a/n: I’ll make it short and sweet. Thanks for reading, and thanks for supporting my writing, and thanks for putting up with me and my love for German men. Let me know what you think.
act II or where they discover they are climbing the same mountain.
The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon is not only a strange word, but a strange feeling at that; a quaint mind game, designed by our own brain to make us believe in a thing called frequency illusion. It makes us aware of the things and sounds that we once missed or weren’t paying attention to; it makes us wonder about them. The brain of ours—the silly, little thing, latches onto something new in particular, making it suddenly a focus of our existence—a constant sight in front of one’s eyes; our grey cells.
He was more than convinced that the stranger named Ayla was his own Baader-Meinhof phenomenon.
You’ve tried to speak with Trent now several times over the evening and, whilst most of the time he’s replied, he’s been distracted by his phone and replying to people. He lays on the sofa, phone clasped firmly in his hands and his eyes remain fixed on the screen and his concentration and attention has been elsewhere.
a/n: this is something that I’ve been thinking about writing for a while now, and before you go all question marks on me, it can be read as ‘whoever you want it to be’, although, it is Mats Hummels that I am writing about in the first place. Why you wonder? There is no particular reason other than the fact that he just fits perfectly in the plot with how I perceive him as a person, and also his age fits much better with Ayla, my OC. With that said, I would really appreciate if you read the story, and do not hesitate to tell me what you think, anon or off anon.
*act I or where they meet for the first time. no warnings.*
On a journey that is called life, we encounter individuals that come and go; their faces creating only a slight pattern in our minds that serves as proof that they were present in our lives at some point. They are a simple shadow; just a silhouette — nothing else, and nothing more.
Then there are the other ones; other faces, other eyes — the ones that haunt us until we are no longer gracing this world. It’s the individuals who circle around us like they are our suns and our moons. It’s the ones whose presence penetrates deep under our skin and our mind.
It’s the ones who become our past, present and the future — all at once.
a/n: Here it is, the second part, and I can officially say that I wrote this under fever while pretending to work today. I will probably go back to edit some grammar later on, but for now, you can read it, enjoy and tell me what you think of it, anon or not. Lots of love, and thanks to the anon who requested the prompt. I never thought I’d be able to write something like this.
PART I
The familiar melody of her laugh caught his attention, and despite being in the middle of conversation with Janine, Leon let his eyes wander to where she stood, noticing that she was in the company of his friends and teammates — one of them being no other than Kevin Trapp. Not that he had something against the man, it’s just that something about him that night was getting on his nerves.
a/n: I know, I know, the title is the lamest thing ever, but I was listening to the song while writing, so I thought I'd save myself from pain of naming my fics. This is for the lovely anon who requested the prompt "Are you blushing?" when I had my requests open, so here it is. This is just a first part and second follows shortly, once I proof-read it. Also, biggest hugs for @petitharicot for giving me the thumbs up and support for this idea.
With a confident step, the gorgeous woman walked from one side of the large, sun-bathed room to the other, wheeling a mannequin with expensive-looking scraps of fabric pinned to it — the pink hues appearing brighter in the afternoon light. Her jeans sat snuggly around her waist and bottom, and the loose blouse which she had tucked carelessly into her waistline was halfway unbuttoned, exposing just a fraction of her cleavage — a silver necklace resting in between her pert breasts.
Turning her head slightly, she met the brown eyes of a handsome man, much younger than her, watching her from the other side of the room — the mop of curly hair sitting on top of his head before giving him a confident look and a flirtatious smile.
“Did you know,” the young girl started, “that there are over two hundred and twenty individual pieces that need to be sewn together in order to get the suit made?” Her eyebrows were knitted in concentration as she cut the scrap of fabric on the inside of the suit-jacket that rested on the large working table in front of her. “Think of it as a puzzle. You miss one piece, and the suit won’t fit as—aaaand you’re not listening,” she trailed off in annoyance, looking up at Leon who stood opposite her with his forearms resting against the table and eyed over her shoulder.
She turned her head around, noticing her boss exchanging seductive looks with the man of her dreams before sighing, dropping the heavy duty scissors she was holding on the table — the noise of metal hitting against the wooden surface gaining Leon’s attention at last.
“Sorry, you said something, no?” he asked, looking away from her boss and down at her, and she felt a small wave of jealousy wash over her, despite not having any right to feel the way she did.
Leon was just her friend and she was just ‘a bro’ to him — nothing more, nothing less.
“Nothing, don’t worry,” she muttered, “I didn’t say a word.”
With her nose scrunching a little in annoyance, she picked the scissors up once again before setting them down, and lifting a piece of white tailor’s chalk instead. Even if it was a matter of life or death, she wouldn’t be able to tell what she was doing at that very moment.
She heard Leon chuckle — a deep rumbling noise coming from somewhere in his chest.
“No,” he interjected. “I am sure you said something... two hundred twenty something. And also, you are scrunching your nose like a rabbit, which means you’re annoyed with me.”
With a composed face, she brushed down her slightly wrinkled t-shirt that had residues of the aforementioned chalk and some spare threads from various fabrics on the cotton surface.
“My boss is married and is having several affairs with young male models, just so you know," she mumbled, wanting to stab herself with the very same scissors in front of her at how stupid she sounded.
Leon threw his head back as he let out a loud, roaring laugh. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you are being jealous.”
“Why would I be?” she asked, nervously tightening the pin-cushion around her wrist. Leon didn’t give her an answer, but a rather amused look as she raked her brain for something to say — less lame and on, if possible, a different subject. “Looking forward to Saturday?” she asked, breathing out a huff of air she wasn’t aware she was holding, mentioning for Leon to move around the table and stand in front of her.
Leon had the same smug smile on his face as he did as told — the height difference between the two of them almost too ridiculous.
“Yes, for once, I actually am. What about you?”
“As long as Kevin is going to be there,” she answered, grabbing the small stool from underneath the table.
“Trapp?” Leon muffled as he pulled off the hoodie over his head, and she hummed back in response, trying not to stare at his strong arms and the muscles visible underneath his own tee. “Of course, he’s going to be there. Why?” Leon urged - his brows furrowed in confusion. “Do you like him?”
She shrugged slightly, helping Leon into the bespoke suit-jacket he had asked her to make for him, and which after two weeks needed some modifying to fit perfectly.
"He's fun to have around," she replied, smoothing down the suit jacket over his broad shoulders, giving him a glance in the mirror. Their height difference was already funny, but the way they looked with her hovering over him as she stood on the stool, made them both smirk. "Does it feel too tight around the shoulders?"
"And I'm not fun to have around?" Leon asked, ignoring her question regarding the fit of his jacket.
She pulled a silly face at him. "You are, but you also have a habit of turning into a social butterfly at those parties, leaving me to entertain myself alone."
Leon didn’t say anything, but grinned at his friend in the mirror.
**
There were two things she was sure of.
One, Leon looked more than handsome wearing the suit she spent many hours working on, and two, the fact that he decided to ditch his tie and leave the first two buttons on his dark shirt loose made her all warm inside her core. She was both proud of her work and turned on by him, and she didn’t know what to do with the way she felt as stood alone at the one of many round tall tables in a decorated hall.
She didn’t look bad herself, or at least she thought so until she started comparing herself to some other attendees, realising that she definitely didn’t put in as much effort as she could. Still, in her red voluminous skirt and long-sleeved bodice with a square neckline, she thought she looked good, if not great.
“I knew it was you!” a voice behind her boomed, grabbing her attention, and when she turned her head around, she couldn’t help but grin back at Leroy, looking dapper in his maroon-coloured suit. She quickly hugged him before he stepped back and grinned playfully at her, giving her a friendly once-over. “I see Leon still hasn’t made a move on you? What a hohlkopf.”
“We’re just friends, Le,” she grinned back, trying to keep her blush intact, “and anyway, he seems to be having fun with Janine.” She looked behind her shoulder and at the man of her dreams where he stood at the bar in a very close proximity to Janine Khiel - an ex-model and the host of the charity.
“If that’s so,” Leroy shook his head, stepping next to her and putting his glass on the table, “then I have to make a move.”
She couldn’t help but laugh loudly at his statement, pushing him playfully away from her. “I don’t think Candice would like that.”
Leroy shrugged with a mischievous grin. “Oh, shit, yeah,” he mumbled sarcastically, “keep forgetting that I am taken when I see you in that outfit. Seriously, where are his eyes?” he continued, lazily waving Joshua and Kevin over as they mingled around some other guests. “Seriously, leute, where are Leon’s eyes?” Leroy asked as the two men joined their table, waving his arms at girl next to him in a show-off manner, making her blush slightly.
“In his...sockets?” Kevin answered — voice unsure as she swatted Leroy’s arms, laughing in embarrassment.
“You’re an idiot, Le, you know?” she muttered — her cheeks turning ablaze at all the attention she was getting, including Leon's from the other side of the room.
player: Dominic Calvert-Lewin
words: 1,793
warnings: friends (enemies) to lovers, foreplay (fingers), unprotected sex (wrap it tho people), kinda public kinda voyeurism?
_
Your hand clasps the balcony handle and when it doesn’t give, you begin to feel the panic rise up within you. You try it again, and again and again but it’s the same result. The door isn’t budging.
“Oh, shift out of the way,” Dom comments with annoyance dripping from each word he says. His hip slams into your side, knocking you out of the way, forcing you to quickly steady your already uneasy feet. After a fun night of drinking, eating with your friends and dancing, everyone came back to the hotel. Some of your friends were partnered up, some were single but hooking up and then there’s you and Dom.
The whole holiday so far, he’s been desperate to get under your skin. He’s picked at you, covered it with a compliment or a tongue in cheek comment that had made your cheeks heat and stutter your way through your next sentence as he’d grinned. But he’s picked. He’s created an itch and he’s waiting for you to beg him to scratch it. You won’t be begging. If he wants to scratch that itch that he created, he needs to be the one to ask. To take. To give. If Dom thinks he’s the man to give you what you want? He can prove it.
But tonight, with alcohol in your system, he’s not flirty or charming. He’s being annoying as fuck and you have no time for it. The fact that the lock has flicked from the inside, or maybe one of your friends had done so that the two of you are forced to hash it out.
Player: Joe Gomez
Words: 1626
Warnings: sexting, flirting in the workplace, oral (f).
I do believe this is my first ever piece for Joe, so please be kind!
___
You’ve interviewed Joe several times and though he’s always been a gentleman, there had been a tone to his words, the curve of his lip and the way that he’d pull his gaze down over you before licking his lips to answer you which told another story. With others around, as they nearly always are, Joe remained professional. It’s in the moments when things quieten down that he lets that slip. He’d managed to snag a contact card of yours between two fingers and pocket it before you’d noticed, only confessing this later on after faking his follow up about one of the answers he’d given, just making sure the right answer was given.
The innocent enquiry had led to text a little more often, mostly innocent until it’s not. Flirty. Suggestive. The type of flirting which could always dip further but it might be too much. The two of you try to keep it all easy to pull back and not fully cross that line, needing it to remain so for when you both next meet up, but it’s always there, the memory of the messages in each lingering stare, the little smiles after comments which only the other would know what that meant.
Anto and his new hair - he comes home and his little girl is absolutely devastated that she can’t braid/play with his long hair anymore and won’t talk to him (you - “I told you it was a bad idea!”), so he goes out and buys a wig for her to use, until his long hair comes back again (“which it will, I promise”) xxx
Ok I’m super soft bc baby daddy always ends me.
I hadn’t realised I’d left this in my drafts though, I’m sorry!!
__
The look on her face when Antoine climbed into the car was a picture. The look of horror and upset when she realised what had happened is etched into your mind. It was understandable. He’d had a lot of playable hair ever since she was old enough to remember. She’d never known, to her knowledge that wasn’t on photos, him to have short hair and this was a huge surprise.
The presentation went as well as it could, with you looking after your daughter while Antoine completed the media side of things that hadn’t focused on everyone as a family. The three of you stood with his jersey as cameras and their social media team snapped photos, not that she wanted to be anywhere near him and it took more than a handful of attempts to get her to smile on them. Each time Antoine tried to interact with her as he usually would, she’d simply stand and stare at him and refuse to answer him. Casting a blank, emotionless look in his direction before asking if she could go and play by herself.
“I told you it was a bad idea,” you whispered to him as the two of you climbed back into the car once she was strapped into her car seat. He’d thrown you a sad smile as he buckled himself in and began the drive back home. It saddened you to watch him shrink into himself on the way home with only the radio to fill the silence. He loved being her favourite, being the one to cheer her up the most and the thought that he was the reason she was upset? It was a tough pill to swallow.
“Hey,” he says, trying to sit forward and glance at her in the rear view mirror. She sits sadly in her car seat, fiddling with her fingers as she tries to look everywhere but at her daddy. “I’m sorry. I forgot that you hadn’t seen me without my hair and that this may be a big shock to you.” He speaks slowly and calmly, ensuring that his sincerity comes through in his words. HIs eyes flickering from the road before him and her sad face in the mirror.
“It was,” she says in a sad tone. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” she adds in a heartbroken voice which makes your bottom lip come out and your hand press to your chest.
“I really am sorry little one,” he tries again to catch her attention but she refuses to look up. “What can I do to make it up to you?”
“You can’t grow you hair back right now, so nothing.” she huffs and folds her arms over her chest.
“Not unless we get daddy a wig,” you say playfully and wiggle your fingers in her direction as though you’re going to tickle her.
“A WIG. YES!” She squeals quickly, then catches Antoine’s pale blue eyes in the mirror looking hopeful. She slumps back and stares back out of the window once more.
“I’ll grow it back out again for you,” he tells her, noticing the way she side eyes him, keeping the unhappy look upon her face. “And, if it makes you happy, I’ll get some long hair so you can play with it again?”
“Promise?” She asks, still not wanting to face him completely but she is turning her body to get a better look at him.
Antoine reaches behind him, fingers and thumb already tucked into his palm while his pinky finger remains open. “I promise.” he confirms and feels her small finger link around his and the gentle way they shake on it.
“We could go and see if there’s anywhere now?”
“Right now?” He hisses at you as you try to show your most innocent expression.
“Please daddy?” She asks, turning on big puppy dog eyes to look at him. “I might feel a little bit better.” She tries again, and grins when she watches a small smile creep onto his face.
“You always know how to get me to say yes.” he grumbles. “Wonder where she gets that from?” He casts a look at you before giving the road his full attention, hand moving on the wheel to make the turn needed to head over to the stores, dread building in his stomach as he wonders what colours she picks out but he knows deep down, it’ll be worth it when she’s happy playing hairdresser once more. Until the wig comes off.
____
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Player: Oscar Mingueza
Words: 1575
Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, remembering past experiences??
A/N: This was written after seeing that very video that I mentioned in this. An additional warning for this would be that this is my wife’s fuckery request.
__
She hadn’t meant to, had never dreamt of getting herself off in such a way but temptation truly has gotten the best of her. She’d browsed social media, each of the well-known ones for a while until she felt she’d caught up and then switched the site of the fandom. She enjoyed a mindless browse, surprise occasionally taking over when she’d see some nsfw content on her dash, despite following more than a handful of accounts. They came in handy for when Oscar wasn’t around, and she needed something to get her in the mood.
romaincrisis
gamechangershow
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
