a few days while you were both in camp. You exchanged a few texts in the morning, wishing each other luck, and promising to see each other when the game was over.

It was an important game for the Matildas. The Lionesses had been on a winning streak since Sarina Wiegman became their manager, making them one of the toughest teams to beat in the world. The Matildas were also trying to strengthen the depth of their side, bringing in younger players in the lead up to the World Cup. It was going to be a difficult game, and they knew it.

As kick off approached you felt the electricity of walking into the stadium alongside England players at a home game. Even though the crowd wasn't there for you team, you still felt the excitement as you walked out side by side with Leah as the captains. You went through the pre-match process of the anthems and then the coin-toss and exchange of the pennants with Leah. She had already adopted her stern game face. You looked in her eyes, feeling slightly disconnected from her, knowing the stakes were so high for your team.

Before you split to get in position you and Leah shook hands and before you stepped away she pulled you close so she could speak into you ear.

"Looking good captain," she said, stepping out of her professionalism for a moment, finally smirking and letting her serious exterior relax. You laughed for a second, having been caught off guard.

"Are you trying to throw me off?" You say playfully and she shrugs her shoulders innocently before patting your cheek and running off to her spot in the back line.

You smile as you move to your space on the pitch as the striker. Then the ref blew the whistle and the game was underway.

Australia held up well against the strength of the Lionesses, maintaining possession and creating some chances. But it was in the last quarter of the first half when things started to fall into place. Clare Hunt sends the ball forward and you can see that it's going to fall in a prime position for you. As Australia's leading goal scorer you knew what had to be done, and you started to run for it. Leah saw what was happening and began to run too, racing you to the ball.

Leah knew that you only needed one shot and you would put the ball in, and with the mounting pressure she attempted to header the ball back towards Mary, but incidentally ended up planting the ball right at your feet. You heard her wince as you saw the opportunity for the goal open up right in front of you.

Even though you knew it was a major blunder on Leah's behalf, you seized the moment, you chipped the ball over Mary with ease and watched as it hit the back of the net.

As you turned around to celebrate you caught one quick look at the disappointment on your girlfriends face before you were surrounded by your teammates. It was an important goal in an important match. You knew that the goal was gifted to you by Leah, and she would no doubt be regretting it for the rest of the game, but you couldn't have let that opportunity go.

At half time Tony assured you all that you could come out of this match on top. You were up 1 point against an undefeated team, and now you just had to maintain the ground that you've already covered.

The second half continued with little luck for England who seemed unable to get a strong shot on target. But on your side, another chance opened up in the 67th minute. You were running out on the right when the ball came to you, and glancing into the box you saw some yellow jerseys and sent the ball in. Charli Grant found it and sent it into the net, giving Australia a 2 point lead as you entered the final leg of the game.

At this point excitement was bubbling, and you and your team were fired up, knowing it was all about holding onto the lead now. And as the game drew to a close, you had managed to do so. At the final whistle the result was 2-0 to Australia.

You and your team celebrated, knowing this win was a massive achievement, especially in the lead up to the World Cup. Your teammates praised you for your goal and for your assist in the second goal. As you started to shake hands with the England players, many of whom you had a great relationship, you struggled to find your girlfriend.

You scanned the blue jerseys and saw she was almost on the other side of the pitch to you, speaking to Georgia and looking like she was giving herself a hard time. Warily, you jogged over.

"Hey," you said tentatively, and Leah hardly even looked at you.

"Good work mate," Georgia said, giving you a hug,

"Thanks G, you too," you said, beginning to feel awkward as Leah remained quiet.

"You alright?" You looked at your girlfriend with concern and she shook her head. You tried to touch her shoulder reassuringly, but she slinked away from you.

"I need a minute," Leah said bluntly, leaving you to stand with Georgia, feeling useless, unable to console your upset girlfriend.

"Did you get a word out of her?" You ask Georgia.

"Yeah, she'll be alright. I think she just feels guilty about that giving away that ball to you," Georgia explains. Of course, you think. You knew in the moment that her mistake would weigh on her, but you didn't expect it to be this bad.

"Yeah, okay. Well I'll give her some space I guess," you tell Georgia.

"That might be a good idea for now," Georgia affirms, patting you on the back.

You make your way back towards your teammates, shaking your head, feeling the pride of your win being overshadowed by Leah's disappointment in herself. The team circles up and Tony gives the team the praise they deserve, but your eyes wander around the pitch, watching Leah. You see her talk to her team mates, gesturing frustratedly, looking like she is taking the responsibility for their loss.

Before all the England players make their way off the pitch you decide you have to talk to her before you get on the bus back to your hotel, not wanting to leave her in a bad way. You jog over to her and grab hold of her wrist.

"Lee," you say as you she turns to face you.

She sighs, "Look I'm just in my head. I'll get out of there soon, but I just need some space, okay?"

Your heart breaks slightly, but you let go of her arm and say you understand.

With practiced ease she takes your hands in hers and kisses your knuckles, "I'm proud of you," she clarifies, "I'm just annoyed with myself."

"Alright," you take a deep breath, "Call me when you're feeling up to it."

She nods and leaves you standing alone as she follows her teammates back to the change room. Steph Catley notices you by yourself, having watch the interaction between you and Leah and she heads your way.

"Come on superstar," she hugs you from behind, "She'll be okay."

"Thanks Stephy," you smile, feeling glad to have players around who knew both you and Leah so well.

On the bus on the way back to the hotel, you put your headphones on as you mindlessly scroll through instagram, seeing all the posts about the game you just played.

A clip of your goal appears and you watch it a couple of times before clicking into the comments.

Williamson suddenly forgets how to defend when it's her missus

Such bad defending you'd think they planned it

Leah was hoping she could give her girlfriend a goal and England would still win... bad luck girls

Leah Williamson, the Matildas 12th player tonight

First Lionesses loss because Williamson was too distracted by Y/L/N

You cringe as your read them and quickly swipe out of the criticism of Leah. You rub your face with your hands, feeling upset that Leah will no doubt be reading all this too.

You take your headphones off and turn to Steph, who had sat next to you on the bus trip.

"Should I at least send Leah a text?" You ask her.

"I don't think it would hurt," Steph shrugs.

"I've just been reading the worst comments about her defending, and I feel like it's my fault," you explain.

"Y/N, it's not your fault. This is your job and it's Leah's job too. Obviously it's a shock to lose for the first time in a while, and she'll be carrying the weight of the loss because of one little mistake she made, but in the grand scheme of things it's nothing new, it's just football. She'll realise that," Steph says.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks Steph," you say, squeezing her thigh gratefully.

You pull your phone back out and open your messages to Leah and begin typing:

I'm sorry you're carrying the weight of this loss Leah. I know it doesn't feel good, and I hate that I played a part in you feeling this way. I know it's easier said than done but don't let one mistake make you doubt yourself. You're an immensely talented player, a wonderful captain, and the best partner I could ask for. I'm here for you when you need me. Love you xxx

You send it off without a second thought and allow your head to rest against the window of the bus until you arrive back at the hotel. You check your phone once you get to your room, but still there's no response from Leah. Switching your phone off, you set it down and decide to go to sleep, hoping Leah might get back to you throughout the night.

—

In the morning you check your phone and there is still no reply from Leah. You groan into your pillow, hating to not be on good terms with your girlfriend. You pull yourself out of bed and pack your things up before heading downstairs to say goodbye to all the girls flying back to their clubs.

You organise an Uber back to your apartment in North London, unsure about whether or not Leah would be there already. When you open the door you can hear the sounds of footsteps upstairs in your bedroom and you feel yourself tense up slightly.

You shut the front door behind you set your bags down. You glance into the kitchen as you start to walk upstairs and see a bouquet of flowers still wrapped up in paper laying on the counter, which is reassuring. If Leah was mad there's no way she would've stopped for flowers on the way home.

When you walk into your bedroom you find Leah hanging up clothes in the wardrobe. She turns and faces you with a nervous face.

"Hey," she says, setting down the shirt in her hands on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" You ask.

"Like the worst girlfriend in the world," she sinks into the end of the bed now and you move to sit down on the bed with her, tucking your feet up onto the mattress.

"I don't think you could do anything that would make you worthy of that title," you assure her.

"I don't know, I think being so selfish that you don't congratulate your girlfriend on winning a game is pretty shit."

"Leah, you weren't being selfish. You were disappointed and that's okay, losing sucks, especially when you've had as much success as you have."

"I was disappointed, but I shouldn't have acted like it was your fault, because it wasn't. I'm sorry for not talking to you, I promise I wanted to spend time with you after the game, but I chose to be a sook instead," Leah says and you laugh lightly.

"Poor Georgia had to mediate when you stormed off," you laugh.

"God, I was being proper stroppy," Leah scoffs.

"Well I'm glad you're feeling better now," you tell her, leaning in and finally getting the chance to kiss your girlfriend for the first time in days.

"Much better, and I'm sorry again," she says.

"It's alright. I'm used to Williamson tantrums, but usually I'm not on the receiving end," you say.

"And I promise you never will be again," she says, kissing you again.

"You're welcome for the goal by the way," Leah manages to make a joke of the situation, assuring you that all was fine.

"Yeah thanks, we needed that win," you laugh.

"Cheeky," Leah groans as she tackles you onto the mattress, seemingly ready to make up for her bad mood in another way.

#leah williamson #lionesses #woso x reader #woso community #lionesses x reader #leah williamson x reader #awfc #matildas #matildas!reader

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mochimooon · 6 months

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DTF Only (Happy Hour) - porco galliard x reader 18+

pairing: Porco Galliard x afab! Reader summary: Your first match sent you a message and Porco wants to spend Happy Hour with you. word count: 3500+ notes: Part 2 (although can be seen as Part 1) of DTF Only. Been a minute since I've written for this guy, and congrats! He's your first match! :) warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, alcohol consumption, semi-public sex, sex in a restroom, vaginal sex, mirror sex, motor boating ☻ masterpost☻

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

The initial thrill of swiping left and right wore off by the time you went to bed, and if not for the notifications, you would have forgotten all about Tinder.

Opening up the app, you’re surprised to see you’ve matched with several guys. But around last night’s margaritas, you don’t remember any of them.

Regardless, you’re hit with another wave of serotonin, reading the first message you received earlier this morning.

Hey You’re cute. You like football?

Before replying, you tap on the guy—Porco’s—profile.

You blink. He’s blond, like Colt.

It’s not something that’ll deter you, only something that you couldn’t help noticing and as you peruse his profile the similarities end there.

He’s a different shade of blond and wears his hair in a different style too, polished, slick back over an undercut. He’s built like he spends more time at the gym than anywhere else.

His bio is brief, not much to the imagination.

Gym, sports, beer. Happy Hour is my fav time of the day 🏈😎

Scrolling through his pictures, you’re not surprised. Most of them are gym selfies, all of which you approve of, with the last photo of him sporting a jersey at a football game.

He’s not a bad-looking guy at all, and it’s too soon to judge him based on his profile. With nothing to lose you tap out a reply.

Hey Porco! I’m no expert on football, but I like happy hour !

You’re not sure what to expect. It’s weird messaging someone you’ve never met. How do you even know he’s real? Online dating is so foreign and bizarre, you’re not sure you’ll get used to it.

The response arrives a few minutes later.

lol! I don’t judge 😉 My team’s playing today. At the bar right now to watch them win!! Drop by have some beer with me?

That was quick, but you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. The app is meant to get people to meet. It’s just weird…you can’t get over the concept.

You consider the invite. It’s so sudden. But you had no other reason stopping you from meeting up with him.

Without any plans for your Sunday, you agree. Guess this is it. Your first match and you’re already going to meet in person.

You had heard stories of ghosting, slow fades, catfishing, etc. The most common trend Ymir and Pieck had mentioned was becoming a pen pal, keeping communication on the app only and never actually meeting. Porco’s already proven to be an outlier.

“He looks pissed off in every picture,” Ymir says over the phone as you get ready to meet Porco. “Even the ones where he’s smiling…”

“That could just be his face,” Pieck says in answer, though she sounds dubious.

Because it’s your first time meeting a stranger online, you let your friends know where you’ll be, much to their excitement that you’ve taken to Tinder at ease.

“I think he’s cute.” You grab your keys. “He seems like a sports junkie, not sure what else we can talk about. I know nothing about sports.”

“You’re not there for the game,” Pieck supplies.

Nerves tickle at the idea of hooking up so soon with a stranger. Is that really what people do on Tinder? Years in a committed relationship, online dating stories never felt real, but now that you’re single, it’s time to find out.

“I mean it’s the middle of the day,” you trail off, indifferent. “Do you really think he’s going to want to hook-up? He might be more interested in the game.”

“Pfft. What?” Ymir laughs. “Men always make time for their dicks. It wouldn’t matter if you were meeting at a funeral. Trust, he’d find a way to get his kicks in.”

You hear Pieck laugh, and the tension defuses a little.

“That’s a stretch, Ymir,” you chuckle.

“But she’s right!” Pieck says. “Guys on Tinder have no shame. It’s why they’re on it.”

“Don’t overthink anything,” Ymir adds. “To have fun, you’re going to have to have the same clownish confidence.”

“Alright, well I need to get going.”

“Remember the code word if you want us to bail you out!” Pieck hurries to say.

Heading down the hall, you sigh. “Right. Cholula. Got to go.”

Before you end the call, you catch Ymir’s send off. “Good luck, champ!”

…

Football, sports, the like, none are your area of expertise. You could count on one finger the number of football games you’ve gone to—zero.

But happy hour makes you a good sport, and it also lures in the entire neighborhood.

The bar is packed, almost bordering a fire hazard. It’s impossible to see much other than droves of people, and it’s even harder to hear over the jeering over the game.

You squeeze by, craning your head, rising on your tiptoes for a sight of Porco. He had said he was at the bar, so you shove your way through, ignoring the disgruntled looks that are sent your way.

Sidling away from a few football fans, you think you see him or at least the back of his head. A burst of nerves flutter in your stomach. This might be him.

A man with a blond undercut with a gaze transfixed to the TV screen. It’s only when you approach closer to where the empty bar stool is that you recognize the scowl from the pictures.

“Porco?”

He turns, the scowl deepening for a moment in confusion. But it’s replaced with a faint smile as the man himself says your name.

“You made it.” He pulls you into a one-armed hug that would feel like nothing to someone else, but to you it’s tight against muscle, hidden away in his bomber jacket. “Saved you this seat.”

You take the lone barstool at his side, impressed that he managed to keep it vacant from the patrons desperately looking for a spot to watch the game. But as a stranger bumps into Porco’s elbow by accident, the man’s scowl drills into them, and they skitter off.

“Also, got you an IPA, and I placed an order for some nosh. Hope you like nachos,” Porco briefs you.

Reeling back from meeting your first ever Tinder match in person, you’re a little flustered as you take a seat. “Oh, um, thanks. Nachos are fine as long as they’re not spicy.”

He cuts you a humored look. “Tough shit, I love spice. I asked for extra jalapenos.”

The response is so blunt, you don’t even feel affronted, only mildly pricked.

“Okay…” Your eyes drift towards the TV screen. “So, who’s your team?”

It becomes a twenty-minute run down, from Porco’s favorite team and why; who they’re up against, and why they’re going to lose (his exact words). During that time, the nachos arrive, piled with cheese and an absurd amount of jalapenos you try to avoid. It’s no use. The spice has you reaching for your IPA, signaling for Porco to order you both another round.

It’s not all about him, though. You tell him a bit about yourself, and he takes enough interest that you’re endeared by him, despite his blunt and somewhat bossy persona.

And when the game is in full swing, the tension in the bar simmers hot. As does your gaze watching Porco.

Hazel eyes are fixed on the screen right now, his team close to scoring a touchdown, nothing else matters in that moment. While his focus is elsewhere, you can’t tears yours away from him.

The scowl in his brows knit tighter together as he grits his teeth, the tension running down his jaw and strong neck. Porco doesn’t have to try at all to look this good, and your mind wanders, envisioning his face with a flush and hair messed up.

You don’t catch what happens next but become aware of Porco’s hiss of irritation before he turns to you, blinking.

It’s not your intent to be shameless. You want to blame it on the IPA, however you know that’s not true. Something about the air becomes stagnant with heat. The rolling frustration throughout the bar, from supporters of either team fill the space like a thick cloud, dialing up every nerve in your body.

Meanwhile, Porco’s full attention is on you this time. You can feel the drag of his eyes on your bare legs, sweeping slowly upwards until they settle on your chest much longer than any other part of your body.

Something palpable lingers like smoke. Porco’s lip curls, trading your smirk for his as he gulps the last of his IPA, snatches up your hand and in a flash, he’s thrusting past the crowd like he’s on the football field.

Porco brings you both to the back of the bar, just outside of the restrooms. He turns the handle of the male restroom door, clicking his tongue to find it locked.

Porco bangs on the door, scowl deepening. “Hurry it up!”

Not a minute later, the door opens, and a perplexed man averts Porco’s eyes. You don’t notice him shuffling away, staggering on your feet as you’re dragged inside.

Porco’s quick to lock the door, not even looking at the knob, too focused on you. The hastiness, the dark lust burning through hazel in his eyes, your heart races, unable to wait any longer.

Reading your mind, Porco’s the first to erase the small gap, capturing your mouth, and lifting you by the thighs with authority.

For leverage, you clamp your legs around him, allowing him to deepen the kiss with his hand on the back of your neck.

You’re set down on the counter by the sink. You don’t pull away, despite the need for air. Instead, you scrape your nails through Porco’s hair.

He snarls like an animal, biting your lower lip and tugging it. “Keep doing that, I want to feel your nails there.” It comes out firm yet eager, his mouth ruthless against yours.

You do as he says, driving your nails inwards, scratching along his scalp, messing up the polished look.

There’s a whip of fabric, Porco’s jacket is tossed somewhere in the restroom. You don’t spare it any thought, letting your hands fall away from his hair to grasp onto his strong shoulders, clawing at his back to drag him closer.

Porco chases after your touch, like neither of you can have enough of the other. His weight presses into you, urging you backwards. Your back hits the mirror.

His lips pull away, tossing hungry kisses along your neck. He laps at your pulse, tongue dragging up to lick behind the shell of your ear.

You shiver a little baffled but scratch at his shoulders in appreciation.

He does it again, breath hot against your already feverish skin. “That the sweet spot?” Another long, sloppier lap at your skin. “You’re nasty,” he chuckles. “I can be nastier.”

True to his word, Porco’s tongue laps at your neck, a long, wet stripe coating beneath your jaw to your throat. You submit to the sensation, wrapping a hand around his nape to keep him close, a stuttered breath fanning his ear.

Porco releases your neck suddenly.

Your shirt’s tugged off, and before you can enfold your arms around Porco’s neck again, he swipes up your wrists, holding them out.

You blink, confused. Chest heaving in a way that your breasts pump outwards, goosebumps prickling the flesh, and Porco’s eyes soaking you in. Although you’re wearing a simple t-shirt bra, a shadow of lust hangs over Porco’s gaze.

“Oh my God…” pours out of Porco’s mouth before he licks his lips.

Your hands drop the same time as Porco’s face, crouching low enough to pull you in. His warm mouth finds your breast, pressing a soft kiss there.

He looks up, the tip of tongue slipping out to grace the flesh of your breast. “You’ve got pretty titties.”

He swallows, tugging your bra down to expose both breasts. His eyes shift between the two, grasping both in his hands and clenching them together. Moans muffle as he plants open-mouthed kisses between the two.

“So—fucking—pretty—” The words scatter between kisses in a rush, unable to stray too long from your chest. “I just want…”

He takes your nipple in his mouth, robbing him from the rest of that statement, sucking hard to verbalize the rest.

Not to leave the other breast neglected, Porco squeezes the flesh, twisting the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

A hiss slips between your clenched teeth, and you flinch forward from the sudden burst of pleasure.

He’s more than content to be this close, burying his face deeper, sucking, biting, squeezing, leaving beautiful marks, with a hooded gaze locked skywards.

The adrenaline flows through your blood, flaring your pulse at the sudden rattling of the door handle.

Porco pays it no mind, if anything he’s deaf to it, moans vibrating against your chest. He takes your nipple between his teeth and tugs at it.

The sting blooms beneath a tender bruise forming, sparking ever nerve in your body, reaching your center. On instinct, your legs yank him in, and he laughs, flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck—you’re something else.” He comes up for air, divining his tongue into your mouth. Fingers crawl up your thighs, digging past the hem of your denim shorts, so close to brushing against your core. “These are cute…”

A sigh of bliss spills out of you.

“You like this, don’t you? That’s why you wore these shorts.” Porco teases—lips on your neck, fingers on your apex. “Somebody’s excited…”

This time a gasp springs forth, a shudder crawling down your spine. You scoot forward on the counter and Porco presses his finger against the damp spot of your panties.

Your hand trails down to Porco’s wrist, guiding him to keep going. His finger hooks into the gusset of your panties.

The rattling resurfaces, louder this time, along with a pounding against the door.

“Hello? Is someone in there?” A man calls out.

This time you’re sure Porco hears it. Despite keeping his attention on you, his brow twitches, the scowl he’s worn all day deepens the more the door rattles.

You do your best to retain his attention, not just for your sake but for Porco’s too.

However, the clench in his jaw and the tension running tight in his throat, both from the mounting irritation and sexual frustration, your body flushes with a new wave of heat, dripping onto Porco’s hand.

Rough fingers unbutton your shorts, and the sharp zip of your fly is drowned out by another round of heavy knocking.

“Open up!”

Porco growls, whipping around. “It’s fucking occupied!” His voice echoes in the restroom, loud enough to send the man outside the message.

The last you hear is an annoyed groan (“Get a fucking hotel”).

“Fucking loser,” Porco says, words strained in his throat.

You can’t help but watch him, mouth agape, stunned to be turned on by his short fuse. Maybe it’s the IPA tickling your nerves, or maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but you’re already so wet, you can’t take waiting anymore.

“Porco, please.”

It’s enough to restore Porco’s attention. He smirks, hoisting you by the hips to bring you back on your feet.

He slots his mouth over yours in a greedy kiss. You take the chance to undo his belt.

Porco does the same, sliding your shorts down to your thighs. Just as you’re about to slide his pants down, Porco grabs hold of your arms and spins you around.

“Face the mirror,” he says, punctuated with a sharp slap to your ass.

You yelp, watching him fish out a condom from his pocket. Shoving his pants down to his ankles, you eye his reflection, admiring the strong arms first, only for your attention to drift to his thick cock that springs free.

There’s a flicker of realization that moves through you. This is the first man you’re going to have sex with since your break-up. No one else has touched you in the three years you’ve been with Colt. You had expected it to feel wrong to be in this position. But you’ve never been more sure of anything else.

You bristle, nerves aflame with anticipation.

If there’s anything you’ve learned from Porco in the few hours that you’ve known him, is that he’s hasty, a facet you welcome eagerly.

The tip of his dick kisses your folds, sliding up and down, you breathe out, fogging up the mirror. You catch the smirk in Porco’s reflection despite that.

Strong hands take your hips with ironclad pressure, and he pushes into you.

Your mouth falls open, blowing out a sigh. You feel the tight strain, getting accustomed to his size. Everything about him is different, new. Nothing about him feels like Colt. Not the fullness of his cock, and definitely not the pace, because the second Porco reaches the end of you, he pulls back and slams forward.

Your hips bump into the edge of the counter, again and again, a wonderful kind of pain. Porco’s hands come around, groping your tits tightly as he leans forward to bite onto your shoulder.

It’s more than the roughness that you bask in, more than a man as attractive as Porco plowing into you. It’s the thrill of being spontaneous, the excitement of trying something new, to be daring, getting fucked in a public space with other strangers on the other side of the door.

You moan out, anchoring your hands on the counter and the mirror, fixated on the pair of eyes glued to your reflection.

“Porco—yes—just like that—”

“I got you, beautiful,” he pants into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth there too. “Fuck—you feel too good—and these fucking tits.” He squeezes your breast, while his other trails downwards.

A sharp gasp floats in the air. Porco rubs your clit to match the same pace as his thrusts, continue to spoil your neck with attention.

“C’mon doll,” he breathes. “I want you to cum for me. Keep those pretty eyes on the mirror.” He snaps his hips, thrusting deeper into you.

Your lower back starts to ache as the throbbing in your pussy intensifies. “Shit. Porco don’t stop.”

He kisses your shoulder, hot breath burning into your skin. “Cum for me.”

You twitch from the sting of teeth on your shoulder and the swiping of his fingers grant you your release.

You shudder, arms trembling to keep you up as Porco plows into you.

He groans, bringing his hand up to your mouth, having you taste yourself. Sucking his fingers clean, Porco’s unable to hold off any longer, his pace is more hurried and sharper.

“I’m going to cum—” He groans again, head thrown back, exposing the column of his neck in the mirror.

You wince at the tight squeeze around your breast, but you’re too spent to shake him off.

A moment passes and Porco’s head falls into your shoulder, blond strands cling to his sweaty forehead.

You wiggle your ass, and he pulls out, catching his breath and peppering kisses on your shoulder and nape.

“Shit,” he says at last. “Oh my God…” He swallows. “You’re fucking awesome.”

Cutting a glance away from his reflection, you take stock in your appearance. Your hairline shines with a layer of sweat, hair at a disarray though not as bad as Porco’s. Puffy lips and teeth marks all over your breasts. He devoured you, ravished you in a way that you haven’t been in a long time.

Like a firefly brought to life from the touch, something new yet familiar has reawakened inside of you, and you smile at this newfound, but restored version of yourself. The version that craves to explore, experience, and experiment.

Colt flits across your mind, but you know it’s normal. He’ll be there for a while as you continue to sort through this new beginning.

You turn around, smile widening at Porco’s smug expression. The moment untouchable, not even the renewed pounding of the door can ruin it.

After getting redressed, Porco’s glare shoos off the men waiting for the restroom as you both step out.

Though the game ended a while ago, the bar is still stuffed with throngs of people; some wanting to celebrate their team’s victory and the others to wallow in their loss.

You’re not put out when Porco decides to stay. You both got what you wanted after all, and you give him a hug before taking off.

Maybe you’ll see each other again, maybe you won’t.

Either way, you’ve given Porco a parting gift to hold onto. As you slip out of the bar, you cross your arms to shield the hardened nipples poking through your shirt.

That bra wasn’t special, you have others at home.

☻ masterpost☻ taglist: @moonmalice

#porco galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard x you #porco x you #porco x reader #aot #aot smut #porco smut #attack on titan fanfiction #snk #snk smut #attack on titan #dtf only series #mochi-writings #mochimooon

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cheollipop · 8 months

Note

HIII :D

Can you write a little drabble about dom Yunho and fem reader ignoring eachother after an argument and so y/n comes up with a plan to tease Yunho while he’s busy ignoring her and playing video games and then he ends up getting worked up and it then leads to rough sex 🙈 (sorry if this is too much lol)

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

hi anonnie!! this... thisssssss egsjbks omg gamer bf!yunho AND mad!yunho?? yummy YUMMY- ahem, this was very fun to write, and i may have gone a bit overboard with it oopsie. also, been in a playful mood lately, so you get bratty!reader~ happy reading ^^

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: smut, oral (m), make-up sex, lots of cum talk bc... teehee, yunho's kinda mad but turns soft, reader's a little brat ><

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Eyes trained on the screen before him, spattered splotches of red masking his point of view as his player failed to block the incoming stream of bullets, his fingers stuttering over his keyboard as loud yelling blasted into Yunho’s ears, his friends’ voices contained within the worn-down cushions of his headset. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, partly because of the insults being thrown his way as he struggled to aim his sniper, but mainly at his inability to recall how the argument he’d had with you a couple hours ago had even started. He wracked his brain for an answer, but all he came up with was the menacing smile stretching your lips when you walked into the room hours after he’d stormed off, opting to bully eleven-year-olds online with his friends, camping at their spawn point and watching them grow frustrated with his unfair tactics.

The situation flipped, though, once your smile disappeared underneath his desk, your body hidden under the polished wood, and Yunho nearly cursed at the missed view of your delicate hands undoing the strings of his sweatpants. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never be, even more so when you had your fingers wrapped around his cock, tongue drawing circles around his head and collected the occasional spurts of precum as he grew harder in your grasp. He shuffled in his seat, containing a groan before it could leave his lips when you took his length down your throat, your lips meeting the digits wrapped around his girth before pulling off for air. Yunho wasn’t sure how many games he’d lost so far, only that his friends were growing frustrated with his silence, but he didn’t dare speak, knowing his voice would give away the nature of the situation he was in.

Brushing off the blonde locks obscuring his vision, he attempted to return to his position at the enemy’s base, only for you to flatten your tongue along the underside of his cock while sliding him back into your mouth, waiting until the tip prodded at your uvula before swallowing around it. To his luck, the startled grunt drawn out of him aligned with his teams’ nth loss, and his friends returned to their endless berating.

You pulled off him again, resting your head high enough on his thigh to stare up at his flushed face over the edge of his desk—eyes glazed over and unfocused as they gazed back at you, his lips bitten raw and a pretty rose tinting his neck and the sliver of his chest peeking at you over his collar. Your hand remained on him to smear your saliva down his length, squeezing at his base and back up to twirl around his cockhead, all while watching his composure slowly breaking down and his impatience seep into his features. With hesitation, you moved your eyes off him and to the pretty, bright pink painting his angry tip while it leaked translucent liquid that mingled with your spit, leaning forward to lick a stripe over the throbbing vein decorating his shaft.

You heard deft fingers pressing over the keycaps followed by the loud clang of his headset hitting the wooden desk, his thighs retracting as he rolled his chair back, and his hands squeezed around your biceps to hold you up. Forcefully pulling you to your feet with him, the snarky remark died on your tongue as he pushed back onto the bed, a sudden exhale blowing out of your lungs when you landed under him.

“Had your fun?” the deep baritone sent a shiver down your spine. Looking up at him, you took in the sweat pilling on his forehead, and you unsuccessfully attempted to wiggle out of the grasp he had around your wrists.

You bent your knee enough to dig into his hanging cock, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards when he jerked back. “Seems like you did too.”

You saw his eyebrow twitch again before a firm hand grabbed at your jaw, his other hand working your bottoms down your legs, two fingers pushing between your walls before you could even think of a retort. But you simply giggled, amused by how worked up you’d managed to get Yunho. You pecked the palm covering your lips, breathing out airy moans as he repeatedly pressed his fingers into your g-spot. He scissored his fingers, watching hot arousal dripping out of your cunt to seep into his duvet, cursing under his breath while using it to lube himself up.

“Can’t believe you,” he mumbled after releasing your jaw, leaning down to press himself flush with your chest, hands on your hips while he sunk into you, a melody of grunts and moans bouncing off the walls as he ground into your pussy, making sure you took every last inch of him. “Fuuuck, so fucking tight for me, aren’t you? Even when you’re being a brat,” he pressed his lips to the smile stretching yours.

Your smile wavered, playfulness fading away as you held his face to gaze into his hooded eyes, “are you still mad?”

Your whisper halted his insistent grinding, sparing you from the delicious glide of his cockhead over your walls to press a kiss to your forehead, “I could never be mad at you, sweetheart. I’m sorry it seemed that way,” the hands holding your hips wrapped around you, one cradling the back of your head and the other on your lower spine, holding you so close you could hear his racing heartbeat.

You knew this didn’t solve the problem, and that you’d have to sit down and talk about it again soon, but Yunho’s hold—so warm and tender—set a veil of tranquillity over your moving bodies and erased any significance tied to your previous argument.

But Yunho was still desperate, brimming lust mingling with his desire to make love to you, his hold gentle and yet his hips were merciless. He slammed his cock into your cunt, breathy ah's blowing over the side of you neck while he drew out orgasm after orgasm from you, his length pulsating within your heat as pleasure seared through your bodies. Your thighs trembled around him, and your hips ached when he flipped you over, grabbing your ass to pull you back onto his cock while his other hand pushed your head down into the mattress, taking what he needed from you and revelling in the sweet moans he got in return.

Overstimulation mingled with pleasure, and you tuned out your surroundings save for the choked grunts Yunho blew against the shell of your ear, the flesh of your ass growing raw with his repetitive thrusts, the back of his thighs slapping roughly against your skin.

“gonna come,” he panted, “gonna fill you up all the way, yeah baby?”

You rambled incoherently into the sheets, the hand holding your head down tangling into your hair until dull pain shot through your scalp. Moaning a succession of “yes” and “please,” Yunho held you in place while he emptied thick ropes of his cum between your fluttering walls, doing just as he said he would: filling you up all the way, until the heat spread into your womb.

Yunho brushed the hair off your face to watch your pupils disappear, rutting his softening cock into you to push you further over the edge, aiding you down from your high with skilled rolls of his hips and kisses peppered over your skin, groaning at the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. When overstimulation jerked your body away from his grasp, you reached back with heavy limbs to push at his hips, sighing once his thick length slid out of you, and you missed the string of cum connecting his cockhead to your leaking hole. But Yunho eyed it until it broke, sliding his hands up your spine and flattening his body over yours, his weight held up by the elbows digging into the mattress by your head.

Pressing kisses to every patch of skin he could reach, yunho brushed away your tears with the plush of his lips, kissing over your shut eyelids while breathing in your uneven exhales. His pretty angel, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, especially after you’d milked him dry, always so beautiful when you were stuffed full of his cum. Covered in sweat, shirt sticking to your trembling figure, your cunt oozing the translucent liquid while it clenched uselessly around the chill air.

You craned your neck to look at the man hovering over you, clothed chest brushing over your back with every breath he drew in. He looked just as ruined—a pretty flush painting his cheeks, eyes soft and brimming with adoration as they mooned over your expression. You wondered what face you were making, and why it seemed make him so starstruck.

“We good?” You breathed out into the air between you, a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.

Yunho focused on the spit drying over your lips, the line of drool going down to your chin reflecting the light from his monitor. His cock twitched in interest where it lay snug between his lower belly and your ass, and he rolled his hips experimentally, your sweet arousal around the hardening length gliding smoothly over your skin.

He hummed, meeting your hopefulness with an innocent smile, though the hint of slyness hidden within the gesture did not go unnoticed. Rolling his hips once more, he enveloped your body completely, resting some of his body weight over you while he whispered in your ear, a dribble of his cum seeping out of you as you squeezed around nothing.

“I think I might need a little more convincing.”

#panda's 2k sleepover o(≧▽≦)o #jeong yunho x reader #ateez x reader #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho imagines #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #yunho x reader #yunho smut

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wreckofawriter · 6 months

Text

Lucky Charm

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

pairing: james potter x reader

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

word count: 5k

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

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

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Been out looking for James.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James paused, “He scored because of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don't understand quidditch.”

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

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

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

“Don't let it go to your head.”

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

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

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

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

“Want some?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James sputters and Remus scoffs in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you would.”

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

You flush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James flushed red, “Piss off, Robinson.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whistle blew and it began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

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