#but it was nice to know he still cared enough to defend me

[hsjazebel]

Desperate part 2*

Word count: 2763

A/n: I’m sorry to have made you wait so long for part 2, but here it is! I hope you enjoy💘

*the imagine is just for aesthetic*

part 1*

“I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't be able to look me in the eyes for a week without blushing."

He looks you straight in the eyes and your mind is blank, you just want to be fucked so good and not think about anything.

“Cat got your tongue? I've barely touched you and you're already all stupid! You just want my cock in your little pussy, don't you?”

You nod not having the strength to speak, but this isn't enough for him.

“Words, baby. I need to hear your beautiful voice. Is that what you want?”

"Yes, yes. I want you!"

“Oh is it, pretty girl? You want me? Who expected that the good girl who knows how to cook such good pasta would actually hide a dirty part! But don't worry, now I'm here to scratch your itch, I'll treat your pussy so good I'll ruin you! Are you ready pretty girl? There’s no turning back.”

“Yes, I want it so bad!”

“Good girl!”

And so, he sticks his cock in you and it's like the rest disappears. You lie there with your mouth open making little moans because of the feeling of his big cock opening you up and stretching you out to make his way in your pussy.

“This is all you’re good for, just a hole for me to fuck. Such a nice, wet little pussy for m-“

The sound of your alarm clock wakes you up from your wet dream. You open your eyes trying to adjust to the light coming from the windows. Last night you forgot to lower the shutters and you're mentally cursing yourself for it.

The memories of your dream are still in your mind that you can even feel your panties getting wet.

It's been a week since your first meeting with Harry and it's been a week that you only have him on your mind.

This isn't the first time you've had a dream like this. And you know it won't be the last either.

You desperately want to take care of yourself but you don't have time because you promised your mother to go out and do some shopping together.

You decide to go take a cold shower trying not to think about the all too real feeling of Harry fucking you.

Then you choose an outfit for the day and go down to the living room where you find your mother fully dressed.

“I'm so happy to have a mother-daughter day! It's been a while since we went shopping together. I'm sad your sister isn't here too, it would have been nice to just be girls!” Your mom says as she grabs her purse and keys.

“Yeah, but she’s like Dad, she doesn't like shopping,” you follow her as you leave the house.

“I really don't know how she doesn't feel like going out and buying new clothes!” She laughs.

“I always ask myself that too!” You laugh along with her.

You both head towards the city center and start entering various shops.

After spending an hour trying on clothes, you decide to go into Sephora, a place you can't resist, and while you're debating whether or not to buy the Rare Beauty blush you hear your mother's phone ringing. She spends a few minutes on the phone and when she hangs up the call she looks at you with a sad look.

“They just called me from work. They said they found a motive against the other defendant in the trial. I have to go to the office. I'm so sorry to have to leave now, I even thought about going to brunch together.” You can tell she wasn't happy about leaving, but your mom was an established lawyer in your city, and she was now working on this very important case, she couldn't do anything about it.

“Don't worry Mom, I know how important this case is for you! I think I'll take another look in here and then I'll go get something to eat quickly,” you smile at her trying to cheer her up. “Come on, don't make that face, I'll stay here all summer, we'll find many more days to have another mother-daughter moment.”

"You are right! It seems to me that I don't see you very often and I was so happy to spend this day with you! Please don't spend too much money on makeup, I know you don't have a minimum of self-control when you come in here,” she laughs as she hugs you goodbye. You hug her back and with that you see her leave the shop.

You finish your shopping trip - and you may not have exactly listened to what your mother told you about not buying too much makeup - and decide to go alone to that brunch you were supposed to have with her.

You arrive at a small place near the center called Jerome and already from the outside you could see that the interior was all decorated in pink and this caught your attention.

You had passed by here several times but you had never seen it or heard the name of the place, so you deduce that it is a new opening, and so you decide to go in.

The interior was as you expected, all pink with neon cursive writing. On the left was a wall covered in pink and white roses with large swings as eating stations, which also had a large teddy bear that you found absolutely adorable, and on the left a large glass counter showing that which, in your opinion, was paradise.

A waitress with a welcoming smile comes towards you, inviting you to take a seat in the front room and that someone will come to take your order once you are ready.

You return her smile by thanking her kindly and make your way into the room she indicated.

On the way, you find on the right side a wall covered with pink velvet and a bicycle leaning against it with another big teddy bear on it. You find this corner particularly cute so you take your phone out of your bag to take a photo.

As you open the camera app you hear a familiar voice calling you.

“Hi Y/n!”

You turn in the direction of the voice and find the protagonist of your latest dreams sitting at a table on a pink velvet armchair.

"Oh! Hi Harry!" You return the greeting by smiling at him.

He pulls back a chair as a sign to sit next to him and you gladly accept.

“Shopping day I see,” Harry tells you pointing to the bags you had to bring with you.

"Oh yes!" You laugh. “I was out with Mum but she had to run away to work, so I'm forced to go around with all these bags!”

Harry laughs back. “That's why you're here alone.”

You are about to answer him but are interrupted by a waiter who has come to take your orders.

Once he leaves - not before giving you a sweet smile - you see Harry give the boy a not-so-kind look.

You continue your conversation until within a few minutes your food arrives.

You start eating in silence and you notice that Harry keeps staring at you.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Mh? What?"

“I see you staring at me, I asked you if I had something on my face.”

“No, no you don't have anything on your face, it's just… I don't know if it's appropriate to ask you something.”

“Ask me what?”

He takes a long sigh. “I was just thinking… if you have a boyfriend”

You stop yourself from laughing at his question. “No, I don't have a boyfriend. Why do you ask?"

“I was just curious to know I guess. It is undeniable that you are a beautiful girl and I also noticed how that boy looked at you before and I was just wondering if you have a boyfriend, that's all."

"Don’t worry. In fact, right now I don't want a boyfriend, I broke up a couple of months ago so I'm thinking more about myself now."

“I'm sorry, I didn't know you broke up recently. Can I ask why if it doesn't bother you?”

“Don't worry, it doesn't bother me. I've been with this Italian guy named Lorenzo for more or less a year and a half, except that in the last period, things between us haven't been going so well. In the last few months, I saw him as more detached, and in the end, I discovered that he had another woman... that’s the reason!" you laugh sarcastically.

“Excuse my language but… he must be a real dickhead to have cheated on you.”

“I'm big now, you can use bad words in my presence, and yes you're right, he's a big dickhead!” You laugh and he follows you.

After finishing your brunch you are the first to get up.

“Thanks for keeping me company, Harry. I really enjoyed talking to you!”

“No, thanks to you Y/n! And I enjoyed talking to you too! It could be done more often!” He tells you smiling, making his dimples appear.

“Yes, I would be more than happy to do it again. Maybe I could mention to Dad to invite you to dinner some evening.”

"I'd really like to."

And so you head towards the exit of the place with him opening the door for you like a true gentleman.

Once outside, however, you remember that you had arrived here in your mother's car and now that she was gone you didn't know how to get home. So your only option - other than walking in the July sun for 40 minutes on foot, which you didn't think was the best option - was to ask Harry for help.

“Um, Harry?” You call him. “Sorry but I just realized that I don't know how to get home since my mother left with the car, and.. uhm I wanted to ask you if by any chance, if it were possible for you, you could take me home.”

You didn't like bothering people about your things, because you always had the impression that you were annoying.

“Of course, I can take you home Y/n! I would never leave you stranded. In fact, I was just asking you if you wanted a ride but you beat me to it."

And with that, you head towards his car. And again, being the gentleman that he is, he opens the door for you to get into the car.

Along the way you are rather silent, in addition to the noise of the radio music in the background, there is every now and then an exchange of words.

Once you arrive at the gate of your house you almost feel sorry to let Harry go, and he seems to think the same as you.

You're about to say bye and thank him when an idea comes to you.

“You know I was thinking about the conversation we had that evening at my house and I just remembered that I have another book that I think you might like… if you want you could come in the house for a moment.”

“Yes, I'd like to come in but I don't want to disturb you."

“Don't worry, there's no one at home. Mom and Dad are at work and my sister is at the beach with some friends.”

“Oh…okay.”

He leaves the car in the driveway and so you go into the house.

As soon as you enter you head towards the bookcase in the living room but looking carefully among the books you don't find what you were looking for.

Going back in your memory you remember leaving it in your room; you had recently finished reading it and you immediately thought Harry might like it.

“Um…I think I left it in my room, if you want you can come with me, I also have other books there and I think you might find something you might like.”

"Yes, of course!"

So you go up the stairs and enter your room, but as soon as you enter you see the chair near your bathroom with your pajamas and underwear on it that you had taken off before entering the shower.

But the thing that immediately catches your eyes are your white lace panties on top of your clothes, and, if you look at them better you can also see a darker part on their crotch which you know well what is due to: the man next to you to you.

While you were both in your room, you felt a strange tension in the air. You look at Harry and notice the way he avoids your gaze as if he's hiding something. You suddenly feel vulnerable, remembering the embarrassing moment when you had accidentally left your panties on the chair. You wonder if he saw it.

“Sorry if the room is a little messy,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence.

He smiled faintly. “Don't worry, you told me that the book you recommended is here somewhere, right?”

Your heart beats faster in your chest as you try to figure out if he's just trying to be nice or if he's trying to avoid the awkward moment.

“Sure, it's right there on the nightstand,” you reply, gesturing to the book with a wave of your hand. “Sorry about the mess.”

He walks over to the nightstand, but in his gaze, he notices your panties casually placed on the chair. He lets out a short sigh, trying not to let his embarrassing discovery show. “Thank you,” he said, taking the book carefully.

The tension in the air seems to increase as they both look into each other's eyes, an energy filled with repressed desire and forbidden curiosity.

You try to ignore the racing of your heart as he walks away from the nightstand with the book in his hands.

“There are some really interesting parts,” you say, trying to keep the conversation light. "I hope you like it."

He nodded with a gentle smile. “I can't wait to read it, thanks for the advice.”

The silence that followed was heavy, full of tension and unspoken meaning. You both knew what was behind that embarrassing moment, but neither seemed ready to face it.

You bit your lower lip, trying to find the courage to say something, anything that would break the overwhelming tension. But the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

Finally, he turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes you tremble slightly.

“Is there anything else you would like to talk about?” He asks you, his voice barely a whisper.

You swallow, feeling your heart beat so loudly it sounds like a drum in his ears. “Yes,” you admit in a small voice. “There is something we need to address.”

You feel your heart beating furiously in your chest as he gently approaches, creating an atmosphere full of anticipation.

“I know,” he whispers softly, his voice a seductive harmony in the air vibrant with desire.

A shiver of emotion runs through your skin as your gazes meet, communicating desires and secrets hidden deep inside.

You nod slightly, unable to articulate a sound, your breath held in anticipation of what was about to happen.

He gets even closer, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, but without ever crossing that invisible border that separated reality from enchantment.

An instant of silence full of meaning lasts longer, time seems to have stopped as you let yourself be enveloped by the magic of waiting, aware of how powerful and precious that tension suspended between you can be.

You get dangerously close to the point where you can feel his nose touching yours, the desire between you vibrating in the tense air.

Lips a few millimeters apart, the imminent contact was like a promise of suspended passion, when suddenly the sound of the front door opening resonates in the air, interrupting the intimate moment.

You both tense up instinctively, your heart quickening its pace in your chest as your gazes meet in a mixture of agitation and repressed desire.

“Y/n! I am home!" You hear your father's voice coming from downstairs.

“Fuck,” you say as you pull away from Harry, but the heat of the barely touched contact still burned on his lips, while your body trembled slightly in anticipation of what might happen.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles blog #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #desperate

[yawnderu]

ANGEL — Simon Riley x Reader

cw: toxic situationship, emotionally unavailable Simon, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Simon is canonically in his late 30s).

wc: 2,027 | Part II

“Shh, shh.” Simon can feel his heartstrings being forcefully pulled, the image of you crying, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cling to him for dear life, your fingers gripping his black hoodie.

“S'okay. I can introduce you to some o' my mates.” The look of exasperation you shoot his way is enough to make him try to hold back his laughter, knowing it's not appropriate. Part of him feels bad, but the other part defends itself by telling him he warned you.

Simon Riley doesn't do love. He doesn't do feelings— he's a dog, too tainted and dirty for someone like you, too doomed. He doesn't deserve you, and yet he can't stop crawling back to you despite the heartbreak he sees in your pretty eyes the moment tells you he has to leave.

“I don't want 'em.” His attention is dragged back to you, the whiny tone making his gaze soften despite himself.

“Can you just... fuck me like you love me? I don't care if it's fake, I just...” Another choked sob escapes your lips, soft fingers tightening their hold on the fabric of his hoodie. Simon doesn't say anything— there's nothing he can say to make it better for you. The one condition to your situationship was broken, yet he couldn't find it in himself to abandon you, not when you look up at him like a lost, needy puppy.

“Y'can pretend it's love...” He offers, his tone lacking any mirth or empathy, not when his lips are busy going down your neck, trying his best not to leave any marks or be too rough with you, fighting his own nature for your sake.

His scarred, pink lips travel down your bare body with a gentleness meant to soften the blow of his emotional unavailability, trying his best to counter the heartbreak, secretly hoping that he can slowly mend your broken heart.

“I'll be nice to ya.” His hot breath hits your bare stomach, making your muscles tense up at the sensation, an unwilling shiver running up your spine at the tenderness of his words and actions, something he never showed you when he used to fuck you.

“Treat you like the proper angel y'are.” Simon's guilt is pushed to the back of his mind the moment his lips plant against your clothed mound, his calloused hand going up to your stomach to gently push you down the moment your back arches, wanting to keep you nice and still for him. To take care of your needs, for once.

Simon is a patient man. A patient man, who runs his warm, wet tongue over your clothed cunt, paying especial attention to your hardened clit, only making the knot in your stomach tighten by the second, fingers lacing on his short blond hair, pulling him closer. The display of pure neediness makes Simon's lips tilt up into a small, soft smile despite himself.

His hands explore your soft legs, squeezing softly every once in a while just to reassure you that he's still there. That he's not going away for once. He can feel your muscles twitch beneath his palm, almost mirroring his neglected, throbbing cock.

Simon's warm hands sneak to the back of your thighs, subtly feeling up your ass with the pads of his fingers, slowly sinking into the fat and muscle before he's pulling your legs up, soft kisses planted on your pretty inner thighs, even going as far as to give them gentle love bites, knowing you don't care if he leaves marks— not when your slick is seeping through the fabric of your panties, ready as ever.

“Needy fuckin' girl.” His touch is as gentle as it could be for someone whose hands are used to responding with violence and aggression, sneaking up to the waistband of your panties, pulling down enough to reveal your glistening cunt, not minding how the black cloth was left neglected, hanging on your ankle.

Just like a man starved, Simon's wet tongue darts out of his mouth to give a long, sensual lick against your folds, savoring the taste of your slickness. His rough hands grip your hips to steady you, no longer minding the way your back arches from the pure pleasure he's giving you. He takes a second to admire the sight in front of him, his hot breath fanning against your cunt.

“Good girl.” His skilled, hungry tongue delves between your folds, lapping at your wetness with a need that matches your own. He explores every single inch of your pussy, his tongue flickering and swirling over your hard, swollen clit. His free hand reaches up to fondle one of your tits, his fingers digging into the fat as he devours you.

Simon's hips rock softly against the mattress, looking for any sort of possible relief for his hard, throbbing cock, neglecting it until he can't handle it, hesitantly letting go of your sweet cunt, crawling on top of you and caging you in with his strong, muscular arms. Your soft hand goes to his tattooed arm out of pure muscle memory, earning you a small smirk back.

“You want it, angel? This fat fuckin' cock inside you?” His hips jerk involuntarily, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels the familiar heat pooling in his abdomen, his hand going down to his zipper out of habit, lowering it just enough to pull out his cock— until he realizes that he promised to make love to you, not to fuck.

With slight hesitation in his movements, Simon gets up from the bed, brown eyes watching your reaction with such focus you'd think he's a predator ready to pounce on its prey... and in a way, he is.

His chest rises and falls heavily as he starts to discard his clothes until he's completely bare and vulnerable, something he's never done before for anyone. The way your gaze softens as your eyes examine his scars almost makes him want to put his clothes back on— to leave and to never come back. Simon doesn't deserve your empathy, not when he keeps making you cry, yet he swallows his discomfort back down, his body resting on top of yours, lifting himself up with his arms.

“Y'always take me so well, don't you?” Simon teases in a whisper, his breath hot against your ear. The sound of your wetness mingling with his leaking tip fills the room, dragging a small whine out of you as he teases your entrance for a few seconds, his eyes on yours the moment he sinks into you, giving you time to get used to his thickness before starting to push in deeper, a low groan leaving his lips the moment he hits your sensitive, spongy cervix.

Simon leans down, his lips pressing against yours as he starts to thrust into your needy, sopping cunt, every single inch of him stretching you out like you were made for him. A small shiver runs down his spine when your hand goes up and down his back, caressing the scars from the torture he suffered at the hands of Roba. He pushes the bitter sensation away, putting his entire focus on the feeling of your tongue wrapping around his, tiny strings of saliva staining the corners of your soft lips.

He pulls you closer, his grip possessive yet still so gentle and tender, his touch becoming more intimate. Simon buries his face on the crook of your neck, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your soft, warm skin.

“Y'like this, princess?” He rolls his hips against yours, pushing himself as deep as possible into your pussy.

“Bet my mates could fuck you better.” Simon silences your protests with a quick kiss, thrusting faster into you just so you become willing to hear him out.

“Could treat ya better, too.” His forehead leans against yours, staring deep into the pleading look you're giving him, silently begging him to stop talking about it— to love you, begging for something he can't give you even if he were to force himself.

“My captain's a good man. Y'like older men, don't ya?” His breath is hot against your cheek, his eyes finally screwing shot as your cunt tightens around him at the mention of Price, a low, deep groan making its way out of his throat.

“'Course you do.” He says with a small chuckle, planting tender kisses all over your cheeks, feeling your breath against his face as more whiny, needy moans leave your lips, your velvety walls tightening around his hard cock.

Simon's back bends slightly as he rests his cheek against your chest, your fast-beating heart giving him a slight sense of comfort he's never found anywhere else. His thrusts grow more desperate— faster and deeper, feeling your tits vibrate with each loud moan you're letting out, pretty legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“My pretty girl.” Even if he's just playing pretend, the words coming out of Simon's lips feel right, his thumb massaging your cheek while he admires you from beneath him, looking just like an angel. Part of Simon pities you, knowing that he'll never be able to love you back, but he can keep pretending for as long as you need.

The knot in your stomach starts to slowly come undone with every single thrust, feeling his meaty cock throb inside you. Your head leans back against the pillow, pretty eyes closing as you allow the illusion of love to set in— to imagine what it's like to be loved by someone like Simon, to get fucked like this daily, with such tenderness and care.

Simon can feel your walls gripping him harder, only encouraging him to slam his hips against yours the way he knows you love it, the upwards curve on his veiny cock allowing him to hit your spongy cervix over and over, low groans and loud pants escaping his lips. His grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into the skin as he gets closer to the edge, his heavy balls tightening.

Simon lets out a shaky breath as you hold him closer to your sweaty body by the waist, the arch of your back allowing both of your hearts to be against the other's, both beating wildly with the heat of the moment. His face goes back to the crook of your neck as he lets out a loud, throaty moan as he spills his hot cum into you, riding out your orgasms, feeling your tight cunt grip him like vice.

He waits a few seconds before slowly pulling out of you, cupping your cheek just to have those pretty eyes look up at him with nothing but pure trust and love— so lovely, so pure, so untainted, unlike him. He lays down next to you, wrapping his burly arms around you and bringing your exhausted body against his, cuddling you up.

He plants gentle kisses all over your pretty face, basking in the afterglow of the intense love-making, admiring you like you're a piece of art... and truly, in Simon's eyes, you are. His phone vibrates against your bedside table, reaching out for it and letting out a small sigh at the message. Duty calls, and unfortunately, Simon can't get out of a deployment, even when part of his heart stays with you.

“My mates need me for a mission.” He says softly, planting one last kiss on your forehead before getting up from bed, putting his military-provided clothes back on. He stares at the sticky notes on your desk, giving you a small glance before leaning down and writing something on it, ripping the paper away from the rest and putting it down on your bedside table so you won't forget.

“'S my captain's number. Give 'im a call, yeah? He'll answer.” He promises, not daring to leave until you give him a small nod in confirmation, shooting you one last glance before leaving your room, the entrance door slamming shut soon after.

Your already teary eyes stare at the number written down on the sticky note, looking more enticing by the second.

John Price.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon x reader #ghost call of duty #cod #mw2 ghost #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #cod modern warfare #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #situationships

[skipper1331]

Secret // Alexia Putellas

| Part 2 | Part 3 |

Everybody knew that Alexia was a private person - she only shared the information she wanted to share as she was very selective in her choice of words and very careful about whom she told what.

And even though that facade dropped around her friends and family, she still kept you a secret - she preferred it that way - having you to herself and not having to deal with headlines like 'Alexia Putellas dating her Barcelona teammate.' and the drama that it could cause.

Whenever it was just the two of you she was the sweetest girl, treating you like a princess and being totally in love with you while when other people were around, she kept her distance, acted strictly professional and didn‘t show any signs of affection.

The only person who knew about you was her sister, Alba and she only found out by accident.

-

"mi amor, you‘re so beautiful" the midfielder admired, kissing along your jaw, "I can‘t get enough of you" she found her way down to your neck, completely lost in the feeling of you before a certain spot on your neck caught her attention where she gently created reddish marks.

Just because nobody knew about you, didn’t mean that it would stop Alexia from silently claiming you.

Her fingertips ran along your exposed skin as your shirt had riddled up, leaving the midfielder craving for more.

The Barcelona player continued to mumble sweet nothings, planting some last even sweeter kisses on your neck before she reached up to your lips, kissing them with every ounce of love. Alexia always kissed you like that, letting you know that you caused the butterflies in her stomach.

Tugging on your shirt, she signaled that she wanted it off. Happily obeying, you took it off, her hands now wandering around your bare upper body as she was back kissing you with so much passion and love.

"Ale- do you know what-" both of you froze at the same time, your girlfriend shielding your exposed body as her sister stood in the door frame, "oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!" she covered eyes, rushing out of the room and slamming the door shut.

"mierda!" Ale was off of you in an instant, throwing your shirt back to you.

"I‘m Alba!" the younger Putellas called threw the door, "we haven‘t meet yet. I‘m her sister!"

You chuckled - wrong move as Alexia glared at you, marching out of her bedroom.

"Do you ever knock?!" she said angrily, pulling her sister away, giving you the time you needed.

"I thought you were asleep! You didn‘t open the front door when I knocked" the sister defended herself in their mother tongue.

Alexia huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "so, who‘s she?" Alba asked.

Perfectly timed, you exited the bedroom, walking towards the sisters in the living room, "I’m Y/N" you smiled nicely, offering your hand.

"Alba" she introduced herself once again, returning your smile and shaking your hand.

"She‘s my girlfriend" the midfielder huffed, annoyed that her little sister caught you, "20€ if you don‘t tell anyone about it" the older one said.

She would pay money to keep you a secret? Don‘t get me wrong, you didn‘t want to be public as you loved the privacy both of you had as individuals and together but you did hope for that she would at least tell your friends and family. All you wanted was to hold her hand and not to worry about standing too close to her.

The sparkle in your eyes died down, feeling stings in your heart but nonetheless respecting Alexia‘s wishes.

"I don‘t need your money" Alba stated when she saw the way your face fell, "you could have just said please."

You felt more than rejected in that moment.

"You won‘t tell anybody about this" she ordered this time now, her jaw clenched and voice firm - captains order.

Alba walked towards the door, "I‘m going to the car, mamá is waiting. Hurry up" before she left, only Alexia and you left in her apartment.

"I‘m sorry amor, I forgot that we were having lunch together." the midfielder explained, not knowing nor realizing that her behavior had hurt you as she was just apologizing for the incident of Alba walking in.

"You can stay if you‘d like" she smiled, putting on her shoes.

After she had laced her last shoe, she pulled you in by your hips, kissing you good bye, getting a bit carried as the feeling of your lips locked was addicting.

-

You loved being Alexia‘s girlfriend but you didn‘t like being her secret.

To be honest, it didn‘t bother you at first but after 6 months, you started to think about at least telling your family (officially you hadn‘t even met Alba before) and friends but every time you proposed the idea of it, she got defensive and annoyed, so you didn‘t bring it up again.

After one year, you slowly started to think that maybe she was ashamed of being seen with you, just being with you or of you as her behavior got more and more secretive day by day - she didn‘t even act like your friend in training.

You didn‘t know where it was coming from because whenever you were behind closed doors, she was the most affectionate person who loved to cook for you or just sharing the same air made her heart and brain go love sick. She was indeed very much in love with you yet afraid to show this love outside of either of your apartments.

Sometimes you wished that she would take you out for dinner - it didn‘t have to be fancy at all, McDonalds would be simply enough - you just wanted to experience a date night.

And even though, she made home as romantic as possible, it wasn’t enough anymore. You craved for more.

Sometimes when you saw Ingrid and Mapi openly in love, you felt jealous. You wanted that too.

They were your friends and you were so happy for them as they matched each other perfectly but you couldn’t help but feel envy. You envied what they have, imagining how it would feel like with Alexia - hoping to have that with Alexia, one day.

-

"Do you want to go out tonight? Frido told me about this new restaurant!" you said smiling.

The midfielder looked up from her notebook, pausing the tv as she replayed Chelsea’s matches (the club Barcelona would face in the uwcl semi finals)

"Is it takeout?" she asked.

You shook your head - no. "We can go out" you tried again, flopping next to her on the couch.

"Amor!" she grumbled as all her notes fell to the ground, now not sorted anymore.

"Sorry"

"I‘m preparing for our upcoming matches, you should join me in fact, so you know how Chelsea will play. We can order takeout - you know I don‘t like going out with you" she sorted through her notes, grumbling and huffing at the non existing order. She hadn‘t realized that her words were harsh and in fact rude.

You got the message - she didn’t like going out(side) with you, she had made that very clear.

"I can get you some food from there tomorrow" she added, her voice gentle and the wrinkle between her brows gone as her notes were back in the correct order.

It didn‘t help though, you felt hurt. Was it that bad to be seen with you? You‘re a Barcelona player, her teammate - and friends get food together all the time, so why can‘t you get food together as friends? Nobody would suspect that the two of you were more than friends, right?

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook something for you, mi amor?"

Again, you shook your head, scrolling through your phone while you acted tough and unbothered by her comment as she didn‘t even notice how harsh her words had sounded before.

You sent a message in the group chat with Ingrid and Frido, asking if they wanted to try out the restaurant which the Swedish woman had discovered. Both of them agreed within seconds.

-

The two of you laid in bed, Alexia‘s arms wrapped around you as she whispered sweet nothings in your ear. It became a routine for Alexia to lull you to sleep while tracing patterns along your skin. She loved doing so and she loved watching you sleep - you looked at peace.

Something about tonight was different though. Normally, it wouldn’t take long for the captain to soothe you to sleep but after 30 minutes, you still were awake, mind seemingly not finding any rest.

"¿Qué pasa?" she whispered in the dark, gently pressing a kiss to the exposed skin on your shoulder.

"It‘s been over a year, Ale, when will you introduce me as your girlfriend? Or take me out on a date that isn’t in here?" your voice was almost inaudible. You knew it was a sensitive topic for Alexia, the girl always denying your requests on telling someone and shutting you out after the conversation and also avoiding you for the rest of the day. "Amor.. we‘ve talked about this" she said, pulling her hands off your body.

Coldness hit your body while the parts were her hands had rested burnt down.

You turned around, looking at her, the moonlight the only light source "all I’m asking is for some recognition." you admitted, almost pleading for her attention outside of either of your homes.

"But I see you. I see you in training and after training, why is it so important to you that people now? We won‘t have any privacy!" her voice raising slightly.

"Alexia… this has nothing to do with the media. I want to meet your family! Or go on a date and wear very nice clothes. Is that too much to ask for?"

"You‘re right. Lo siento, amor" her hands cupped your cheeks, resting her forehead against yours, "I‘ll try to be better"

-

Over the next few months, Alexia’s home started to become your least favourite place - you felt like you were trapped in a cage.

Nothing had changed.

She loved you behind closed doors while she couldn’t even look at you in training.

Each day that passed, more of your heart broke. Your motivation faded - football was your work and no longer a passion.

And Alexia could tell. Your passes were sloppy and your tackles were harsh.

As soon as you had arrived in her apartment, she began complaining about your attitude.

You were not having it.

You started yelling at each other, rude comments leaving both of your mouths,

"You promised me!" you shouted, all hidden anger and hurt discovering the surface, "you promised me and nothing has changed! I‘m your dirty little secret!" you spat.

"Alba knows about you, isn’t that enough?!"

"You offered her fucking money to keep her mouth shut!"

"What do you want?!"

"I can‘t do this anymore, Alexia. I don’t want to think about whether my girlfriend is ashamed of me or not."

"What are you talking about- amor?"

"I‘m worth more than that."

"Please- give me a chance"

"I did, Ale, more than once" you walked towards the front door, bending down to put on your shoes.

The captain followed, so overwhelmed by what was happening that her persona took some turns, "If you walk out that door, we‘re done!"

your hand was resting on the doorknob, ready to leave.

You looked at her, "Behind that door, we never existed anyway."

And with that being said, you left.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso image x reader #barca femeni #barca femini x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #fc barcelona femeni #barça femeni #barca women #barcelona femeni #barcelona women #fc barcelona women #espwnt x reader #espwnt

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

#the rescuers #disney #101 dalmatians #perdita #miss bianca #rapunzel #tangled #princess and the frog #tiana #the three good fairies #flora #merriweather #fauna #snow white #sleeping beauty #Cinderella #ariel #the little mermaid #beauty and the beast #belle #aristocats #duchess #lady and the tramp #jasmine #aladdin #long #wish

[maybankswhore]

I don’t know if you’re still taking obx requests (if you’re not feel free to ignore this) but maybe you could write about JJ dating the girliest girl on the island and all the pouges are like HER? And he’s so proud like yeah that’s my girl

𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓.

this request was too cute not to do! i don’t know if this is the direction you were looking for but i think it came out adorable! i hope you like it <3

pairing(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: in which jj bags the girliest girl on the island— but what can he say? opposites attract.

The minute JJ saw you , he knew he had to have you. You made his eyes glimmer the moment they laid upon you— with half of your hair pulled back in a pretty pink claw clip , a pretty white sundress on as you laughed sweetly with your friends , nails done and makeup complimenting your features so well.

You were quite literally , breathtaking , in his eyes and although you weren’t the usual low maintenance , tom–boyish type of girl he was used to , it had only made him more attracted to you.

At first he didn’t know how to approach you. He never had problems in the girl department before. Being so confident and charismatic , talking a girl up was a slice of cake to him. But when it came to you , you just seemed so nice and warm. He was afraid that he wouldn’t meet your standards , that maybe you deserved someone better than him. The difference in aesthetics were clear— him with his years old shorts and plain tee while you sported that white sundress that was so elegantly simple.

He sipped on his beer slowly watching you from across the Boneyard , trying to get a good feel of your personality. From what he could see , you seemed nice. You talked to almost everyone and seemed genuinely interested in each convention. He knew you weren’t a Pogue but you didn’t give Kook vibes either. JJ was just about to give it all up and walk away , until Pope walked over to you and gave you a hug– which you had excitedly returned.

JJ watched the two of you converse for a bit wondering if he should wait and ask Pope about you or just go up mid–conversation and introduce himself. . . The conversation wasn’t long enough for him to interrupt though , because by the time he got his thoughts together Pope was already walking towards him.

“What’re you staring at me for?” Pope shoved his shoulder playfully , filling up his cup at the keg JJ was standing next to.

JJ snorted. “You wish I was staring at you. I was looking at her— who is that?” He nodded in your direction.

“That’s Y/N and she’s not your type.” Pope snorted , rolling his eyes at the glint JJ’s face held– he knew that face all too well.

JJ huffed. “And why not? She’s a pretty girl. I like those.”

“Pretty and girly , JJ. She’s emotional and likes all that romantic bullshit you hate. You’d hate it.” Pope pointed out , reminding JJ of the millions of girlfriends he had but soon discarded because he couldn’t keep an emotional connection to save his life. Let alone know how to romance a girl.

JJ gave Pope and offended expression , scoffing. “I can be romantic , Pope.”

“One time you gave a girl a bag of dirt for Valentines Day.” Pope deadpanned.

“Bitch , I was literally ten!” JJ defended. “And it’s the thought that counts. I picked out all the bugs.”

Pope stared at JJ for a second , giving him a knowing look making JJ sigh deeply. “Whatever! I don’t care what you say. I’m in love!” JJ oogled in your direction , a hand over his heart.

Pope patted JJ on the back and shook his head. “I’m sure you are , buddy. I’m sure you are.”

With that Pope walked away to find his other friends , leaving JJ to huff on his own.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” JJ muttered , finishing off his drink. Sure he acknowledged you weren’t his ‘usual’ type— but hey! How’s that saying go? Opposites attract!

Downing the rest of his drink , JJ shook his body to release his nerves. You were finally alone , sitting next to the fire while your friends played beer pong a few feet away from you. Taking this as his time to shine , he strolled over to you with sweaty palms. He felt like a teenage boy having his first crush all over again! All sweaty and nervous. He really did think you were the prettiest girl ever , and he had to talk to you.

“Uh– want some company?” JJ asked lowly , hoping you’d still be able to hear him. He didn’t want to scare you or seem to pushy , so he made sure not to tower over you and keep a good distance away.

Your eyes looked away from the fire and up at him , your cheeks burning red. He was cute. A messy head of blonde hair with small dimples barely noticeable when he smiled. You could feel his nervousness and it made you giggle a bit , excitement in your tummy swirling at the thought of such a cute boy wanting to talk to you. “Sure.” You accepted , moving over for him to sit next to you.

“I—um. . . I like your dress.” JJ said as he sat down , cringing at how awkward he sounded.

You grinned at his compliment. “Thank you. I like your shirt.” You returned the compliment , although the shirt wasn’t to interesting , the person wearing it made it look good.

“Nah this thing’s old.” JJ brushed off.

“Well I don’t know how old this thing is but I bought it at a thrift shop not too long ago.” You shrugged , bumping his shoulder. “I’m Y/N.”

Feeling more comfortable with making conversation , JJ looked at you smiling. “JJ.”

“You’re Pope’s friend!” You remembered Pope bringing up someone named JJ before in distant conversations. Though he was always ranting about the boy , seeming exasperated every time.

“The one and only.” JJ said proudly. “So that means he talks about me— how sweet.” He cooed.

You chuckled. “Only about how you never stop forcing him to leave work early.”

“What kind’ve friend would I be if I just let him work his little self out like that!” JJ defended.

“Point proven.” You nodded , laughing with him. He seemed easy to talk to , even with just a few exchanges of words to eachother. His aura seemed sweet , something that you noticed. “So Pope wasn’t there to keep you company?” You teased.

JJ cheeks blushed slightly , scratching the back of his neck. “No actually , I–uh , I saw you earlier and I think you’re like really pretty and I really wanted to talk to you.” He admitted , hoping to see if you’d be interested in— well anything.

It was your turn to blush. A sweet smile on your face as you tucked a piece of hair away from your face. “You think so?”

“The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He vowed with one hand up in the air. “Scout’s honor.” JJ added.

“Well I think you’re really pretty , too.” You grinned , copying his actions. “Scout’s honor.”

The rest of the night flowed easily between you two. The two of you talked about anything and everything getting to know eachother , seeing what you had in common and what you didn’t. You weren’t much of an outdoorsy person , and loved everything bright and cheerful. JJ seemed to be quite the opposite but he was interested in what you liked , and you seemed to have an open mind about the things he did , as well.

The night ended and your friends called you over telling you it was time to leave , but you put your number in JJ’s phone telling him to call you.

And you didn’t get too far before he dialed that number right up , making sure he had it before you left.

Things had ended up well betwen you and JJ. He had taken you out on dates. Some being what he wanted to do , some of you forcing him to go thrift shopping with you and give him a fashion show. He had researched every romantic comedy , every romance novel to give you the most that you deserved because he started to really like you.

He loved everything about you , how girly you were , how your nails were always done and your hair always fixed. You had such passion for so many things and it shined through you , and it showed inside and out.

JJ fell for you quickly , asking you to be his girlfriend on the seventh date. He planned everything all by himself. A beach picnic at night with pretty little candles and lights. ( All things he had thrifted , knowing it’d make your heart happy. )

He’d never forget how pretty you looked that night in your skirt , big eyes watching him in admiration as he asked you to be his girlfriend , getting all emotional and crying when he did.

But now that things were really serious , he wanted to introduce you to the Pogue’s— which he was excited about , but you were so nervous.

“Baby they’re gonna love you.” JJ promised as the two of you walked to the front door. “I told them they’re gonna love you and they have to listen to me and do what I say regardless.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend. “It doesn’t work like that , JJ.”

“Well it does in my world.” He told you , wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you close to him. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “I love you so they’ll love you because I do.”

Your heart melted and you always fell to your knees. “I love you , too.”

JJ kissed you one more time before opening the door. You could hear the chaos as soon as it opened , laughter and commotion. Your stomach was in knots as you walked in , wondering what his friends would think. You had seen Pope a couple times since being with JJ , but you hadn’t said anything out of respect for your boyfriend because you knew he wanted to be the one to tell them.

“Hey guys!” JJ said loud enough for them to look at him , their eyes immediately looking at you then back at him then the arm around your waist.

Kiara smirked , knowing that JJ always did have that soft spot he claimed never to have. Pope looked like a deer in headlights and John B was just confused.

“I want you to meet my girlfriend.” He put emphasis on girlfriend. “Who is extremely hot and girly and also extremely my type.” JJ said , looking at Pope.

You nudged JJ’s shoulder and smiled at them. “I’m Y/N.”

“No fucking way.” Pope said , obviously shocked.

“Aw! My little JJ is all grown up.” Kiara pretended to wipe a tear away. “You’re so cute— I’m Kiara.” She pushed past the two boys and tugged at your arm. “I’m excited to have another girl around , do you smoke? Let’s smoke a joint outside.”

JJ pulled you away from her. “Um , no. She doesn’t and her first time ain’t being with you!”

Kiara scoffed and pulled you back , standing in front of you protectively. “If she wants to she will.” She glared before turning back to you and pulling you towards the back yard. “You totally don’t have to.” She whispered in your ear making you laugh.

JJ smiled as he watched his bestfriend take to you and bring you outside. He was excited to have you around more and bring into his life in this way , the Pogue’s were a part of his world that he wanted you a part of.

“I gotta say JJ , I wasn’t expecting that.” John B clapped him on the shoulder.

“No kidding!” Pope scoffed. “I didn’t think he’d get past the first conversation.”

JJ crossed his arms and smirked , shrugging nonchalantly. “What can I say? Opposites attract.”

#jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jjpope #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank blurb #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj x reader #maybank #outer banks imagines #outer banks requests #outer banks blurb #jj outer banks #obx imagine #obx jj x reader #obx jj #obx jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks headcanons #outer banks imagine

[rosepascal]

I'm a feminist obviously || Joel Miller x Reader

I'm a feminist obviously But I wouldn't really mind him savin' me And I know that I'm fine without a man But I think I would like his protection - Prison for Life (Olivia Rodrigo)

Warnings: protective!Joel, he calls you baby girl, reader gets attacked by an asshole guy. Mentions of a fight. Low key dark Joel because he ain't letting that slide. violence, blood, cursing.

a/n: I heard this on tik tok and it just SCREAMS Joel miller sooooo. A good protective Joel fic <3

The town of Jackson wasn't exactly fond of you and Joel. Let's just say the rumors that started when you first showed up have spread amongst the town members and well, no one cares that they're just rumors.

Safe to say that when you walk through the town center that you aren't just imagining people whispering and staring you down as you walk past them. The only thing you can do is roll your eyes and keep going.

Please, like everyone in this town is free of blood on their hands.

The small general store worker refuses to meet your eyes as you pay for your groceries.

"H-Have a nice day." He says timidly as you stare at him stone faced. At this point you don't even try to change any ones mind. Still at least this kid isn't shooting you a dirty look. You nod and head out the door.

"Is that the Miller's bitch I see." Just your luck. Out of the corner of your eye you see Elijah Davis. Resident Jackson asshole.

Though most people who had a distaste for you and Joel, they stayed out of your way. Elijah was different. He was stupid. See Elijah used to be the big man in Jackson. Self proclaimed best hunter, best shooter. A real tough guy. Always led patrols and that kind of thing really got to his head.

When Joel came around well, they may not like Joel but you can't deny his skills when it comes to survival. Joel brought home the biggest catch, he shot down the most clickers. He saved the most lives and Elijah turned bitter. He just couldn't give it up

"I'm talking to you."

"Fuck off." You hiss at him. You turn so fast he flinches and it makes you smile.

"Seriously, this shit is getting old. Go cry to someone who gives a fuck." On most days he was all bark and no bite but today was different. You feel a harsh tug on your arm as you're pulled into a small side alley. He jams his forearm into your neck and pushes you against a wall.

"I'm getting real sick of you. Acting tough when all you are is Joel millers toy. Bet you keep his bed real warm." He spits angrily. The pressure on your neck gets worse as black dots swarm your vision. You drop your bag and claw his eyes as hard as you can.

"Fuck!" He screams as he lets go of you. Land on your feet but the lack of air causes you to wobble.

"Eat shit." You kick him hard in the side and he tackles you to the ground.

The left side of your face erupts in pain as he punches you hard. He doesn't let up and you do your best to defend yourself the way you learned back in the QZ.

"Hey! What the hell is going on here?" Elijah freezes as he hears the voice of Tommy Miller. Though you've got a bust lip and blood spilling from your mouth you smile.

"You're screwed now." You knee him hard right in the balls and he topples over in pain. Before Tommy could pull you off him you get in one last kick to the jaw.

"That's enough, both of you." He gently pulls you back as someone else pulls Elijah up from the ground. He's still groaning in pain and man is that music to your ears.

"What happened?" Tommy asks as you wipe the blood away from your mouth.

"He attacked me, I defended myself." Though Tommy was Joel's brother he was also Maria's husband and Maria didn't like violence inside the walls of Jackson. She meant business. She even scared Joel a little. You bend down to pick up what's left of your groceries and stuff them in your pockets.

"Look, I know how it goes, I'll pay the fine or work extra hours blah blah, See you Sunday for dinner." Your face aches as you walk.

The only thing you want now is a warm bath and a nap. You don't hear Joel as you walk inside and for once that's a good thing. Ellie appears at the back door ready to show something when her face scrunches up.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"What?!" You hear Joel's voice come from behind her and you sigh.

"Thanks Ellie." Joel storms in the house.

His eyes frantically looking around until they land on you. Particularly on your fucked up face. His eyes turn dark as he orders Ellie to go outside. She leaves but not before mouthing Good Luck to you. He's like predator the way he walks up to you. His mouth twitching as anger swirls in his eyes.

"Who did this to you?" He gently tips your head up. It scares you how calm he is right now.

"Joel he was just being-"

"He? It was Elijah wasn't it." He growled lowly.

Sighing you know you can't hide it from him forever. He clenches his jaw and leaves to go to the medicine cabinet. With a clean rag he wipes away the dried blood and patches you up as best he can. Unfortunately most of your injuries will just have to heal on its own.

"M'gonna go take a bath." You stretch your arms out and wince slightly as you tilt your neck. Joel clocks it immediately.

"You need anything baby girl?"

"No, I'm okay." He kisses the top of your head and waits for you to go upstairs.

Once he hears the water running he grabs his rifle and leaves. It's like the townspeople can see the steam coming out of his ears. Joel's got a murderous look on his face as he storms through the town.

"Joel!" He glances to see Tommy chasing after him but he doesn't stop. He goes right to the little town hall and storms into Maria's. She looks unamused as he slams the door open.

"Where is he?!" Joel slams his hands on her desk.

"Doctors, pretty beat up and still crying about it." She doesn't even need to ask, she knows why he's here.

"I'm gonna kill em."

"No you aren't."

"If you think-"

"Joel!" Maria stands and stares him down. He's angry, seething with rage at the thought of that punk little shit laying a hand on you.

"I know you're angry, so am I. He's to blame here and he will be punished to the full extent of the law." She says calmly.

"So what? He gets thrown in jail for a couple days? Has to do extra patrols? Give up dessert?"

"I know you're angry, but don't do anything you'll regret. I can't protect you from the law forever Joel." She can't lose Joel, he's a valuable member of the community and he's family.

He clenches his fists and nods his head. Tommy appears and walks out with him. Trying to talk him out of what ever plan he's got brewing in his head. He knows that Joel won't back down that easy.

"He hurt her, I warned him that if he ever touched her he was a dead man." Joel smirks as he passes the doctors. Outside is Elijah bandages all over his face and a scared look in his eyes when he sees Joel.

Count your days motherfucker.

Joel disappears for a week. Out on a supply run alone and god did it make you nervous. He kissed you sweet before he left. Promised he'd come back. His fingers traced your face. Trying to be as gentle as he can around the sore spots.

"I love you." He mumbles quietly, "You know I'd do anything for you." You hum and kiss him again.

"I know," You can handle yourself, you've proved that time and time again you know how to protect yourself.

But with Joel you don't always have to. Knowing he'd burn down anything in his path for you means the world. Because you'd do the same.

You see Elijah once or twice in town while Joel's gone. He's on double patrol duty before his trial. Then he just, disappears. At first you don't notice it but then you hear whispers around town. A patrol went out with 4 and came back with 3.

When Joel comes back you tell him. Elijah's trial was yesterday and he never showed. They went to his room and he wasn't there. All his things were but he wasn't.

He was just, gone.

A few days later Tommy comes knocking on your door.

"Joel here?" You nod and call Joel down.

"It's been a week and no one's found Elijah. So it seems his trial is postponed indefinitely."

"Okay, thanks for coming to tell us." You squeeze Joel's hand and he just stays quiet. Tommy looks at Joel and deep down all three of you know exactly what happened with Elijah. But there's no proof and Tommy isn't going to turn over his own brother.

"Dinner next week?" You ask and he nods.

"I'm sure Maria would love to catch up." When he leaves you turn to Joel.

"Joel...If they ever found out-"

"I don't care."

"I do!" Your voice raises for a second before you stop yourself from shouting.

"Joel I won't let you jeopardize anything for me."

"Well that's too damn bad." He gets up and walks over to you. He cups your face and stares at you with an intensity you've never seen before.

"Baby girl, he hurt you." Joel would risk it all for you. Death, prison, anything. He kisses you gently as to not hurt your still healing lip.

"Nobody messes with my girl."

In a world like this you need to be able to survive, to fight and to make the hard decisions. But sometimes it's exhausting. Constantly protecting yourself wears you down. You know you can but you don't mind the idea of being protected by someone else.

You know you should hate the violence, the fierceness of his actions and words. But you don't. How could you when he's all you ever wanted.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #protective!Joel miller

[suguru-getos]

| Yandere Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Axphyxiation |

A/N: The yandere in me has risen from the dead. Read this at your own discretion, Satoru is a manipulative, dangerous, abusive asshole here. Mentions of guilt-tripping, dub-con (doesn’t happen but mentions), belittling, comforting, gentle-talking.

Normally, on a normal day, you’d have the right to be livid, to scream out and throw a tantrum over Satoru’s antics whenever you wanted. It would usually go unnoticed, even catered to if he’s feeling nice. Not today…

“Being a little too bratty are we, Princess?” There was a greyish hue of rage in his sky blues. All, because of you. He would make sure you realize it. You’d cower in fear of him in times like these, breaking down into choking sobs and mumbling apologies for pissing off the ‘Honored one’.

“I swear, I didn’t—” You tried to defend yourself, before the glass window behind you cracked, breaking into shatters as you flinched. A reminder to not piss off Gojo Satoru right now. Your heart raced at the situation you were in. Kneeling in front of him like a guilty prisoner, not daring to look up. Anxiety being the only thing hugging you right now.

“Why did you think it would be nice to ask for Megumi’s phone?” Satoru spoke… almost dazed, still controlling the immense rage that he felt. At times like these, you, a mere non-sorcerer feels a pang of pressure in the atmosphere. As if it was hard to exist, as if it was hard to breathe. It was Satoru’s cursed energy going haywire.

“I wan-wanted to ask for, something.” You were slowly getting broken by this. Yes, you had asked Megumi to give his phone to you, a pathetic attempt to contact your friends. You couldn’t risk contacting your family or Satoru’s rage would pave way in a direction you’d dread more. You just missed them… you aren’t delusional enough to think they had the chance to rescue you after all.

“Ask for what, hmm?” Satoru tilted your chin up, your eyes meeting his harsh, unforgiving ones. He looked dramatically betrayed at your antics, while a choked sigh escaped you. “Just- just missed my friends, Toru.” You had been carefully calibrating this reply. Squeeze his nickname in with the truth. There— that’d make him… less dramatic. Or, that’s what you prayed & hoped for.

“Just- missed my friends, Toru.” He mocked you, mimicking your tone and his hand rested onto your neck, slightly choking. A grim reminder of what he can do to you but chooses not to. Tears well up in your eyes as you looked at him, silently praying for this to end.

“Am I not enough?” His voice rose, almost tediously high. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Please- Satoru.”

“I asked you a question, cupcake.” He chided you, as if he is shutting a brat up who was hell bent on throwing a tantrum. “I asked you something and I need an answer.”

You had to be really, really careful with this one. You mumbled, hands shivery and jittery. There have been times he’s locked you up, just so you miss him. Maybe decided to use your cunt with his fingers just so you’d embarrass yourself cumming over and over and he could taunt you for being a needy slut for him. You didn’t want that… “You are important.”

Your answer squinted Satoru’s eyes, thin ice….

“You are, enough. You are a friend to me, too. S’ just that sometimes I wish to know how they’re doin’ that’s it.” You were internally panicking. Satoru didn’t do anything to you until now but it was the ‘what he could do’ that made you nervous. Satoru wasn’t delusional, he knew you were being calculating and didn’t want to piss him off. However, he was fine as long as you tried to be in his good books. He liked feeling important.

“I see, then should’a just asked Daddy, eh?” He quirked a brow, another question for you to duck.

You decided to accept your mistake like his ‘good little girl’ nodding and looking down, looking oh-so-cute with the guilt laced on your features. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Oh it warms his heart up when his Princess tries to be good for him. Tries to win his heart & suppress his rage. “My baby’s apologetic?” He cooed, kissing your forehead softly, while you nodded like a bobble-head; almost reflexively.

“I see, I see… what’s my baby gonna do to make it up to Daddy?” A smug grin plastered over his features. You were so naive he had you exactly where he wanted you to be. Expressions all knowing & dreading the impending doom, you looked up at him and bit your lip. The bile rising in your throat with anxiety.

“Whatever- whatever you want.” You wanted to make this easy on yourself. Better to have him throw words at you and comply. Satoru… was more twisted than that. “Nuh uh… gonna have to see what you would do on your own to make it up to me.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly the answer he wanted. “Daddy can make love to me.” You uttered brilliantly, his eyes growing more tender. Satoru never, ever, forced himself on you. It was somehow, you, always begging, crying apologetically even— tormented in situations which hugged you like spiderwebs, with no escape wherein you’d do nothing more than to surrender. That’s what Gojo Satoru does…

“Oh really?” He almost scoffed, clicking his tongue. “Daddy’ll make you feel good after you committed a mistake?” He would also make it seem like everything he does is for your pleasure— there are days you believe it, there are days you dread it.

“Sorry.” A stray tear escaped you, it was as if you were being pulled apart with no defenses. “Please, I just— if you want I won’t cum.” Aww— his pathetic, little, dumb, princess.

“Perfect.” Now he has you where he wants.

“Then gonna be my pretty, precious lil cocksleeve yeah?” Satoru asked you once more, feigning the opportunity for you to say no. You nodded, almost gracefully in defeat.

“That’s my good girl.”

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere jjk #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo thirst #jjk thirst #yandere jjk thirst #yandere jjk smut #yandere gojo thirst #gojo imagines #jjk imagines #jjk x you #gojo x you #yandere jujutsu kaisen

[wifeofasith]

Loved inside and out ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

ׁ ֶָ֢ ⏤͟͟͞͞☕️ ׁ ࣭ warnings ! ۪ ׁ ⊹ || Dom!Anakin × Sub!Fem!Reader, cockwarming, brief pinv sex, creampie (mentioned), pet names MDNI !!

Not bothering whatever Obi-wan was so immensely discussing with Ani was practically impossible when your head was swarming with tingling thoughts about your unsuccessful day. Feeling miserable, you didn’t even try to participate in the ardent conversation the two Jedi had. Your only resolve turned out to be to linger around, trying to gain Anakin’s precious attention, which you were so desperate for.

“What’s gotten you so dull?” Your grand-master’s voice pulls you out of your head, making your eyes settle on his humble white robes. “You’re traipsing around like a youngling.”

Feeling embarrassed about the comment, you glimpse at Anakin, expecting to be defended from Obi-wan’s sharp eye, but instead you are greeted with another curious stare as his arms cross over his chest.

"Just a bad day.” You mutter, struggling to define the intense feeling of weariness you woke up with.

Not pleased enough with the description, they glance at each other concisely, as if sizing up your negativity. Anakin’s arms drop lower with a sigh.

“How about another session to put your mind off things?” He insists, making you wonder what kind of session he was talking about while hoping Obi-wan’s imagination only darts to the possibility of you dueling with Anakin instead of anything wicked.

"Go; I’ll finish on my own.” Your master’s master nods approvingly towards Anakin, reassuring you two about his oblivion to what happens in your little nests when his prying gaze is elsewhere.

Anakin’s eyes gleam briefly before he tilts his head upwards towards you, encouraging you to move alongside him.

“What’s wrong?” A soft voice reaches your ears as you two are far enough. “What bothers your pretty little head?” He speaks gently, but his eyes still stare forward, careful not to drop the cloak you two were wearing.

“It’s nothing, really…” You pause, but unable to come up with a better excuse, you shortly continue. “I’m just blue.”

—

“It’s okay. It’s okay, my angel.” Anakin coos, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear as his chest presses against your back, firm arm grabbing you closer. “I’ve got you now.”

In the safety of your own quarters and Anakin’s embrace, you felt completely tranquil, even with your panties pulled to the side and the gentle nudge of his cock brushing against your entrance. His tight grip enveloped you perfectly, filling your heart with comfort, opening an escape from the dullness of your routine.

“You’re so precious, always need my cock to soothe you.” He coos, nudging your slit with a wet tip, eager to fuck into your guts.

“Mmm…” You nod silently, not wanting to be bullied about it.

Anakin’s lips gently touch your cheek as if to reassure you that he’s there to ease your mind instead of making fun of your disheveled mental state. He props himself up on his forearm, leaning over you slightly to reach the plum of your lips as he slowly starts pushing inside your warm tunnel.

“Open up, darling, you know you need it.” He hooks his hand under your thigh, raising it just slightly. “Relax and let me in.”

Your walls flutter open, trying to accommodate him in a not-so-aroused hole. It’s irritating and uncomfortable at first, but once his stomach is nicely pressed against your lower back, your body grows limp into the sheets. Finally comforted, finally full of love.

Anakin grunts, fighting the urge to buck against you. He neatly spoons you close to himself, pressing his knees into the back of your legs while his hand gently rubs your abdomen.

“There we go, nice and sheathed in your little pussy.” He pats your hip softly before resuming his soft caress.

You close your eyes, savoring the way your walls molded around him. The feeling of him pulsing inside you like a second heartbeat made your body swell with warmth. Your brain became fuzzy, filling with images of Anakin’s veiny shaft enveloped within you.

“Feels so good, Ani. So warm.” You utter, taking a deep breath of air, of his scent, more of Anakin inside you.

He lets out a low chuckle, his hand creeps its way under your belly button, teasing the skin above your pubic hair with his fingertips.

“Do you want to come?” He asks in a breathy voice, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear. “Want my angel to be happy. Want to make you squirm in pleasure. Do you want to?”

You pause for a second. It was true that your insides were quickly flooding themselves when Anakin was loving you so good, when his hands felt so gentle on your skin, his cock numbed the sadness in you so perfectly… But you didn’t actually need an orgasm; you just wanted him, his presence, his sweet, comforting body, and soft voice that always grounded you. You didn’t want to come, but...

“No...”

“Of course, sweet thing.” He coos and kisses your shoulder gently, pulling your body against his. “Let me just hold my angel, nice and tight and wrapped around me. Just like you should be.”

He continues pressing feather-like pecks across your arm, softly tugging on your robes to expose more of your skin, which he so longed to adore, while you braced yourself to finish the sentence and reveal your need.

“But I want you to.” You mutter in a shy voice, heat spreading across your cheeks, making your muscles clench.

“Want me to what, love?” He pauses his loving kisses, locking his eyes with yours in a gaze that tells you that he knows exactly what you mean.

Having no energy to argue with his teasing nature, you only sigh to express your unwillingness to entertain him. You lay still for a moment, waiting for him to comply and finally amuse your wish.

“Gotta explain it to me, pretty angel, can’t do anything unless you tell me what you want.” He tickles your neck with his hot breath once more, beating you entirely by being sneakily right.

“Ani, please…” You turn to him, your glossy eyes making his heart swell and cock twitch inside you. “…please cum in me—”

“Atta girl.” You can’t even finish your filthy sentence when he grabs your hips and retreats from your warmth. “Gonna fill that pussy up, make a little creamy mess...”

Once his hips snap back, your eyes roll, and you know that soon enough, you’ll be begging to cum.

#anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x reader smut #anakin x reader #anakin x fem reader #anakin smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin blurb #anakin drabble #anakin imagine #anakin one shot #anakin fic #anakin x you #anakin x reader fanfic #anakin x y/n

[yxami]

Yandere coworker!!

Desc: Yandere coworker x gn reader, general Yandere behaviors, possessive, a pinch of toxicity, jealousy, and other things. He’s pretty tame compared to others.

Coworkers, meant to keep relationships within company time and inside the workplace, but a few drinks with the boss and others wouldn’t hurt right? You tell yourself that as you get ready for it, putting on nice shoes you wouldn’t usually wear and a casual outfit for dinner.

It’ll go by fast and you won’t drink that much, at least not enough to have a hangover.

But your plan fails when one of your coworkers insists you drink more than your tolerance can handle, one shot after another before you can notice that you’re tipsy and stumbling over your own words, and seemingly nothing on the ground but you don’t pay enough mind to it.

“Here, cheers to another shot” Your pushy coworker hands you another, or at least attempts to before a veiny hand pushes the tiny glass away.

“That’s enough. Can’t you see how drunk they are?” An intimidating but familiar voice speaks, your coworker that you’ve hardly spoken to defends you. He was always a quiet one, keeping to himself, he was scary but always did what he was told by the boss. You’ve tried being nice but he seems like a shut in so you stayed inside your cubicle that happened to be right by his.

“Awh cmon, don’t be a wimp, another won’t hurt you right?” He turns his focus back on you, a wobbly smile on his face, clearly showing the intoxicated state he caused for himself.

“No, and you should stop drinking, we all have work tomorrow.” He stands up, towering over him as he denies the drink for you once again. “Let’s go, I’ll take you home” He sighs, helping you to lean on his side as much as you can with the height difference.

He might as well carry you..

“Mm’ fine, I’lll…. just order a cab home” You slur your words, trying not to cause trouble on a coworker you’ve hardly spoken to other than saying “yes, no, over there” every now and then to each other.

“I insist. It’s too late anyways and I’ve hardly drank, I just hope these idiots can manage to find their way home” He sighs, looking at the passed out coworkers and your boss somehow still preforming songs on the karaoke machine.

You stay quiet after that, observing his serious expression and cologne, it smelt nice, like a cold fall breeze before a walk. You recall the way your boss insisted for everyone to dress casual, but here he was, in a suit without worry about you vomiting all over it or in his car, buckling you in, mimicking a child with its parent.

The car drive seems rather short, at least for you, but time seemed to go a snails pace for him while he drove.

Why did he offer help? It’s not like he cares about you, but he couldn’t sit and let you get fed shot after shot, clearly that guy didn’t know his own limit. And plus, he was leaving so it was convenient to take you home, even though you weren’t on the way..

He shouldn’t have helped, what if you assumed the two of you were buddy buddy now? He hates that shit, someone clinging onto him because they believe they’ve made a breakthrough in his just because he keeps things professional.

They only care about what makes them feel special and hell, they weren’t in the slightest.

But you don’t act that way, if anything you were the complete opposite.

“Thank you for driving me home, I was definitely way too drunk to do so” You laugh slightly, thankful that he troubled himself to bring you home. It was a little embarrassing to recall how he put you to bed and made you drink water before he left.

“No problem, next time learn how to say no, it’s not hard” He casually delivers a brutally honest sentence, you can’t decipher whether if it was a kind gesture or not but continue on.

“You’re right, I haven’t grown a spine yet” You joke, smiling this time with your words. “I brought you some food I picked up before work, I hope you like baked goods, I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a small container of everything” You grab the cardboard box you had on your desk and hand it to him, hoping he at least wanted one.

“Oh.. thanks.” He quietly says, looking down at the small box in his hands. You nod and try to focus on your work after that, attempting to not riddle yourself with worry about how you may have given a shitty ‘thank you!’ gift.

After that, you would attempt to befriend him, as much as he would let you. You never pushed further than what he gave, you wanted to be kind so you weren’t exactly best friends but you were able to greet him unlike the others who couldn’t.

“Do you want to eat lunch together?”

“Huh?”

“Eat lunch. Together?” He repeats, turning his chair to face you, eyes now staring up at yours rather than his freshly printed paper that was warm to the touch.

“Oh yeah.. yeah! that would be nice” You say, a little surprised that he offered, let alone was willing to eat lunch with someone.

He wasn’t sure why either, but his mind has been nagging at him to interact with you. He’s been craving to see you more and he’s been doing relatively well with hiding it but he can’t comprehend why he’s feeling this way.

Feeling so helpless against these instincts that beg to see you, that want to talk to you, maybe even touch you if he ponders long enough. It’s strange, he’s never felt this way, so he’s curious enough to indulge in it. As long as it keeps his brain at peace.

After a few lunches, his needs grow more, and more, and more until all your time is spent on him. You don’t pick up on it until a coworker points out how close the two of you are now, it almost makes you forget how it used to be, weren’t you always like this with him?

“Can you come over today? I wanted to cook dinner with you again” He speaks with a muffled volume, mouth filled with too much food to speak clearly.

You nod, agreeing like always, this has become a usual thing, and you’re used to it. Even growing accustomed to sleeping over if you’re too tired to go home. Sometimes it almost seems like he purposefully makes bigger portions so you grow sleepy after your full and content.

“Good, I bought the ingredients for your favorite. Maybe we can pick up some ice cream on the way home as dessert” He smiles slightly, continuing to chew his food in silence after that.

Time passes rather quickly, at least for you, he’s a little confused on why you’re taking forever so he stops waiting at the elevator like he told you he would do, walking up to your cubicle he sees you chatting, talking with the same coworker who pushes you around.

“Awh cmon please? I’m trying to meet up with a girl tonight and if I do these papers then I’ll be late, and I can’t be late to a first date” He pleads, putting his hands together with the papers crinkling slightly between them.

“I don’t know.. I already have something planned and I can’t just cancel on them” You say hesitantly, debating whether if you should help him or not, again.

“I’m sure you can do these papers on your own, I’ve seen you do a stack in 20.” He approaches, glaring at the shared coworker, he’s always despised this guy.

“Ah- seriously, it’s an important date” He pleads again, ignoring him as if he hadn’t just spoke.

“And it’s a no, can you hear?”

“I wasn’t asking you”

“I’m not letting you throw work on another coworker just for you to have another failed date”

He scoffs, annoyed as he walks back to his cubicle, not willing to pick a fight over some papers, even though he would if it was anyone but him.

“Let’s go then? Are you done with everything?” Your friend says, mood switching with your other coworker gone. It seems like he could be intimidating one minute and be ecstatic about something the next.

You didn’t mind how he acted now, even if he was a little harsh to others and wouldn’t want you speaking to them as much as you do. It helps you out in most situations, like now and at the party.

“Yeah, let’s go..!”

You just can’t help but wonder if it’s something you should worry about.

#yxami’s yam #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere guy #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #needy yandere #yandere dom #yandere boy #yandere male #coworker yandere #yandere coworker

[literaila]

it's not my fault

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument

warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents

last part | next part

*

year five.

“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“ 

you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words. 

they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day. 

but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart. 

megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.” 

you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces. 

they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly. 

tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.” 

“i wasn’t mean.” 

“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.” 

“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.” 

“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.” 

megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.” 

“well, i do! you’re my brother.” 

“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.” 

“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“ 

“i’ve never complained—“ 

“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.” 

tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed. 

usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last. 

but those fights don’t typically involve yelling. 

sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.

but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down. 

this seems… different. 

a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ. 

you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work. 

and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end. 

with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language. 

it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture. 

satoru would do it if he was here. 

“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?” 

“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle. 

really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance. 

you make a mental note to look it up later. 

you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."

you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea. 

in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces. 

“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?” 

they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question. 

but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care. 

“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried. 

and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her. 

but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.” 

“you told her not to talk to you!” 

he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?” 

you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“ 

“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.” 

“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“ 

“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?” 

you turn, “megumi—“ 

“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes. 

and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do. 

“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.” 

tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.

“are you going to stop hanging out with me?” 

“maybe.” 

“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”

“guys—“ 

“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.” 

“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“ 

“why are you always—“ 

“guys.” 

they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice. 

you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further. 

why would they when they can just keep arguing?

you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh. 

really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that. 

harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through. 

plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of. 

“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.” 

“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.

you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.” 

“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now. 

it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious. 

you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait. 

you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”

“break,” megumi says, immediately.

“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time. 

for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.

“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.” 

they both glare at each other. 

“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary. 

tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.” 

you both look at megumi, waiting. 

he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“ 

“megumi.” 

he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head. 

“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“ 

you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”

you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.” 

he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.” 

tsumiki swallows, not saying anything. 

you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess. 

both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off." 

you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break. 

the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.

“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.” 

megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.” 

“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“ 

“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing. 

okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago. 

“chiyo's my friend!” 

megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.” 

“but you were mean.” 

you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated. 

“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“

“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.  

you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.

“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.” 

“maybe they just suck.” 

“they don’t suck. this is—“

and then it all breaks down.

“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”

you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."

the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart. 

he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you. 

"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out." 

"by yelling at each other?" 

you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--" 

you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.

megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other. 

their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker. 

tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes. 

but eventually, you and satoru look back at them. 

"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off. 

and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered. 

but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door. 

you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or... 

you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way. 

and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that. 

so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think." 

she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug. 

it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.

"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them." 

"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in." 

he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?" 

he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way. 

you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something." 

"we're communicating." 

"whatever."

satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically. 

"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them." 

"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously. 

"and neither will your parenting skills." 

satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me." 

"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?" 

satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those." 

"satoru." 

"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block." 

you look at him blandly. 

satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology. 

obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.

satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you. 

you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face. 

*

you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you. 

it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen. 

but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option. 

and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard. 

still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going. 

but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in. 

you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it." 

satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty." 

"well, i taught him that." 

satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did." 

"of course you didn't." 

he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?" 

"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it." 

"who?" 

you frown. "chiyo?" 

satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."

you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.  

satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki." 

"behind her back?" 

satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding. 

"oh." 

"yeah, oh." 

you frown. “what did they say?”

satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”

satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad." 

you shake your head at him, tsking. 

you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same. 

so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin. 

it's a very unpleasant feeling. 

"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly. 

"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while." 

and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.

after all, you and satoru have taught them well. 

*

next part | series masterlist

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #a typical family

[musickgeek]

The Great Alastor Altruist

Could be read as either platonic or romantic

The plan was for Alastor to take care of Adam, but I didn't want to send him without back up. So now I stand beside the feared Radio Demon, ready to fight Heaven's lead soldier.

The shield withers away, and Adam stares down at us with amusement as he approaches the hotel sign. "Adam...First man, next to die." Alastor says with his usual grin. His collected stance contrasts my tense, readied one. I hold my spear and shield up defensively, waiting for him to strike. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Alastor and (Y/n)." He introduces with flourish. He's thriving on the power display, I'm not so much. "Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure. I'm about to end your fucking life." He declares, driving his staff into the ground. I step aside quickly as the green tendrils rise from the ground, showing off the Radio Demon's power. However, Adam doesn't seem impressed. "Nice voice. Don't you know jazz is for pussies?" He conjures his axe, and goes in for the attack, to which Alastor meets him with the tendrils. Adam swings at them, making them disappear. Once he's close, Alastor and I move together gracefully so that he is behind me, and Adam's blade merely meets the shield. "Ah, ah, ah," Alastor tuts. 

"You really think you can take me on? A mortal soul is no match for me, edge lord." Adam smiles, like this is nothing to him. He continues to defend against our coordinated attacks, seeming at ease. "You're a mortal soul, too, douche nozzle." I finally speak. "You should know better then anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate." Alastor's shadow dissolves into several little minions that attack Adam. One manages a surprise hit on him in between his wild swinging. "You think you're tough shit, huh?" He swings at nothing, as the minion is gone.

Alastor materializes next to him. "Tougher than you." He laughs. Adam dives for him, missing with each swing of the golden axe. "You lack discipline," he taunts, dodging, "control," he ducks behind my shield, "and worst?" He jumps into the air, getting larger and darker. His limbs and antlers grow in a mangled manner, and he's filled with green electricity. I'm frightened despite being on his side, never having seen such a terrifying side of him. "You're sloppy."

"And you're-fuck- fuck you! You red piece of- " Adam fails to get a sentence out as all the minions climb and attack him. "Shut up!" He shouts, throwing the last minion away. Alastor laughs, and grabs him with on of the tendrils, slamming him into the hotel sign. "Poetry." He taunts.

"I'm gonna wipe that shit eating grin off your face, cause radio is fucking dead!" Adam flies above, swiping at the air with his axe. It creates a golden arc of power that meets Alastor before I can defend him. "What just happened?" I'm horrified at the lack of radio static in his voice, he looks wildly panicked. He looks down and sees the broken staff. "Ffffuck."

Adam goes to swing his axe into Alastor's chest, and I'm too late. Alastor flies back, crying out in pain. He leans into the wall, bleeding, ears pinned back, but still smiling. Adam readies another blow, but I'm faster this time. "No!" I'm in just in time to block it with the shield. With a battle cry, I drive the spear into the arm wielding the axe. He dodges only enough to merely graze the arm. It's still enough to piss him off majorly. He growls in rage, and blindly attacks only for me to ram the shield into him. He falls to his back, and I stand over him with the point of my spear to his throat. 

"You come into our home, attack our friends, and expect us to take it lying down? You're more pathetic then anyone here." I spit vehemently. I go to drive the point into him, but he manages to grab it from me, and throws it with enough force to take me with it. He flies above me, but I roll away quick enough for his axe to meet the floor. However, he just reaches over and claws my chest with his hand. I gasp for breath, wheezing with pain. The cuts are shallow, but disable me enough for him to wrap his hand around my throat. He slams my body into the ground then lifts me into the air. "I've had enough of you disgraceful vermin."

My vision is fading, the blood is pounding in my ears. I claw at the glowing hand around my neck. I can't die. He'll kill Alastor, he'll kill the everyone. Without warning, I drop to ground, making all my wounds sting. I gasp for breath. Why my vision clears again, I see why. Alastor attacked Adam. And Adam saw it coming. "No...no, no. Alastor no." I mutter. Alastor's plunged my blade through Adam's chest, but Adam's axe is in embedded in the Radio Demons side. They both seem surprised at the outcome. "Radio's not dead." Alastor insists. Adam falls over, dead, while Alastor falls to his knees. The sickening smile on his face doesn't hide the sheer pain in his eyes.

I run to him, dropping to my knees to match his height, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Alastor, no, no, no, no, no, no. We can fix this, okay, you're gonna be fine, we can..." My voice dies away, turning into small sobs. "Don't cry, my dear. You're never fully dressed without a smile." He says half heartedly. "Why, Alastor? We could of... I'm not.... You needed to protect all of them, not me." He laughs weakly. "But I did, didn't I? And I protected you in the process."

"I suppose that makes you the most powerful demon I know." I tell him softly. He laughs quietly. "The great Alastor Altruist died for his friends." He slumps into me, eyes closing shut, but still ever smiling. I don't care about the oozing blood, I pull him tight against me hoping it's somehow a comfort. The war falls deaf in my ears, I only hear his breath slowing, slowing, and stop. I scream in anguish, the sound drowned out by the heat of battle still surrounding me. I need to end this.

I stand slowly, and rip the axe from Alastor's flesh. I take it over to Adam's body. I look down in disgust and spit on him. With a final cry of rage, I lift the axe over my head and slam it down onto his neck to decapitate his body. I grab the head by his hair, and I walk to the side of the building, holding my prize for everyone to see. "Adam is dead!" I declare. The exorcists look on in horror, cries of shock and grief rising among their ranks. "Adam is dead! Retreat! All exorcists fall back!" Their commander orders. The angels go back from which they came, and my friends all look at me with triumph and awe. I can't match their enthusiasm, only feeling hollow and tired. How was I going to tell them what happened? 

#Hazbin hotel #vivziepop #vivianne miedema #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel spoilers #alastor altruist #alastor the radio demon #hazbin adam #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust

[goldsainz]

❝ LOVE AT FIRST WAVE ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x surfer!reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . a surfing mishap leads to meeting the cutest guy you’ve ever seen.

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . probable inaccurate depictions of surfing, no use of y/n.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i said i would do this is… and i have… so better late than never… also this is my first written piece of 2024!!! pls tell me how this is, i’m a bit rusty so i need all the advice i can get (be nice cause my feelings will get hurt otherwise😔)

[ word count: 1,1k ]

The sea was the calmest place you knew. 

Ever since you were a little kid you loved going and hearing the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the feeling of liberty swimming gave you, most of all you cherished the peace it brought you.

That's how your love for surfing was born, with it being the best excuse to spend time at sea, you found yourself indulging in it far too much. So mucus so, that you ended up signing up for a worldwide surfing competition. 

That’s how you ended up in Australia, surfing in one of the most beautiful places you had ever been in. It was a magical place to be in and you found yourself very content with the place so far.

The beaches were not as crowded as you were used to, but even then, you didn't care much for how the beach was but more so the sea and its waves. You had spent almost all day, taking a few breaks when the sun was too strong, surfing and testing the waters. 

You felt at peace. Or at least for a while.

You were riding a wave, when a scream alerted you. You were no stranger to people surfing and believing they could handle the power of the sea, just to be disappointed when they realised they could not manage. At the very rost, after a few minutes they resigned and took to tanning. 

You swiftly stopped what you were doing and swam towards the noise, there you found two guys laughing whilst another gasped for air. You couldn't decipher if he was alright, but you supposed he was by the way his friends were reacting.

“Hi,” you interrupted their laughter, smiling at them when they turned around at the voice, “I heard a scream and wanted to check if everything was alright. ”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” one of the guys says with a  smile “He’s just not very good at this.”

“Hey!” the guy who was coughing chastises, rubbing his hands over his face as he tries to dry it.

You look at him more attentively, and realise how attractive he is. Which comes as a surprise to you because a few minutes ago he seemed to have been trampled over by a wave. 

“Yeah, a lot of people are surprised by how hard this is.” you comment, making small talk to stay around the cute guy a little longer. 

The moment he hears your voice again, he looks at you and is mesmerised by what his eyes see. He had heard you the first time you spoke, but he was busy dealing with the salty water and coughing fits, so it was a bit hard to put a face on the voice. But even then, your voice was a melody to him, that for a split second he wondered if he was in the presence of a siren. 

“He exaggerates, I just underestimated the wave by a little.” he says, suddenly feeling the need to defend whatever talent he has. 

“It’s okay,” you respond with a laugh. 

Your laugh.

Even though he has just heard it for the first time and wants to hear it forever. The theory of you being a siren doesn't seem so outlandish to Charles now.

“Thank you for trying to, uh… rescue me?” he says, scratching the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you.

“It was nothing, I know how rough the sea can be.”

“Still, I’d like to thank you somehow.”

By now his friends have dispersed a little, they stay close to him but not so much that they hear your conversation. Though they know well enough what is going on, muffling their giggles at his attempt at flirting. Even after he almost drowned, he doesn't lose his ways.

“Really, it’s nothing,” you wish you could smack yourself the moment you say those words. You have a cute guy insinuating taking you out as a ‘thank you’ and you’re so dense you brush off the invite.

“Well, I’m not leaving this beach until I can somehow repay you for your kindness.” he knows he’s being dramatic. You didn’t really do much, you just approached him and his friends to check if he was drowning and he’s acting like you saved his life or something. But he doesn’t know how to act. He just knows he can’t let you go.

“We could meet by the beach bar? They make a really good piña colada.” you suggest, adjusting yourself on your surfboard.

“Yes,” he responds quickly, maybe even far too quickly but he doesn’t care, “That would work.”

“Okay,” you answer, smiling yet again which in turn makes Charles smile.

“Okay, then.”

You stare at each other for a few seconds, though they feel like forever to him. He swears he could look at your for eternity and not get bored, there is so much to you and he doesn’t even know anything about you.

“What’s your name, by the way?” you ask shyly, aware of the strange situation you’ve found yourself in, “If you’re gonna take me out for drinks I should probably know your name.”

It is a breath of fresh air to have someone not know him. He is always happy to take pictures or sign autographs, but every once in a while he longs to not be recognised and lead a life away from the public eye.

And so when he goes to answer he has a huge smile on his face, the dimple on his cheek making an appearance. You find it incredibly endearing, and you resist the urge to kiss him on the cheek and see how it feels under your lips. 

“It’s Charles, yours?” you respond with your name, and he finds it —just as everything else about you— so charming.

“Well, don’t drown until then, please.” you joke, and you watch him playfully roll his eyes.

“The wave came out of nowhere, so it wasn’t my fault.” he tries to justify himself, but he knows he’s just lying to save face. 

“Sure it wasn’t,” you assure him, but he sees right through you, “I’ll see you then?”

“Yes,”

“Great, I’ll be waiting.”

“Me too.”

You linger a little longer, and then say your goodbyes, waving at his friends who make their way over him now that your conversion has finished. 

Looking into the distance, you can tell you have a while more to be in the sea before the sun sets. You swim away from the charming guy you just met, butterflies flutter in your stomach and it is not because of the waves.

And though you love the sea, you can’t wait to get back at land and reconnect with the stranger you just met.

-ˋˏ *.· taglist . . . @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @saintiastri @saintslewis @leoramage @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @toomuchdelusion @louvrepool @ravisinghs-wife @nouvellevqgue @hobiismyhopeu @starlightpierre @lecsainz @kkeelss @namgification @minkyungseokie @gothgirlez @f1version

#*ੈ✩༄ my works ! #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc story #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 2

Read Ding here | ~6.2 k words

WARNING/spoiler there's a scummy guy in this part that tries to be forceful with our MC to go with him back to his place when she doesn't want to. Nothing will happen and nothing will be described in detail but be kind to your mind and heart ♥, trauma, anxiety, pining, and fluff.

From me: I actually know VERY little about boxing and even less about throwing a punch. I do however feel I'm well-versed in sprinkles so do with that what you will. Some parts of this got a little away from me again. I hope you like it 💕

Summary: Harry and Cupcake are both really busy and haven't seen each other in two months. But when Cupcake gets into trouble, she has no choice but to run into Harry.

Harry learned to fight when he was ten years old. He didn’t have his dad around much to teach him. Mum and Gemma may as well have been pacifists and as such, they weren’t much help when it came to defending himself. Harry watched his little girl friends get teased by boys. The same boys that told him he was weird for liking girls when they had cooties. Even if he didn’t (always) like them like that and was just merely defending them. Mum and Gemma may have been pacifists, but they taught Harry to be a respectful young boy. Especially toward girls.

One too many mouthfuls of sand at recess was enough to make him finally do something about it. He was angry. Angry because the girls didn’t like him because he was a boy (although they tolerated him since he was protecting them). Angry none of the boys in his class wanted to be friends with him because he was being nice to girls filled with cooties. Angry that he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to be a boy’s boy.

For a ten-year-old, he was really angry.

Mum took him to a gym—an introductory class to kickboxing. Just to get some of his anger out in an appropriate manner (and so he wouldn’t be sent to the principal’s office during recess again). Harry took a liking to the punching bag. He cried the first time he used it with the help of an older kid who was helping him learn to punch the right way. The poor teen watching him get so frustrated that his punches and kicks weren’t landing right—even though it was his very first time throwing a punch—saw something in him. Alerted his boss, encouraged Harry, worked with Harry every time he came in. He was a great mentor and even though he left only a couple years after meeting Harry to go to university and all that, Harry was forever grateful.

His first amateur match was at fifteen. Then there were only ten rounds at most, and he won by a landslide in five. By then he met Louis—someone who saw the same thing that teen kid saw in him and offered to be his manager. It wasn’t anything serious at the time. Harry was still in school and only using his time after school to get better at boxing. Louis was only a few years ahead but knew enough to help him be great.

By the time he turned eighteen, he had won three state-titles and people were watching him. At least in a way that those who cared about boxing did. Throughout university he trained and got better and won more and more.

Now Harry was twenty-five. He had to be nearing at least a hundred thousand punches since he was ten—eitherthrowing them at someone or at least in training against the punching bag he loved so much. Maybe more. He couldn’t even begin to think or count how he would figure out that number. Harry’s whole life was training, working, and fighting.

The only joys he had outside of boxing were his car and the sweet little niece that Gemma had kindly brought into his life—but that was only a recent change.

Only one other very recent change had left him a bit tongue-tied and flustered. Harry didn’t get flustered. Not since he was ten and knew he could beat the crap out of someone. There was no ringing bell to prepare him to make eye contact with a complete stranger and just feel like he had never ever felt before.

Was it love? Who could say, really. Harry had never loved anyone in his life that wasn’t his family or his friends. It made his stomach flutter like the first time he fought in a ring for something other than a trophy. A mere two hundred dollars on the line, all to get punched a whole bunch of times. Now he was still getting punched a few times over for a decent amount of money, but the thought of that pretty girl and her sprinkles made him unbelievably excited. Knowing she was there really made him feel different.

He knew next to nothing about her, but he was certain he was going to fall for her given half a chance. Even if she gave him a half a chance—a quarter!—he would do everything he could to have her in his life. If anyone else had damaged his car, he might have lost his shit, but there was something about her kind face, her doe-eyed expression in the rainy lamplight that made him rethink his entire life in the span of twenty seconds.

But whatever it was that he felt for her, he knew it started with her ringside. Beside his best friend waiting for the end of the fight that never seemed to end.

Normally, Harry’s matches finished in an average of nine rounds. But he was seated in the corner, sipping water like a hamster from the bottle, while Louis put Vaseline on his face where the cut on his eyebrow split between the tenth and the eleventh. “How you doing?”

“Is she impressed?” He asked.

“Who?”

“Cupcake. She’s sitting next t’Niall,” he was breathing heavy. Good as he was, it took a lot of energy to punch someone for a half hour as it was.

“Who?” Louis repeated, then thought better of it. He shook his head in frustration. “Can you focus on what you’re doing, Harold?!”

Louis didn’t get it. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. To be fair, she was probably the reason it was taking longer than normal. Not that he minded. As long as she was impressed by the end, of course. Harry was on his feet, shadowboxing briefly with Louis, that boyish smile on his face. “What the fuck is your issue?” Louis hissed at him. “You’re acting like a lunatic!”

It seemed like a cliché to say he was in love, so he refrained from doing so. He felt it spared Louis further frustration as well. Cupcake, Cupcake, Cupcake. It was the only thing his brain could think. Fortunately, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next round and knocked a bit of the sense back in his head that had floated away from him on the thoughts of the pretty girl nearby.

His opponent was just as tired (although Harry believed his opponent was more so) as himself. He could see the exhaustion setting in as he held his gloves up near his face blocking a few jabs Harry threw to get the excitement of the new round going. He was waiting, searching, nearly taunting for a window of opportunity. Right as his opponent swung aiming for his face, Harry dodged his punch; smirking as he did. A blinding weak spot, his guard was down for only a fraction of a second but that was all Harry needed.

Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

Ding.

*

Harry looked like he was going to fall asleep sitting there in the bakery kitchen. He was a bit cut up; his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth, and his cheekbone had little cuts. Soothed with Vaseline, but it didn’t seem to bother him. His eyes were droopy. “Is Niall still around to drive you home?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I can drive,” he murmured.

He wasn’t really looking at her, but her look and tone screamed skeptical. “You look too tired to drive.”

“Mm,” he hummed. She was busy bustling back and forth through the kitchen. Cupcakes were in the oven. She only made a dozen, but Harry didn’t seem to notice it was a small amount. He was sitting at the big table in the middle of the kitchen. A seat dragged in from the office. She had her laptop open in her office running the report she needed while Harry held his head propped in one hand. She busied herself with prepping dough for scones and pastries while Harry tried not to loll off to sleep. She smirked at him.

“I could call you an Uber if you wanted,” she offered. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

His eyes were hardly open. “I’ll get a second wind in a minute,” he yawned. “S’jus’ the adrenaline wearing off,” he explained.

“Does that hurt?” She asked gesturing to the cuts on his (otherwise really perfect) face.

He shook his head. “Stings a little.”

“Will you be sore tomorrow?”

“A little. Stiff really... Why y’want t’give me a massage, kitten?” He smiled flirtatiously. Maybe she should have felt uncomfortable, alone with a man she only just met. But honestly, she thought Niall might be her new best friend and if Niall could vouch for Harry, then she wasn’t all that worried about him. Regardless of him knocking out his opponent with one punch. Truthfully, it was nice of her to walk her to the bakery. It was later than she expected and while the town they lived in was pretty safe, the college safety tips of never walking alone flooded her mind each time she did walk alone. She blushed at his forward assumption, but fortunately she was prepping something and stuffing it in the fridge, so he didn’t get to see. Plus, his exhaustion probably made him even flirtier.

“Thanks for being m’good luck charm, Cupcake,” he murmured sleepily.

“I didn’t know you didn’t need one.”

“Can never have too much luck.”

She smiled, continuing her prepping quietly. Harry watched her for a while. Eventually, his arm dropped to the table, and he rested his head on it. After another moment, a soft snore escaped his lips, and she smiled a little brighter. Only for herself, really, since Harry was asleep. She continued working. She was used to late nights. Maybe he really was going to get a second wind—honestly, she couldn’t imagine boxing and punching someone for almost forty-five minutes with only one-minute breaks in between rounds. Sometimes while she was baking, she would try to do other tasks while the timer counted down to take the treats out of the oven. It always surprised her how long and how short a minute could feel in the same breath.

But while she worked, she was mindful to not make too many loud noises. Harry needed sleep it seemed. She prepped for nearly an hour while waiting for the cupcakes to cool long enough to scoop out the middle and fed the sugary raspberry filling into the empty space. Frosting a dozen cupcakes took all but ten minutes then she packaged them in two half-dozen plastic containers with A Pinch of Sprinkles label taping it shut. Gently, she put her hand on his upper arm, and she really shouldn’t have been so surprised by how taut his bicep was beneath her hand, but she was. He was unbelievably strong, and she was in slight awe and shock of touching him—and he wasn’t even flexing. But rather than be creepy, she gave him a gentle shake. “Hey, Harry... Uh...it’s late. I’m gonna get going,” her voice was soft.

Harry startled almost jumping out of his seat and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Sorry, sorry. Wow,” he turned his neck to the left and then right. “M’sorry I dozed off there.”

She shrugged. “Probably needed it,” she assured him with a gentle smile. She pushed the dozen cupcakes forward, across the table. “For you.”

He blinked then looked up at her. “Did you make these for—”

“Well, yes, I made them. You were unbelievably kind to me even though I dented Clay. Plus, you won so it’s like a job well done, you know?”

“You made me cupcakes,” he repeated, his gaze unmoving from her face.

“We really need to work out this whole repeating what the other one says thing,” she felt her cheeks warm as he stared at her, but she smiled, only feeling slightly awkward.

He turned his attention to the two plastic boxes and tilted his head at them. They were identical. His fascination with her precision was immense. “What kind are they?”

“The raspberry filled ones. You said you liked them.”

His gaze went right back to her, and he felt hungry, but not for cupcakes.

Well, at least not the baked good kind of cupcake.

“Thank you, Cupcake. That was sweet of you. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Her smile seemed to transcend to a feeling of relief. “Not even a little...um... I just have to grab a couple things. Would you... mind walking me to my car? Unless you need to leave right now. I know it’s crazy late. I’ll be okay. I walk to my car on my own usually but it’s always a little creepy. But I feel bad I made you—”

“’Course m’gonna walk you t’your car,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides I don’t want you t’ding Clay again,” he winked to ensure she knew he was kidding. Because yes, he loved his car.

But rapidly, when it came to her, the car didn’t matter in the slightest.

*

She hadn’t seen Harry in two months.

It wasn’t like she was avoiding him. Part of her knew he was a mere social media friend request away. In fact, she was trying her hardest to not stare at the pictures of him on social media, the PR plug for his matches, and all the things that she saw Niall, Louis, and all his other friends shared. But she didn’t want to come off too forward. It seemed weird to be so into a man she only talked to for no longer than ten minutes total.

Besides...she had her routines. Work, family, and more work.

Also, if Harry was really infatuated with her the way Niall alluded to, he knew where her bakery was—he easily could come and find her here. But she did notice there was a tag to her shop on Instagram with raspberry filled cupcakes in the picture. (All it would take is for her to press the Follow button and wait.) While she didn’t know Harry all that well, she assumed he was probably just as busy. Her brief cyber-stalking showed that Harry was often at the gym—although she wasn’t sure which one. He was also an amazing uncle. That much was clear. It warmed her heart, and she would never want to tear Harry away from that kind of time. Family was extremely important to her. She wholeheartedly understood how much his free time was probably monopolized by the little baby.

But it was so strange that she didn’t know him yet there was some part of her that wanted to see him. It was bizarre. She never got all up and arms about a guy. There was work and there was her family. That was it. That was all she could afford to balance. She didn’t need a guy to mess with her routines or upset the balance of her life.

However, every time she walked alone to her car at night now, she wished that Harry was with her to assure her safety—even though she had done it hundreds of times before. The night they met, he walked her in silence, opened her door and made sure she was safely tucked inside. “Good night, Cupcake,” he smiled almost dreamily.

“Good night, Harry. Congratulations,” she responded with a smile too.

Harry’s smile grew and he looked away briefly before patted the top of her car and turned to Clay, put his cupcakes on the passenger seat and moved to the driver’s side. He gave her a wave and pulled out of his parking spot.

It was two months ago.

But after just one month, it was hard to deny she didn’t miss him.

That had to mean something. Just one brief night—not even a date. Most of that night was spent with Harry in the ring or asleep at her kitchen table. Hell, she got to know Niall more that night. But it was Harry’s smile that plagued her thought—crooked and perfect. The way his eyes glittered as he convinced her to follow him with a picture of his niece.

“Are you baking something in here or burning in here?” Maeve asked.

Maeve was her best employee—her right hand nearly every day. More importantly, her best friend. Shaking her head of the thoughts surrounding Harry, she sighed and turned to the oven where her fudge brownies were surely overdone. “Shit,” she whispered.

“I don’t think you’ve ever burned anything. Are you okay?” Maeve asked gently. It was a loaded question. It took a lot of time to dig the answer out of her friend, but Maeve did. She knew asking if she was okay was probably the wrong thing to say.

But if it was, she didn’t mind. Of course she didn’t. Her very best friend was sweeter than all the treats in the display case. “Just a little distracted,” she mumbled grabbing the tray and setting it in the sink to cool off (and hopefully so she didn’t have to scrape the bottom of the tray later).

“Harry on your brain?” Maeve giggled.

She rolled her eyes but felt the way her cheeks warmed at Maeve’s (correct) assumption. Maeve was shocked to learn that her strong-willed friend was convinced by a stranger to go see a boxing match. She couldn’t believe it. Granted, once she saw the picture of Harry, she couldn’t disagree. I think I would let him punch me in the face if he wanted to.

She decided keeping Maeve as far away from Harry as possible was probably necessary.

Rarely did she and Maeve work together. As her best employee and best friend, it was like asking her to hold her child when Maeve was on shift. There was no one she trusted more. So, when Maeve wasn’t there, she often was and vice versa. But every so often, usually at the shift change, Maeve got to see her best friend in her element. “Well, the good news is, you can go think of him at home,” she winked at her.

She didn’t even look at her. “You’re disgusting,” she deadpanned.

Maeve snorted. “That’s not even what I was insinuating. Your mind went directly to the gutter. Good for you. I bet he thinks about you while he’s doing it too.”

“Jesus Christ,” she was blushing brightly now. “I just want to fix the display case and then I’ll go.”

“Any fun plans for tonight?”

She hesitated briefly. “Uh yeah...actually. I have a date,” she mumbled.

“Oh!” It was silent for a long beat. Rarely did she go on dates. There were only a few since she moved into town three years ago. Mostly because the bakery took up so much of her free time. The remaining bit of time she had and didn’t go on dates was because of the guilt she felt. Maeve’s surprise was palpable. It made her cheeks turn pink and she bit the inside of her cheek. “Good,” Maeve smiled encouragingly. “Online?” She asked.

She nodded. “We’ve been messaging back and forth for like...” she shrugged. “Two weeks.”

“Are you excited?”

No. “Yes,” she sighed softly. “Been a while,” she smirked. There was a huge part of her brain that told her she didn’t want to go because it wasn’t Harry. It was like a neon sign had been posted in her frontal lobe reminding her that it was pointless to even consider this date. She should have just requested to follow Harry and be done with it—he would probably drop everything if she asked him on a date. “Just...nervous.”

“It’ll be good!” Maeve said reassuringly. “Share your location with me and text me when you get to where you’re sleeping,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“I will be sleeping at home,” she promised snorting through her laugh at her best friend.

Maeve smiled heading to the front and leaving her to finish with her burned brownies.

*

The front of the bakery was dark in color; she was aiming for warmth. The floors and baseboards were dark walnut brown. It contrasted sharply with the wall she wall-papered by hand with a white and brown marble pattern behind the display cases. It made the black chalkboard menus with the same walnut brown frames stand out. The lights were always set to dim when they were on. Her goal was to recreate the feeling of her childhood home—particularly the den where her father set up the most beautiful Christmases. The bakery lacked a fireplace (she joked with Maeve that it was an oven or a fireplace, and the oven did a better job at cooking croissants evenly).

The front of the bakery wasn’t massive. There were five little tables to sit and enjoy their treats if people wanted but it was really a grab and go kind of place. The back had more treats stored so the main room didn’t look overwhelming. The front display cases still contained more treats than anyone could think of eating. I wish I could buy one of everything was heard frequently from the line. Eventually she wanted to invest in coffee but for the time being she liked just her treats and was happy to recommend the coffee place down the road. If she ever got a hold of more space, then she would consider buying all the machines for coffee.

The bakery was honestly warmest when it was rainy. Which was frequent. She was reorganizing the main cupcake display, a tower of three tiers with one of each type of cupcake she made. The raspberry filled cupcake was the one that had been on top for the last two months. Each time it was bought, she replaced it with another. While people raved about her brownies, cakes, and even the croissants, it was the cupcakes that people came for; and so, she took care of the display as much as possible.

“Which one do you recommend?” She turned to the voice and saw a mom and little girl waiting patiently. She smiled fondly.

“Raspberry filled,” she pulled it from the top tier and handed it over. “Try it,” she offered.

“Oh, we don’t want to get you in trouble,” the mom said quickly while her daughter grabbed for it almost immediately.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I know the owner,” she promised. “Maeve! I’m leaving!” She called but was delighted by the little girl’s approval. Silence, cake and filling on her cheeks immediately, and a delightful look in her eye.

“Have fun!” She called back.

“Enjoy the cupcakes. I also like the lemon vanilla ones.”

“I think raspberry filled is the winner,” the mom smiled.

She nodded, unable to keep herself from grinning back. “A fan favorite.”

*

She should have stayed home. The bad weather should have been an omen. But maybe it wouldn’t have been because she met Harry in bad weather, and everything was fine that night. It soured her mood and made her feel infinitely worse to think about the comparison.

I’m home. Not a great date. I’ll tell you later. She wished she had gone to Maeve’s. Maybe she would have doted on her. But she didn’t want to fall apart the way she planned on in front of her.

:( sorry babe. Sleep tight. Talk to you tomorrow :(

She locked her apartment door and checked at least fifty times that it was truly locked before she moved to her bathroom. Her heart was still in her throat and her eyes felt raw with tears. Maybe she was overreacting.

No.

The rational part of her brain reasoned against her handwaving casualness. She had good instincts. Obviously. If this same situation happened with Harry, then maybe she would have considered it her own poor judgment. It was more reason that someone as terrifying as Harry could have be sweet as her cupcakes that it was her good judgment that helped her get out of there tonight.

She hurried to get out of her clothes. Part of her considered throwing them away. She didn’t want them any longer. She wasn’t sure she would ever wear them again. She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and pushed it a little further.

He didn’t hurt her physically. He tried. It was obvious his intent was to force her into the car... or worse. Which was disgusting in its own right. Until that moment in the dark, rainy parking lot, it was almost identical to her moment with Harry. But it wasn’t. Harry didn’t make her feel unsafe. Harry didn’t make her feel threatened. Harry gave her an out even though he wanted to hang out with her. She knew she could leave at any moment and Harry wouldn’t have blamed her.

She rubbed her arm so hard with her loofa in the shower stream it burned for a new reason. Tears blurred her vision and she felt so stupid. So completely idiotic. How could she let it get that far? That was so dangerous. So close she could have been hurt in so many ways that she didn’t want to think about, ever again. She closed her eyes and let the water wash the night away, feeling completely alone and dreadful.

She never wanted to date again.

*

She finished her shower, sniffles plaguing her, and she got into her comfiest pajamas. Her heart was still beating too fast as she crawled under the covers. She felt so ashamed. It felt like her fault. All of it.

There was a tiny rattling in her brain that Harry could have prevented it all. She should have just requested Harry on social media when she met him. If she had, she would have had his number by then. He would have helped her for sure.

Without thinking, she scrolled on her apps, and clicked on the various follow buttons. Every platform she could think of to request his social media friendship—looking like a lunatic be damned. Almost everything had a phone call button now, she could use it as backup if she needed. For good measure she requested Niall too. It was nearing midnight, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was scared. Nervous. Heartbroken.

Yet, within moments, Harry returned the request along with a direct message in her inbox.

Thinking of me at midnight, hmm?  😉

She snorted despite her uneasiness. One sentence and she melted. But she couldn’t let him know that. 🙄 it was nice while it lasted. Just going to unfollow you...

Aw, c’mon Cupcake 🙁

Oh alright... No, not really... just can’t sleep. Popped up on my people you may know while scrolling. It wasn’t a complete lie, and she was glad she wasn’t having a phone call. He would have heard her sniffles and then she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stop herself from inviting a total stranger over. Right now, she didn’t trust her judgment fully.

Been dying to press that Follow button, Cupcake. Didn’t want to come on too strong after that first night.

She couldn’t help but smile. The contrast between the night she met Harry, and her present night made her sad but relieved at the same time. I see you enjoyed the cupcakes.

Louis made me run laps for two hours because of you. I ate all twelve in less than 72 hours. Do you put drugs in those? They’re addicting.

Lol, no drugs. Well... sugar. So, pick your poison I guess, right? 😇

Well, thank you, Cupcake. That was delicious. I hope you liked the match too. We didn’t get to talk much. I know I fell asleep 🤦‍♂️ I was really happy you were there.

Her heart felt so warm already. Despite how much she didn’t want it to. Thank you for inviting me. Because she was nothing if not polite. It was really exciting! I don’t know much about boxing. But it’s obvious you’re very good—not that you need me to tell you that. Were you really going to make me look like an idiot and not tell me you were undefeated?

You’ll make me blush, Cupcake. Didn’t think you’d come with me if you knew.

Sneaky... 👀

Just... wanted you there, kitten. I promise. Nothing more... I know I came off a little too strong and I know I was a little...pushy. I would have let you go to your store if you really wanted to... But...

The three dots on his message disappeared and reappeared a few times over.It was cute to imagine him holding his phone thinking about what to type, erasing it, typing it again.

I can’t explain it, Cupcake. I’ve been going CRAZY these last two months. Niall’s calling me a stalker and I haven’t even SEEN you. The sentiment doesn’t give her any bad feelings. Because despite how much she wanted to be guarded, especially after her evening, she couldn’t help but believe him. Trust him, implicitly.

I swear something in the universe pulled me to you... I woke up just in time to see you blowing up my phone tonight 😍😍

She snorted and felt her body warm with his kindness, his gentle adoration through her phone no less. You’re insane, Harry Styles.

About you 😍

Oh my God... Now she really was blushing, but she couldn’t help but notice she felt so much better chatting with him. Well... we can talk tomorrow if you want.

Oh?

I’m assuming you’re tired and I’ve already hogged more than enough of your time at midnight, as you pointed out.

Oh, no.

No way, Cupcake. I’ll stay up all night to talk with you ❤

Her heart felt so heavy. It was unfair. How could she be so stupid? Her dad would have killed her for being so naïve. It was his worst fear while she was growing up. It was everything he always talked her through when she was going through puberty and telling her about boys teasing her. Her dad reminded her constantly that a man has no right to make her feel scared or fragile.

But she could feel his grip on her arm trying to coerce her back into his car. She shook her head of the thoughts, refusing to let him poison any more of her time than he had. She was talking to Harry. She was okay. It was alright. It didn’t happen. She got in an Uber, and she’ll never see him again.

Harry was talking to her. Harry made her feel safe. Harry didn’t make her stomach unsettled with a bad gut feeling. Here’s my phone number if you want it.

Within moments, she had a new text message alert. This is better than an undefeated record 😍

*

The following morning, she felt less terrible about herself and her stupidity, but she never wanted to feel that way again. She was also so tired from texting with Harry for hours. It was nearly three in the morning catching up on all the things he did in the past two months before she wished him a good night. There wasn’t much to report about their lives. They both seemed to be workaholics, but he did offer her some really cute baby pictures of his niece (and a pretty cute picture of Niall falling asleep on Harry’s couch after an intense workout).

While she sipped her coffee—staving off the sleepiness, she Googled self-defense classes. Her dad would have approved. He wanted her to do it back when she was in college, but she refused for whatever reason. She regretted that too.

It was telling that she debated whether she was overreacting for several minutes. If she was overreacting, she would have brushed off the idea of self-defense classes like she did in college. But this wasn’t something to overreact about, right? Before she could overthink it any longer, she paid for the class. Honestly, in that parking lot she was smart to do this. Worst case scenario, for one reason or another, it was the smart decision.

She cycled through the next stage of grief feeling angry and bitter that he made her feel this way. She was incredibly lucky it was raining and slippery and she managed to get away from him in the chilly spring air. He left her so rattled. She was defenseless, so a class was needed.

God, she missed her dad.

Fuck, she missed Harry.

She never wanted to feel that helpless again.

With the class paid for, she put an apron around her waist and headed to the front of A Pinch of Sprinkles and turned the closed sign to open.

*

The following Monday, after a full day of flour, sugar, and plenty of customers, she headed to the gym.

It felt awkward. She hadn’t been to a gym since her college days, and she was already frustrated from her horrific night out. She and Maeve told each other they would go together but they were terrible influences on one another and opted for shopping trips with the promise they would pretend their shopping bags were dumbbells.

When she arrived, she headed to the front desk and introduced herself. She even admitted she felt awkward and the woman behind the desk smiled encouragingly. “I’m Sarah. Let me show you around,” she came from behind the desk and headed toward the side room. “It’s safe here,” she assured her, like she knew. The assurance made her throat tight with emotion and she nodded stoically. “This is the locker room; you can change in here and you can leave your stuff locked up or in the front cubbies and I can watch it. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” she smiled kindly and glanced her up and down briefly. “Do you own that bakery downtown?”

She smiled and nodded, looking at the flour handprint on the thigh of her pants. “Thought I got all the flour off,” she brushed at it with a chuckle. “Yes, I do.”

“My husband is going to think I met a celebrity today,” she laughed. “We love your blueberry scones. They taste like heaven.”

“Aw, thank you so much, that’s so kind. I’ll bring some next time,” she promised.

“Oh stop, I’ll divorce him,” she laughed and headed back for the front desk.

She quickly changed, feeling safe and relieved once more. She brought her belongings to the front and sat in one of the seats across from Sarah’s desk. “Kickboxing is just wrapping up and your instructors will be right over,” there was a group of several other women milling about. Obviously, they at least knew how to be in a gym by themselves. A few came as a small group. Maybe she should have brought Maeve.

While waiting, she scrolled through emails from her landlord, her college alma mater group, and all the coupons she had ever subscribed to. “I have got to unsubscribe,” she murmured to herself. She scrolled through photos of the beautiful little area she lived in now, and as sad as it was to get here, it was nice. Her shop was nice. Despite how scared she was over the weekend, things were good.

The only thing that wasn’t nice was that stupid, awful man.

“Holy shit, he’s hot,” she heard someone whisper. It was peripheral. She didn’t even register it really because she was sending Maeve a picture of the sale that was happening at their favorite clothing store on Thursday. If she paid attention, she might have noticed sooner.

“Ladies, self-defense class, this way please!” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Maeve sent about ten heart eyes to her, and she smiled, stuffed her phone in her bag, and waved to Sarah.

“Blueberry scones,” she repeated with a firm nod and followed the line of women. She sipped from her water taking in the banners around the gym and realized too late why Louis’ voice sounded so familiar.

He stood at the front of the room, along with another familiar face.

“Oh shit,” she whispered to herself and turned immediately back toward the desk.

She bumped into another woman who steadied her and kindly looked her over. “Sorry—are you alright?” she was nearly motherly in her demeanor and her head felt woozy. She couldn’t do this. Harry would know.

Why was Harry attending her self-defense class?

“Yes, yes, sorry,” she shook her head. “Wrong—”

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was right there. She stepped out of the room trying to get more air to her lungs and head.He wasn’t attending. He was teaching. This was his gym. The boxing rings in the main room should have been a clue. The sound of Louis’ voice. Oh, you stupid idiot, her brain scolded.

“Cupcake?” Her head responded to the nickname instinctively. Harry’s suspicious green eyes gazed back at her. “What are you doing here?”

--

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[marymary-diva17]

Your all my babies my babies

Jake x Tsu’tey x reader x neytiri + sully kids

Since the birth of your son everything has changed for you, now you had someone who depended on you for love and care. Motherhood had become amazing and wonderful for you, as you had been spending time to bond with your son and from a relationship with him. You had thought you will never experience motherhood but it seems like it was wrong, and you are experiencing it as navi which was still a whole new world for you.

Y/n " ummm .....lo'ak" you had soon had been woken up to lo'ak crying you went to attend to him, before he woke up his siblings and your mates.

y/n " it okay I'm here mama her now what the matter my son" lo'ak was still crying but when you held him close to your chest he soon stopped crying.

y/n " did someone have a nightmare" it seems like that was true was lo'ak seem to be calming down, as you held him and rock him.

y/n " do not worry my baby boy mama will always be here for you" soon enough you had heard someone else starting to cry, you soon looked and it was kiri.

y/n " aww baby girl I'm here as well" you soon went to get kiri as you were now holding her in your arms with lo'ak. You had can by their facial expressions they were not having a goodnight.

y/n " now who else will be joining us tonight" well it seems like you question was answered by the cries of neteyam, you soon went to get him.

y/n " hush my little ones everything will be fine nothing will harm you, now come on lets go lay somewhere and get some sleep" you had placed the kids on mat land near them. You soon place a blanket over them and they all seem to be at peace.

y/n " now see there was noting to worry about as I'm here along with your dads and mom" The children seem to have all there attention on you as you were looking at them, and speaking with them in soft tone.

y/n " aww you are my babies" you had laid there as the children soon slowly start going back at bed, you look at them with a smile on your face. once they are asleep you soon had fallen back asleep as well, happy to know your children are safe and well.

The next morning

y/n " ummm" you soon felt the sunlight hitting your face, and when you reach our for the children you felt a empty space. You soon jolted up from the mat and opened your eyes, to see the children were gone.

y/n " ......" you soon heard baby babbling coming from the common area of the home, you soon sighed with relief as you went into the common area.

Jake " good morning beautiful"

y/n " hello I had a scare there I thought something happened the children"

Jake " no we saw you and them laying together asleep it seems, like the kids were awaking up and we didn't want to wake you"

tsu'tey " you were there for the kids last night and we wish to return a favor"

neytiri " all of you seem very peaceful laying together"

y/n " thank you my loves and for your Information I didn't wish to awake you last night, as you three had been working hard yesterday and seem to be in need of rest"

tsu'tey " that nice of you yawne but you have to remember, we are mated couple we most work together when it comes to taking care of these children of ours" neteyam was in tsutey arms as the man was handing him small pieces of fruit. While Jake was holding kiri and lo'ak in his lap.

Jake " yes we can help you out during the night" soon lo'ak started reaching out toward you making you smile at him.

Jake " it seems like someone wants his mama" Jake soon handed your over lo'ak and you had taken him, now placing lo'ak in your lap looking down at him.

y/n " hey how you been behaving my baby boy or have you been causing trouble"

tsu'tey " he being like his dad"

Jake " hey let's not start the morning on bullying me" the couple laughs as they look at Jake, who was looking defended already. Soon everything had changed when kiri started reaching out to him.

y/n " it seems like you have someone who your biggest fan"

Jake " thank you baby girl for being on my side" Jake had helped up kiri making the girl laugh loudly, getting smiles from the whole family. You soon looked at your kids as they are all having a good time bring small children, and enjoy the finest this in life and laughing at things at everyone understood or only they understood. They are all your babies and will still be your babies no matter how old they get, they will forever be your babies.

#avatar 2 #atwow #avatar #avatar x y/n #avatar x reader #sully family x reader #avatar the way of water #neytiri x reader #jake x reader #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you #neytiri x y/n #neytiri x you

[sohnric]

millennium bug – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: 90s au, twenty-five twenty-one au, brother's best friend au, childhood friends au, fluff, slice of life, coming of age. older brother! sunwoo. essentially just eric being baek yijin. oct-nov scenes inspired by weak hero class 1. no plot just vibes im sorry

warnings: minimal swearing and thats all lol

word count: 19k

a/n: posting a fic for a new fandom is always so scary pls be nice to me deobiblr bc im literally abt to cry. also yes i am calling this a 2521 au bc the plot is so heavily inspired it might just be one. a special thank you goes out to @csenke for dragging me into stanning this group i am enjoying myself 🤞

there are some pros and cons to not having friends growing up. cons: you're always forced to tag along with your brother and his group wherever he goes. pros: his childhood best friend is kind of hot.

JUNE OF 1999

Being Kim Sunwoo’s younger sister is no bed of roses sometimes.

Sure, you get the occasional excitement of having him bring you rollerskating with you down the hill or the ever so rare moments of him defending you in front of your mother when you two have done something wrong (while never saying he was in on the bad act as well, of course), but more than often, you are met with his disgusted looks and insults whenever the two years older boy passes by your room and casually bangs at the door just to spite you.

His snarky looks are especially ones to remember. Maybe it’s because he offers them to you often– much like in this very moment, completely unprovoked, and completely not by your fault.

“But mum–”

“I already told you, Sunwoo,” your mother looks at him with a stern look in her eye, the one that makes chills run down your spine, “you can go if you take Y/N with you.”

“But nobody’s bringing their sister! Mum, come on–”

“Take it or leave it, young man.”

And see, your brother may be 19 years old, but he’s still in need of getting permission to leave the house if it includes an overnight stay. It’s an unspoken rule he always follows, since he’s usually granted the right to leave, but the result of his conversation was different than what he expected this time. And see, you may be just two years younger than him (one year left until you are an adult), but even though your mother is too busy to take care of you and entertain your slowly adultling self on most days because of her highly demanding job, she always makes sure that you don’t stay alone for long, and that’s exactly why (you realize, contrary to your brother) she insists on making you tag along on Sunwoo’s trip to the beach house with his friends.

The male grunts and turns on his heel, not giving your mother another response– and with this, you know she won. And that means you’ll have to pack your bag soon, because you know that there’s no way Sunwoo would miss going to the beach house with his friends– even if it meant making his little sister tag along.

And sure enough, Lee Juyeon’s minivan pulls up into your driveway only a few hours later, and the sound of the honking outside is enough for your older brother to aggressively drag you outside of the house, shutting the door behind you and hollering an angry “Bye mum!” to your mother. Your figure is handled with the least amount of care possible as you’re thrown towards the white van, the door opened and 5 heads already peeking out with expecting eyes, waiting for your brother’s arrival.

“My mum made my stupid sister go with me, so I hope we have space for one more,” Sunwoo huffs as he throws his bag into the trunk, slamming it with more force than was necessary (boy does he know how to throw a scene), an encouraging voice of none other than Juyeon– the driver himself– landing in your ear. 

“Sure, just hop in!”

With that, your feet finally unglue themselves off the ground and bring you into the vehicle. You’re familiar with his friends– since a scenario like this hasn’t happened for the first time and you had to spend your fair time with Sunwoo’s circle growing up, mainly because you never really had many friends yourself. You’re not close with any of them, though, and you’re sure you haven’t seen half of them for ages. 

Lee Juyeon is the responsible one of the group. You’re comfortable with the fact that he’s the driver, since you’re not entirely sure if you’d trust any of the other men in this space behind the wheel (you fear the day your brother gets a driver’s license. You'd bet a million dollars that he’ll die while driving recklessly one day). Next to him on the passenger’s seat is Choi Chanhee, his best friend, carrying a map in his hands and twirling it in all possible directions to get his friend on the right track. In the three-seat behind those two is Ju Haknyeon, Ji Changmin and your brother himself, and in the very back of the whole van, almost in the trunk, you’re sat next to Eric Sohn– your brother’s childhood best friend.

“Hi guys,” you offer a greeting to all of them, settling into the uncomfortable leather seat (that’s peeling off, just by the way), watching as the rest of the men pay you no mind and ignore your voice, falling into a comfortable conversation with each other.

Sighing, because this always happens– your brother gets too annoyed because he has to bring you with him all the time, and you imagine his friends aren’t fond of the fact either– you settle deeper into the seat and cross your hands on your chest, looking outside of the window. You can’t imagine enjoying your trip now, since you feel like you’re a nuisance, a child they have to take care of (yes, it embarrasses you just the tiniest bit, you have to admit. Although, you do enjoy getting out of the house from time to time), and the fact that your feelings were probably more than justified and also true has you pouting, an unsatisfied feeling weighing at your lungs.

“Hi,” a voice resonates from your side, the sight of a smiling Eric peering at you taking you off guard. You didn’t expect anyone to react to your greeting– not so delayed anyway– and the sight of your brother’s best friend carrying on in the conversation with you has you shocked beyond belief. “Excited?”

Finding yourself hum in agreement– how much you are still excited for the pool and for the sun, you’re not really sure– and although you are upset, something about his open and nice demeanor has you visibly relaxing, the sparkles inviting themselves back into your eyes. “I’ve never been to the beach,” you admit, seeing Eric gasp at you in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “I go every year with my parents.”

“Well,” you hum, “you know how my mother is…” you sigh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It’s easier to joke about it than to actually let the fact get to you– with your mother being the main news anchor, she is too busy to actually go on trips and form bonds with her own children sometimes. That’s why you spent most of your childhood at Eric’s family’s house in the first place– this is what made you the closest with Sunwoo’s same aged friend. His parents were nice enough to let you stay over and have sleepovers whenever your mum had to leave suddenly and take week-long trips abroad, or have emergency shifts during late evenings. 

Eric hums, sympathizing with you. “Well, at least you get to experience it now!”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly nod, playing with the hem of your jean shorts. It’s the shorts you made yourself by cutting the legs off your favorite pants after you grew out of them and they got too short, and they’re starting to look a little worn-out now. Maybe you should beg your mum to get you some new clothing.

The conversation between the boys grows in volume, doing nothing to help you to relax in the crowded vehicle. You can’t really find a place to fit yourself in and talk, the topics too unfamiliar for you and the feeling of not even being welcome in the discussion sitting heavy on your chest, when a finger bears itself to the flesh of your thigh, making you snap your head around to gape at the source of the contact. Eric looks at you with a boyish grin, sparkles evident in his eyes.

“Wanna see something?” he asks.

“Sure.”

The male digs around his backpack, hands searching through the contents of his bag for only a couple of seconds– since he’s the neat one, contrary to your messy brother– before he takes out a small gadget: a square with a little screen on top, a silver, circular button space sitting big in the very middle of the device. Eric throws the thing into your lap, smiling when you take it into your hands and examine it with curious eyes.

“Have you seen one before? My dad got it for me last week,” he boosts, satisfied with your reaction to it. 

Your mother’s job pays quite well– meaning that you usually have the latest gadgets, the latest trends– but if you’re being honest, you haven’t seen one of these in real life before. Yes, you caught a glimpse of an ad for it in the town center, on one of the big billboards while passing by to get to school in the morning, so you know that it’s an MP3 player, but still; this was your first time touching one and examining it in real life. 

“How does it work?” you ask, watching as the boy scoots from his seat to the middle one, so he is now sitting directly next to you, before he takes out wired headphones from the first department of his backpack and turns the little square over in his hands, finding where the jack goes.

“You put those in,” he says, plugging in the headphones, “and then you press this…” he explains, taking the device out of your hand and pushing on the power button for a few seconds, “and then it should play.”

Watching him with expecting eyes, the boy finally puts the MP3 player back into your hold. Then, his fingers swiftly put the respective earphones into your ears– like you’d do to a little kid that has no idea how they work, making you a little flushed at the action– and after that, you’re left with the sound of an unfamiliar song playing in your ears, making the sound of the chatter in the van completely tune out. Eric keeps on watching you, a sense of pride in his eyes as you nod at him, all excited with the new explory, before he takes one of the earphones out of your ear, grinning.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “The song is good,” you dumbly say, watching as the boy next to you pridefully nods at the compliment, resting his back against the car seat. 

“It’s the H.O.T album. My dad says they’re good,” he mumbles, moving the headphone he took from you and placing it into his ear, making you nod at him in acknowledgement. The action has your insides bubble with disappointment, thinking that the fun is over as you reach for the other earphone as well, offering it to the male.

Eric looks at you with a shocked pout, shaking his head. “No, we can share!” he says, pointing towards your ear. “If you want, of course.”

The action has you smiling, a shy nod escaping out of you as you reach and put the earphone back into your ear, letting yourself fall deeper into the car seat, listening to the song from Eric’s MP3 player. You’re grateful for his presence– he didn’t have to keep up a conversation with you. He could ignore you, just like the rest of his friend group always has. Maybe it was something about the two of you growing up together that always made the boy at least a bit more affectionate towards you than the rest.

You spend the car ride to the beach house with Eric leaning on your side, listening to music and his occasional blabbering about how his previous days went. 

Somehow, you're glad the seat beside him was the only vacant one when you arrived to the vehicle.

YOUR SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, 1989

You don't quite remember when you met Eric for the first time, if you’re being completely honest. The first memory you have of him is of your seventh birthday party, although you’re almost certain the boy’s been present at some point of your life before– at one point, you think you saw a picture of him and Sunwoo, two chubby toddlers, watching you as you laid on a blanket on the ground somewhere in your photo album. As far as you’re concerned, he may as well have been there when your mother brought you back from the hospital– although you think he must have been too young for that back then.

The first memory you have of Eric Sohn is the day you turned seven– a gloomy, sad day that in the moment, you prayed you wouldn’t have to remember in the first place.

It was already established that while your brother is the social butterfly, you don’t have a big friend group. Actually, you could count the number of your friends on one hand, and since the amount wasn’t as big, your mother allowed you to invite them all over to your house to celebrate your birthday with you. 

She baked a cake, she decorated the living room, hell, she even took a day off from work– something you deemed special, for it doesn’t happen often– and as you sat on the floor of your living room, the cake standing proud on the small coffee table, waiting for your friends to arrive, you hummed a song under your breath, the clock slowly passing the time you agreed for them to come over and celebrate.

At first, you didn’t mind it– everybody gets late sometimes, it’s okay. It was just a birthday party, and you had a lot of time. Not everything had to be set on schedule.

But the closer the clock moved to being one hour, than two after the time your friends were supposed to come, you grew worried. Your mother’s nervous pacing around the living room and her heavy sighs as she sat next to you on the floor, smiling at you in what you can only explain as sad way made you more and more anxious about the fact that you only had three friends, but all three of them seemed to not care enough to come celebrate your birthday with you. And as your mother finally took the final bow in the form of a soft hand on your inner thigh, her tone gentle as she called your name– “Y/N, I think we should light the candles,” you began to tear up.

You were supposed to eat the cake with your friends. You were supposed to hear them sing the birthday song to you. You were supposed to turn on the radio and dance around with your classmates, eat the sweets and unwrap the cheap, but heartfelt gifts they brought along with them to celebrate your birthday. 

But none of these scenarios were happening, and you felt incredibly, incredibly lonely and sad. Forgotten, if you will. Not cared for, definitely.

Hiding your face into your hands, you started to cry. This disappointment was too big for your small heart to take, and you no longer cared about the cake, the candles, the seaweed soup your mother cooked for you to celebrate, the gifts, or the party. All you wanted to do was hide in your room and never come out– something about the whole situation felt deeply embarrassing, and to this day, the moment before the whole day turned around still makes you feel a bit ashamed of yourself. 

Too busy crying, you didn’t notice your older brother watching you with big bambi eyes, a worried glance sent your way each time your sobs grew louder and louder. And maybe the boy only wanted to taste the cake (he’s been bugging your mum about it since the very morning, but he was always sent off with a scolding look telling him that he’ll get a slice when everyone arrives), but no matter what his true intentions were, his actions still managed to pull your seventh birthday party together in a way you never imagined.

The sound of the front door faintly resonated in your brain somewhere in the middle of your aimless sobbing, but you paid it no mind, thinking it was just Sunwoo going out to the yard to kick the ball. See, your older brother had never really known what to do when you cried growing up– it didn’t matter if he was the reason for your tears or if anyone else was. If he was the reason for your emotional outbursts, he tried to shut you up with his palm and get you to stop crying before his mother found out and gave him a scolding, but if someone else was, the small boy sometimes turned angry at the source. Kicking his classmate that once made a snarky comment about you and made you tear up or punching his friend when he was too harsh with you was all he knew to do in these situations, so he wasn’t the one to comfort you with words or hugs. It was only natural for him to escape in this situation.

You were brought to a state of shock and surprise when a hand landed on your shoulder, a familiar voice breaking you from your emotional turmoil.

“Why are you crying? We have to eat the cake!” you heard, your big, sad eyes meeting the small figure of the boy living next door, your brother nervously stepping from one side to the other right behind his best friend. “Can you light the candles, Mrs?” Eric politely asked your mum, pointing towards the cake waiting sadly at the coffee table, the figure of your mother leaving your side only shortly to get the matches from the kitchen and illuminate your face with the small flames.

Confusion mirrored your features as you watched your brother and his best friend sing the birthday song to you while your mum lit your candles, both boys clapping and dancing around, acting silly just to get a laugh from you. You didn't know how Eric got there, but you guessed there are some good sides to having him as your neighbor. The energetic boy did his best to brighten up your mood a bit, and when you blew out the candle, making a wish, Sunwoo even went as far as smashing your face into the cake to bring in the full birthday authenticity.

That got him a slap to the back of his head from your mother, as well as made you stand up from your position– no longer making you look like a disappointed bulk of pity– and chase him around the room, icing falling off your nose to the laminated floor. You got your revenge and smeared the chocolate all over his forehead (he let you chase him down only because it was your birthday and he really, really hated to see his sister cry, but he won’t ever tell you that) and as the three of you sat back down to the floor, watching your mother slice the cake and offer it to you on small white plates, you realized you suddenly weren't as sad anymore.

“What did you wish for?” Eric asked you, mouth full of cake and face messy with chocolate.

“I can’t tell you,” you hummed, eyebrows furrowed. “Then it won’t come true.”

“You probably wished for that doll you saw in the store the other day,” Sunwoo snickered as he swallowed, having you glare at him and send a sharp kick to his shin, unwatched by your mother (thankfully), as the boy fought you back, having no mercy.

Music suddenly filled the room as Eric stood up and put the radio on, his 9 year old brain smart enough to know how the device worked, his small figure dancing away to the songs playing on the single radio station you could play without carefully sorting out the antenna so it faced the north, and truly, you didn’t know how it happened, but it had you standing up and dancing around, exactly how you'd imagined doing with your friends from school.

The day wasn’t ruined– quite the opposite, really. It was one of your favorite birthday parties, and ever since then, Eric was invited to every single one you had after. And while Sunwoo may act like he doesn’t hate anything more in this world than having a younger sister, every time you feel like a burden to him, you remember this very afternoon.

You will never tell anyone what you wished for that day– but just to let everyone in on the secret, 

it was to somehow, just like Sunwoo, find someone like Eric for yourself as well. 

JUNE OF 1999

Standing at the side of the pool, eyes squinting from the inevitable force of the sun, you’re starting to regret your decision of coming along just a little. See, you usually don’t protest whenever Sunwoo aggressively drags you around and brings you everywhere he’s supposed to, because even though you love to see your brother angry (especially when you’re the reason behind the emotion), you’d also hate to see him miss out, but now, as the scorching hot sun is having no mercy on every exposed inch of skin– and believe me, there’s a lot of it, since you’re wearing your swimming trunks– and the sweat on your forehead is no longer culminating in beads, but rolling painfully slowly down your forehead, you do admit you’d be a little bit happier in the shade of your little room than here, watching the guys play volleyball in the comfort of the freezing cold pool.

And as the only female around the house, you settle with the patriarchy and bring out a small folding chair and a camping table alongside with a big, sharp knife, struggling to hoist up the giant watermelon you got in a grocery store on your way to the beach house, with the intention of cutting it and serving it to the guys later. Who knows, maybe they’ll like you a little more after that. 

The knife sinks into the thick green skin of the watermelon easily, and so as you accompany yourself with the excited (and not so excited screams coming from the losing side of the game– mainly your brother himself), you cut up the fruit into halves, then quarters, and as you stare at the moon crescents settled on the camping table, you decide to play nice and cut up the fruit into smaller triangles as well, to really get on everyone’s good side.

The yearning for male validation awakes in a woman pretty early on in life. It’s an inevitable misfortune.

“Told you Sunwoo’s all talk but no game!” you hear Haknyeon yell out as the game seemingly ends, the younger boy lunging at him in the pool, fighting him for the truthful words. Glancing at the commotion, you notice the guys slowly getting out of the pool, making you heave out in victory– you’re finally gonna have your turn in the pool. Well, if they don’t decide to occupy it again before you even get a chance to get in.

“Y/N! You cut up the watermelon?” Eric asks a very obvious question, walking up to you with beads of water all over his half-naked body. His dark hair is damply sitting against his forehead, making him look like a wet puppy, but as the male gets closer to you, he drags his palm through the locks and pushes them back, revealing his forehead– a sight sweet to your eyes, but you refuse to pay it much attention in the heat of the moment. It’s just the sun making you delirious as the idea of finding him attractive flashes through your brain, that’s all. 

“I did! Take one,” you smile, watching as the rest of the guys walk over to your little stand– while also obnoxiously swatting out water out of their hair like dogs, refusing to use towels like normal people– and finally, there it comes: appreciative smiles appear on their faces as they each take a piece, biting down on the fruit with delighted sighs.

Sunwoo walks up to you with a surprised look on his face, sighing as he messes with your hair. “If I knew you’d be our servant, I wouldn’t have even minded you going in the first place.”

“You do something nice for people and they jump on the chance to exploit you,” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s just like you, Kim Sunwoo.”

“No, that’s just me having older brother privileges.”

“I hope you choke on that, you know,” you bite at him, pointing towards the piece of sweet watermelon in his hands, the smile on his face turning bitter. There’s a satisfied look on your face when your brother does, indeed, choke on a watermelon seed a few seconds later– and they say dreams don’t come true.

“You didn’t have to,” you hear Eric speak up from the other side, your head turning to face the male, his features appreciative and warm. “Thank you,” he beams. There’s redness on the tip of his nose and his forehead, signaling his quickly approaching sunburn, and you can’t help but laugh out at his clueless, Rudolph the red nosed reindeer self. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows at you in question.

“Nothing,” you peep, “you just look like you forgot to use sunscreen,” you mumble, watching as the male gasps and touches his face, a horrified expression overtaking him when the skin under his fingertips burns to the touch. 

“I didn’t forget! It must have rubbed off in the pool,” he mourns, “I must look stupid!” 

“Only a little,” you tease, a grin overtaking your features. See, there’s something about the fact that you’ve known Eric for the entirety of your whole life that makes you more prone to teasing him– you’re familiar with your dynamics and just how far you can go, so his next actions startle you just the tiniest bit as the male looks sternly at you, throwing the half-eaten watermelon slice to the camping table. You thought you had the risks calculated– apparently, you didn't.

“What did you say?”

Examining his features, seeing no signs of anger– just the stoic, fakely-offended face of your brother’s childhood best friend– you shrug. “That you look a bit stupid with your face like that.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods, “you’re going down for that.”

“What do you mea–”

Your words are cut short when the male lunges at you, his arms enveloping your thighs and holding you up. The contact of his cold skin from the pool and your heated figure makes goosebumps appear all over your body, your hands instinctively reaching around him to support yourself as he walks closer to the pool– his intentions are suddenly painfully clear and you start to panic. 

“This will teach you to respect your elders,” Eric huffs, the turquoise surface of the water slowly coming into your point of view.

“Stop! Stop-stop-stop,” you squirm, kicking your feet and trying to take down the predator, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, alright?”

The male takes a halt for a split second– making you foolishly believe he’ll let you off– before he breaks out into a devilish grin and continues to walk to the edge of the pool. “Too late.”

“Eric!” you scream, the volume of your voice resonating through the whole beach, your heart thumping wild against your ribcage with the awaiting process. You’re not even sure what you’re scared of anymore– you can swim and you bet the water will feel nice against the scorching sun– but still, you’re absolutely terrified as the male has no mercy on you, carrying you steadily towards the water. “At least let me tie my hair first! You can dump me in after, I promise,” you mourn, trying to buy yourself more time.

“Alright,” he nods, waiting at the very edge of the pool, leaving you to take the purple scrunchie off your wrist and gather your hair together, preparing to tie it into a bun so it doesn’t get in your way when you’re in the pool. The hair tie is just at the tips of your fingertips, the first loop over the hair ready to be done, when a scream cuts out of your throat.

The feeling of falling suddenly overtakes your body, leaving you no time to prepare yourself for the impact of the cold water against your skin and all up in your nose, since you didn’t pluck it when you were dumped into the pool. The fall only lasts a split second until you’re below the water, the force of it resonating in your ears, and when you finally act on your instincts and stand up in the pool (it wasn’t even that deep in the first place, only reaching to your upper stomach), you cough out all the water and pray to gods you don’t throw up chlorine into the freshly cleaned pool. After you’re done catching your breath and getting oxygen into your lungs again, you do your best at getting all the hair out of your face. 

There is laughter landing into your ears as soon as you manage to get all the water out of them by leaning your head to the side and violently slapping each one, and when your eyes look up, you see an amused Eric Sohn bending over in his waist at your disheveled appearance. 

Grunting and pointing a finger to the criminal that almost made you drown, you huff out. “I’ll kill you! Just you watch.”

Your scrunchie nowhere to be found, forever lost somewhere outside of the beach house, you think, as it flew off your hand in the impact of the attack, shock makes your figure shake alongside of the coldness of the water, making you audibly sigh. 

Yes. You do regret coming along just a little.

JULY OF 1999

Somewhere along the way, Eric Sohn starts acting as if he’s your second older brother. Sure, you’ve known the male your whole entire life and he’s seen you grow up, but it took him 17 years of your life to come to a point where he gives you equal amount of attention whenever he’s over at your house than he does to your brother, and even asks Sunwoo if you’re coming along with them whenever they leave to hang out somewhere else. It’s a change that comes naturally and slowly, and you welcome it unknowingly– the revelation shocks you on a hot summer day, though, when the idea finally comes to you in full force.

You would even argue and say Eric acts more like your brother than your actual sibling does– he asks if you’ve eaten and listens to you when you talk (which Sunwoo never does, well, except from when he’s arguing with you). Eric even compliments your outfits sometimes and lets you borrow his MP3 player from time to time– Sunwoo would never share his things with you, no matter how hard you pleaded and threatened to tell your mum. Yes, your brother's an adult and you’re one year away from becoming one– you still resolve your conflicts through your only parent, though. Some things, you never grow out of.

“I wanna try using the skateboard now, Sunwoo,” you order sternly when the boy finally reaches your destination. You’ve been sitting on the sidewalk for quite some time now, since your brother and his friend decided that they’re gonna try out their new skateboards on the hottest day of the year. Your town doesn’t have fancy skateparks and ramps like the ones you’ve seen in the music videos on TV, so you don’t really know what initially made the two buy those things, but you do admit that even driving up and down the road in front of your house does seem a little fun– so much you’d love to try it.

“What a shame we all wish for things we can’t have,” he shrugs ironically, shaking his head at you from his position above. The male reaches down for his bag, taking out a water bottle and putting it against his plush lips, all while you glare at him from below, still seated in your initial position. Eric comes up to you two, squishing at the soft plastic bottle in Sunwoo’s hold, making the water splash your older brother in the face, leaving a winning grin to be shared between you and the shorter boy, an expression that makes you all warm on the inside. See, at least Eric always has your back.

“You can try mine, if you want,” the latter shrugs, offering you a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “why not?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just didn’t expect you to offer, since as you saw, my dear brother just refused when I asked…” you mumble, standing up from the sidewalk and taking the skateboard into your hand. Eric offers it to you with an outstretched arm and watches as you put the board on the floor, squinting at it with much examination.

“Do you know how to ride it?” he asks.

“No,” you shake your head, “but I mean, if Sunwoo can do it, how hard can it really be?” you joke, seeing as the said boy glares at you, finally finishing his water and dropping the bottle to the ground. 

“I’ll remind you of that statement when you eat shit on the pavement,” he shushes you, rolling his eyes. 

Not paying more attention to the grumpy being that is your own brother, you relocate your attention back to the skateboard on the heated road. You’re lucky you live on a street where cars don’t often drive by, since your neighborhood is on the very edge of the town, so you don’t really fear being run over by a pickup truck. What you do worry about, though, is your lacking sense of balance, which you discovered when you learned how to ride the bike for the first time. While your brother was a professional in no time, it took you weeks to get it right, and so with the idea of riding a board that provides you zero sense of security, you get a bit worried for your own life.

Dragging your hair out of your face and aimlessly trying to tuck it behind your ears– there’s no use in trying though, as the strands slip out just as fast as they found their place– you keep staring at the board only a few centimeters away from your feet, mentally calculating your next move. There’s a noise of a backpack being opened and rustling around in the background of your miserable thoughts, and when you look up to see what’s going on, you notice Eric offering you a small, purple bundle of fabric. 

“What’s that?” you ask, even though the answer is clear as the day– you recognise your own scrunchie with no problem. You’re just surprised to see it in his hold. You thought it was forever buried somewhere in the beach house, since you weren’t able to find it after you got out of the pool, no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh,” he shrugs, amidst a little too nonchalantly, “I found it and figured it was yours, but I forgot to give it back to you then… it seems like you need it now, though,” he offers you an explanation, lips pressed into a thin line that slightly signifies a smile.

“Ah,” you gasp, nodding as you take the hair tie out of his outstretched palm, gathering your hair into a bun and tying it up on the crown of your head– the staring contest you’ve been having with the board is much clearer now, when you don’t have your messy strands in the way. The idea of Eric keeping your scrunchie after finding it at the beach house makes your stomach do a weird kind of turn– you guess it made you a bit weirded out, if you’re being honest.

“Want some help with that?” he asks, pointing towards his skateboard.

Nervous, cracking your knuckles as you meet his eyes– he looks a bit amused, but still genuine– you nod, admitting defeat. There’s no way you’re getting on top of that board without help and not falling down. It’s always better to be safe than to be sorry, and so when Eric laughs airly at your composure and takes a few steps closer towards you, you let the male lead you, finding comfort in his secure words and actions.

Eric offers you his arms to hold when you try to get on the skateboard. He is peering at you from under his eyelashes when you put one of your legs onto the wood, his grip on your forearm getting firmer when you try to get your other foot on as well– and you must admit that you suddenly don’t feel like you might die anymore when there’s someone holding you and standing by your side. 

“See? It’s not that hard,” Eric mumbles, his voice low and reassuring from the proximity. You notice your hands sweating a little when his palm envelopes yours– damn the sun and its unbearable heat making you embarrass yourself– but he doesn’t mention it as he firmly holds you and meets your eyes. “I’m gonna drag you around a bit so you get used to it before trying yourself,” he says before taking a few steps forward, preparing to be your own type of personal driver.

Having him instruct you and help you around makes you feel more comfortable on the board. Sunwoo would never do such a thing for you– he’d enjoy watching you fall down and break your neck and possibly die– so you’re more than happy to have someone in your life that takes care of you in ways your older brother refuses to. 

The skateboard moves forward a little, starting slow, but then picking up speed as Eric jogs a little, making you laugh at the action. He does not have to go above and beyond, but he still does– but you guess it’s good for him to let out his energy somewhere. After a while, he looks back at you and meets your eye with a warm gaze, making you nod at him reassuringly and hold up a thumb of the hand he’s not holding right now, signaling that you’re okay and enjoying yourself. That has the male let go of your hand and let you take the road with the laws of physics, moving forward by yourself with the force he created. 

It’s nice. It’s fun. 

Yes, you totally understand why Eric and Sunwoo wanted skateboards after seeing them on TV. Hell, you want one now.

“Try it yourself now!” Eric encourages you as the board naturally comes to a stop under you, and his smiling face is enough for you to take initiative and nod, relocating one foot off the wood and placing it on the floor, then kicking it and making yourself move on the simple vehicle.

A moment of surprise envelopes you like a warm hug when you manage to not fall off and keep your balance, the joy of it making you try to go faster on the board, kicking once, twice against the pavement with the sole of your old, beaten up shoe. “I’m doing it!” you yell, glancing back at Eric standing on the sidewalk, watching you with excited eyes. The male offers you a victorious holler, something that makes you break into a laugh, makes your confidence blossom in marvelous ways.

Confidence rises in you so much you try to take a U-turn and go back to your teacher– perhaps showing off that you really got the hang of it now, or something– but as you try to maneuver the board and turn right, there it comes: the moment where you realize that you were, once again, too overly-confident in your abilities that are, sadly, very poor. Your body sways from side to side, your poor balance laughs at you and points an accusing finger at your attempts, and, well, to put it frankly, your whole life flashes in front of your eyes and the moment plays in slow motion as you lose the board from below your feet– the wood flying somewhere to the opposite side of the road, not at all where you meant to go in the first place– and your body inevitably comes crashing to the ground.

Awaiting the hard pavement meeting your nose and breaking it, you brace yourself with palms outstretched in front of you, the last remains of self-perseverance entering the sane parts of your brain in what you think are the last seconds of your miserable life. Another moment of surprise greets you when your yelp is muffled against something soft and your hands don’t hit the hard pavement, your ears filled with a grunt that belongs to another human swiftly chiming in and catching you before you fall.

Firm hands hold your waist– the touch somehow familiar, enveloping you in a strange sense of deja vu– and even though your body goes limp in terror, the male has you back on your feet in no time, his palms on the exposed skin of your stomach. The realization has you burning up as you look up and meet Eric’s eyes, gasping at the closeness of his face to yours. 

“You okay over there?” he asks as you unconsciously study his face– you never noticed his nose looked this nice up close– before you wake out of it and nod urgently, breaking away from his hold. You’re not gonna try to calculate the effort he must have put in just to chime in and catch you from where he was standing in such a short moment, but something about the passing thought of it has you weak in your knees from gratefulness. 

“Uhm- yeah,” you nod, kicking the pavement with your stained shoes, “I just… miscalculated my skills, that’s all,” you sheepishly hum, hearing the boy snicker at your shaken-up composure.

Watching him take off and retrieve his skateboard from where it wandered off against the curb– much to his golden retriever energy– you sigh and prepare to go sit back on the sidewalk, having enough of new experiences from the shock still lingering in your fingertips. You take a glance down the road, seeing your older brother cruising on the street– when and how he got there, you truly have no idea– when you hear Eric, who seemingly has different ideas for your next actions, call at you from the middle of the pavement.

“Where are you going? Come back!” he asks, having you look at him in surprise, mouth agape and eyes big, staring at him. He now has the board under his shoulder, but puts it back on the road and points at it, shrugging to himself. “I’ll push you down the road, it’s gonna be fun!”

“Eric, I’m literally going to die–”

“No, you’re not. Come on, I promise,” he says, but still, he doesn’t have you convinced. Your feet move against your best conclusions, though, and when you come to a halt right in front of your companion, he offers you a boyish grin. “Sit down on it, that way you’re more balanced. I swear you’re not gonna fall off, okay? I got you.”

“You promise?”

“Yes,” he nods, determined.

“Pinky swear,” you mumble, holding up your pinky finger– all thoughts of seeming childish pushed to the side in the desperate moment– and the male in front of you shakes his head in disbelief, breaking into a laugh.

“Cute,” he huffs, “yeah, okay. Pinky swear,” he nods, interlacing your pinky with his and bumping his thumb against yours, the seal foolishly making you feel more secure as you follow his order and take a seat on the skateboard, your hands gripping the bottom of the wood so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Okay, ready? 3, 2, 1–” he chants as he pushes you, two steady hands coming in contact with your shoulder blades, force making you move on the board, wheels taking you down with gravity. The sound of Eric’s shoes hitting the pavement fills your ears as you go faster, and as you finally get to the part of the hill that takes a downwards slope, he offers you a final push, sending you down the road. 

Wind makes your hair fly back, your surroundings blurring as you yelp and scream, but you can’t say you’re not enjoying the ride. Eric was right– it was fun, you liked it, and something about the gesture had you all warm on the inside. The breeze has you cool down a little in the summer heat, and the board continues to move even as you pass your older brother standing at the bottom of the slope, away from your trajectory. 

Body relaxing when the skateboard finally slows down, you let out a heartfelt laughter. Turning back and seeing Eric jog down the road with a humongous grin on his face, you offer him two thumbs up above your head, watching as he returns the gesture and makes his way back to the two of you on the bottom of the small hill.

The truth is, this was the day you realized Eric Sohn has always found his way to make you feel included and safe. 

You can’t help but feel grateful.

AUGUST OF 1999

“Sunwoo, you have to tie a knot here and then– no, you dumbass, you’re doing it completely wrong,” you mourn as you watch your older brother with a mess of thread in his lap, a focused scowl on his face. There’s a fan standing across from you, blowing cold air into your face, but you still feel yourself grow heated with frustration as Sunwoo just can’t help but not understand the art of making friendship bracelets. It’s not like you’re forcing him to do them– he was the one that asked you to show him how to, muttering something about offering one to his classmate Yeji once he’s back in school– so in theory, he should be putting in effort, no? 

Or maybe he is. Maybe he’s just… incompetent.

“I don’t get it,” Sunwoo hums under his breath, sighing as he leans against the sofa in your living room, the two of you sitting on the floor accompanied by his best friend squinting at you from the opposite side, a comic book in the latter's hand. The myth of men not being able to multi-task is quickly thrown into the bin as you watch Eric pay equal amount of attention to the comic book and the dialogue between you and your brother, and when Sunwoo seems to give up on the art of making friendship bracelets, his best friend can’t help but laugh.

“You’re giving up already? This is how you want to get a girlfriend?” you poke your brother to his side and take the threads off his lap, examining the mess of a safety pin and meters of yarn, all knotted up and not coming along in the shape you taught him to at all.

“It’s not to get a girlfriend, I just-”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, huffing as you roll his poor attempt at friendship bracelet into a ball and throw it to the corner of the room, making a mental note to pick it up and throw it to the bin later. “You know what, just give her this one and pretend you made it,” you mutter, taking a bracelet you'd already made to demonstrate in between your fingers and throw it into Sunwoo’s lap, the older one catching it and examining it under his nose.

“That looks pretty good,” he hums, making you snort at his appreciative comment. The bracelet is pink and red, the colors just screaming romance and cute energy, which is exactly what a girl needs to be swayed by your brother. You can’t really believe a bracelet will make her swoop into his arms, because truthfully, with your brother’s face and manners, every living thing is keeping a fair distance, but hey, it doesn’t hurt to try, does it? Maybe his classmate is… majorly blind? That might do it?

“Of course it looks good,” you scoff, “that’s because I made it,” you nod, averting your gaze towards your lap, threading your fingers through the yarn you attached to a safety pin on your sweatpants to keep the growing friendship bracelet in place. 

“Then why is the one you’re making right now so ugly?” Eric asks, pointing towards the creation. 

Glancing up at the male slowly, mentally throwing all different kinds of curses at him for daring to talk badly about your craft, you huff. “What do you mean, ugly?”

“The colors… they don’t… they don’t really go together,” Eric sheepishly admits, scratching the back of his neck, quickly averting his gaze from you and gluing it back into his comic book. You think that if he doesn’t stop being a smart-ass and throw jabs at your artistic choices, he’s gonna have to protect his comic book with his own body– and you bet he’d do that, because he borrowed it from the library. The fees for damage are high.

“That’s just… not true at all,” you muse, but groggily take a look at the creation once again, but now, thanks to the remark, seeing it in a completely different way. Shades of orange, brown and purple stare back at you amidst a little disappointedly, and as you thread the yarn and make a couple of knots to end the bracelet, you can’t help but feel a pout growing on your face from the realization. Eric might be right. It does look a little bad…

“Whatever. Your taste is just bad,” you snap as you finish off the craft piece, unclasping the safety pin and sliding the bracelet off the inside, freeing it from the hold. Eric laughs a little at your frustrated state– similarly to what you do when you manage to get Sunwoo upset– and with that, you sigh and put the bracelet on the coffee table.

“I’m going out to the store to get some chocolates,” you say as you stand up, goal clear in your mind, “have fun, losers.”

“You’re still collecting the stickers from these?” Sunwoo asks, a mischievous smile growing on his lips. The teasing is inevitable and coming very soon, and there’s nothing you can do about it– you’re fully aware, which only further makes you want to escape the situation more quickly. Rolling your eyes at your brother’s antics, you move towards the door. 

“Yes, Sunwoo, I am. They’re cute and make me happy, do you have a problem with that?” you point an accusing finger at the male, having him shrug, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“You’re such a kid,” he huffs, averting his gaze from you when he lands the comment, the jab coming straight at your fragile heart.

“Okay, then,” you note, “I’ll just have my pretty and cute bracelet back, and you can get your girlfriend something else-”

The male quickly regains his previous composure, swatting his hands in hurry just to make you halt in your sentence. His eyes are big and his mouth is a little agape in terror as he tries to save his ass, plea written all over his face. “I was just joking! Don’t be so petulant… go get your cute stickers, they’re so fun!”

Humming to yourself, your face is tugged up into a victorious smile. “That's what I thought. So, as I was saying, have fun, losers.”

“Wait!” Eric suddenly calls for you, making you turn on your heel in the middle of your escape, eyes peering at the male. “Don’t I get a bracelet too?”

The request catches you off guard. There’s a certain kind of spark in Eric Sohn’s eyes as he asks the question, and you can’t really place it in any category, but it has you nervously shrugging at the preposition. You’re not really sure why Eric would want a bracelet from you, but to avoid confrontation and also the weird leap of your heart surely leading you into cardiac arrest, you only shrug and move back inside of the living room, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you scan the surroundings, searching for something.

“Sure,” you nod, taking the ugly bracelet off the table and offering it to him, “you can have that one.”

You hold a staring contest with the older boy for a couple of seconds, his head undoubtedly swirling with arguments and comments about the apparel of the friendship bracelet, but he’s smart– he must know the survival of his beloved comic book must be at stake. So, he only nods and smiles at you, outstretching his hand to you and nudging his head in its direction.

“Okay,” he hums, “tie it for me?”

A second comes by– a heartbeat, really– in which you chew on your bottom lip and gasp at the request, but still, you nod and come closer, crouching down to be at his level and taking the thread into your fingers. You wrap the bracelet around his wrist, making sure to leave a bit of wiggle room before you tie a knot, bringing the ends together, all while feeling the eyes of Eric glued to your face, watching every micro expression flash through your unsettling composure.

When you’re done, making a move to hide your hands behind your back and standing up, your limbs bump into each other and send an unspoken sense of electricity all through your body. The sensation is so strange you don’t meet anyone’s eye before you leave the room, yelling out a goodbye as you hurriedly open the front door and run out to get fresh air (it’s August, though. The air is humid and only makes your head spin more).

You clear your throat before you take off to the grocery store. It's only when you're halfway there that you realize you'd forgotten to bring your wallet with you. It's okay, though– you take this chance to walk around, regaining your casualty.

You bet Eric will take the bracelet off in a matter of a week.

SEPTEMBER OF 1999

The leaves start turning orange and the weather a bit colder when you become hyper-aware of your shifting composure whenever Eric Sohn is around. The way you feel heat rushing to your cheeks whenever he calls you cutie, a nickname he’s had reserved for you since you two were little kids, the way you feel weak in your knees whenever he casually brings his arm around your shoulders or when he bends down to tie your shoelace in the middle of the sidewalk. You don’t really know what those sudden changes are, yet, you feel a bit embarrassed by them whenever they take place. You don’t think it’s normal to feel this way around your brother’s best friend, and the more you hang out with him, the more you wish you read less books as a child– because now, you’re also hyper-aware of the title those feelings may have. 

Still, it only comes to you on one September afternoon– you wake up from blissful unawareness and jolt with the quickly opening pit in your stomach at the strange revelation.

“Eric! Sunwoo isn’t home, though?” you mumble, confused as you notice the boy standing on your doorway, a plastic bag in his hand and a red Nike jacket enveloping his frame.

“I know, he said he’s hanging out with Juyeon hyung today,” he nods, “I brought you something, though,” he says, holding up the bag and making sure you get a chance to see it, offering you a boyish grin.

“Oh?” you gasp, furrowing your eyebrows at the male. When you do nothing to invite him inside, he does so himself– slightly nudging you in your side as he passes your figure and enters your house. He acts like he owns the place, and by the amount of time he’s spent in your home, you’d think he does– he doesn’t, though. The only thing he owns is just a lot of audacity.

The male takes off his shoes in the entryway and walks his way over to your room– a surprising act, considering he’s spent the least amount of time in this very place– and when he’s sure you’re following his every move, he empties the contents of the bag to the middle of your freshly made bed. Watching as approximately ten items fall out of the plastic, your eyes widen with surprise as you recognise your favorite chocolate– the mini bars with stickers inside, the ones you collect and stick into your journal and look at in the middle of the night, giggling to yourself and kicking your feet at the adorable pictures in your make-shift collect book.

“Woah,” you gasp when the male looks at you, seemingly awaiting your response, and when he gets the wished outcome, pride overtakes his features, shrugging to himself.

“My mum got some for free because she bought a lot of cabbage for kimchi yesterday,” he explains, “I thought of you when I saw them, so I bought you some more.”

“I- you-” you stutter, emotions too big for your own good swelling all inside your fragile, little self, hands running into your hair and tugging at the roots to wake yourself up from the dream. “You didn’t have to!”

“We got them anyway, and I know you like the stickers,” Eric shrugs, scratching the back of his neck, completely ignoring the fact that he said he bought you some more, your heart skipping a beat at the sentiment. Clearing your throat, you tentatively take a step closer to your bed, gathering a bar of chocolate into your hand and opening it, taking a bite.

“You can have the stickers if you give me some chocolate,” Eric says close to your ear, almost as if he was creating a masterplan, to which you eagerly nod and plop onto your bed, moving the bars of sweets into one pile. As you continue to munch on the first one, you unwrap the sticker and look at it, praying to yourself as if you were checking if your lottery ticket was worth any cent– hoping you get a sticker you don’t own yet.

The image of a cute panda would cheer anyone up even in their darkest moments– not you, though, as you mourn and sigh, disappointment clear in your features. 

“What?” Eric asks, eyes big pools of worry.

“I already got that one.”

“Ah,” he nods, seemingly understanding– much to your surprise, “well, we got 9 more tries, let’s get to eating.”

Wrappers are rustling in your bed sheets as you and Eric eat the concerning amount of chocolate, gathering the stickers in a little pile on top of your notebook, promising each other to not look at the stickers as you go and just make a grand reveal at the end. Eric’s full cheeks are a sight you enjoy, telling him he looks like a squirrel– to which he sends a light flick to your forehead, telling you you don’t look much different– and soon enough, the nine bars left disappear from your plain sight (you only had 3 and Eric ate the remaining 5. He’s a growing boy, though, so you understand. He needs to get his undying energy from somewhere.).

“Ready for the reveal?” you ask, locking your gaze with Eric.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

With that, you get to the pile of stickers in the middle of your bedsheets. Looking at the first one, there’s a happy squeal cutting out of your throat, the image of an adorable yellow duck warming you up with euphoria. 

“You don’t have that one yet?”

“I don’t,” you nod, “this is just perfect.”

Eric nods and watches you with a certain kind of warmth in his gaze as you open up your notebook and stick the newest addition to your little sticker farm– or a ZOO, however you wanna call it. The next sticker from the pile is added as well– a brown, big bear– and the next one too, the most adorable colorful parrot slapped to the corner of your page. 

The rest of your stickers are the ones you already own, though– a displeased look takes over your features at the knowledge, but still, you can’t help but beam at the fact that you have 3 new additions to your collection, and they were a gift from Eric Sohn himself. Someone who doesn’t make fun of your childish habit. Someone who feeds your little interest, watches you with excitement in his eyes as you indulge. Someone not like your brother. 

Someone you could never see the way you see your brother.

“What do you do with the duplicates?” Eric asks, pointing to the sad pile on the top of your notebook. His figure is closer to you now, since he wanted to watch you stick the animals into your notebook, his crossed legs almost pressed against yours on the small bed.

“Well, usually, I just throw them out,” you shrug, “but since you’re here…” you muse, the idea plopping into your head like the newest discovery you should probably patent, peeling the back of one of the dog stickers off and swiftly turning towards your companion, mischief sparkling in your eyes.

You put the sticker on his left cheek, making the boy jump. “Hey!”

Giggling, taking another one of the stickers and pressing it to the middle of his forehead, Eric starts to fight you, your bodies wrestling on the bed. You don’t think he puts much effort into getting you off him– that, or he’s insanely weak– and in no time, his face is adorned with all different kinds of animals, his hair messy from tussling in your bedsheets. The image has you laughing before you realize you’re basically straddling him on your bed, his big eyes gaping at you from below, his appearance enough to make something in your brain short-circuit and make you leap off him, clearing your throat.

Heat rushes into your cheeks as you take a seat next to him, playing with your fingers. You pray for anything to come and ease the awkwardness you caused, and sure enough, today must be your lucky day. “Hey, look here!” 

You call for the boy as you swiftly take your polaroid camera off your bedside table– the one that belonged to your dad, the one you fought with Sunwoo about, the one your mum said was yours because Sunwoo is too careless with his things to keep it safe– and snap a picture of the puppy-like boy, laughing at the fact that now, you have the image of him looking dumb and covered in stickers forever. Or at least until he doesn't take it away from you– which he attempts quickly.

“Hey!” he yelps again, huffing as he lunges at you, trying to take the picture out of your grasp as you drop the camera into your soft sheets. Your feet take you to the living room, navigating through furniture, and when you don’t hear footsteps follow you, you think you’re safe– Eric does have a lot of energy, but chasing you around gets tiring for him quickly when he knows you'll never let him win.

Entering your room once again, prepared to find him on your bed like before, you’re taken by surprise as a shutter sound goes off right after you open the door, a polaroid picture taken of your face making you temporarily blind at the flash.

“Eric!” you whine, hating that there’s a picture of you standing shocked at your doorway now forever in the universe– not really caring that the boy just got you back with the exact stunt you pulled on him just a few minutes ago. Before you get a chance to blink out the blind spots in your vision caused by the flash and run after him, though, you feel him gently press you out of the doorway and slip outside, the sound of the front door opening and closing after him resonating along his slowly disappearing, amused laughter.

Serves you right, doesn’t it? 

Sighing, you shake your head and take a seat on your bed, the picture of the boy still in between your fingertips. You only take a look at it when your vision comes back to normal, and as the image of Eric covered in stickers, hair messy and cheeks rosy below the animal print comes into your sight, the revelation arrives the same second a starstruck smile plays with your features.

And with that, you’re absolutely terrified. 

Throwing the polaroid picture onto the bedside table and lunging yourself into the sheets, you scream into your pillow and wish for the feelings to disappear– because in what world does a crush on your brother’s best friend ever come to a happy ending?

OCTOBER OF 1999

Once October hits, you find yourself home alone more often than you’d like. Sure, you don’t mind having some me time to read comic books or watch the TV uninterrupted in the living room, but still– alone turns lonely pretty quickly, and somehow, you start to regret the fact that you’ve been relying on your older brother and his friends for so long instead of making some connections on your own.

Sunwoo started to play soccer at school– something is telling you that he might go far if he keeps it up– and that’s why he’s been stuck at practice every single day, coming home late in the evening all tired, but happy, so you’re not really complaining. Eric works in the little bistro downtown now, since he wanted to make some money and not rely on the allowance Mrs. Sohn gives him every month, and it’s not like you were that close to begin with, but the fact that the boy is now too busy to meet you is making your spirit fall just the tiniest bit. And with your mother always being at work, you find yourself alone in your room, laying in your bed and staring at the ceiling. 

Sometimes, you journal. About anything and everything, really. You don’t really think you’re ever gonna read back the entries once you’re older, since they would just be a reminder of how miserable and boring your teenage years really were, and that’s why you allow yourself to be authentic. On most days, you write about your assignments for school. Sometimes you bad mouth a classmate or two– gossiping with the diary pages, because you don’t really have any human beings to do so in real life– and seldom, you allow yourself to get into topics that evoke the slightest bits of existential crisis in you.

Topics like college. Growing up. Your lack of hobbies and social interaction with the outer world. The newly found crush on Eric Sohn…

Okay, maybe you do write about the boy with brown hair and dark eyes a little too often. You can’t help it, though– when he’s not giving you any new interactions to dwell on, you have to just pick apart the old ones. You think it’s a natural reaction.

And that’s exactly what you’re doing one October afternoon, the lamp in your room on, since the evening comes faster when the weather is colder, as you’re laying in your bed and kicking your feet back and forth, chewing on the end of your pencil. The sound of your doorbell resonates through the house suddenly and startles you, making you jump awake from your delirious delusions.

Mentally going through the list of possible visitors you could have– because it can’t be your mother or your brother, since they never forget to carry their house keys– you’re lost, not really finding any fitting candidates. Furrowing your brows, lost in thought and frankly, a bit confused, you plant your socked feet onto the wooden floor and walk over to the front door just in time for the bell to ring again. Scratching the back of your neck in nerves, thinking of precautions you could take for your own safety– since your front door doesn’t have a peep hole and you don’t want to open the door to a complete stranger– you clear your throat and yell over the door.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“Delivery!” a voice calls through the door, making you huff. 

“I didn’t order any food?” you yell back, confused. “Sir, there’s another house behind ours, sometimes the mailmen get confused and we get their mail. Maybe try there?” 

“The address is right, though?” the voice calls again, and somehow, it sounds kind of familiar… no, it can’t be, you dumb goose. You’re just imagining things because you’ve spent the last 20 minutes writing about the curve of his nose into your diary.

“There must be a mistake-”

“Come on, Y/N, open the door,” the voice on the other side mourns, the mention of your name making you jump, completely startled. The tone the man says it in is sweet like honey, though, so familiar in your ears, that you mentally want to slap yourself– so you weren’t dreaming. It is him.

Dragging your hand through your hair to smooth it down, praying you look at least a little presentable– although in your stained sweatpants and the Pokémon shirt you inherited from Sunwoo when he grew out of it, you doubt that’s even possible– you open the door and try to offer Eric a warm smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Food delivery,” Eric shrugs, pointing with his thumb in the direction behind his back, where his bike undoubtedly stands up against your gate.

“Oh…. but I already told you I didn’t order anything,” you mumble, confused. Studying his face– because a girl can indulge when she has the opportunity, am I right? – you notice his hair has grown a little longer, falling into his eyes. You bet it’s hard for him to see, but you must admit it looks nice, and you almost tell him, before you catch yourself and break away from the sentiment. 

The male snickers. “I know, I was just joking,” he says, “I did bring you food, though.”

“Why?” you ask, confused when he bends over and picks up a plastic bag off the ground, a container of food inside, the warmth of the contents making condensation appear all over the red sack. 

“We made this by mistake and it was just gonna be thrown out if nobody took it,” he shrugs, “and I figured you haven’t eaten yet– or if you did, you just had those cold kimbap rolls from the store– and I wanted to get some warm food into your stomach.”

“Ah,” you gasp, nodding at the explanation. It does explain the source of the food really well, but truthfully, it explains nothing about the fact why Eric thought of bringing you the food instead of taking it home with himself– he’s a foodie if you’ve ever seen one. The idea of him worrying about if you were fed or not is equally as strange and interesting in your head– still, you clasp your hand around the bag and take it, the smell making you involuntarily hungry. “Thank you.”

Eric only nods at you, a smile beaming at his face. “Well,” he sighs, “I’d love to stay longer and hang out, but I’m still on the clock, so…” he mumbles, taking a hesitant step backwards towards his bike, eyes never breaking contact with yours.

“Oh, right,” you nod, “that’s okay. Have a fun day at work!” you muse, watching him as he grins and finally retrieves back his bike, opening up the gate to your property and escaping, waving at you as he gets on.

“I’ll see you soon!” he calls as he rides off, your eyes following him until his figure disappears behind a corner, your ears buzzing with excitement and your lower lip trapped between your teeth with the innocent promise.

Walking back into the house, you grin as you close the front door behind you and carry the food into the kitchen. You quickly get the containers out of the damp bag, putting them onto the wooden table, and gasp when you find a sticky note on the very top one, a messy handwriting scribbled in a rush, but stuck to the food with care.

Eat well and don’t skip meals, Y/N-ie!! – Eric x

Not being able to battle your smile anymore, you decide to open up the containers and stuff your mouth with the food instead– only to find your favorite dish inside, staring back at you in what seems to be a dream that’s too good to wake up from. 

And sure, you are delusional, but are you delusional enough to believe that this wasn’t all a coincidence? You’re not so sure.

Still, you eat the food with feet kicking back and forth as you sit in the silent kitchen, the empty house no longer feeling so lonely. When you’re done, you throw the trash out– everything but the sticky note, which you glue into your diary a few minutes later, hoping to keep the memory forever.

NOVEMBER OF 1999

The world around you is dark as you step outside of cram school, your eyes are tired and your skin is prickled with goosebumps in the chilly air. You despise going to cram school, but your mother told you you have to– since you didn’t have any athletic features that could get you far in life like Sunwoo, you had to be good at studying, or else you won’t get into university. There was a lot of work ahead of you, but since you didn’t really have anything else to do in the day, you didn’t protest and went anyway.

The days are usually very long and you get off very late, resulting in you being tired almost all the time. When you get home, you undress yourself and change into your sleep clothes and doze off until the morning, when you have to wake up and go to school again– it’s an exhausting cycle, but you know you have to endure it for your own sake.

Walking down the steps that lead out the cram school building, you stretch your body and huff, cursing at yourself for the fact that you didn’t bring a jacket– you forgot that evenings get really chilly, and frankly speaking, you didn’t have much time to think when you were rushing to get ready in the morning. You’ll just have to get through it, you think to yourself as you walk in the direction of your house– the last bus to your neighborhood already left an hour ago, when you were in the middle of revising division– your sneakers kicking the stray rocks below your feet as you tug the sleeves of your hoodie lower, desperately trying to feel more heat.

“Do you never watch where you’re going? That’s gonna get you in trouble one day, you know,” you hear a familiar voice say, the joking tone making your heart skip a few beats as you place the owner of the saccharine voice to its face. Looking up, slightly alarmed at being caught in such a distressed state, you gasp.

“I was… watching my step, I guess,” you shrug as you come into a halt in front of him, shivering both under Eric’s gaze and the cold weather at once. “What are you doing here? Deliveries?”

“I just got off,” he says, “so I figured I could stop by. Sunwoo said you’re going to cram school, I thought you might enjoy some company on your way home.”

Gaping at his explanation, you nod, completely startled. The idea of your brother talking about you in front of Eric, the boy you have a very embarrassing, very big crush on scares you, to say the least. See, it doesn’t really matter that the boy grew up with you, pretty much seeing you at your lowest whenever he was around over at your house when you were both just little kids– the image of Sunwoo telling Eric about finding you sobbing at your comic book (the scene got too sad, nobody can really blame you) or about how your favorite jeans ripped right before you had to go to school one morning is terrifying. You don’t really want him to know about these things. He may act like your brother sometimes, but you never really saw him in that light in the first place.

“Well, then,” you clear your throat, “it’s… it’s good to see you,” you say. Eric shows you his boyish grin as your lips utter out the words, and you can’t help but mirror it, your eyes locking with the male. As if you just took a step back, your eyes see him in a light you’ve never seen him before– as if this was your first time meeting your brother’s best friend– and something about the sentiment has your stomach feeling all uneasy, heat rushing to your face. His hair is styled in a way that tells you that he didn’t really style it (or if he did, it looked truly effortless in your eyes, so props to him), pushed back a little and revealing his forehead, a few of the strands carelessly falling into his eyes. His jawline is sharper than how it was when you first met the boy, and with the realization of a foolish teenage girl, you have to admit that Eric Sohn grew up to be a very attractive, attentive man.

“You’re cold?” he says, although the sentence sounds more like a statement rather than a question, before he shakes his head at your antics and heaves out a sigh. “You should’ve taken a jacket with you when you went, you know it gets cold in the evening,” he scolds you. In those times, he reminds you the most of your brother– because although you and Sunwoo act like you hate each other sometimes, you know the older male still cares about you. He just hates showing it, which translates in his scolding tone whenever you do something wrong or against his wishes. 

In those times, Eric reminds you the most of the way your brother treats you, and you somehow hate it. You despise the fact, because that means he must only see you as someone like his younger sister– he never had one, so maybe he just likes to compensate for it by taking care of you all the time. Maybe he feels responsible to do so because of Sunwoo. The thought makes you equally as nauseous– you’d never want him to hang out with you just because he feels like he has to. 

“I didn’t have time in the morning,” you grunt, rolling your eyes at him. You avert your gaze from the male, for it makes you slightly uncomfortable after your previous thoughts, so when the noise of a zipper being pulled down and the weight of fabric on your shoulders brings you back to reality, you snap your head around at him all alarmed. 

“What? Wear it,” he says, head shrugging towards the direction of his jacket on your figure. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you don’t.”

Trying to wrestle out of the red material, you squirm in the hold of the windbreaker– Eric’s hands gripping each side of the jacket, as if predicting your next moves, making sure it stays on you and doesn’t fall down. His strong arms tug you closer to him to make your fight more difficult– and he’s successful with his efforts, because the proximity of him and his smell engulfs you and unarms you, heat rushing to your cheeks as you halt in your movements.

“Stop,” you mourn, “I don’t need it.”

“Yes you do,” he insists, “so stop being a baby about it and wear it.”

Staring into his eyes, as if to mentally tell him to stop what he’s doing– to stop how he’s treating you, how he’s making you all weak in your knees and sleepless at nights because of how much you think of him and hope he’s doing well each day, to stop being so gentle with you and taking care of you, because it brings all sorts of both doubts and delusions into your head– but he doesn’t back down. You’ve known him for quite some time, you should already be aware of just how stubborn he can be.

“Arms in,” he hums, holding on to the jacket and waiting for you to wear it properly. One thing about you– you can always admit your defeat. So, with a sigh, you put your arms through the sleeves of Eric’s red windbreaker, shrinking a little under his firm gaze. He looks at you with a look full of something you can’t decipher, and it’s all making you so, so insanely lost in the many thoughts and feelings swirling around your head, not helping your current state.

“I already have a brother, y’know,” you mumble in a moment of weakness, looking at your feet– your dirty white sneakers almost touching his from how close you are standing right now, “so you should stop treating me like one.”

A moment of silence overtakes you two, and you suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong. Still, Eric’s hands are holding on to the sides of the opened jacket, keeping you close to him. “Hm?” 

Clearing your throat and shaking your head, you snicker to yourself. “Forget it.”

“No- I mean,” he blurts out, tone of voice a little nervous, “do you see me as your brother figure?” he asks, tone of voice more quiet now, more gentle.

Breathing in the crispy air, taking a moment before you reply, you shake your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “no, I don’t. I- I don’t think I do,” you say, scared of what your answer will bring out of him. You don’t really know why, but at this moment, you feel insanely fragile– as if any bad move could make you break in his hands, waiting for him to glue you back together. 

Metaphorically, he does just that. “Good,” he nods, leaning down towards you, hands gripping the zipper of his jacket and zipping it together, making sure no cold can get to your bones as his fingers tug it up towards the very top, under your chin. “Because I’ve never seen you as my sister either.”

His answer once again startles you– but when you take a step back from the situation, you think it was in a good way. His hands grip your shoulders for a second as his eyes meet yours and he offers you a warm smile. “Come on, let’s get you home,” he says, tugging you towards the fence where you find his bike, his motions guiding you like a rag doll sucked out of all life.

“Hop in,” he motions towards the back of the bike, where the basket would usually be– Eric moved it towards the front, though, leaving enough room for you to sit at– and as you do, he takes a seat in front of you and looks back at you over his shoulder. “Hold on tight so you don’t fall.”

Like in a trance, your arms sneak around his middle– this was the first time you had this kind of physical touch with him, and just the thought of it makes you want to scream your throat out– before the male takes off on the bike, riding towards your neighborhood. With the cold wind slapping your face, you foolishly rest your cheek on his shoulder blade and close your eyes, enjoying the closeness of his body keeping you warm. 

If anyone asked you about the action, you’d tell them you were just tired.

DECEMBER OF 1999

Socked feet make their way through the room, the sound of footsteps resonating on the laminated floor, as the short male comes up to you with a bowl of potato chips in his right hand and a bottle of soda under his left arm. Eric Sohn sighs at you, shaking his head in disbelief, before he places the items onto the coffee table and takes a seat next to you on the floor, opening up the bottle and pouring the three of you drinks.

“Can’t believe I’m spending New Year’s Eve with you losers, of all people,” Eric snickers, having you roll your eyes at the male and grumpily furrow your eyebrows at his sentence.

“No one’s stopping you if you wanna go, y’know,” you grunt as you take the filled glass off the table, taking a sip of the sweet drink and sighing at him. If he’s gonna take a leap into the new year with you while making you annoyed, he may as well leave now and do whatever his initial plan was– once again, no one’s stopping him if that’s what he wants to do.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “it would’ve been so much more fun if we all went to Juyeon hyung’s. Everyone’s there celebrating, but we’re stuck here in your room.” 

“Well, Eric,” your brother smiles ironically at him, shrugging to himself, “it’s not like it’s my fault you’re not over at Juyeon hyung’s right now. You chose to spend the new years here with me. My mother prohibited me from going there, not yours.”

The argument has the male shrug, his eyes averting your brother’s gaze once his comment gets a bit too honest and realistic. It’s true and he’s right– it’s not like Eric’s mum told him he can’t go celebrate with his friends, because she didn’t. Eric’s mum trusts him and wants him to have fun and do what all the kids his age are doing. Your mum, on the other hand, is making you and Sunwoo stay home for New Year’s Eve to celebrate with your family, because, as she quoted, New Year’s Eve the only time she gets time off work, and she wants to spend it with her kids– forget the fact that you’re currently sitting locked in your room with your friend, protesting the family time just because you can– and when Sunwoo told her she has to stop treating him like a little kid, she told him she has all the right to do so, because he is her kid. And that’s how the party he was supposed to attend with Eric (the party you foolishly thought you’re gonna have to tag along to, not hating the sentiment as much as before now) got canceled from your brother’s plans.

“Well,” Eric chews on the inside of his cheek, “I did it for you two. Be grateful.”

“Whatever,” you hum, “let’s turn on the TV. I bet there’s some variety show on.”

Eric heaves out a sigh as he reaches for the TV remote, clicking the power button and making the boxy device in front of you light up. Your mum got you a TV in your room when you complained about being too bored one November day, and although the box of entertainment didn’t really help like you imagined it to, you’re glad it’s of service at least today. Instead of the expected variety show, though, there’s news on– the face of the old announcer looking at you with a serious look on his face, the professional tone making chills run down your spine, for he reminds you a bit of your mother when she scolds you. You think that’s a common news announcer trait. 

“As the year 2000 approaches, computer programmers realize that computers might not interpret the 00 in the software as 2000, but 1900. The softwares currently running only use a two-digit code for the year, excluding the 19. The data was excluded because the data storage is costly and takes up too much space. Activities that were planned on a daily basis could be damaged or flawed,” the announcer says, making the three of you look at the screen with interest. Maybe it’s true that when you get older, you get more interested in news– you think it’s good to know what’s going on around you, although the topic discussed right now might not even concern you in the slightest.

“Banks, which calculate the interest rates on a daily basis, could face real problems. Interest rates are the amount of money a lender, such as a bank, charges a customer, such as an individual or business, for a loan. Instead of the rate of interest for one day, the computer could calculate a rate of interest for minus almost 100 years!” 

“Oops,” Eric lets out next to you, a reaction so far away from what a real adult would think of the situation. See, you are all just kids, after all.

“Centers of technology, such as power plants, are also threatened by this issue. Power plants depend on routine computer maintenance for safety checks, such as water pressure or radiation levels. Not having the correct date could throw off these calculations and possibly put nearby residents at risk,” the announcer continues, the information coming out of his mouth suddenly making you hyper aware of the reality you’re experiencing right now.

“Do we have a nuclear power plant nearby?” you ask in a hushed whisper, watching as the men next to you almost comically widen their eyes, shrugging.

“I’m not sure,” Sunwoo peeps.

“The worst of all, this software and hardware issue could cause such a big problem in nuclear energy facilities, where nuclear bombs and missiles could be set off, causing the world to go into utter chaos, or worse, an end,” the announcer concludes, the last word making you gasp in terror. 

“An end?” you chirp, sitting up straight in your seat as you look at the two men, now equally as terrified. There’s something in Sunwoo’s gaze that makes chills run down your spine, the reality crushing down on you with heavy measures. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have fought with mum. What if the last words the two of us exchanged before we die are the harsh words I had said yesterday?” your brother mourns, seeing as his best friend chews on his bottom lip, lost in thought.

“What did you say to your mum?”

“That- that I’ll never forgive her for ruining this for me,” he mumbles, his voice breaking at the end, “and… other things,” he adds, the hint of incoming panic making his best friend frantically wave his hands around and try to make your brother relax before he has to deal with the breakdown. If the world is ending, this is not how any of you want to go.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Eric says, clearing his throat and pointing to the TV, “look! The show is on, we should watch before the year ends,” he proposes, taking the remote into his hand and turning the volume up to hopefully drown out Sunwoo’s thoughts and have him focus on something else. And it works– noting that your brother has an attention span of a 5 year old– he can hardly remember what he was worrying about just 30 seconds ago.

Still, the thought keeps bouncing around your head like a child in a bouncy castle. The words of the news anchor keep repeating in your brain, making your ears ring as you look at Eric from the corner of your eye, watching his angelic face. Oh how you hate disturbing the peace now that you’ve all calmed down– but still, you can’t deal with the worries alone. Checking the clock hung above the TV, noticing there’s at least 5 minutes left before midnight, you clear your throat, feeling your whole body on fire.

“Do you really think the world is gonna end?” you ask, cracking your knuckles in a nervous manner. Looking at Eric, pupils shaking, you find your brother’s best friend seemingly lost in thought. The music of the variety show program serves you three as a background sound now, none of you paying attention to the TV anymore, instead, focusing on all the things you've done wrong in your life and how somehow, this feels like karma for all of it.

“I dunno,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I mean- they said it’s possible! It was on the news, and they wouldn’t lie on the news…” he nervously mumbles, scratching the back of his head. 

“That’s what’s worrying me,” you sigh, “we shouldn’t have turned on the TV.”

“It was your idea in the first place!”

“And I’ll carry the burden into my grave,” you admit, gulping as you press a forced smile onto your lips.

Momentarily looking back at the TV, you desperately want to keep the thought of the world being over out of your head before you spend your last minutes on this earth going crazy– but now that you started, you can’t keep thinking about it. “Man, the world can’t end yet. There’s so many things I haven’t tried yet! I’m too young to die!”

The men don't reply to that– you presume they’re too busy trying to find other things to occupy themselves with instead of the inevitable– which has you dissatisfied as you throw your body back into the sofa, heaving out a sigh. Seconds go by painfully slow but also painfully fast at the same time, given the circumstances, as you listen to the cheerful song playing in the background and nudge your friend into his upper arm with your pointer finger, feeling his arm encircle your shoulders and pull you closer to him. The contact of his fingers on your upper arm makes you squirm and break out into a smile, feeling a particular lightness in your stomach at the action, a sensation that has you in shock. 

“I’m gonna talk with mum before we die,” Sunwoo suddenly calls as he stands up from his seat on the floor, sighing to himself, “I can’t go with the thought of her being upset with me,” he sentimentally adds before he’s out of the door, rushing towards the living room.

The space falls into momentary silence now that your brother is gone, having you chew on your bottom lip with nerves. You think now is the time to beg for forgiveness with the higher forces– I'm sorry for not studying well. I'm sorry for being rude and ungrateful towards my mum. I'm sorry for being greedy– when the sound of Eric’s voice resonates through the place as he speaks up again, waking you up from the anxious slumber, the clock now striking 2 minutes before midnight. “What would you wanna do before you die?” he asks.

The question is simple. You presume he wants simple answers– things like getting into college, getting a good job and making a lot of money, growing old– but as you lean away from him and get back to your place on his left, your eyes locked with his, you’re left clueless. There are so many things you have yet to achieve, and the idea of not being able to pushes a burden to your chest, but at this very moment, you can’t really name one. 

Shrugging, you chew on the inside of your cheek as your eyes scan his face. His firm eye contact has you a bit flustered, making you shrivel in your seat, and as the sound of the TV morphs from the song into a countdown from 55, you’re overwhelmed with the thought that your friend is insanely pretty– and he always has been, you just hated admitting it to yourself for the past few months, despite still being fully aware– and that now, when the world ends, you’re dying unkissed and alone.

Well, not completely alone, since Eric’s here. And he’s always been here– your whole life, since you can remember, and he’s here now as well, even though he should’ve been at Juyeon’s house. As the clock strikes 30 seconds away from midnight, your eyes involuntarily travel down to his chapped lips, all air knocked out of your lungs, the thoughts in your brain picking up on speed the closer you come to the end.

You’re dying soon. You’re dying in 30- now 29 seconds, and you’ve never kissed anyone before. You’re dying before you get a chance to hold hands with someone and have a partner, and you’re dying before you get a chance to tell Eric how you feel about him. There’s 28 seconds left until the end and you’re just staring at him like a coward, because you don’t really let yourself indulge in the silly warmth of your heart whenever you’re around your friend, but god, you can at least admit it to yourself before you die.

And as the clock gets closer and closer to midnight, now only giving you 20 seconds before it all ends and a missile lands on the top of your house, blowing up the whole town and making you all disappear, Eric’s question repeats itself in your brain. What would you want to do before you die?

The answer is suddenly painfully clear as you take action– leaning towards the boy on your right, face closer to his than it’s ever been before, your eyes counting all his eyelashes and focusing on his surprised, yet unmoving face– and as you hear the countdown reach 15, you close your eyes and press your lips against his. 

The contact makes you weak in your knees as your hands reach to his face to steady him, your own firework show erupting in your stomach, and suddenly you’re completely content with dying tonight– because at least you’re with Eric, at least you did something. You kiss your friend with something close to an unsaid confession, your lips staying on his throughout the rest of the countdown, the taste of soda you’ve both been drinking the whole evening mixing in the contact of your skin. You’re not sure you’re even doing this right– again, you’ve never kissed anyone before– but it doesn’t matter to you much as you let go of your worries, aware of the fact that in a few seconds, nothing will matter anymore when neither of you are going to be around to say anything to each other after the kiss is over.

The countdown rings in your ears– coming down from 5 as you scoot yourself closer to Eric, 4 as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheekbones, 3 as you still in your movements, 2 as you notice your knees bumping into each other on the ground and finally, 1 as you get ready to die, kissing your first and only love– when the sound of cheers and fireworks from the TV fills your ears instead, the world around you stilling and completely unchanged.

Your kiss started in 1999 and ended in 2000. Your love for him passed a century.

Eyes fluttering open and your mouth letting go of his, the image of the boy with his lips slightly parted, eyes closed and cheeks rosy comes to you in the yellow light of your room, making your heart fall down to your stomach. He looks absolutely angelic, his hair slightly messy and the fabric of his shirt a little disheveled in the front, and even though you’d love to indulge in your foolish desires and kiss him some more, you’re quickly taken aback with the noise of the door to your room opening and making you jump away from Eric, your brother appearing out of thin air in the presence of your room. It serves you like a weird kind of reality check, Eric’s eyes opening and looking at your brother, and even though you two haven’t been caught, the male clears his throat and bites down on his lower lip, looking almost guilty.

Oh no. What have you done?

Suddenly, you feel insanely silly.

JANUARY OF 2000

“You’ve been awfully quiet the whole day,” Sunwoo mumbles from beside you, his whole body engulfed in a pile of snow, “not that I care, but are you okay?”

“I thought you liked it when I don’t talk,” you mutter, playing with the frozen white all around you, seated on the red plastic sled at the top of the hill. You got tired after dragging it up from the bottom, and when you noticed that the rest of Sunwoo’s friends– Eric included– are still on their way up, you figured you could use up the time to relax and sit around for a while. It’s been quite some time since all of Sunwoo’s friends gathered to hang out at the same time, which made you surprised to see that your own brother invited you to tag along with them as they decided to go sledding on the second day of January, using up their break to best of their abilities. Which is also why you didn’t say no to the invitation– you thought sitting at home and moping around wouldn’t help you much.

“I do,” he says, nodding, “that’s why I’m asking what’s up– so I know what to do when I need to shut you up later,” Sunwoo hums, making you roll your eyes at the masked worry.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you scoff. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure,” he shrugs, “so you’re just going through puberty?” he teases, to which you take a handful of snow into your palm and lunge the white at him, satisfaction running through your veins when the snowball lands into his unsuspecting face, the male coughing and swatting his arms around to defend himself.

“Hey!” your brother screams at you once he gets the ice out of his eyes and his mouth, his body jumping into a standing position before he chases you around, the bubble of a laugh escaping your throat for the first time these days– they’re not wrong when they say malicious joy is the best kind of joy.

Running at the top of the hill, not really looking where you’re going– instead looking over your shoulder to see Sunwoo’s actions, preparing yourself to duck if he decides to turn your small quarrel into a snow fight– your legs get tangled with the red sled you left before you started a war with the angered man, a yelp cutting out of your throat as you get prepared to fall over and knock your teeth out.

Your body comes in contact with something half-firm, half-soft, and as your feet slip and the snow-covered ground disappears from below your legs, two arms wrap around your waist and steady you, making sure you don’t get hurt.

Turns out Eric Sohn is there to catch you every time you are about to eat shit. You hate this kind of deja vu.

As you open your eyes (that you had closed on instinct, not wanting to see your own death) once you’re sure you’re safe and sound, the world around you invites itself into your ears in an overwhelming noise. The laughter of Sunwoo’s friends– some hollering at your fall, some at the redness and last remains of snow covering your brother’s face– and the hushed arguments over who’s going down first– with Haknyeon screaming that he’s stealing Sunwoo’s (yours) sled and Juyeon following him. After all those happening in the matter of a few seconds,  you realize you’re left on the top of the hill alone with the male, terror shaking through your insides.

Clearing your throat and taking a step back from him, you tuck your hands into your pockets and avert your gaze from Eric. You two haven’t spoken since you decided to kiss him on New Year’s Eve, and with the awkward tension in the air, you don’t feel like doing so ever again in your whole entire life. 

“Thanks,” still, you hum.

Eric seems a little more light-hearted than you, shrugging as he replies to you. “Haven’t I told you to start watching where you’re going?”

“I’m not good with listening sometimes,” you mutter, huffing. Taking a look around yourself– noticing that there are no sleds left on the top of the hill, therefore, if you wanted to escape the situation, the only way down would be to roll around like a human version of a snowman, you once again admit your defeat, standing around nervously and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

The silence is uncomfortable. It makes you want to dig a hole in the snow and bury yourself alive, to suffocate under the weight of the icy cold and never see Eric’s face again. You know that you ruined whatever friendship you had with the male– by being stupid and foolish, not really thinking about consequences (because there were supposed to be none and you were supposed to be dead), and the weight of the guilt makes you want to puke and hide away. 

Still, Eric comes out of his way to talk to you. Honestly, you’re kind of surprised– he should be disgusted with you. Realistically, he should be the one avoiding you, not the other way around.“They’re gonna take long to walk back up,” he notes, “wanna get hot chocolate with me?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you shake your head, not once breaking eye contact with the overwhelming white of the hill.

“Come on,” he sighs, “it’s just around the corner. They built a hot chocolate stand because they knew kids would come sledding here. Honestly, it’s an astute business tactic, but I promise the hot chocolate actually tastes nice,” he says, nudging you slightly with his arm, as if to make you look at him and change your mind.

“Thanks, but no,” you definitely say, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks, tone of voice casual– as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if nothing ever happened and he was genuinely curious about the reasoning behind your actions.

“I’m not, I just don’t really like hot chocolate,” you sheepishly mutter, trying hard to avoid the topic.

“So you are avoiding me,” he hums, as if it wasn’t obvious before– and not only because you’re a bad liar. Plus, you love hot chocolate. Somehow, you think Eric knows.

“Look, Eric,” you sigh, running your hand through your hair, “can’t you just drop it?”

“No,” he shrugs, shaking his head, “and that’s why we’re talking about the reason why you’re avoiding me over a cup of hot chocolate. Let’s go.”

His persistence is terribly overwhelming sometimes. You wonder how the male does it. “I already told you-”

“You owe me for the stickers and the meal and everything,” he corners you, and you know you can’t argue with that. He’s kind of right, you suppose– you never paid him back for all the chocolates or for the free meal he brought you that one evening. And that’s exactly why you find yourself sighing as you follow him, mentally preparing yourself for the talk.

You hate how he can always get his way. Walking up to the stand, you crack your knuckles in the pocket of your jacket, nervously coming up with possible arguments to tell him. I didn’t kiss you on purpose, it was an accident. I only did it to know how it feels. We are both supposed to be dead, it’s not my fault the world didn’t end like it was supposed to! Each sentence sounds more stupid than the previous one, and so with that, you shake your head, wiping the thoughts away, smiling at the elderly lady in the stand. You’re just gonna have to be honest, you figure. 

“Two hot chocolates, please.”

Rummaging through your pockets to find your wallet– you do owe Eric, so it’s only natural for you to pay– you’re caught off guard as the male next to you swiftly takes out his own and unzips it, preparing to pay for you. 

“I thought I owed you?” you mumble, hand reaching to tug at his forearm to stop him, to which Eric only grins at you and sighs.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to pay,” he says.

“I think that’s exactly what that means.”

“Just take it,” he huffs as he brings out a note from his wallet, the force making something else fly out and fall to the ground with it, having the boy swiftly crouch down and pick the item up, attempting to hide it before you get a chance to see. And now, you don’t have 20/20 vision, but you recognise your face when you see it– that, and you also recognize the small white sheet to be a polaroid picture, and as far as you’re aware, you’re the only one who has a camera in his circle.

The boy hands you the drink with red-tinted cheeks. The idea of him carrying a picture of you that he took back in September makes you flush as well, and when your gloved fingers accidentally meet as you take the cup from him, he forces out a laugh. “We can talk about that after you tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

His nonchalance has you relaxing only for a few seconds. The boy walks with you as you try to heat up your cold hands on the boiling surface of the cup, and when you see a bench a few meters away from you two, you instinctively take a seat.

“So?” he becomes you, eyebrows rising as he takes a sip from the melted sweetness.

Sighing, you try to come up with the best way to go around this. Do you apologize? Do you promise to never do it again– and you won’t, even though you want to so badly and his lips look surprisingly soft today? Furrowing your brows at the war in your head, you place the cup on the bench next to you and put your head into your hands, hiding away from him when you realize the only way to do this is to be completely, utterly honest.

“I’m just so embarrassed, Eric.”

The only noise meeting your eardrums in the moment is the faint yelling of the crowd sledding in the background, your companion remaining quiet for a bit. When he sees you won’t explain yourself, he goes ahead and asks the question. “Why?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” you sigh, not believing his so casual composure.

“Maybe,” he laughs, the airy sound taking all breath away from your lungs.

Well, not all of it, since you have enough oxygen to go on a tangent, it seems. “Because I kissed you, goddamnit. And- and I don’t even know why I did it, honestly, I’ve never thought of kissing you before! It’s just- when I heard the world is ending, I realized I hadn’t had my first kiss yet, and that just felt like such a miserable way to die, and then you asked what I wanted to do before I die and I couldn’t think of anything else,” you say, progressively taking out your head from your hands and facing the male, big eyes staring into his soul. 

To your surprise, he doesn’t seem mad. Or disgusted. Or any of the reactions you expected, really. Eric stares at you with a soft, but amidst a little star-struck look in his eyes, and you’re suddenly painfully aware of every slight shift in his composure.

“Did you kiss me because you wanted to kiss me, or because you thought the world was gonna end?” he asks, awaiting your answer.

And if you’re being honest, 2 days after New Year’s Eve, you do admit the thought of the world actually ending sounds a bit stupid. Why did you even believe that theory? Why did they talk about it so seriously on the news? They tricked you into ruining your own life. 

But still, nothing can be done about it now. “Both,” you admit, shrugging, “I… I kissed you because I really didn’t want to die unkissed, but also… I wanted it to be you, y’know? Like… I thought we were really going to die, and so I thought kissing you might be a nice way to go. I really wanted to spend my last moments with you, I guess,” you sheepishly say, averting your gaze from the male.

Eric offers you his silence again after you’re done explaining. While you do admit you feel a little tense to hear what he has to say, you also realize you feel lighter now that it’s out in the universe and out of your system. A major weight was taken off your shoulders with the confession, and suddenly, you’re kind of glad that your friend was so assertive and insistent on talking about this– who knows how long you’d go before managing to face him. You think you could honestly go on… forever.

Taking a sip of the luscious liquid, you feel your body warm up once the anxiousness slips away from your bones. The boy next to you hums, making you face him with expecting eyes. “Then why were you avoiding me?”

Sighing, you shake your head. “I just told you. I’m starting to think you’re the one that’s bad at listening.”

“No,” he laughs, “that’s still you. Because if you were good at listening, you’d remember me telling you that I’ve never once seen you as my younger sister.”

Shrugging, kicking the pile of snow in front of you with the tip of your winter boots, you’re not quite following. “So?”

“So you should’ve realized that I’m not doing all of this,” he theatrically swings his arms around, “for nothing, you know?”

“All of what?”

“Taking care of you. Feeding you, helping you collect those stupid animal stickers, walking you home…” he mumbles, sighing. “Keeping your picture in my wallet,” he adds with a playful tone, making you smile.

“I thought you were just being a good friend,” you shrug.

“I don’t keep a picture of your brother on me at all times,” he says, tugging off his gloves. The sleeve of his jacket rides up a little as you watch him take his cup of hot chocolate off the bench, surprised (and flooded with warmth) to see the ugly friendship bracelet you made still adorning his wrist.

Grinning to yourself, excitement welcoming itself into the tips of your fingertips, you shrug. “So?” you mirror your own question from a little while ago, wanting him to say it to you instead of relying on your own brain– you think there’s still a possibility of you just being too delusional to see the reality for what it really is. You need to make sure you’re not imagining things.

“So,” he starts, sighing to himself as he turns a little in his seat to face you, “you should stop avoiding me, because I liked the kiss. And you. And we should probably do it again, because I didn’t get the chance to kiss you back the first time,” he says, once again taking all oxygen out of your lungs with the casualty of his preposition.

Locking his eyes with you, having you two staring at each other like two rays of sunshine warming up the cold January, he grins. “How does that sound?”

“Good,” you breathe out, “very good.”

The male takes it as an invitation as he scoots himself closer to you on the bench, his body turning a bit to face you. His free hand cups your cheek, leaning closer to lock his lips with you like he asked you to, your eyes fluttering close at the proximity, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach already expecting to kiss him again. The situation feels a little too idyllic to be real, though– you should’ve expected it to get ruined again.

Something cold and wet comes into contact with the side of your face, and when you sharply open your eyes, you see Eric staring at you with shock and terror in his eyes, the snow dripping down the side of his face as well. Whoever threw the snowball has good aim, you think– managing to target two people at once (even though your faces were that close to each other that it probably wasn’t even that hard), and before you get a chance to look around and see who cut off your kiss, there’s a scream coming from the left side of the two of you, the sound of feet quickly darting in the snow landing into your ears.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” the voice hollers, and before you get a chance to react, the said male fastly stands up from the bench and runs to the other direction, laughter resonating all throughout the place as Sunwoo and his friends chase their shortest friend down.

Snow starts falling as you watch your brother tail his childhood friend, and with a foreign sense of warmth, you get reminded of the birthday wish you made while blowing out the candles on your seventh birthday.

You wished for someone just like Eric. You didn’t know the universe would be so kind to give you him instead.

#bjnet #the boyz #eric sohn #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #eric sohn fluff #eric fluff #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #tbz scenario #tbz fic #the boyz scenario #the boyz fluff #the boyz imagines #sohn youngjae #youngjae x reader

[totaly-obsessed]

Mini-Moo!

Leah Willamson x reader fic

-> Reader tends to bring home new animals when Leah is gone - what will it be this time?

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Leah and Laura had joined their fellow arsenal teammates in Herzogenaurach, even though they were still in rehab for their torn ACL’s – it was good for team building if everyone was there. 

The blondes favorite part of this particular camp were the meals. Seeing as she couldn’t train with them on the pitch, it was bittersweet to be there, having to watch them, so being together outside of training was the nicest part. 

“You reckon your Zoo will have a new addition?” 

They were having lunch outside as it was a beautiful sunny day. It was Katie who started teasing Leah about her living situation – who else? 

Leah lived in a nice house with a big fenced in garden, together with you. And three cats and two dogs and supposedly wild birds that lived in the birdhouses you had set up but you kept feeding them so they came back and brought squirrels. There were also two tiny lambs in a heated little barn that you had picked up, who needed to be bottle fed. 

“Baby we can’t have lambs!” 

“But Lee he was going to abandon them!” 

But upon seeing your quivering lips, swollen and teary eyes and a soft white lamb in your arms, she gave up. 

How could she say no to that? So she didn’t. Little Mimi and Momo now were gradually moving on to solid foods, instead of being bottle fed. 

It seemed, that every time that Leah left your shared home she came back to more animals. 

“Honestly? Who knows?” The other girls thought it was quite comical, thinking about tall, stoic Leah who came home to her girlfriend and a whole Zoo of animals to cuddle – and she did. 

She gave of the biggest dad energy, not wanting any of the animals you had gotten, but it was Leah who would always take their sides, cuddle them to sleep and feed them treats even though you had already given them some. 

“But I’m gonna put my foot down this time. It’s enough animals at home.” The whole table started laughing, knowing damn well that Leah would never be able to say no to you or soft little animals. 

It was only a couple of days later when the older woman returned home. 

“Baby – I’m home!” As expected there were many excited feet coming her way – none of them human. 

It took her a while to properly greet the cats and dogs, who were longing for scratches only Leah could give. Every time you tried to scratch them how they liked it, you ended up being scared of hurting them, so you decided that you would be the one to give the best pets. 

“Baby? Where are you lovie?” The only thing Leah could hear was her own heartbeat – desperate to find you. While you only had not seen each other for a couple of days, the defender tended to be quite clingy, so she wanted to see you as soon as possible again. 

Upon walking outside, a hoard of animals following her - she saw Mimi and Momo grazing outside. 

“Baby?” And there you were, running out of the little barn. 

“Lee! You’re back!” Careful not to put too much pressure on her healing knee, Leah picked you up in a hug swinging you around a little. 

“I missed you, baby.” You wanted to reply to her, teasing how it only were a couple of days but instead of hearing your voice, she heard a little ‘Moo’ coming from the barn. 

“Do you wanna drink something Lee?” But the blonde didn’t even listen to you, pushing you aside gently. “Come on baby, you’ve had such a long day, lets get to bed yeah?” 

You again jump in her way, trying to redirect her inside again. “Let me see baby.” Now you started to panic, the moos getting louder – with all your might you tried pushing the defender back by her shoulders. 

The older blonde started to get frustrated and went in for a hug. “Awwwhhh, are you cuddly babe?”, you thought she gave up and wanted your worldfamous hugs, so when she pressed your body closer to hers, picking you up, you were surprised. “Ayieeee! Leah! Put me down!” 

With just a couple of steps the two of you stood in the barn, Leah setting you down on your feet again. 

‘Moo!’ 

And there it stood. A fluffy calf, or baby cow as you liked to call them. 

“What is that?” Deep brown button eyes stared her straight into her soul. 

‘Mooo’ 

“That’s Button…” 

“That’s a fucking cow - baby.” She did not look impressed or amused for that matter. 

“No it’s a baby cow, and her name is Button.” 

As always it took a little convincing, but only a few, well spent hours later, the two of you were lying in bed, cuddling. 

“Button is pretty cute – she can stay.” 

And with that your very own Zoo had grown, and Leah had a new baby to fuss about.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

liked by kimlittle1990 and 44.330 others

Leahwilliamsonn: Meet Button! Our newest addition to the Williamson Zoo!

katie_mccabe11: What happened to "putting your foot down"?

-> leahwilliamsonn: I don't want to hear it

lottewubbenmoy: Hi Button!

stephcatley: Why is she so cute?

#leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #awfc x reader #woso imagines