THIS is why I love the NWSL. The team at the bottom of the table in dead last place, just beat the team at the top of the table and ended their undefeated streak. Every team in this league has a chance to pull the upset.
↳He was the cliché bad boy. He was the guy you couldn’t stand. He was the handsome, hot kid who made girls go weak in the knees. He was a brat. You had never liked him one bit, but you had also never gotten involved with anything concerning him. Until one day, when you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
There is a contest going round to see Harry Styles at an exclusive event. For more info click HERE
They say you don’t know what you have until it is gone, or almost gone, but that is not the case for Harry. He knew all along what he had, he knew from the moment that he laid eyes on you that you were the one for him, the one that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, to raise children with, to go on spontaneous adventures with. It was you, nobody else.
It had been two days, forty-eight hours, two-thousand-eight-hundred and eighty minutes, of torturous misery for him.
He refused to leave your bedside, not even to get coffee or to grab something to eat, his mother and sister had to do it for him, fetching him food to make sure he actually eats. He had hardly shut his droopy eyes, too scared he would fall asleep and miss you opening your eyes. Every now and again he would wander around the room, stretching his back that is undoubtedly hurting from the discomfort of the chair, his legs feeling numb from their lack of movement.
He had ran out of words to say and stories to tell in hope that you would wake up to the sound of his voice. He didn’t know what to say when your brother arrived from out of state, he just stared into his cerulean eyes with his bottom lip trembling. The two of them together did not know what to do, you were always the one with the answers, besides Harry’s sister. You were the one to always tell the two men what needed to be done, whether they needed to laugh, cry, or make jokes in certain situations, or whether they need to take wine or a cooked meal to a dinner party. You were the one they turned to, and now, now they have each other and are lost for words.
Request: “A story where the reader is a Hufflepuff being bullied and Draco saves her?”
Summary: Draco doesn’t like the way Flint talked to you. So he finally did something about it after bottling up his anger.
Pairing: Draco x Reader
Universe: Harry Potter
Word Count: 1,797
A/N: I’m baaaack…. ;)
It’s not like Draco hadn’t done any bullying himself, but the way Marcus Flint treated you was something else entirely. You never deserved the acrid words that were sent your way, and even Draco knew that.
It was during lunch when he finally snapped, but Marcus had been doing it to you all day. His most effective word to use on you was weak. Draco knew you fairly well, your parents being aquaintences within their business. He knew you well enough to know that you were far from weak.
Marcus took the fact you were sorted into Hufflepuff and never really talked to many people to his advantage. He terrorized you for being quiet and keeping to yourself, insulting your family and what you were worth, all the while you never said a word.
Little did you know that you were worth more than just a weakling to Draco.
“Oi! Y/N! How’s your lunch, mudblood!” Marcus’s voice echoed within the Great Hall, calling almost everybody’s attention.
Including Draco, who watched in horror as you said nothing to Marcus, looking down at your food.
“Aren’t ya gonna answer me, ya Hufflepuff?!” Marcus yelled again, bending down so his lips were touching your ear.
Draco grit his teeth, his jaw tightening, glaring at the back of Marcus’s head. He was utterly disgusting in Draco’s eyes, and he promised himself that he would stop Marcus’s reign on insults upon you once and for all.
“Oi! Flint!” Sudden shocked gasps emitted from the crowd as Draco stood up from his seat across the Hall, a glare consumed with anger being sent Marcus’s away as he turned around to look at Draco.
Slowly, Draco made his way over, his fists clenched by his sides.
“What is it, Malfoy?” Marcus bit, standing straight up so his lips were nowhere near your face.
Draco watched you sigh from behind Marcus as she looked over, pleading eyes being the only thing in Draco’s mind.
“Talk to her again like that, and something in this Hall is going to go awry.” Draco was now fully across the Hall and now walking up to Flint, his bright blue eyes burning with fire.
A dry chuckle escaped Marcus’s lips, his head turning to look back at you, where you were watching Draco’s every move.
“And why are you suddenly defending this little weakling?” He bit, his hand going up to grab a piece of yoru hair and twirling it between his fingers then tugging.
You winced but didn’t make a noise, and Draco’s blood boiled to the point where he was going to snap at any minute. He touched you, and that was not okay. Draco was now out for blood, his face coming up to Marcus’s, his jaw still locked.
“Get your filfthy hands off her…” Draco growled, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.
You had never seen this side of him before, and if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda liked it.
Suddenly, Marcus went chest to chest with Draco, his eyes turning into slits.
“And what are you going to do about it, pretty boy?”
Draco had enough with Marcus’s antics, and finally collided his fist with Marcus’s cheek. A loud gasp escaped your mouth, your hand going up to cover it while Draco bent down, sending another hit to Marcus’s ear.
“Draco!” Your voice suddenly ripped through the chaos of the crowd, and you bent down to grab his robe, successfully pulling him away from Marcus. “That’s enough! You’re going to bloody kill him!”
Draco’s knuckles were now ripped, drops of blood trickling down the side of his palms. You took his bloody hand in yours and pulled, dragging him out of the Great Hall. Draco’s eyes stayed glued to Marcus’s as he lied on the ground groaning from the pain in his ear. Draco had hit him extremely hard, the anger he’s been bottling up towards Marcus finally revealing itself. Unfortunately, it had to be in front of the whole school.
“Oh god, you’re going to get in huge trouble for this, aren’t you?”
Draco’s attention was drawn to you when he heard worry lace your tone, and he looked over to you to see your eyebrows scrunched together, stress lines making their way upon your forehead.
“Stop that.” He blurted, bringing his blood hand up to your forehead to wipe away the worry lines, which ended up in him wiping his blood on you instead.
He groaned, apologizing for the accident, but you shook your head, sending him a soft smile.
“It’s okay, Draco. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” You said, lacing your fingers with his and tugging him towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.
“Why here?” He questioned, looking around the bathroom as you brought him over to this sink, turning on the water.
You looked up at him, your eyebrow raised. “Because it’s the one place we can get the most privacy. After what happened back there, I don’t want anybody finding you until I can get you patched up at least.”
Draco watched you slowly as you gently brought his hand under the cold water, a hiss escaping his mouth as soon as he felt the stinging sensation run through his veins. You immediately withdrew his hands from the water, looking up at him in concern. He stamped the look into his brain, finding it utterly adorable.
“It’s alright. You can put it back.” Draco reassured with a nod, and you listened, putting his hand back under the water and softly rubbing your fingers over the damp skin.
“I can’t believe you actually did that…” You let the words slip out of your mouth before you could stop them, and listened as Draco chuckled.
“Why not, love? Didn’t think a bully could beat up another bully?”
A scowl painted its way upon your lips, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Don’t call yourself a bully, Draco.” Was all you had said before shutting off the water and releasing his hand, walking over to the stalls and grabbing a small piece of toilet paper.
Draco turned in your direction, furrowing his eyebrows. “Don’t you think I’m a bully? Doesn’t everybody? That’s the only other thing I’m known for besides being my father’s pet.” He spat to himself, babbling on about how much people hated him.
You looked up to him as you returned to stand in front of him, grabbing his hand again and gently dabbing the cuts on his knuckles. “You shouldn’t care what other people think about you, Draco. Their opinion doesn’t matter unless you want it to matter. You are what you are, and that’s it. Whatever anybody else says you are, it’s irrelevant.”
Draco looked down at you in shock, his eyes slightly wide and suddenly full of color. Your outburst was the first time Draco heard anything decent about him, and he couldn’t have appreciated it more. Suddenly, hepulled your hand with the toilet paper behind his back, his other arm wrapping around your waist so he could pull you closer to him.
A breathless gasp escaped your lips when you looked up to realize your face was just inches from his, his minty breath fanning against your cheeks.
“D-Draco…” You called out to him as you stared into his ocean blue eyes, a sly smirk that made your knees go weak planting its way upon his face.
“Yes, Y/N?” He smiled brightly. It was one of those boyish smiles that reached from one end of his face to the other, and it made you laugh jovially.
“W-Why did you defend me against Marcus” You brought your hands up to his chest, resting one of your palms against where his heart was.
Draco watched as you suddenly bit your lip and looked down at the ground, almost ashamed of asking such a question. He shook his head softly, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, his blue eyes wide with honesty.
“Because you don’t deserve the way he treats you. I know you enough, Y/N, to know that your hatred towards violence and drama are strong enough to cause you to not defend yourself against somebody like that, and I couldn’t continue to see him talk to you that way without teaching him a lesson. You deserve better than a prick like that in your face all the time, and I decided that it was time to finally end his bullying streak towards you. I just couldn’t stand it.”
You could’ve sworn your stomach flipped a thousand times within the middle of Draco’s confession, and your cheeks began to turn a dark shade of red. You noticed Draco smile at the small change of skin color, and you couldn’t help but let out a sheepish laugh. His smile could light up a thousand worlds, and the fact that it was meant towards you made your heart swell with warmth.
“Are your hands okay?” You abruptly spluttered, reaching down to grab his hands.
However, Draco did something highly unexpected, something that uttered a soft gasp from your lips.
He laced your fingers in his and lifted them above your head, his body moving forward to walk you back against the wall that you two were previously standing in front of. Your mouth parted slightly and you stared into his now dark blue orbs with a sudden sense of passion.
“Is this alright?” He whispered in your ear, bringing his lips to your lobe and lightly biting down on the smooth skin, emitting a low moan from your chest.
“Y-Yes.” You admitted, pushing your body forward so you were now closer to Draco.
You could feel him smile a little as his lips traveled against your cheek, pressing butterfly kisses against the silky layers of skin there. Your breath quickened when his mouth became inches from yours, and you sighed in content when his lips finally connected with yours, his hands moving down to cup your cheeks, releasing your arms in the process.
Draco could practically feel your heartbeat against his chest when he pressed you harder against the wall, slowly pulling away from you and removing his hands from your cheeks, brushing them against your waist until his hands were able to cup your hips.
You were both left breathless against the wall, a heaping mess of passion and admiration all in one. Draco appreciated the way you reacted towards him, and he looekd down at you with a certain twinkle in his eyes.
Yuri likes to wear shorts in the summer because he's a basic bitch teen and he'll be damned if he doesn't soak up the sun while it exists, except he forgets it looks like his thighs were mauled by a bear (:3c). He doesn't notice because he's running late so he throws on clothes and runs to meet Otabek at a cafe or a park or somewhere equally full of people and doesn't realize his mistake until he sees drastically more private Otabek's face.
You have given me a Mighty Need™ to see Yuri in high waisted shorts and a cute crop top….. I hope you’re happy
Otabek is just going through his phone, waiting patiently at a small table in the crowded café. His black coffee sits besides a caramel macchiato as he rereads the last text he received.
“running late, order me whatever”
That was about 20 minutes ago. Otabek doesn’t mind - he had just gone ahead and ordered Yuri’s usual. Having had errands to run, Beka had woken early in the morning and left his boyfriend tangled up in silk sheets, kissing the top of his head in goodbye. Though Otabek had to return to his own apartment eventually, he wasn’t quite ready to end their weeklong streak just yet. They had spent every day and every night together so far, and it had been beyond a dream. Life had always seemed to get in the way, whether they had practice or other commitments, so having the opportunity to just be together and share a bed every night had made this week some of the best days of Otabek’s life.
So, reluctant to say goodbye just yet, they had arranged to meet at a popular café close by to Yuri’s apartment just to end the week with a peaceful lunch date. Otabek knows by now that the blonde will easily sleep in for hours if he doesn’t have training; limbs sprawled out across the bed and long hair a tangled mess. He smiles at the thought.
He’s drawn from his musings as the café door suddenly swings open, the usually gentle bell ringing powerfully and loudly with the pure force behind the movement. Most patrons turn around to see the cause of the jarring noise, and Otabek just stares at him - all long legs and tight shorts.
Yuri always does make an impression when he enters a room.
Exhaling loudly and uncaring as ever about the people around him, Yuri’s eyes search for Otabek as acutely as a house cat searching for its prey. Once he spots his handsome man, he slinks over quickly. Yuri’s cheeks and chest are slightly flushed, his pale blonde hair windswept and loose. It’s obvious that he ran the entire way here, collapsing into the chair across from Otabek dramatically, breathing out heavily again.
He doesn’t seem mad at all that Yuri’s late, so finally managing to relax a little, Yuri leans forward to press a kiss to Beka’s lips before setting back in his seat, grabbing the caramel macchiato with a quick thanks. Pressing the cup to his lips, he peeks up at Otabek only to see a strange expression on his face. Yuri’s brow furrows, placing the cup down on the table again, cautious.
Otabek doesn’t reply, but he lowers his head slightly, maintaining eye contact and suddenly looking quite serious. Yuri almost shudders.
As always, Yuri doesn’t care too much about how loud he’s speaking. When Otabek doesn’t respond again, he suddenly becomes aware of the dozens of eyes glancing his way, and hushed voices murmuring about something he can’t quite hear.
When Otabek’s eyes trail up Yuri’s crossed legs, he looks down to inspect himself and–
The dark bruises and red love bites are hard to miss, old and new marks contrasting harshly against his pale thighs. They showed the places where Otabek had been that week, having spent hours with his head between those legs, kissing and biting and branding Yuri as his. The shorts Yuri wore left nothing to the imagination, and everyone in the café could tell that he had been absolutely ravaged.
Pursing his lips and feeling the heat rising on his neck, he quickly uncrosses his legs in an attempt to hide the proof of Otabek’s stay. Picking up his coffee again he speaks to Otabek, his voice drastically quieter now.
“Back to my place?”
Otabek nods, standing with Yuri. Holding his cup in one hand, he places the other reassuringly on the small of Yuri’s back, both briskly walking out of the shop. As they turn the corner, Otabek keeps his hand firmly in place, leaning over to murmur huskily in Yuri’s ear.
“I’ll have to leave more of those. Some are beginning to fade.”
Yuri is suddenly very glad he wore those particular shorts today.