Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
synopsis. you really have to study, and macklin really wants to be near you. he swears he won’t bother you that much..
warnings. fluff galore, established relationship but they live right next to each other so undisclosed neighbors to lovers…, reader is a college student, nickname for mack is puppy i couldnt resist but i did it in the most unnatural way possible #gootbye, not proofread we die like my computer
authors note. hello world i am still alive i am preparing myself for senior year by trying NOT to kms so take this as a treat for mi absence 💔💔 also this is a remake of another fic i had sitting in the drafts if it sounds funny then oops #sorrypau
you’ve been locked away in your apartment the past few days studying for a final.
every available surface in your living room has slowly disappeared beneath stacks of notes, color-coded flashcards, and half-finished cups of coffee that have gone cold hours ago. your laptop has been open for so long that the screen brightness seems permanently burned into your vision, and you’re fairly certain you’ve spent more time staring at diagrams this week than you have at actual people.
you’ve spent the last three days rotating between your desk, your couch, and your kitchen solely for the purpose of obtaining more caffeine. your final exam is later this week, and despite the fact that you’ve studied enough material to teach the course yourself, you still felt wildly underprepared.
your phone has been buzzing on the coffee table for the last hour, and you already know exactly who it is without looking, because only one person texts you with this much consistency and this little regard for whether or not you're busy.
you don't even bother responding to that one, because you know better, and you go back to your flashcards fully intending to ignore him into submission. it doesn't work. it never works.
barely a minute passes before there's a knock at your door, quick and eager, the evening light already gone gold and heavy through your blinds. you're not even surprised — just resigned, sighing as you push yourself up from the couch and shuffle over to let him in, because you know if you don't, he'll just stand out there knocking until you do.
you pull the door open, already giving him a look. "you didn't even wait for me to say no."
macklin is standing there in one of his ratty hoodies, his floppy brown hair falling into his eyes, still slightly dark and damp like he just showered, and when he grins at you it's that lopsided, gummy smile of his — the one that shows a little too much gum and somehow still manages to be the most endearing thing you've ever seen. his green eyes are shining, body practically vibrating with the effort of looking casual as if he wasn’t dying to be within a 2 feet radius of you. "you didn't say no," he points out. "you said nothing. very different."
"macklin."
"hi sweet girl." he's already stepping past you into the apartment before you can fully commit to being annoyed, toeing off his shoes at the door like this was always the plan, like there was never a version of tonight where he wasn't ending up on your couch. "i won't stay long. i just wanted to see you for a second."
you shut the door behind him, mostly because there's no point doing anything else at this point, and follow him back into the living room, stepping over a stack of notes on your way. "i told you i couldn't come over," you remind him, dropping back down onto the couch beside your laptop.
"i know. so i came here instead." he says this like it's the most logical solution in the world, like it wasn't the exact outcome you were trying to avoid by not answering his texts, already making himself comfortable in the small space you'd left open on the cushion. "problem solved."
"that's not- i'm studying," you say, gesturing vaguely at the wreckage of flashcards and cold coffee mugs surrounding you, as if the evidence needs pointing out.
"i know, i know. you're studying." he makes a beeline for your couch anyway, dropping down and immediately looking around at the chaos like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, picking up a stray flashcard and turning it over in his hands. "whoa. okay. this is a lot of flashcards."
"i have a final in three days," you say, not looking up as you flip to the next page of your notes.
"i know, you texted me." he says it fondly, not accusingly, already reaching for one of your color-coded stacks and flipping through them like he's trying to memorize the color system himself. "can i quiz you?"
you glance over at him with an eyebrow raised/ “you don’t know anything about organic chemistry, you only finished one year of college.”
"i know how to read, i’m not that stupid." he flips one over anyway, squinting at it like it's written in a foreign language, which, to him, it basically is, sounding out each syllable slowly. "what's... nucleo... nucleophilic substitution?"
you sigh, but it's not really an annoyed sigh — it's the sigh of someone who has known this man for almost a year and has never once successfully told him no, not on the phone, and apparently not at the door either. "it's a reaction where a nucleophile replaces a leaving group in a molecule," you recite without even having to think about it.
"see, you knew that." he beams up at you, tossing the flashcard back onto the pile with the satisfaction of someone who just personally solved organic chemistry. "you're gonna crush this final."
"that's one out of," you wave a hand to the unorganized stack of cards laid out. "hundreds of vocab i have to go through."
"you'll get there." he shuffles closer on the couch, tucking himself against your side with the ease of someone who has claimed this exact spot a hundred times before, resting his head against your shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. "i'll be very still. i'm basically furniture."
"you are not furniture," you say, trying and failing to sound stern.
"i'm like a teddy bear," he counters, and you can hear the grin in his voice even without looking at him.
you try to keep studying. you really do. but macklin has this way of existing near you that makes it genuinely difficult to focus — not because he's loud, though he can be, but because he's warm, and solid, and smells like your shampoo because he apparently can't be bothered to buy his own, and every few minutes he presses a kiss to the top of your head like it's an automatic function of his body that he has no control over.
you’ve been trying to concentrate for the past ten minutes now, but every minute or so macklin would interrupt your thoughts. touching your face ("there's an eyelash on your cheek, hold on.."), playing with your school supplies ("since when did you get these fancy pens?"), or just finding random excuses to bother you ("do you know what time it is?" "macklin. your phone is right there.") were just some of the things he was doing, all with the restless, bright-eyed energy of something that's been cooped up inside all day and finally let out into a big backyard.
after the fifth or sixth interruption, you finally set your pen down and turn to look at him properly, giving him the most unimpressed expression you can manage. "puppy. you said you wouldn't bother me," you remind him, and the nickname does something visible to him. his ears go pink almost instantly, and he ducks his head like he's trying to hide the way his whole face lights up at it.
"i'm not-" he starts, voice a little higher than usual, clearing his throat before he tries again, pressing his face further into your hair as if that'll hide the blush. "i'm not bothering you. i'm being supportive," he insists...
"you've kissed my head four times in the last ten minutes," you point out, counting on your fingers for emphasis, though you're fighting a smile the entire time you say it.
"five," he corrects easily, and presses his lips to the crown of your head once more, slow and deliberate, just to prove his point and pad the count in his favor.
you swat at him half-heartedly, more reflex than actual protest, but you don't actually move away, and he knows you don't actually mean it, because he settles in even closer, resting his chin on your shoulder so he can watch you highlight your notes like it's the most interesting television program available, his floppy hair tickling against your cheek every time he shifts.
the sun has been sinking lower this whole time, slipping through the gap in your blinds until it lands right across your face in a thin gold stripe, warm and soft against your skin. you don't notice it. you're too busy underlining a definition for the third time, like repetition alone will make it stick.
macklin notices.
he goes quiet in a way that's different from his usual quiet. not bored, not restless, just still, watching you with his chin propped on your shoulder like he's forgotten what he was going to say. you don't catch it at first, too deep in your notes, until you feel his gaze more than see it, heavy and unmoving on the side of your face, and you finally glance over at him, brow furrowed in question. "what?" you ask.
"nothing." he says it too quickly, glancing away for half a second before his eyes settle right back on you, and when he speaks again his voice has dropped into something quieter, more careful, like it slipped out before he could decide whether to say it at all. "you know, you look pretty right now."
you blink, caught off guard enough that it takes you a second to respond, already reaching up to touch your own messy hair self-consciously. "i've been awake for-"
"i know. still pretty." he says it so plainly, like it's just a fact of the room, like the light and the mess and the three-day-old ponytail have nothing to do with it, reaching up to brush his thumb along your cheekbone, following the gold stripe of sun like he's tracing it on purpose. "the light's doing this thing. right here. you should study in the evening more often."
"macklin, that's not-" you start, already flustered, already trying to wave it off with some half-formed argument about proper lighting and eye strain, but you don't get the chance to finish it, because he leans in and kisses you before the sentence even has anywhere to go.
it's slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that doesn't ask for anything except for you to stop talking for a second. your highlighter is still loose in your hand, and for a moment there's no final, no flashcards, no more chapters — just the warmth of the evening light and the warmth of him, close and familiar and endlessly patient in a way he pretends not to be.
when he finally pulls back, just barely, his forehead resting against yours, his hair brushing against your skin, he's smiling like he won something.
"that wasn't fair," you mumble, still a little dazed, your fingers curling loosely into the front of his hoodie without you quite meaning for them to.
"i know," he says, not sorry at all, thumb still resting against your cheek like he isn't in any hurry to let go of the moment. "you're gonna crush your final."
"you're impossible," you tell him, though it comes out fond, and he just grins wider like it's the nicest thing you've ever called him.
"i'm in love with you. slightly different." he presses one more kiss to the corner of your mouth, quick and pleased with himself, before finally leaning back into the couch cushions, looking entirely too satisfied with the whole exchange. after a while, once the quiet has settled comfortably between you again, he speaks up, voice quieter now, almost testing the waters. "you know, you could take a break. just for like ten minutes."
"i really can't. i have so much left," you say, though your resolve is noticeably weaker than it was twenty minutes ago.
"i'll make you tea," he offers, already halfway to standing, like the matter is basically decided.
"macklin no–” you start to protest, but he cuts you off before you can build any real momentum.
"i'll make you tea and i'll sit here and be silent and i will not distract you even a little bit, i promise, i just." he pauses mid-sentence, and when you glance over at him there's something almost sheepish in his expression, like he's embarrassed by his own honesty, his hand rubbing absently at the back of his neck. "i missed you. you've been in here for three days. i live right there." he points vaguely in the direction of his own apartment, as if you don't know exactly where it is, as if you haven't spent countless nights there yourself. "it's weird not seeing you."
your heart does the thing it always does when he says stuff like this. soft and a little dumb and completely unguarded, like it never occurs to him to be anything other than exactly, embarrassingly honest about how much he likes you.
you set your highlighter down, finally, and give him a small nod. "okay. ten minutes."
his whole face lights up like you've just told him christmas came early, already popping up off the couch, way too pleased with himself for someone who negotiated basically nothing. "ten minutes," he agrees, backing toward the kitchen as he points at you like he's issuing a formal warning. "i'm gonna make the tea. don't look at your notes while i'm gone, that's cheating."
"that's not how breaks work," you call after him, though you're already leaning back into the couch cushions.
he ignore you. you hear him opening cabinets he definitely doesn't need to open, just to make noise, just to fill the space, just because he likes being useful to you.
you lean back against the couch cushions and let yourself actually rest for the first time in days, the last of the sunset fading into something dimmer and darker outside the window, listening to him hum something off-key while the kettle heats up, and you think, not for the first time, that you don't really mind being bothered. not by him.
when he comes back with two mugs and immediately curls back into your side, declaring the ten minutes "officially started," you don’t even mind one bit.
extra a/n: considering turning this into a series/au…. idk i love a good black cat golden retriever trope 👅👅 also idk why my dividers arent working whatever bro
synopsis. you really have to study, and macklin really wants to be near you. he swears he won’t bother you that much..
warnings. fluff galore, established relationship but they live right next to each other so undisclosed neighbors to lovers…, reader is a college student, nickname for mack is puppy i couldnt resist but i did it in the most unnatural way possible #gootbye, not proofread we die like my computer
authors note. hello world i am still alive i am preparing myself for senior year by trying NOT to kms so take this as a treat for mi absence 💔💔 also this is a remake of another fic i had sitting in the drafts if it sounds funny then oops #sorrypau
you’ve been locked away in your apartment the past few days studying for a final.
every available surface in your living room has slowly disappeared beneath stacks of notes, color-coded flashcards, and half-finished cups of coffee that have gone cold hours ago. your laptop has been open for so long that the screen brightness seems permanently burned into your vision, and you’re fairly certain you’ve spent more time staring at diagrams this week than you have at actual people.
you’ve spent the last three days rotating between your desk, your couch, and your kitchen solely for the purpose of obtaining more caffeine. your final exam is later this week, and despite the fact that you’ve studied enough material to teach the course yourself, you still felt wildly underprepared.
your phone has been buzzing on the coffee table for the last 5 minutes, and you already know exactly who it is without looking, because only one person texts you with this much consistency and this little regard for whether or not you're busy.
you don't even bother responding to that one, because you know better, and you go back to your flashcards fully intending to ignore him into submission. it doesn't work. it never works.
barely a minute passes before there's a knock at your door, quick and eager, the evening light already gone gold and heavy through your blinds. you're not even surprised — just resigned, sighing as you push yourself up from the couch and shuffle over to let him in, because you know if you don't, he'll just stand out there knocking until you do.
you pull the door open, already giving him a look. "you didn't even wait for me to say no."
macklin is standing there in one of his ratty hoodies, his floppy brown hair falling into his eyes, still slightly dark and damp like he just showered, and when he grins at you it's that lopsided, gummy smile of his — the one that shows a little too much gum and somehow still manages to be the most endearing thing you've ever seen. his green eyes are shining, body practically vibrating with the effort of looking casual as if he wasn’t dying to be within a 2 feet radius of you. "you didn't say no," he points out. "you said nothing. very different."
"macklin."
"hi sweet girl." he's already stepping past you into the apartment before you can fully commit to being annoyed, toeing off his shoes at the door like this was always the plan, like there was never a version of tonight where he wasn't ending up on your couch. "i won't stay long. i just wanted to see you for a second."
you shut the door behind him, mostly because there's no point doing anything else at this point, and follow him back into the living room, stepping over a stack of notes on your way. "i told you i couldn't come over," you remind him, dropping back down onto the couch beside your laptop.
"i know. so i came here instead." he says this like it's the most logical solution in the world, like it wasn't the exact outcome you were trying to avoid by not answering his texts, already making himself comfortable in the small space you'd left open on the cushion. "problem solved."
"that's not- i'm studying," you say, gesturing vaguely at the wreckage of flashcards and cold coffee mugs surrounding you, as if the evidence needs pointing out.
"i know, i know. you're studying." he makes a beeline for your couch anyway, dropping down and immediately looking around at the chaos like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, picking up a stray flashcard and turning it over in his hands. "whoa. okay. this is a lot of flashcards."
"i have a final in three days," you say, not looking up as you flip to the next page of your notes.
"i know, you texted me." he says it fondly, not accusingly, already reaching for one of your color-coded stacks and flipping through them like he's trying to memorize the color system himself. "can i quiz you?"
you glance over at him with an eyebrow raised/ “you don’t know anything about organic chemistry, you only finished one year of college.”
"i know how to read, i’m not that stupid." he flips one over anyway, squinting at it like it's written in a foreign language, which, to him, it basically is, sounding out each syllable slowly. "what's... nucleo... nucleophilic substitution?"
you sigh, but it's not really an annoyed sigh — it's the sigh of someone who has known this man for almost a year and has never once successfully told him no, not on the phone, and apparently not at the door either. "it's a reaction where a nucleophile replaces a leaving group in a molecule," you recite without even having to think about it.
"see, you knew that." he beams up at you, tossing the flashcard back onto the pile with the satisfaction of someone who just personally solved organic chemistry. "you're gonna crush this final."
"that's one out of," you wave a hand to the unorganized stack of cards laid out. "hundreds of vocab i have to go through."
"you'll get there." he shuffles closer on the couch, tucking himself against your side with the ease of someone who has claimed this exact spot a hundred times before, resting his head against your shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. "i'll be very still. i'm basically furniture."
"you are not furniture," you say, trying and failing to sound stern.
"i'm like a teddy bear," he counters, and you can hear the grin in his voice even without looking at him.
you try to keep studying. you really do. but macklin has this way of existing near you that makes it genuinely difficult to focus — not because he's loud, though he can be, but because he's warm, and solid, and smells like your shampoo because he apparently can't be bothered to buy his own, and every few minutes he presses a kiss to the top of your head like it's an automatic function of his body that he has no control over.
you’ve been trying to concentrate for the past ten minutes now, but every minute or so macklin would interrupt your thoughts. touching your face ("there's an eyelash on your cheek, hold on.."), playing with your school supplies ("since when did you get these fancy pens?"), or just finding random excuses to bother you ("do you know what time it is?" "macklin. your phone is right there.") were just some of the things he was doing, all with the restless, bright-eyed energy of something that's been cooped up inside all day and finally let out into a big backyard.
after the fifth or sixth interruption, you finally set your pen down and turn to look at him properly, giving him the most unimpressed expression you can manage. "puppy. you said you wouldn't bother me," you remind him, and the nickname does something visible to him. his ears go pink almost instantly, and he ducks his head like he's trying to hide the way his whole face lights up at it.
"i'm not-" he starts, voice a little higher than usual, clearing his throat before he tries again, pressing his face further into your hair as if that'll hide the blush. "i'm not bothering you. i'm being supportive," he insists...
"you've kissed my head four times in the last ten minutes," you point out, counting on your fingers for emphasis, though you're fighting a smile the entire time you say it.
"five," he corrects easily, and presses his lips to the crown of your head once more, slow and deliberate, just to prove his point and pad the count in his favor.
you swat at him half-heartedly, more reflex than actual protest, but you don't actually move away, and he knows you don't actually mean it, because he settles in even closer, resting his chin on your shoulder so he can watch you highlight your notes like it's the most interesting television program available, his floppy hair tickling against your cheek every time he shifts.
the sun has been sinking lower this whole time, slipping through the gap in your blinds until it lands right across your face in a thin gold stripe, warm and soft against your skin. you don't notice it. you're too busy underlining a definition for the third time, like repetition alone will make it stick.
macklin notices.
he goes quiet in a way that's different from his usual quiet. not bored, not restless, just still, watching you with his chin propped on your shoulder like he's forgotten what he was going to say. you don't catch it at first, too deep in your notes, until you feel his gaze more than see it, heavy and unmoving on the side of your face, and you finally glance over at him, brow furrowed in question. "what?" you ask.
"nothing." he says it too quickly, glancing away for half a second before his eyes settle right back on you, and when he speaks again his voice has dropped into something quieter, more careful, like it slipped out before he could decide whether to say it at all. "you know, you look pretty right now."
you blink, caught off guard enough that it takes you a second to respond, already reaching up to touch your own messy hair self-consciously. "i've been awake for-"
"i know. still pretty." he says it so plainly, like it's just a fact of the room, like the light and the mess and the three-day-old ponytail have nothing to do with it, reaching up to brush his thumb along your cheekbone, following the gold stripe of sun like he's tracing it on purpose. "the light's doing this thing. right here. you should study in the evening more often."
"macklin, that's not-" you start, already flustered, already trying to wave it off with some half-formed argument about proper lighting and eye strain, but you don't get the chance to finish it, because he leans in and kisses you before the sentence even has anywhere to go.
it's slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that doesn't ask for anything except for you to stop talking for a second. your highlighter is still loose in your hand, and for a moment there's no final, no flashcards, no more chapters — just the warmth of the evening light and the warmth of him, close and familiar and endlessly patient in a way he pretends not to be.
when he finally pulls back, just barely, his forehead resting against yours, his hair brushing against your skin, he's smiling like he won something.
"that wasn't fair," you mumble, still a little dazed, your fingers curling loosely into the front of his hoodie without you quite meaning for them to.
"i know," he says, not sorry at all, thumb still resting against your cheek like he isn't in any hurry to let go of the moment. "you're gonna crush your final."
"you're impossible," you tell him, though it comes out fond, and he just grins wider like it's the nicest thing you've ever called him.
"i'm in love with you. slightly different." he presses one more kiss to the corner of your mouth, quick and pleased with himself, before finally leaning back into the couch cushions, looking entirely too satisfied with the whole exchange. after a while, once the quiet has settled comfortably between you again, he speaks up, voice quieter now, almost testing the waters. "you know, you could take a break. just for like ten minutes."
"i really can't. i have so much left," you say, though your resolve is noticeably weaker than it was twenty minutes ago.
"i'll make you tea," he offers, already halfway to standing, like the matter is basically decided.
"macklin no–” you start to protest, but he cuts you off before you can build any real momentum.
"i'll make you tea and i'll sit here and be silent and i will not distract you even a little bit, i promise, i just." he pauses mid-sentence, and when you glance over at him there's something almost sheepish in his expression, like he's embarrassed by his own honesty, his hand rubbing absently at the back of his neck. "i missed you. you've been in here for three days. i live right there." he points vaguely in the direction of his own apartment, as if you don't know exactly where it is, as if you haven't spent countless nights there yourself. "it's weird not seeing you."
your heart does the thing it always does when he says stuff like this. soft and a little dumb and completely unguarded, like it never occurs to him to be anything other than exactly, embarrassingly honest about how much he likes you.
you set your highlighter down, finally, and give him a small nod. "okay. ten minutes."
his whole face lights up like you've just told him christmas came early, already popping up off the couch, way too pleased with himself for someone who negotiated basically nothing. "ten minutes," he agrees, backing toward the kitchen as he points at you like he's issuing a formal warning. "i'm gonna make the tea. don't look at your notes while i'm gone, that's cheating."
"that's not how breaks work!" you call after him, though you're already leaning back into the couch cushions.
he ignore you. you hear him opening cabinets he definitely doesn't need to open, just to make noise, just to fill the space, just because he likes being useful to you.
you lean back against the couch cushions and let yourself actually rest for the first time in days, the last of the sunset fading into something dimmer and darker outside the window, listening to him hum something off-key while the kettle heats up, and you think, not for the first time, that you don't really mind being bothered. not by him.
when he comes back with two mugs and immediately curls back into your side, declaring the ten minutes "officially started," you don’t even mind one bit.
extra a/n: considering turning this into a series/au…. idk i love a good black cat golden retriever trope 👅👅 also idk why my dividers arent working whatever bro
happy 100 on the misa blurb!! i promise i am alive i have been too engrossed on the world cup so i havent been able to write anything… oops
requests are always open 👅👅👅 give me ideas por favor (no smut #sorry) i also have a bunch of drafts as well from like may so lets hope i finish them gulp
synopsis. michael cares very deeply about his sleep, however you stopped caring a long time ago. he’s willing to sacrifice his 8 hours if it means he gets to be next to you.
warnings. fluff with a teensy bit of angst, new relationship jitters, um um um not proofread idgaf im dying like the 2025-2026 roster, slightly abrupt ending oops
author’s note. first fic drop whos lit and excited!!!! this is my first ever writing piece on tumblr so bare with me if this is shit..... this is me writing to distract myself from today's disasterclass. also wrote this during the us vs bosnia knockout stage so i got like semi distracted 😅😅😅
you stand in the middle of the kitchen, elbows digging into the granite as you lean over the counter. the glass of water is cold against your palms as you take another sip, your gaze drifting toward the window.
the time on the microwave reads 3:17 am. not the first time you have stayed up that late.
the world outside is still and asleep. the streets below your complex sits empty beneath the orange wash of streetlights, and even the hum of the refrigerator in your kitchen seems distant. the full moon lets soft slits of sliver light in through the windows to your apartment.
your eyes burn every time you blink, your head feels stuffed with cotton. every muscle in your body aches with exhaustion, begging you to lie down and close your eyes. but you know if you did, nothing would happen.
it has always been like that since you were younger.
at six years old, you were the only one awake at your friends sleepover.
at eight years old, you were already developing dark circles.
at ten, you got the diagnosis.
you spent most of your childhood staring at your ceiling, listening to the sounds of the clock that ticked above your bedroom door, listening to the snores of your parents and siblings as they slept peacefully, waiting for the melatonin gummies to kick in. but it never would.
you have tried everything. you’re physically and mentally exhausted. somewhere along the way, you learned how to function while tired. you had no choice.
the thought pulls your mind back to how you met. you’ve been dating michael for about a month now. you met him by chance at a gas station late at night. him and sam were refilling on gas to drive home after a game.
one night, you spent hours staring at your ceiling before finally giving up and making a late-night run to the nearest gas station, figuring that if sleep wasn't happening, you might as well stock up on enough caffeine and sugar to survive the night. by the time you'd reached the checkout counter, your arms had been overloaded with an embarrassing assortment of energy drinks and candy.
you barely made it out of the store before one of the red bull cans slipped from your grasp and rolled across the pavement. trying to shuffle some snacks around to free a hand to grab it, someone else grabs it instead.
you still remember looking up and seeing him standing there with the can in his hand. his hair was still slightly damp, starting to curl around the edges of his backwards cap, and despite the late hour, he looked annoyingly awake. he had glanced down at the collection of energy drinks in your arms before raising an eyebrow and saying, "i don't think that's enough caffeine." with a polite grin on his face.
normally, a joke like that would've earned nothing more than a polite smile, but exhaustion had stripped away your filter hours ago. "god, i should get more honestly." you'd reply with a very dry, very sarcastic tone.
to your surprise, he laughed. not the kind of laugh people give strangers, but a genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
somehow that small exchange had turned into a conversation. you learned that he was heading home after a hockey game (which explains the sharks logo on his cap as he turned around), that his teammate sam was filling up the car with gas to go home, and that he had practice again the next morning. he learned that you weren't buying caffeine to stock a small cafe because you enjoyed it, you just couldn't sleep.
the entire interaction couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes, yet it had felt strangely effortless. by the time you reached your car, you found yourself disappointed that it was ending. there had been an awkward pause where neither of you moved, both clearly aware that the conversation was over but neither wanting to be the first to walk away.
then someone shouts his name from across the parking lot. you both turned to see sam leaning against the car as he taps his wrist aggressively, telling him to hurry up. michael had winced before looking back at you with an embarrassed smile, the tips of his ears turning pink.
"guess that's my cue."
you snort. "yeah. i guess so."
another pause followed. then michael rubbed the back of his neck and asked for your instagram.
thinking about it now still makes you smile. that random conversation in a gas station parking lot had turned into late-night texts, then coffee runs, then showing up to his games. a month in, michael had become a permanent fixture in your life.
and now he was here in your apartment, sleeping peacefully in your bed while you were still awake.
earlier that evening, you'd been so nervous that you'd nearly talked yourself into telling him not to come over, coming up with a stupid excuse like "a pipe bursted" or "the power went out." but it was already too late, because he was already at your door, grinning like a puppy, beanie sitting slightly crooked, wearing an old hoodie that had clearly been through a hundred wash cycles.
the evening passed easily after that. you ordered takeout, watched a cheesy movie, and spent hours talking about nothing important. you find out that he has an older brother that also plays hockey at penn state and his favorite activity outside of his sport was playing golf. you then spent 10 minutes arguing that golf was boring while he did a horrible job at defending it.
he finds out that you are attending college and studying psychology. he asks you questions about it and seemed genuinely curious about the field.
you also find out how endearing he gets when he is tired. by eleven, he is yawning a lot more and his ontario accent had started to curve heavier around certain words.
at some point, michael had gradually shifted closer and closer to you on the couch until your shoulders were touching. neither of you had acknowledged it, neither of you needed to.
later, you both awkwardly brushed your teeth together in your cramped apartment bathroom, arms and hands bumping as you both reached for the toothpaste. you try to ignore how much your heart is beating in your chest as it gets closer to bedtime (and how your sight lingers on his back muscles as his shirt rides up from him taking off his hoodie).
when you'd finally climbed into bed, your heart had been racing for the fact that this was new. he simply smiled, wished you goodnight, and fell asleep within two minutes.
you on the other hand, had spent hours staring at the ceiling. you’d roll onto one side, then the other. you'd counted backwards, tried breathing exercises, and listened to the steady rhythm of michael’s soft snores besides you.
nothing worked. you were about 3 seconds away from suffocating yourself with a pillow.
eventually, sometime after three, you'd given up entirely. careful not to wake him, you'd slipped out of bed and retreated to the kitchen, where you'd been standing ever since.
a soft creak from the hallway finally pulls you from your thoughts. you glance toward the entryway just as michael appears around the corner. his hair sticks up in every direction, his shirt is wrinkled from sleep, and one eye is barely open. for a moment, he simply stands there blinking at you like he isn’t entirely sure where he is.
he squints at you before asking in a raspy voice, “why are you in the kitchen?”
you stand up straighter, nerves already making you more awake than before. “sorry, did i wake you?”
he shakes his head, mumbles groggily, “…no, not really.”
“then why are you awake?”
michael stares at you for a moment, clearly still trying to wake up enough to process the question. finally, he rubs one eye and says, “‘cause you weren’t there.”
your heart lurches in your chest and you can feel your face grow hot. you thank the heavens it’s dark.
"that's-" you clear your throat. "that's not a good reason to lose sleep over."
"kinda think it is." he says it easily, but there's a beat right after where he seems to hear himself, like he's not totally sure that was the right thing to say. he shuffles further into the kitchen, sock feet quiet against the tile, and stops a careful, polite distance away, leaning against the counter instead of against you. "you, um- you always do this?"
you could lie. you've gotten good at lying about it, brushing it off with a joke or a shrug, the same way you've been doing since you were ten years old and learned the word insomnia meant something different than just having trouble sleeping. but it's 3 AM, and he's standing in your kitchen in wrinkled pajamas, having clearly panicked a little when he reached over and found your side of the bed empty, and for some reason that makes the lie feel like too much effort.
"pretty much every night," you admit, and immediately feel exposed saying it out loud to him, of all people. "i didn't want to wake you. you looked so… i don't know. peaceful. felt bad ruining that just because my brain won't shut off."
he's quiet for a moment, studying you in a way that makes you want to look at literally anything else — the water glass, the moon outside the window. anything but him. it's not a bad quiet, exactly. just the kind that comes from neither of you knowing the rules yet, from this being new enough that a silence can still feel like it means something.
"you don't have to protect my sleep at the expense of yours, you know," he says finally, voice still rough but steadier now, more awake. "that's not- i don't want that. i mean, i don't really know what I'm supposed to say here, but ... yeah."
"it's fine. i'm used to it."
"that's not really the same as fine."
you don't have an answer for that one. he shifts his weight, glances down at your hand on the counter like he's deciding something, and then reaches over — a little hesitant, like he's not sure it's his place yet — and gently pries the glass of water from your fingers, setting it down. he doesn't take your hand after. instead he just tips his head toward the hallway.
"come on," he says. "not- i just mean, it's cold out here. you should at least be cold in bed instead of the kitchen."
"michael, i'm not tired, there's no point-"
"didn't say you had to sleep." he rubs the back of his neck, the same nervous habit you have watched him do time and time again. "just come lie down. i'll hang out for a bit. beats you standing in the dark talking to a glass of water."
you huff something close to a laugh, and follow him down the hall, the tile giving way to carpet under your bare feet, close enough that your shoulders almost brush but don't quite. when you climb back into bed, he doesn't roll away and go straight back to sleep like you expect. he stays facing you, an arm's length of space still between you, blinking heavily but fighting it, like staying awake for you is a task he's decided to take seriously, even half-conscious.
"you don't have to stay up," you murmur. "you’re gonna be cranky tomorrow."
"five more minutes." his eyes are already sliding shut again. "'M good."
"michael."
"mm." a pause. then, quieter, sleepier, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud: "just wanted to make sure you weren't alone out there."
you don't say anything to that. you're not sure you trust your voice right now, and you're not sure what you're even allowed to say a month in, whether reaching for his hand under the blanket would be too much, too soon, or exactly the right amount. in the end you settle for just watching him lose the fight against sleep in real time, his breathing evening out, one hand resting loosely on the mattress between you, close but not quite touching yours.
the ceiling above you looks the same as it always does at this hour. the clock out in the kitchen is still ticking toward four. sleep still isn't coming, and it probably won't, not tonight.
but for the first time in longer than you can remember, lying awake doesn't feel quite as lonely.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
hi cutie, i wanted to request a little something that i imagined the other day,, it was college sweethearts oscar x femreader, where reader is entering one of her classes, and oscar sneaks into it, sits next to her, and makes her laugh with little sarcastic comments or making fun of the professor, basically trying not to break and laugh... the thing is that they're in entire different degrees..
please and thank you sweetie<3
Ugotme. ✷ Oscar Piastri
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader
Summary: When he sneaks into your lecture just because of a little hallway crush.
Word Count: 1.8k
Dislacimer/s: just fluff tbh ^_^ && university!au
Vera’s Voice! hope i did this one justice!!!! thank u for the submission request ^_^ ENJOOOYYYT
The crowded university hallway was alive with chatter, the faint hum of conversations blending with the soft squeak of sneakers against polished floors.
You were balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and clutching your bag strap with the other, navigating through the maze of students heading to their respective classes.
Your journalism lecture wasn’t until later, but you were on your way to your slow pace literature seminar, a welcome break from the heavy load of articles and essays you’d been swamped with lately.
And, it was in this busy hallway that he saw you again.
He stood casually beside the wall, patiently waiting for his own lecture to open, though his focus was nowhere near the room he was supposed to be in.
His attention was entirely on you.
He’d noticed you a couple of weeks ago, walking through the same corridor around this time. He didn’t know your name, your major, or why he kept seeing you near the this department, though he was pretty sure this was your turf—but he didn’t care.
Today, something clicked. Maybe it was the way you giggled at something you saw posted on the bulletin or the way you glanced down at the cup in your hand with the faintest smile, but he decided he wasn’t going to let another day go by without talking to you.
When you turned into the nearby lecture hall, he hesitated. His logical brain—honed by hours of problem-solving in engineering—told him to stay in his lane.
But the other part of him, the part that thought you looked far too intriguing to ignore, decided otherwise.
Before he could second-guess himself, he slipped into the same lecture hall, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you.
You had chosen a seat near the middle, pulling out your notebook and laptop with practiced ease. The room was half-full, with students murmuring quietly as they waited for the professor to arrive.
You didn’t notice when he walked in, but you definitely noticed when he sat down beside you.
It wasn’t subtle in the slightest. He dropped his bag with a soft thud and slid into the seat, turning to you with an easy, self-assured smile.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” The boy asked, his Australian accent immediately catching your attention.
You glanced up, startled by the unexpected company before shooting a faint smile. “Uh, no. Go ahead.”
He grinned, and for a moment, you wondered if you knew him from somewhere. His face was familiar, but you couldn’t place it. You didn’t dwell on it, turning your focus back to your laptop.
The professor walked in moments later, launching straight into the lecture with a droning voice that could’ve lulled an insomniac to sleep. It wasn’t long before he leaned toward you again, his voice low and teasing.
“Does he always talk like this?”
You glanced at him, biting back a smile. “Like what?”
“Like they’re narrating an audiobook for a bedtime story no one asked for?”
A giggle slipped out before you could stop it. “It’s a literature class. What did you expect?”
“Literature, obviously. But with a little more... enthusiasm?” He raised his brows for emphasis.
“Well, good thing it’s not his job to entertain you,” You shot back, still smiling.
“Maybe not,” He conceded, “But you’d think they’d try to keep people awake.”
You bit your lip to hide another giggle, but he caught the glimmer of amusement in your eyes and leaned back, satisfied.
As the professor rambled on about symbolism, Oscar tapped his pen lightly against the desk and whispered, “Do you think he rehearses this? Like, in front of a cemetery, maybe?”
This time, you didn’t even try to stifle your laugh. You turned to him, shaking your head. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m serious,” He replied with a smile and shrug. “Someone had to say it.”
You tilted your head, studying him. “Are you even in this class?”
He feigned a gasp, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”
“Seems like you wandered in by accident,” You said, narrowing your eyes but unable to hide your amusement.
“Wandered in?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “I’ll have you know I’m here on purpose. Expanding my horizons. Growing as a person.”
“And skipping your actual class, I assume?” You guessed.
“Minor detail,” He said, grinning. “Besides, this seemed way more interesting.”
You raised an eyebrow. “The class, or sitting next to me?”
His grin widened. “I think the answer is obvious…”
You let out another laugh, shaking your head at his boldness. “Wow. Smooth.”
“Is it working?” He asked, his voice light but with just enough intrigue to make your cheeks warm.
“Maybe,” You said, tilting your head as if considering. “Depends. Are you planning on staying the whole time?”
“For you?” He leaned back with a lazy smile. “Absolutely.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face.
The professor’s monotone voice droned on in the background, but you barely noticed. Instead, you spent the rest of the lecture exchanging whispered comments with him—his commentary growing increasingly ridiculous.
By the time class ended, your notebook was only half-filled with notes, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. As you packed up your things, he lingered beside you, clearly in no rush to leave.
The warmth in his gaze made your stomach flutter, and for a moment, you were caught off guard by how sincere he sounded.
“Well,” You said, trying to regain your composure, “You should be careful or else I might start expecting you in all my classes.”
“Would that be so bad?” He asked, his tone playful but his eyes holding yours.
“Guess we’ll find out,” You said with a smile.
“By the way,” He said, his tone softening slightly, “Oscar.”
You stopped, turning to face him fully. “Oscar who likes to ditch his classes for random girls?” Quirking a brow.
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oscar who’s hoping you’ll tell him your name.”
You paused, debating whether to play along. But the way he looked at you—equal parts charming and genuine—made you cave and introduce yourself.
“And maybe … Oscar who was hoping he’d get your number…” He grinned as you laughed.
You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Well, enduring one of my most boring classes just to talk to me… I guess…” You trailed off teasingly, grabbing his phone and punching in your number.
When you handed it back, his grin turned boyish, his confidence softening into something a little shyer. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll only use it to bother you during your lectures.”
“Good,” You said, already walking away, throwing him a glance over your shoulder. “I could use the entertainment… or you can just crash another one of my classes.” You suggested with a small laugh.
“Let me know. And I’ll be there.” He grinned down at you.
“Sounds perfect.” You smiled.
likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ lmk if u wanna be apart of my perm tags list too!!
hi beautiful!! I love your writing!! Could you do a arda x reader where Jude’s little sister js got her heart broken and she becomes friends with arda and they end up falling for each other?
See You Again — Arda Güler.
Pairing: Arda Güler x Bellingham!Reader
Summary: From the first one-on-one moment with your brother’s teammate, Arda, everything felt so natural the next time. So, with that being said, you don’t hesitate to say yes the moment you’re given the opportunity.
A/N: Girl fuck, I always say this, but the STRUGGLE I went through trying to decide how I’d go about this was so bad and I don’t even know if I like this! Hoping for the best idk. + HIS GOAL ARE WE KIDDING… beautiful… beautiful… you go 🕯️
Your night had already been going, well, horribly.
Your boyfriend had been late, as always, to a small get-together with not only your family, but with your brothers’ friends and teammates as well. It was nothing special, but it meant a lot to you that he’d just be there, you know, on time.
The moment you heard your phone ring and saw his name on your screen, a frown graced your lips. The man was finally here, so you rushed outside.
Yet to your surprise, he was just standing there in none other than a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, like he didn’t even try. You walk up to him and say, “Hey, I’m so sorry—you do know there are other people here, right? Aside from my parents and my brothers? Like, their teammates and everyone?”
“Uh-huh. Yeah… listen. I can’t stay long,” not that he wanted to, but the man continued. “This isn’t really working, and I figured I’d tell you in person rather than over the phone. I owe you that much.”
You stiffen, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m confused.”
Uttering your name once, he lets out a long sigh as if what you mumbled was completely foolish. “I’m breaking up with you. I don’t want to do—”
“No, I got that,” you snapped. “I’m confused as to why you thought telling me now, when we’re both expected inside, the fact that you even agreed to this just yesterday, and you thought it best to still show up and waste my time? Are you serious?”
Tears were already welling up in your eyes, though you wouldn’t show it. You wouldn’t let him see that. Instead, you sucked in a breath and nodded. All he did was shrug. “I wanted to tell you here.”
You’ve had enough of this conversation—of him in general. So you whip around and storm back into your house, slamming your front door shut. All you wanted to do now was go to your room. The tears you fought back trailing down your face.
And with your luck, you bump into somebody, your eyes widening at the sight of one of your brother’s teammates in front of you—Arda Güler. You were familiar with him, of course, having had a couple of conversations and laughs with him.
“Hey—oh,” Arda starts with a grin until he sees your tear-stricken face, then he’s frowning. “Are you okay? Should I call Jude or your parents?”
Oh, fun. “No! Not necessary. I stubbed my toe.”
His expression contorts into one of skepticism. “Stubbed your toe? Must’ve been a rough hit.”
“Wow, thank you so much,” you quickly quipped, and his face reddened, the man’s head shaking in response. “Yeah, it was… rough. Excuse me.”
He huffs, turning with you. “It didn’t have anything to do with that guy out front, did it?”
How great! Really, this is just amazing. You feel your eye twitch as you look over at him. “That is none of your business. Shouldn’t you be with your teammates or something? Why’re you wandering aimlessly around my house and being nosy?”
“I can’t find the bathroom,” Arda answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Can you help me?”
“That’s funny, the bathroom is right behind you.”
You could practically see the embarrassment in his eyes, which made you laugh. “Don’t forget it!” Having said that, you don’t bother sparing the Güler man another glance while you make your way back into your bedroom. That interaction, to put it simply, made you feel fifteen times better.
You still wouldn’t be participating in tonight’s dinner. You’d explain to everybody why tomorrow.
The next time you’re within Arda’s vicinity is when you attend one of your brother’s matches just three weeks later. You’re standing alone while he’s on his way to the locker rooms when he appears next to you, causing you to quirk a brow. “Hey.”
“Güler,” you replied quietly. “I don’t know where the bathroom is around here, please don’t ask.”
The man’s face reddens and he sighs. “I wasn’t going to ask about that—just saw that you were alone. Figured you could use some company.”
“How gentlemanly of you! How are you feeling?”
Conversation between the two of you flowed easily with him. When he responded to you, he’d ask yet another question. You were absolutely convinced you could talk to him for hours and hours on end if there weren’t any interruptions or if he didn’t say something unexpectedly weird.
Like right now! “About the other day—I’m sorry that happened to you. It was… shitty of him.”
Your eyebrows pinch together almost instantly at that. “So, you were spying. You weren’t lost.”
“No, I was lost. He was also loud. I wasn’t spying.”
“Right, right.” A pause. “It’s fine. I’m over it. Your coach is looking at you, by the way. You should probably go and, you know, shower perhaps?”
“Right,” Arda echoed, looking over his shoulder before looking back at you, offering a small smile and a hesitant wave. Then he walked away.
That doesn’t last for long when he’s making his way back to you. “Listen—if you’d like, I’d like to get to know you better. I know about you from what your brothers tell me, but I want to know you. Would that be something you’d… also like?”
Oh! See, now you didn’t know exactly what you were expecting, and it definitely wasn’t that. Yeah, you guys had talked, but never actually talked. Though, with how you felt conversing with him, plus how awkward he oh-so-clearly seemed while asking you, you couldn’t stop the one simple word from leaving your lips with ease.
Your voice is soft, albeit stern, and you nod, “Yes.”
Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.
Summary: When a spontaneous evening hangout with your best friend Ollie reveals everything you’ve ever dreamed of.
Word Count: 2.5k
Vera’s Voice! Truly Madly Deeply by One Direction is the song ever so argue with the wall!!!! Hiiiii :3 first tumblr post ever. If it’s bad. Sorry. Idk.
& Hello. Shoutout Enya. Shoutout Bea.
Mindlessly reading a book in your swinging net chair hung in your room, your legs were crossed beneath your body as you hopelessly read about childhood soulmates.
Your heartbeat was gradually beating faster as you approached the page where the boy finally realizes he's been in love with his best friend the entire time.
Sitting at the edge of your seat, your body fluttered with butterfly’s, envying every single line your eyes followed among the pages.
But it’s too bad you were interrupted.
“Hi!” Ollie barged in unannounced, catching you so off guard that you stumble out of your seat and fall onto the floor.
You sat there for a brief second, trying to process and understand what was happening. Who just came into your room unannounced and why does it sound like Ollie? He wasn’t supposed to be back for another week? He had told you the night before he would be with Prema for a few more days..
But then it clicked— it really was him?
Looking up, you were met with Ollie’s signature grin, his curly hair seemed slightly damp, presumably from a shower. He was leaning against your doorframe like he had every right to be there, as if barging into your space without warning was completely justified.
“Miss me?” He teased, stepping inside without waiting for an answer.
You scrambled to your feet, heart hammering in your chest—not because of the book anymore, but because of him.
“What the hell?” You managed to sputter, clutching the paperback like it might steady you. “You’re supposed to be in Italy?!”
He laughed. "Well, I lied. So I can surprise you."
Before you could even process the weight of his words, he was already closing the space between you, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, familiar hug. It was so him—effortless, comforting, grounding. And, as always, it left you speechless.
You found yourself hugging him back instinctively, burying your face in his sweatshirt, which smelled faintly of pastries and whatever cologne he always wore. For a moment, it was easy to forget the world outside of this.
Just you and Ollie, like it had always been.
“I've missed you,” He murmured against the top of your head, his voice soft.
Your stomach flipped. His words were light, nonchalant, but there was something in the way he said you that made you pause.
"Missed you too." You smiled.
As you pulled away, Ollie’s arms dropped to his sides, but the grin on his face only grew wider. His eyes flicked down to the book still clutched in your hands, his curiosity piqued.
“What are you reading?” He asked, leaning a little closer, his head tilting just enough to catch a glimpse of the cover.
You shook your head. “Nothing important!” Your voice was obviously guilty of something, your hands clutching the book tighter as you took a step back.
Ollie's brow quirked, his grin turning mischievous. “Nothing?"
You huffed, knowing you weren’t going to get out of this easily. “It’s just… a romance novel…”
His eyes lit up at that, a teasing smile turning downright devilish. “Oh, now I have to know,” He said, lunging forward with zero warning.
“Don’t you dare!” You shrieked, spinning around to shield the book, but it was too late. Ollie was faster, plucking it clean out of your hands and jumping back like a kid who’d just won a game of tag.
“Ollie!” You groaned, reaching for it, but he held it high above his head, flipping open to a random page.
His eyes scanned the lines quickly, and then he froze, his grin somehow widening further. “‘The boy looked at her like she hung the stars in the sky,’” He read aloud, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. Then, he glanced down at you, his expression ridiculously smug.
“What’s this? A little wishful thinking?”
"You're such an ass! Please stop." You were more than embarrassed at this point. You were mortified.
Ollie wasn’t done teasing. “You’re blushing,” He pointed out, his tone light but insufferably smug.
“I am not!” You snapped, snatching the book back from his hands and threw it across your room.
“Oh, you totally are. Don’t worry, though.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing some huge secret.
“If it helps, I don’t think childhood soulmates are that unrealistic.”
Your heart stuttered, his words sending a confusing wave of butterflies through your stomach. But before you could respond—or even fully process what he’d just said—he straightened, clapping his hands together.
“Anyway,” He said, his tone abruptly casual, “We’re wasting precious daylight here.”
You blinked at him, completely thrown off. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on.” He grabbed your wrist, gently pulling you toward the door.
“Wait—what? No! I never agreed to go anywhere!” You tried to dig your heels into the carpet, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best. Resistance was futile when it came to Ollie, and you both knew it.
“You don’t have to agree,” He said breezily, tugging you along like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m your best friend. I’m basically entitled to hijack your evening whenever I feel like it.”
“You’re impossible,” you muttered, reluctantly following him.
“Yeah, but you love me for it.”
“Debatable.”
By the time you reached the stairs, you’d given up the fight entirely. At least you were dressed enough to leave the house—not that Ollie would have cared either way.
“Can I at least know where we’re going?” you asked as you descended the stairs, your voice laced with exasperation.
“Going somewhere?” Yourmom called from the family room, where she was cuddled up on the couch with your dad.
“Just the beach,” Ollie answered with an easy smile, not missing a beat.
Your mom chuckled, shaking her head fondly. “Why did I even ask? Have fun, you two!”
As soon as you were out of the house, Ollie released your wrist and started walking ahead, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.
“Slow down! What’s your rush?” you asked, jogging slightly to catch up with him.
He slowed his pace to let you fall into step beside him, the warm summer air wrapping around you both. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting the street in hues of gold and orange.
“No rush, you've just got slow legs,” He said casually, glancing over at you with a grin that told you otherwise.
You rolled your eyes. "Not everyone is a high-performance racing driver." A scoff escaped from your lips.
He chuckled at your jab, his grin only widening. "And not everyone has the luxury of doing nothing all day."
You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. “It is not nothing,” You said, nudging your shoulder into his. “I did a lot. You know, during your absence.”
The way he raised an eyebrow caught your attention. "Oh? And what was that exactly?" He asked, his voice dripping with playful curiosity.
You shrugged, not wanting to admit how much you’d missed his company. “You know, homework, mostly. Reading.” You grinned slightly, waving your hand dismissively, though it was clear from the slight flush creeping up your neck that there was more to it.
The conversation drifted into silence for a moment as you both kept walking down the street. The sky above you was gradually darkening, the golden hue of the sunset slipping into soft pinks and purples.
You glanced at him, catching that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, but this time, it felt like it held something more.
Was he acting this carefree to mask something? Was it just his usual self, or was there something he was hiding?
You didn’t know, but the two of you continued walking. The way his stride matched yours, the subtle glances he stole when he thought you weren’t paying attention—it all felt too intentional to be just casual.
You both arrived at an ice cream shop that sat near the shore, and Ollie was quick to order your favorite flavor—Stracciatella. It was such a small thing, but it made your heart skip. He knew you too well.
Soon, you followed him toward the shore, settling down on the rocky sand, the two of you enjoying your ice cream as the sun began to sink lower into the sky. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing filled the space between you, and for a moment, it felt like time had slowed.
The casual silence between you and Ollie was comforting, but it didn’t stop the undercurrent of tension that lingered. You could feel his presence beside you, the warmth of his shoulder just brushing against yours. But neither of you said anything. It was almost like you didn’t need to.
You glanced at him again. There was something unspoken in the air—something he wasn’t saying, but you knew. You didn’t have to hear it to feel it. Ollie was always so easygoing, but now, there was a quiet heaviness in his gaze that you hadn’t noticed before.
Without a word, he gently draped his arm around you. It was the kind of gesture that had become second nature to him, but tonight it felt different—weighted with something unspoken. You leaned into him slightly, the warmth of his touch grounding you, but there was an undeniable tension in the air, thick enough that you could almost taste it. Neither of you spoke, but both of you felt the quiet, pulsing energy between you that had always been there but was now somehow heavier.
You didn’t look at him—you couldn’t, really. If you did, you were certain you wouldn’t be able to stop the fluttering in your chest. Instead, your gaze remained fixed on the fading light of the sunset, trying to steady your breath. But Ollie, ever perceptive, seemed to sense your unease.
After a moment, he spoke softly, breaking the silence, his voice carrying the same calm, measured tone it always did, but there was something in the way he said it—something that made you turn your attention to him, even before he continued.
“There’s been something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while.”
You looked at him, curiosity piqued, but you stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. He kept his gaze on the horizon, his voice softer now, almost as if speaking the words aloud made them more real.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” He said, his words barely above the sound of the waves.
“More than I should, maybe.”
Your breath hitched, heart skipping a beat. “Thinking about me?” You echoed, not sure if you were imagining it.
“Yeah,” Ollie said, glancing over at you, his eyes serious but soft.
“Especially, when I'm away." He let out a sigh from his nose, "Evert race weekend, every meeting, every day, I can’t stop thinking about you."
"Ollie.."
He ignored your attempted interruption, wanting to pour his heart out first. "I could be in the middle of complete chaos, but all I would really want is for you to at least be there—to be the one I can hug and celebrate with, or even be there for you because I always miss your important events.” He was rambling.
“No matter what’s happening, it’s you that’s always on my mind.”
Your heart fluttered in your chest, his words sinking deep into you. He wasn’t just talking about the races; he was talking about you. About how much he wanted you by his side, how much you meant to him.
“And every time, when the day is all over,” He continued, his voice growing more confident, “I just wish you were at least there next to me. All the time. Just... sharing everything with me. You know?”
You swallowed, trying to steady your racing heartbeat. You had always been there for Ollie, cheering him on from home, or occasionally on the sidelines if you had a break from schooling to join him at a race, but you never imagined this—never imagined that he was feeling this way too.
“You know I’m always here for you, Ollie,” You said softly, leaning in a little closer, your voice barely above a whisper. Although his message was clear, a smidge of uncertainty still lingered.
He smiled, his eyes locking with yours, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I know. But... it doesn't feel right yet? Not when I don’t have you the way I want.”
“The way you want?” You echoed softly, your brow furrowing slightly, trying to make sense of the weight of his confession.
He nodded, his gaze never wavering from yours. There was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, but beneath it, you could see the genuine emotions he was holding back, the ones he wasn’t used to showing.
“I keep thinking that maybe there's a possibility to be... something more. But every time I want to say it, I’m not sure if it’s the right moment or if you feel the same way.”
You felt a rush of warmth in your chest, something between excitement and nervousness. The way he was speaking—so raw and open—made your heart race. You had been waiting for this, but never expected it to come like this.
“And what do you mean by more?” You asked, your voice barely more than a breath, your eyes searching his.
Ollie nodded slowly. "Like.. being your boyfriend?" He said nervously, slowly glancing at you, looking into your eyes.
You blinked, your breath catching in your throat as his words hung in the air, so simple yet so full of meaning. The vulnerability in his voice made your heart thud against your chest. He was sitting there, uncertain, yet laying his feelings bare for you to see.
“Really?” You whispered, barely able to believe it. The question had been sitting on the tip of your tongue for so long, but hearing him say it out loud made it feel real. Made everything feel real.
He looked at you, his face flushed, eyes filled with a mix of hope and hesitation. “I know it might sound mad, but… I just… always think about the idea of us. Maybe I’ve been afraid to say it because I didn’t know if you felt the same way. But it doesn’t feel right, just being friends when… when all I really want is more than that.”
Your mind was about to explode. You had thought about this moment for so long, imagined it in countless ways, but never imagined it could feel this raw, this real. Your heart was pounding in your chest, the weight of his words making everything around you seem to slow down.
“Ollie,” You whispered, your voice trembling just slightly. You didn’t have to think twice, didn’t need to wonder if this was what you wanted. You had known for so long that it was him.
A soft laugh escaped your lips as you interlocked your arm around his. “It's about time you said something."
He smiled, his lips twitching into a nervous grin, his eyes still locked with yours, searching for something—some sign of what you were feeling.
But you didn’t even need to search. You already knew what you felt. You had known for so long, even when you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You took a deep breath, your chest tightening with the weight of everything you had been carrying.
“I’ve always loved you,” You said softly, almost like a confession you had been keeping locked away for too long. You felt the words settle in the space between you, like they belonged there. “More than anything.”
“Truly, madly, deeply.”
comments , likes , & reblogs are appreciated ! ^_^ had fun writing this one even tho i’m not the biggest fan :P
pleasssseeee do marc bernal bf headcannons i love ur work so much ! xxx
Boyfriend Marc Bernal Headcanons! :3
‘‘cause you satisfy my heart.’ / ‘even though we’re far apart.’
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… will always laugh at your jokes. It doesn’t matter if you think that what you said wasn’t funny at all, he’ll never see it that way.
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… often wraps a loose arm around your waist or shoulders, not caring when you mention that his constant touch hinders you from doing, well, anything. Even after you politely ask him to release you, Marc simply won’t let go.
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… never lets you pay for food. You might have paid for a meal or two, but other than that, it’s all him—much to your dismay.
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… if he (or you) were to fall ill, suddenly he’s mapping out all the things you’ll do once you’re both back on your feet. You’re left wondering if it’s for his sake or yours, a clever distraction from all the time you missed together.
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… is a listener, a really expressive listener at that. You can always tell when he’s listening to what you’re saying by how his face reflects the topic you’re talking about.
“Yeah, one more warning and I’d be kicked out.”
Marc’s eyebrows quickly furrow. “For what?”
“Exactly! They confused me for someone else.”
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… can never not tease you about the silliest things ever, like your height difference for example. It infuriates you so badly.
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… brings up the fact that he’s your boyfriend any chance he gets. When he’s with you and someone asks the question of who he is, a smile is instantly gracing his lips.
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… was nervous around you at first. It took at least three hangouts for the boy to slowly start to become more comfortable.
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… always wants to lie with you. When you tell him that you want to go out, he’s easily down with the idea, of course. But then you see him motion for you to lie with him for a bit, and you know it won’t happen because the second you’re lying with him, he’s turning on a movie and both of you are falling asleep.
Boyfriend Marc Bernal who… loves you so, so loudly.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.
You woke up, your throat feeling clogged and your nose stuffed. You were already dreading the day.
You also woke up to your usual ‘good morning beautiful ❤️’ text from Lamine, which almost made everything better. Almost.
You responded with, ‘ahhem, hem, i’m sick 🤒,’ referencing the movie the two of you watched together just nights before. As soon as you responded, Lamine called you.
“Are you actually sick?” He asked you, no greeting or anything.
You couldn’t help but chuckle and respond, “Yes, Lamine.”
“Okay, give me twenty.” Is all he said before hanging up. What did he mean by that?
After twenty minutes you found out. He had gone out to get you breakfast (toast, yogurt, and hot tea) and a small bouquet of flowers. Your mom let him in and he made his way upstairs, surprising you.
“Oh my gosh, Lamine,” you exclaimed, sitting up in bed. “You didn’t have to do any of that.”
He shook his head in disagreement, setting your tray of breakfast on your bed. “No, I definitely did.” He then placed the flowers which were now in a vase on the side table.
You began eating your breakfast silently as he sat down next to you. “Lamine, I’m sick.”
“We’ll be sick together,” he smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“The same since you called me this morning,” you responded. “Did you get yourself anything?”
Lamine nodded, not replying with words. He grabbed the remote to your television and turned on your favorite show, the one he swore he hated, but would always watch with you.
For the next few hours, you and him both rested together cuddled up and watching TV together. At one point you ended up falling asleep, taking a small nap. When you woke up it was 6:00pm, and Lamine was still laying there by your side with you in his arms. He hadn’t noticed you wake up, but you noticed his slight cough.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
hi, i love your work <3 !!! can you write a fermin lopez boyfriend headcanons?
Boyfriend Fermín López Headcanons! ^_^
“oh, you kissed me just to kiss me.” / “not to make me cry.”
Boyfriend Fermín López who… invites you to all of his games, the home ones, of course. Sometimes, you’ll surprise him at a couple of his away games, just to show your utmost support and admiration for the man you’re completely in love with.
Boyfriend Fermín López who… will kiss you like there’s no tomorrow. The man has always been the passionate type, very vocal about his feelings.
Boyfriend Fermín López who… always lends you one of his AirPods. The man can’t focus without tunes playing in his ear, so why not get you in on it, too?
Boyfriend Fermín López who… gets teased by his teammates almost all the time. Whenever you’re around, he’s always calling for your help and or assistance in what he likes to call ‘payback’.
“Fermín, you can’t be serious. It was just a pinch!”
“I’m getting him back. Will you help me?”
Boyfriend Fermín López who… has to have a hand on you at all times. Not because he feels like it—well, actually, most of the time it is because he feels like it. Other times, it’s just so he can reassure himself that you were really here. With him.
Boyfriend Fermín López who… becomes the biggest baby when he’s upset. You weren’t talking about arguments, you were talking about petty stuff. He knows just what to do during the most heated moments, even going so far as to sass. Irritating.
Boyfriend Fermín López who… always makes sure that you’re comfortable. You’re cold? Suddenly, the hoodie he was just wearing two seconds prior is pulled over your head. Hot? He’s finding the nearest place to cool down and get something cold to either eat or drink, like ice cream or water.
Boyfriend Fermín López who… craves physical touch. Having already been slightly mentioned before, it always—and you mean always—increases when he’s feeling particularly distant from you.
Boyfriend Fermín López who… is an admirer through and through. If you’re on dates and the time is right, he’s taking out his phone and taking pictures not only for you, but for himself as well.
Boyfriend Fermín López who… would probably, most likely, one-hundred percent be the perfect man.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.
DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @sakashq ! ౨ৎ (THANK YOU SO MUCH. I love you! 🫵)
I DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE. (Pablo Gavi x fem!reader)
⛓️💥 summary: You don’t love him anymore. But he can’t stop loving you.
⛓️💥 wc: ≈400
⛓️💥 warnings: angst ,, y/n usage 🤦🏾♀️🤦🏾♀️🤦🏾♀️
⛓️💥 yap! i’m sorry in advance.
⛓️💥 my girls <3 @ar4ujos @hrts4havertz @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @iovepoem 🤍
“Pablo… I’m sorry. I can’t love you the way you want me to.”
Your words shot through his heart like a bullet, breaking him instantly. He felt a piece of his mind die with his heart, the piece that only focused and thought about you.
It wasn’t his fault you didn’t love him anymore. He did nothing wrong and that was the worst part about it. Why couldn’t he do something bad to give you a reason to fall out of infatuation?
Your heart stung when you saw a tear fall from Pablo’s cheek. Why, why, why?
“Y/n, please. Don’t say that,” Pablo begged. “Don’t say that.” He repeated softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It broke you as much as it broke him.
“This just might be better for us, you know? You don’t deserve to be stuck with someone who doesn’t feel the same for you,” you replied, walking closer to him. You grabbed his hands, removing them from his face. His cheeks were flushed red and his eyes were bloodshot from the crying. Your heart tugged at you once again.
He looked at you, his big brown eyes looking at you with despair. You felt a stray tear fall from your own face, the sight in front of you killing you.
“I love you. It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he whispered, his heart aching as you kept your gaze on him.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Pablo,” You told him. “I love you, just not in the way you want and I’m sorry for that. But I still care about you, okay?”
“I can’t do this without you,” he began to sob, hugging your waist and crying into your chest. You felt your shirt begin to stain with his tears, another tug at your heart.
You let him cry, holding onto him with one arm and running your hand through his hair with the other. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay,” you whispered reassuringly, but it wasn’t helping him at all. You felt your heart begin to crack each second this continued on, as he begged for you to stay and cried into your arms. “I got you, Pablo.”
Did you really, though? You were leaving him, out of the blue with no warning to do so. Did you really deserve to have him after how much you hurt him? The questions made your headache, along with the tears that fell from your eyes and dropped on Gavi’s hair.
hey i was wondering if i could request a pau cubarsí x reader. maybe one where he gets jealous of a guy hitting on the reader or talking to her at the balon d’or? thank you, i love you and your work ♥️
Love Between… — Pau Cubarsí.
Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader
Summary: In which you make it clear Pau is all you want.
Word Count: 530+
Disclaimer/s — Guy, just comfort/fluff really!
A/N: The summary lowk doesn’t even fit but whatever I guess. First of all, thank you so much??? I love you :3 This was beautiful. I hate this but I don’t at the same time, soooo. Soz.
Smoothing down the hem of your dress with your free hand, you stood close to Pau, whose pinky was still, to your surprise, interlocked with yours.
It wasn’t anything stressful. He knew what he was doing and you were just there. Pau and his tendency to be attentive was something you’d grown to love. Then, suddenly, “There’s Lamine!”
At the sound of your quiet voice, the boy looks down at you before looking up, meeting the gaze of his friend you had just pointed out. “I’ll say hi to him later. Are you thirsty? I’m sure they’ll have water bottles around here somewhere,” he says.
“I’m okay. Go talk to him—I’ll be fine. I’ll manage.”
“I don’t know…” he drawls. “Do you want to come with me? He’ll want to talk to you. You can, I don’t know, maybe congratulate him or something.”
Rolling your eyes at his insistence, you poke his arm. “Pau, please, have your moment with him.”
“I—okay! Okay. I’ll… be back before you know it.”
While he walks away, the Yamal boy starts talking to him the second he spots him. You see the way your boyfriend’s smile widens when he hands him his trophy. You loved him so much. It was insane.
Before you have the chance to keep your gaze fixated on them, you hear a voice catch your attention. “I’m sorry, excuse me, are you lost?”
“Oh. Oh!” Awkward, okay. Haha. “No, I’m not—”
“‘Cause I can show you around if you’d like. I know this place like the back of my hand, y’know.”
“That’s nice… I’m not lost. Thank you, though!”
His expression drops and he nods, but your answer doesn’t stop him from continuing. How disappointing. “Did you come here alone?”
Can Pau come back? “No, I’m here with my—”
“She’s here with me.” Oh, thank God.
Stiffening, the man purses his lips. “Ah, I see. You two have a good rest of your day and… goodbye.”
Watching him depart, Pau looks over at you and frowns. “Odd of him. What did he want?”
“To know if I was lost,” you answered honestly.
“He was looking at you weirdly. Are you okay?”
“I didn’t see how he looked at me, but I’m fine. He offered to show me around or whatever, I refused. I was about to mention that I was here with my boyfriend—you, and that’s when you stepped in.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “Thank you for that, by the way. He just came out of nowhere.”
“Didn’t he? I left you alone for, like, a second.”
That gets a laugh out of you, and you warmly loop your arm with his. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you came in when you did? Seriously.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “You haven’t.”
“Well, in that case, I’m glad you came in when you did. So… how about that water! I’m a bit thirsty.”
“Water, okay,” Pau hummed, placing his other hand on your arm. His cheeks flush when you lean into him and begin to walk around in hopes of finding your beverage, that’s if you guys could.
You couldn’t, however, you both pulled through.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
gracieabrams
amandla
dailybridgerton
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
vaporwave
